It is not me with the mental illness…it is my brother, my poor brother. I thank god everyday for my mental health and everything I have been blessed with in my life. I feel a lot of what I have in my life is a big fat bonus, things I never expected. Watching my brother suffer day in and day out, struggling with his existence makes my problems seem so small. He is my problem, he, actually his illness has broken my heart, and continues to do so everyday.

His life never goes anywhere; it goes around in circles, from worse to worse. He lives in poverty, in a mess, dirty apartment that he can’t keep clean, wearing clothes that he can’t manage to wash. He is ANGRY. He is always angry. He yells at me and I always have to remember not to let him, hang up, I keep telling myself. It takes a lot of strength, and discipline. I struggle with not getting angry at him, not yelling back. Sometimes I don’t have it in me, and wish he wasn’t my brother.

I try really hard to make sense of what he says, and I wish I could believe him. Then I wonder why I bother even listening to him on the phone, or going by his apartment to drop stuff off or attempt a supper. The stuff he talks to me about is mostly lies, the money I give him is wasted on drugs and alcohol, and the suppers are a waste of time ending up in a disaster with the food either not touched or all over the place.

It is sooooo confusing. I love my brother, miss him terribly, feel helpless around him, and only wish I could make his suffering go away forever. Unfortunately……I can’t. I need help sometimes……AMI-Quebec has been a great support, actually the only place I have ever gone for support. Whenever I need to talk, someone is there to listen. I always feel understood, validated, and supported. They cannot take away the pain I have for losing a brother to this dreadful disease, no one can, but they can sometimes make it a little easier.

Anonymous