An Open Letter to my Brother

God! I fucking hate to be negative nelly on in my posts but Jesus Christ why is everything shitty right now!

Yesterday , my mom picked me up and brought me to the doctors office to get a refill on my medication. When I came back down to the car, I noticed my mother in tears on the phone. Instantly, my first thought is, “Well, Chris is dead”.

That’s so fucked up. The fact that the first thing that comes to my mind is you overdosing and being found in a drug den.

We (meaning my brother and I)had another argument yesterday and I realized that I just need to cut him off for good and get closure. Even though you said you blocked me on Facebook and hope that I die, I hope this letter finds you.

Dear C,

Do you remember when I was little? Do you remember how much you adored me? You held me on this pedestal and treated me like a princess. You always let me play with you guys even though I was young. You loved me. 

Fast forward a couple years. I’m about 8 or 9 and you’re 15. You’re starting to act up which I get now. You hated our step dad, Natalie was born and you hated dad, I really get it. But you became violent. You would throw lamps and punch the wall in anger. You made us all so scared of you. Especially mom. 

I watched you get arrested from our Lake Clark Shores house. I was confused and thought you were going to prison. I didn’t cry for you, though. I was shocked. 

Over the next few years, you proved yourself to be unwilling to get help. You started using harder drugs and you dropped out of high school. I remember that Christmas that dad handed you money with a tight frown. Sure enough, you called home saying you were “robbed”. Later, you would tell us that you went to a drug deal and got pistol whipped.

God! How many times have you been to rehab? How many times have you been homeless? How many times have you broken our hearts?

I was there for you during your first heart surgery from using intravenous drugs. You were in so much pain but I knew this was good for you. I just fucking knew that this time you would stop. 

You broke my heart 7 months later when you relapsed and shot up again.

A year passed by and I was coincidentally in town during your second heart surgery. Mom forced me to go and I sat in the hospital chair, slouched and playing with my thumbs. Everyone kept coddling you and I snapped. 


Everyone looked up with a horrified stare.

You were so shocked you didn’t even know what to say back to me.

“No really. I mean, really! Your second fucking heart surgery!”

Caitlin began to cry as she saw the truth in what I was saying. Mom tried to calm me down. This was the first time I had ever seen you cry.

“Megan, I can’t look at you and say that I this is it and I will never do it again.”

This really enraged me. 

“Ok well consider this the end. I’m no longer your sister. I can’t see you like this anymore. You’re basically slitting your wrists slowly while we all watch. You’re fucking dying.”

I began to shake. So many emotions were coursing through my body. 

“I fucking wish you would die already and get it over with”

And with that, I turned on my heels and marched out of the hospital room. Only to collapse minutes later into a heap of tears. A nurse even stopped and asked if I was okay. My only response was getting back on my feet and pulling out a cigarette. I made a beeline for the elevator then cried against moms car in the parking lot.

I didn’t see you for a year or so later. You showed me the scars on your chest and we smoked a pack of cigarettes together. You were back in rehab for the umpteenth time. I was proud of you cause it was the longest you went being sober since I was young. I thought that maybe JUST MAYBE you were done.

Rewind to a month ago, once again you’re kicked out of a rehab and shooting up. I ignored you and pretended like you didn’t exist because you really didn’t. Then, I received a Facebook message from you: 

Of course, I retaliated with, “Says the heroin addict”

Yesterday, I finally decided that this is it. After finding you at a Walmart, I tried to speak to you calmly.

“Please stop. Please get help. Look at mom she’s fucking crying”

You proceeded to tell me that I mean nothing to you and you didn’t care if I died. Then you turned to mom and said, “you’re the worst mother in the world”, and threw your suitcase at the wall as we drove away.

So, this is the end. I can’t subject myself to your abusive behavior. I love you because we are blood but I can’t see you or talk to you until you’re at least 2 years sober. You’ve broken my heart too many times. This is me signing off as your sister and friend.

And our mother is incredible. You have NO idea what she’s given up for you. 

Be well.



3 thoughts on “An Open Letter to my Brother

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