When did you realize that your sibling was a certified poo-poo head?

The Early Years and Separation

My parents hid my violent brother’s bipolar disorder from us, and my mom told him she could only trust him with our family’s darkest secret. When I asked her why she never protected me from him, I found out that the truth was much more than I could handle.

I’m the middle child with an older brother, Jack, and a younger brother, Oscar. Me and Jack are only two years apart, so I spent the first few years of my childhood looking up to him. But I could never understand why he never wanted to play with me.

And our mom had hyperthyroidism, which meant she was extremely unpredictable. Sometimes she’d bring me to the park and was my best friend in the entire world. Other times, she was barking orders at me.

“If you don’t clean this entire apartment, I will give you something worse to cry about” is something she actually said once when she caught me with my eyes watering from a dust allergy.

But the more my mom abused me, the more I tried to be friends with Jack until I gave up forever. On my 7th birthday, my dad bought me a bike. I rarely got to see him because he was working all the time. So him teaching me meant everything.

My eyes were filled with a spark that only exists during childhood. So the next day, I asked Jack if he wanted to have a shot at it. When I saw his face light up, I thought I had finally said the right thing, but then he took it and ran it straight into a wall.

Jack was fine, but my bike was completely destroyed. Jack came over to me crying, but instead of comforting me or even just patting my back, he hit me and told me to shut the f up so Mom and Dad don’t hear.

I stopped trying to have a relationship with him after that, mainly because it was too painful. And a year later, Oscar was born. I decided early on that I wanted him to have a better childhood than me.

So, when he was old enough to understand words, I always made sure to give him the praise our parents never did. At 4 years old, he’d burst into my room wearing Jack’s clothes and start randomly performing a fashion show. I’d clap every time and tell him how swag he looked.

He had no idea I was lying through my teeth. Lol. Because you know the awkward phase, the one where you just looked clapped 24/7? Well, Oscar’s lasted until he was literally 16.

It’s honestly a miracle he wasn’t bullied. But I don’t even think he noticed how much of a loser the world saw him because of how well I treated him. Go me. But that’s when Oscar and Jack stopped sharing a room together.

And Oscar instead shared with me because Jack had gone from being a slightly disobedient, horrible brother to a full-on abusive addict. One night, he came home and instantly the entire apartment reeked of the devil’s lettuce.

With a megaphone, he started yapping at the top of his lungs,

“Hey guys, how are you doing today?”

Just garbage. You see, his strategy was simple. It was to keep my parents awake until they couldn’t bear the sleep deprivation anymore and hand over cash so he could buy more drugs.

It was honestly awful. I always tried to shield Oscar from it, whether it was by putting earplugs into his ears or driving him to my friend’s house, but either way, it was extremely distressing.

And one time when I came home to my mom putting concealer over a black eye Jack had given her, I decided enough was enough. I waited until my dad came home and cornered him in the dark hallway.

I told him he needed to kick Jack out and get a restraining order, that he was scary and dangerous. And my dad was kind, probably the kindest one in the family, but he was also passive, the type to get robbed on the street and apologize for not having more money to give.

So, he just nodded. But months passed and of course, nothing changed. Then came the news that made me depressed for months.

I had the opportunity to transfer to my dream college, one that was halfway across the country. I remember waiting until Oscar was asleep to cry my eyes out into my teddy bear because going meant leaving Oscar behind, leaving him to deal with our family’s BS by himself.

But then I had a new thought. If I graduated and got a better job than I otherwise would have, then I could afford to provide a better life for myself and Oscar.

A home away from home, so to speak. That morning when I broke the news, I expected his eyes to flood with a deep disappointment, to beg me to stay, but instead his face remained completely stoic.

“I’m really happy for you, Hannah.”

His tone was monotonous. Same as always. I left home a few months later, and it honestly felt like I was abandoning my child or something.

Me and Oscar kept in contact, and a few months later, he told me Jack was in rehab, that everything was finally okay, and he was grateful for everything I’d given him over the years. Plus, he was in college, too. So, we were both able to get away from the noise.