Weird.
On Monday night, my (ex) step brother shot himself with a deer rifle in the home of his uncle, where he lived with his father.
And I'm not sure how I feel about it.
I don't want this misunderstood- I'm not *happy*. That's not what I mean. I mean I don't know how to process the information.
This person was almost single-handedly responsible for some of the most stressful, hateful, and depressing years of my life. This influence culminated in a physical assault in my own home. He attacked me from behind. Nothing was done. I no longer felt safe in my own home, and did not find a place to stay for almost a month after I graduated. My friend Kate Schneider and her family took me in, and made a terrible situation much easier.
I haven't seen my step family since January of 2003, when I finally stood up to my stepfather about the incident. My stepsister was upset that her room was no longer her room (she had her own apartment and was off at college, but did not expect a "guest room" to have replaced hers). When she packed up and left the house that holiday, my stepfather began a rather intense argument with my mother. I interrupted, put in my two cents, and told him to fuck off.
Then I packed everything I had with me in my car and never went back.
Two months later my mother had filed for divorce. After 13 years of... I don't know what. People like to think I exaggerate what happened, or how I feel about my adolescence. I'm told my "interpretation" of events is melodramatic. I fail to see how a feeling- how one actually feels in any given situation- can be seen as falsified or exaggerated. I don't understand.
I was gay in a homophobic home. I was not treated the same as my step siblings. I was not granted the same privileges, attention, or respect as my siblings. I fail to see how any child, aged 6 to 18, can feel any way but negatively about these things. But I digress.
I have not seen these people in six years. For some time they had a phantom influence on my life- I almost did not return to college my sophomore year because of some tax shenanigans my stepsister put in place. but by and large, I have not seen, heard, or cared of their existence. I heard my stepsister got married and had a baby... no surprise there. My stepfather had moved in with his brother, and had taken his son with him. I heard this or that about them every now and then... my stepbrother had matured, my stepsister had moved to Colorado with her husband, my stepfather called my mom crying when he heard she had breast cancer. It was just an odd disconnect, and hearing about them always left a bitter taste in my mouth. I deleted their phone numbers from my mother's phone when I saw them. Especially my stepsister's. She had propagated quite a fiasco out senior year, which I won't repeat here- suffice it to say she changed two boys' lives for the worst. One of them took his own life in college. I do not think the incidents are unrelated.
And then, of course, there is the extended family; they never really cared for me. I didn't hunt. I didn't play sports. I was very intelligent (and this was threatening to adults, apparently). My stepsister and I graduated high school together, but the extended family didn't stay to watch me walk. They just left after my stepsister walked. Then they went to attend her graduation party, thrown by her aunt because my mom had said she didn't have the money to throw a huge party but instead offered us a nice family dinner at an upscale restaurant. This was not good enough for my stepsister.
Suffice it to say it was made patently clear that I was second-class to this family. They thought, did, and said whatever they liked to and about me, regardless of my feelings. I have held this grudge for six years. Because half of my life was made rather rough, and I'm bothered.
But I never wanted anyone to die, much less kill themselves.
Was he a shit head to me? Yes. From the moment I met him. My being gay did not help that situation, nor did the fact we shared a room.
Did I ever wish for him to die? No. Not seriously, anyway. In that teenage, "die in a fire", juvenile sort of way. I secretly hoped my stepsister's baby came out sideways. I just wanted them to realize how terrible they were to me, and acknowledge it. I didn't even want an apology. Just the acknowledgement.
Apparently my stepbrother had pulled himself together. He had dropped out of high school, but had gotten his GED and held down a few jobs. My sister-in-law had run into him a year or so ago, and in response to her comments on how well he looked, he'd said, "We all have to grow up sometime."
So then this happens. My mom calls me as I'm going into work early for overtime. I didn't have time or focus to process the news until today. Work was crazy with the BlizzCon ticket fiasco. And then I was told to talk to HR, that it would be best for me to go. And I got bereavement time and drove in last night.
And I think I agree- I think it's best for me to be here. For my mom, whose life was made just as rough by this guy but who, similarly, never wished true ill on him or his family. For my sister, who's confused and more analytical than emotional. For my brother, who was still close with that family. It's best for me to be here for them.
But I don't know how the step family will react to my presence. Hundreds of scenarios and just as many reactions run through my head. I'm still unsure about how to feel about the whole thing, much less how to handle any fallout from people who were likely more than happy to see me go to begin with. I just don't know.
I think I'll start with "I'm sorry for your loss" and go from there.
