My deepest wound lies in the way my brother treated me and my parents did nothing to stop it.
He used to beat the shit out of me, to the point I couldn’t move. He’s the only reason I’ve ever had a black eye, twice. He has knocked out one of my teeth. Bruises are countless. He’s the only reason I’ve ever needed stitches. He’s ridiculed me more than any person I know inside or outside of my family, by making fun of my physical appearance especially my weight. It’d be the hugest lie of my life to say this didn’t effect the issues I have now that I am older. I don’t blame him for them, but his actions contribute greatly to it.
Two years ago was the first time anyone ever saw him hurt me besides my mom and dad. He attacked me in front of my two best friends and they went into hysterics, crying and screaming, ended up telling my aunt and uncle (one friend was my cousin) and it got back to my grandfather. My aunt, uncle, grandfather and older cousins told my mother and my brother if he ever laid a hand on me again he would be disowned from the family. Since the time tha occured he hasn’t laid a hand on me, is reserved in what he says to me.
I think the part that he never truly realized, and never truly will realize the effects of his actions is what wounds me so much. That there is no consideration, or remorse for what he did to me. And my parents, oh a lot of that wound goes to their “I’m not getting involved” attitude.
Ew time to stop talking about this before I mush up like a little mushy ball of patheticness. Sorry for the tangent, I don’t talk about this often, or to anyone so knowing fluther as a pretty non-judgmental place, I just kind of word-vomitted all over.