I did not see Karen this week, but time Marches on. I saw Cathy three times, and today is my 50th birthday and my whole family had a party for me yesterday. So it was an eventful day.
I spent the night here at my parents because I had to get my tags for my car, and if I went home, I was afraid I would not get up and out in time. The computers in Ashtabula were down so their traffic was here in Jefferson. It was packed. I took my number, left went and got breakfast, took Mom breakfast and finally got done.
Then, I went up to Madison riding with my dad to get cedar chips. We were talking about the “Aqui” on our VOTE HERE sign at the pole near the DMV. Dad was saying that our culture is changing because these folks and the Muslims have lots of children, where we are not, due to selfishness. I countered that some folks are unable. He went off on the number of abortions and that there are that many folks that cannot have babies. I told him I knew two women that could not conceive. He said he has only known two in his life. I lost it and started crying and told him that not being a mother is such a touchy subject for me. I know he felt bad. He wasn’t talking about me, but it is right there, with the decade birthday and all that. I told him about stopping my meds and getting back into therapy. He said he is glad that I am. I told him that Nancy wouldn’t take me back and we talked a moment about that.
I got the wood chips and they wrapped them on the skid and loaded it into my dad’s pick up. 50 bricks of wood chips, 5 on a row 10 rows high — yeah this is important. We missed the drive with the light, so we had to go right instead of left, cross traffic to get in a parking lot, turn around and then back out on rt 20, and the skid of chips had had enough. They fell right out of the truck. Into the middle of rt. 20, a busy highway in the middle of Madison.
Dad stopped the truck and we jumped out and started pulling the packages out of the road. 2 or 3 groups of young people pulled over and helped us, they loaded Dad’s truck up, and I called my sister and told her to bring the biggest vehicle, it’s an emergency. I was so afraid the cops were going to come and ticket us. But it didn’t happen. My sister came, we loaded up the rest of the chips, and we drove to my place. We unloaded Dad first and he left, and my sister and I unloaded her, and we went out to eat.
I got back to Dad’s around 4:30 to see them cooking and the house cleaned, and my party was going to start in an hour. It was a good party all in all. My older brothers had their wives there. Bob’s girl was not there, but his wife’s grandson was. Brian’s boy was there. Lynn brought her two girls. And my little sister had her husband and girls there. And mom and dad were there. Everyone had a good time.
Before cake and presents, I asked Brian to take a little walk with me. I started by saying that he tried to talk to me when he came out of the service, but I wasn’t ready. That I was in a lot of therapy now, and I wanted for him to know that I don’t hate him for what happened. That I know that we were both affected by what happened. I tried. He said he had no idea what I was talking about. All he remembered was getting together with Bobby and beating me up in the basement. I told him there was so much more. I told him there were good things to and other things. I told him I remembered cooking with him, and playing games.
I told him I remembered him going up and slashing Mr. Arnholt’s tires and Ms. Delvinthals. I remember lying for him and saying he was there with me the whole time. I remember waiting outside while he broke into the grange building for the DND books. He remembered all that. I talked about his being raped. He remembered that, but he said it was 40 years ago, and that guy was dead anyway. Funny he said 40 years ago. That was when he raped me. He was raped 44 years ago. But whatever. He did not remember.
I started to doubt myself, and cut that crap out. I remember all those other things just fine. And I remember the parts that I still feel a little to blame about. No.
It’s my fault. He was drinking the moment he got to my parents’ house. An active alcoholic is avoiding taking responsibility or experiencing pain. I am disappointed with him. I am angry with me. And very, very sad. I love my brother. I don’t like him right now very much. But I love him and I want him to address some of the outward signs of sexual abuse that he is clearly suffering from. He weighs around 300 (like me), he has diabetes (like me, but he has to stab himself). His blood pressure is high, like mine. He is an alcoholic and a workaholic (unlike me, but like a lot of survivors). He has been hospitalized for being suicidal in the service and more recently, he had his wife take his guns to Dad’s and had a breakdown. He stopped taking his meds (like me), but he blames cost. He won’t get his hearing aide fixed. He has a low self-esteem. I just told him again that I don’t want for him not to get help because of what happened between us. He said that he never thinks about it all. It was 40 years ago, and his brain wasn’t completely developed then.
Ah well, I was a fool. I really wanted for him to say just a word of apology or even just validation. Bobby at least said, “I remember.” That was over 20 years ago.
Thanks for reading. Watching the Browns get creamed. At least the sun is shining.