Lately, I have had an urge to tell my brother about everything. Or at least about me being a depressive, my suicidal parts I have never wanted to share and probably never will. For some time now I have been swaying to and fro whether I should or not, mainly keeping my own feelings’ protection at interest. This summer I fucked up by being stupid and he saw my arms which are filled with scars. Over the Christmas break I am staying at my parents’ house meaning I have been spending a lot more time with him making me constantly think about it.
But tonight after having an argument with my father where he proclaimed that I am “A fat bitch and always will be!” I in my rage told my brother that if he ever wonders he can ask me but not now because I was too angry. He first said that it was very random and that if I want to tell him he will listen. I hesitated before saying that I wanted to tell but wasn’t quiet sure how. Rather insensitively he replied that it shouldn’t be that hard. It is an incredibly sensitive and taboo subject, of course it is difficult to talk about! Well, shortly I explained that I have been aware that I am depressed since I was 11 and that it has brought along a lot of difficulties such as a self harm behaviour. My body do not naturally produce all those ‘happy hormones’ meaning I have to eat a high dosage of medicine. This far he was rather quiet, until I brought up our father. I said little of what he has done towards me, partly because he does not need to know and partly because I do not want him to. I simply said that he has throughout the years said things that was not good and that it has affected me. Here he interrupted me and to not go into too much details he said that I had basically brought it on myself. As this inconsiderate comment hurt me I blurted out that he punched me as a child and my brother replied: “Then your memory must be deranged.”
If the tears wasn’t already pushing by my eyelids before they sure were now. I immediately knew that telling him had been a mistake. He did not understand like I had hoped. And he probably never will. I started walking towards my room mumbling that I did not want to talk anymore. Once I reached my door I turned and asked him not to tell our parents. Angrily he said he would not. But now I am sat here alone and he followed with them to take a walk. Initiated by them but still. I do not trust his promise. The only person in my family I trusted have now lost it as well. Never again will I feel even the slightest piece of safety in this house. All I want to do right now is die or cry until I fall asleep and never wake up. Please hide me away forever.