When I was about 9, my brother, who would have been 14 or 15 at the time, forced his way into my bedroom, cornered me, and proceeded to tell me that mom and dad told him that they loved him more than me, that they didn't really like me and never had. He then hit me, and walked away. I remember later that night, my mother coming in to say that my brother was incredibly upset, because I had gone up to him, and said those hurtful things. She said that he couldn't believe I'd be so mean, and he was really hurt. I tried to defend myself, saying it had been the other way around, and my mother didn't believe me and told me not to lie, it wasn't right.

12 years later I find it difficult to warm up to him. Every time I see him, I am reminded of the way he treated me as his emotional and and physical punching bag. While 6 months of therapy helped me realize that the way he abused me stemmed from the sexual abuse he suffered from as a child, and that it wasn't my fault he treated me the way he did, and I have forgiven him, it's still hard to move on. We've talked about the abuse before, and he realized how far he did go and just how much it hurt and affected me. Unfortunately, he thinks that now we can have a normal relationship without effort.

Today my mother came into my room, and said she wanted to talk to me about him. He was angry that I didn't thank him for moving me home after school, he felt that I didn't appreciate what he's done for me, and that while he wants to go to the airport to pick up LibraryBoy, he has reservations because he thinks that I just expect it. I will admit that I didn't thank him that weekend. I was tired, I was cranky, I was a mess. And him showing up, cursing me out for not being all packed up, and for having to come and get me, and so on and so forth. You get what you give.

And apparently now I should be extra nice to him, because he's jealous of me. I went away to college, I have a great job, a boyfriend who's coming here, things that he should rightfully have, because he's 6 years older. But it's not my fault he fucked up high school and didn't have the option of going to a better school, thereby taking a program he didn't really want, and taking a job he hates.

God, I am SO ready to move out. Especially with LibraryBoy moving here, I'm more ready than ever. I love my family, but they're toxic and I feel like I'm being smothered. BLARG.