As embarrassing as it is to me, I need to speak out. I am fourteen years old. I am terribly annoyed by my three-year-old brother. I, almost since birth, have lived without a father. All my childhood I suffered from loneliness (my mother was always at work, and I had no pets and no friends) and dreamed of having a little sister. As I got older, I gave up on that idea completely and learned to appreciate the peace and quiet, but I was shaken by my mother’s announcement, “You’re having a baby brother. At first I rejoiced, but afterwards.
My mother began to get very irritated over little things (she had yelled and called me names before, but not as often), and for the first time she hit me. When she went to the maternity hospital, I was staying at her friend’s house. That friend said something to my mother on the phone while I was out walking. She called me and screamed horribly, brought me to tears, accused me of insulting this friend, of being disobedient and being horribly spoiled. I think that’s how it started.
After the birth, my mother’s attention finally left my walls and went to the next castle – to my beloved little Sam. I was genuinely waiting for my mom to be able to get rid of my brother and, elementary, to hug me. But it was not happening. I started a journal of “unnecessary thoughts,” and after every fight I wrote horrible things in there and tore up the pages in an attempt to calm down. When my mother found it, I was terribly fucked up, she didn’t talk to me for two weeks. Thinking I was the worst daughter and the worst sister made my first suicide attempt.
My brother grew up, I graduated from junior high school, but I didn’t go to my graduation because my mom said: “We need to babysit Sam, and you don’t deserve a party, here are the dishes not washed!” I spent three days in tears.
Every weekend the same thing: “sit with Sam,” “play with Sam,” “if you’re going for a walk with Eva, take Sam and walk only in the yard. I became a private babysitter. My only friend didn’t want to talk to me, saying: “You’re always dragging the little guy around!”
My brother grew up. The attitude hasn’t changed. “Lisa, fetch!”, “Lisa, fetch!” He broke my phone, now he started hitting me. Hands, feet, pillows, toys. Once he hit me with a cast-iron frying pan. And in you can’t even give him a smack, his mother immediately, “He’s little!
Anything he wants, they give him and buy him. For New Year’s, Sam gets $1,000 worth of toys, and I get a sweater from a flea market. He does it all the time. When I ask, “Do you love me at all?”, my mother is evasive.
I don’t know what to do anymore.