If I were being honest, I'd say I was scared.
It's all very weird.
And I'm not sure how I feel about it.
I don't want this misunderstood- I'm not *happy*. That's not what I mean. I mean I don't know how to process the information.
This person was almost single-handedly responsible for some of the most stressful, hateful, and depressing years of my life. This influence culminated in a physical assault in my own home. He attacked me from behind. Nothing was done. I no longer felt safe in my own home, and did not find a place to stay for almost a month after I graduated. My friend Kate Schneider and her family took me in, and made a terrible situation much easier.
I haven't seen my step family since January of 2003, when I finally stood up to my stepfather about the incident. My stepsister was upset that her room was no longer her room (she had her own apartment and was off at college, but did not expect a "guest room" to have replaced hers). When she packed up and left the house that holiday, my stepfather began a rather intense argument with my mother. I interrupted, put in my two cents, and told him to fuck off.
Then I packed everything I had with me in my car and never went back.
Two months later my mother had filed for divorce. After 13 years of... I don't know what. People like to think I exaggerate what happened, or how I feel about my adolescence. I'm told my "interpretation" of events is melodramatic. I fail to see how a feeling- how one actually feels in any given situation- can be seen as falsified or exaggerated. I don't understand.
I was gay in a homophobic home. I was not treated the same as my step siblings. I was not granted the same privileges, attention, or respect as my siblings. I fail to see how any child, aged 6 to 18, can feel any way but negatively about these things. But I digress.
I have not seen these people in six years. For some time they had a phantom influence on my life- I almost did not return to college my sophomore year because of some tax shenanigans my stepsister put in place. but by and large, I have not seen, heard, or cared of their existence. I heard my stepsister got married and had a baby... no surprise there. My stepfather had moved in with his brother, and had taken his son with him. I heard this or that about them every now and then... my stepbrother had matured, my stepsister had moved to Colorado with her husband, my stepfather called my mom crying when he heard she had breast cancer. It was just an odd disconnect, and hearing about them always left a bitter taste in my mouth. I deleted their phone numbers from my mother's phone when I saw them. Especially my stepsister's. She had propagated quite a fiasco out senior year, which I won't repeat here- suffice it to say she changed two boys' lives for the worst. One of them took his own life in college. I do not think the incidents are unrelated.
And then, of course, there is the extended family; they never really cared for me. I didn't hunt. I didn't play sports. I was very intelligent (and this was threatening to adults, apparently). My stepsister and I graduated high school together, but the extended family didn't stay to watch me walk. They just left after my stepsister walked. Then they went to attend her graduation party, thrown by her aunt because my mom had said she didn't have the money to throw a huge party but instead offered us a nice family dinner at an upscale restaurant. This was not good enough for my stepsister.
Suffice it to say it was made patently clear that I was second-class to this family. They thought, did, and said whatever they liked to and about me, regardless of my feelings. I have held this grudge for six years. Because half of my life was made rather rough, and I'm bothered.
But I never wanted anyone to die, much less kill themselves.
Was he a shit head to me? Yes. From the moment I met him. My being gay did not help that situation, nor did the fact we shared a room.
Did I ever wish for him to die? No. Not seriously, anyway. In that teenage, "die in a fire", juvenile sort of way. I secretly hoped my stepsister's baby came out sideways. I just wanted them to realize how terrible they were to me, and acknowledge it. I didn't even want an apology. Just the acknowledgement.
Apparently my stepbrother had pulled himself together. He had dropped out of high school, but had gotten his GED and held down a few jobs. My sister-in-law had run into him a year or so ago, and in response to her comments on how well he looked, he'd said, "We all have to grow up sometime."
So then this happens. My mom calls me as I'm going into work early for overtime. I didn't have time or focus to process the news until today. Work was crazy with the BlizzCon ticket fiasco. And then I was told to talk to HR, that it would be best for me to go. And I got bereavement time and drove in last night.
And I think I agree- I think it's best for me to be here. For my mom, whose life was made just as rough by this guy but who, similarly, never wished true ill on him or his family. For my sister, who's confused and more analytical than emotional. For my brother, who was still close with that family. It's best for me to be here for them.
But I don't know how the step family will react to my presence. Hundreds of scenarios and just as many reactions run through my head. I'm still unsure about how to feel about the whole thing, much less how to handle any fallout from people who were likely more than happy to see me go to begin with. I just don't know.
I think I'll start with "I'm sorry for your loss" and go from there.
If I were being honest, I'd say I was scared.
It's all very weird.