I had plans to go see my sister and brother-in-law yesterday. They live in a town about an hour and 45 minutes away. I had built them something and was going to deliver and set it up for them. About ten minutes before I walk out the door, my mother calls all in a panic. She says she can't find my brother and hasn't heard from him in twelve hours.
Normally this wouldn't be a problem, however he has been steadily getting worse in his drug use, and his disposition has become increasingly more aggressive and angry. She said she visited his storage unit, where he has been living, and when she banged on the door and called him there was no answer. It has been very hot the last few weeks, and the little 6 ft. x 8 ft. storage unit has no air flow or cooling. I tried to calm her by saying he may be out getting something to eat, but she insists that if he had left, the top deadbolt would have been locked. He is extremely paranoid and would never leave the place with locking all locks. She's crying asking me what to do. I said that she should give it another hour, and then go back and check again. She then starts off on how she's been having these nightmares where she is hold his lifeless body, while acid bleeds out his eyes and mouth. At this point I have to just tell her to try not to worry because there is no reason to believe he is not alive. I then tell her to call me after she has gone back again to check on him.
Seeing as how my mother and brother both live in the same town as the sister I'm on my way to visit, I decide to drive straight to the storage unit myself. I am of course feeling sick to my stomach thinking the worse on my long drive. Although I would not let on to that while talking to my mother. I've always been the voice of calm and reason in my family. Even if it wasn't how I actually felt.
I had never been to this storage unit, where my brother has been living since being evicted. I parked my car, and walked to the unit number I had gotten from my mother. I banged on the door and called for him. And yes, I noticed the deadbolt was still unlocked. My brother answered me from behind the door. It sounded like I had woken him up from a sleep or something. I said it was me and asked if he was alright. He locked the deadbolt from inside, and said he was fine. I finally convinced him to come out and talk to me. I stood outside for about ten minutes before he came out. He opened the door while climbing over boxes to get out. It was as if he had piled up his stuff against the door. Must be the paranoia. As he walked over to me, I could see the bottoms of his eyes were all black and sunken in, his checks were sunken in and he looked dehydrated. I could nearly see his ribs from the wind blowing his t-shirt against him. He looked terrible, I've never seen him like this before. I tried to talk to him, telling him that mom was worried because he didn't answer her when she came by. He was angry that I was there. He ranted and raved about how everyone treats him as a child and how it's nobody's fucking business what he does or where he is. I told him we care about him, and want to make sure he's OK. I never raised my voice because he was already highly confrontational, and I didn't want him to become violent. This man is not my bother. He is the byproduct of the drug use. I have to keep that in mind. I asked him if he would consider the detox program his doctor suggested. His response was a loud flat out "NO!" I asked why, but he wouldn't give me a reason. I said, "You are at a fork in the road. You have two choices, continue on the current self destructive path you are on, and damn everyone who cares about you. Or enter the detox, clean up your life and have my full support in whatever you do. If you try to help yourself, I will stand behind you and offer any support I can, because I love you and care about you." I thought if I just showed him how I feel, that he would take it into consideration. "Of course you're going to say that, that's the politically correct answer. You'd be an asshole to say anything else!" That was his response. He says everyone is "up in my face" and in the same breath rages on about how bad his life is, how he hates living where he is, and how the company who he has worked for for the past ten years is trying to fire him. Yet me, or anyone else trying to offer him help is "up in his face."
I'm kind of at a loss, I don't know what more I can offer him. I hate to lose him to this life he is leading but I have two young boys who have to be my main priority. They are the ones I must put my energies towards. Besides, it seems as if I have already lost my brother. He is not the same person he was a five years ago, hell, even five months ago. He needs to decide for himself what he wants. I hate this drug shit.
The trip wasn't a total downer, I did get to see my sister. She bought me a new coffee maker. She works for Starbucks and is always giving me coffee and accessories. I stayed overnight at their place, and we all had breakfast in the morning.
So that was my weekend....how was yours?
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