This specific blog entry has taken me a long time to finish and publish, because it is so near to my heart. Please take the time to read it, absorb it and don't judge anyone for it.
When I was a baby, my dad walked out and left. Since then, he has been in and out of my life, but more so with my brother Paul. When Paul got into his teens and lost control, my dad couldn't handle it. My brother dabbled with drugs and drink a lot. I remember seeing him on edge all the time, staying in his room to mong out with his friends instead of going outside. He's so gifted with drawing, but he was throwing it all away. Within a year of my dad disappearing for the millionth time out of Paul's life, he'd gained an A in GCSE Art and was heading to Art College. So it went on till he was 18, when he got a motorbike. He had everything going for him, a well paid job as a Sous Chef and a growing love and interest of tattoos. But he crashed his bike. He crashed it into a laundry van. He skidded across the road and ripped his hip muscle. It repaired itself, but not correctly. It's formed in a twisted way, which means my brother can't walk properly. He uses a stick to aid himself and is undergoing intense physiotherapy. For three years after the accident, no doctor would believe him. Scans, tests and endless waiting ensued till he even had to go to court to prove he was genuine. Last year, he won. He is now classed by the government as permanently disabled. He may even have to undergo a hip replacement, before he's 25. He's agoraphobic, which means he's scared to be outdoors on his own. He mostly stays tucked inside his flat. But this is only half of the story.
When Paul was in his bad state of mind, he never quite recovered. His temper would be intense, and it would take him seconds to snap from one to the other, with no recollection of how he was an hour later. He'd have days where he felt invincible, like he could achieve anything. He used those days to find himself an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop and began learning the trade. But he would also have very down days. He's been a self harmer since he was 13 and attempted on many occasions to end it all. It wasn't until he was 21 that a shrink would even look at him, and now at 22 he's been diagnosed with Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder and Acute Schizophrenia. A lot to handle. But Paul had been in that mental state since I could remember. As a 12 year old, when he'd leave for work, I'd sneak into his room and hide his razorblades. Or I'd walk in and have to wrestle them out of his hand. Or sometimes worse. I'd take him to the hospital, clean him and bandage him up and then sit with him all night, while he'd sleep on and off so I'd know he was safe.
I'm very protective of my brother, but I have right to be. As far back as I can remember, he's always fought to prove others wrong. It took us a long time to understand, my Mum especially. She'd get angry at first, not understanding what caused him to swing so easily. Now she gets upset a lot, sometimes freezing on the spot when she's heard something's happened. But she tries her hardest to be there. Now I'm two hours away and when things happen, I feel helpless. I have an instinct to go there and act a certain way, to look after him. He might not be in a stable mental state now, but one day, he will be. His cat, Lilly, has saved him many times. Even the idea that he can't hurt himself too much because Lilly won't have anyone to look after her. Or when he's at his flat, I know he's never alone, because he's got his little cat who adores him. You may think this is all just a big plea, but the point I'm getting at is that people have hidden pasts, or secrets. They may not be there on the surface but they still hold that person close to tears when they think of it. Negativity and words are thrown around like they have no meaning. Calling someone a 'freak' or a 'loser' might just be a joke, but to someone with bipolar, that could be a trigger which turns them suicidal. When people say phrases like 'Go jump off a bridge' it angers me, because they have no idea what people hide in their personal life. My brother, the only other person in this world to share my parents, has come through so much. He's brave and so determined to prove people wrong. And I'm very proud to say I'm his sister. I may have to rescue him sometimes, but I know he'd do it for me.
