I can't be nobody.
I'm thinking back and trying to find that tangible point where I went from child to adult. There was a switch somewhere, not just in my brain but in everyone around me, where the transition happened. I don't understand how everything came to be under my control.
I had to make a difficult choice this week, and though it wracked me with guilt, I still feel it was the right one. It's best for my grandmother and myself and my house, so I had to do it, but it doesn't stop me from projecting what I would feel in that situation.
Basically, my older brother (not my oldest brother who's lived with us for years), came to be living with us a few months ago. He had no job, his wife had kicked him out, he was in some legal trouble, and he had nowhere to go. I guess we wanted to help him get back on his feet. It never happened though. He was able to get a job for about a month, but then he was "laid off" last week. Supposedly, and I use that term loosely, he was actually fired for smoking K12 on the job. I believe it just on the principle that he's been terminated for that before. He's never been able to keep a job for longer than a few months, and truthfully he's almost thirty and has most likely spent 80% of his adult life unemployed. If it was only that, I might not have made him leave, but it wasn't just that. He's disrespectful, destructive, and lazy. All he does is need, need, need. On top of that, his problems with maurijuana and K12 are intolerable to me. Yes, there are people who can use it and not have problems, but there are also people who can't. (I feel the same way about alcohol and cigarettes, but I do respect that it's everyone's choice.)
On top of that, he makes my Nana uncomfortable. He's so fidget-y and restless and he doesn't do as she asks. He's stolen from her before and she suspected he'd been in her purse a few weeks ago when twenty dollars went missing.
I told him he had to go.
I spoke with Nana and she put it on me. My house, my decision.
Which, of course, was not what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me what to do, not make it my decision. If it was my decision, then his fate afterward would ultimately fall to me. I put him out, he falls into hard drugs and gets in trouble? I put him out, he kills himself? I put him out and he disappears? If anything bad happens, then is it my fault?
Despite intellectually knowing that it's not true, I still felt like it was.
Ultimately I did it, though. I told him he had to go. I resolved myself and by morning most of the guilt was gone. I do love him, I don't like him, and I hate having him in my house. I want him to get better, but after over a decade of trying to help him get that way, we're tired of fighting a losing battle.
I had to make a difficult choice this week, and though it wracked me with guilt, I still feel it was the right one. It's best for my grandmother and myself and my house, so I had to do it, but it doesn't stop me from projecting what I would feel in that situation.
Basically, my older brother (not my oldest brother who's lived with us for years), came to be living with us a few months ago. He had no job, his wife had kicked him out, he was in some legal trouble, and he had nowhere to go. I guess we wanted to help him get back on his feet. It never happened though. He was able to get a job for about a month, but then he was "laid off" last week. Supposedly, and I use that term loosely, he was actually fired for smoking K12 on the job. I believe it just on the principle that he's been terminated for that before. He's never been able to keep a job for longer than a few months, and truthfully he's almost thirty and has most likely spent 80% of his adult life unemployed. If it was only that, I might not have made him leave, but it wasn't just that. He's disrespectful, destructive, and lazy. All he does is need, need, need. On top of that, his problems with maurijuana and K12 are intolerable to me. Yes, there are people who can use it and not have problems, but there are also people who can't. (I feel the same way about alcohol and cigarettes, but I do respect that it's everyone's choice.)
On top of that, he makes my Nana uncomfortable. He's so fidget-y and restless and he doesn't do as she asks. He's stolen from her before and she suspected he'd been in her purse a few weeks ago when twenty dollars went missing.
I told him he had to go.
I spoke with Nana and she put it on me. My house, my decision.
Which, of course, was not what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me what to do, not make it my decision. If it was my decision, then his fate afterward would ultimately fall to me. I put him out, he falls into hard drugs and gets in trouble? I put him out, he kills himself? I put him out and he disappears? If anything bad happens, then is it my fault?
Despite intellectually knowing that it's not true, I still felt like it was.
Ultimately I did it, though. I told him he had to go. I resolved myself and by morning most of the guilt was gone. I do love him, I don't like him, and I hate having him in my house. I want him to get better, but after over a decade of trying to help him get that way, we're tired of fighting a losing battle.