Phone a friend....

I promised myself that l was going to write in my blog every day but well things rarely work out how l plan. I was having quite a good day on Thursday until l sat down to dinner and then the phone rang half way through eating it. My brother was on the phone. It was difficult to make out what he was saying but after 5 minutes l had worked out that he had been to his work break-up. He was drunk. He'd arrived home drunk to find Paula and his three kids gone. Yep, it is the season to be jolly ! The worst part was that he was trying to blame me for this mess. He had lent me money on the Wednesday and apparently Paula didn't think he should so they had a fight about it. If l had know that this chain of events was about to happen, l would never have taken the money from him.

Anyway, he tells me that he has broken into the house. He wasn't going to be locked out of his house. He pays the mortgage. Mind you breaking all the glass surround around the front door wasn't smartest thing he has ever done because he couldn't fit through the gap. Not to be stopped he had then broken one of the lounge room windows. He was in the house and he wasn't going anywhere. He lives in Frankston. I live in Bendigo. That's a two and a half hour drive if you speed just a little bit. No choice really because he is very drunk and threatening to kill people. Seems he doesn't really like Paula's brother very much nor her mother. But then my brother doesn't really like anybody very much and few people like his arrogance, including me.

So I am in Harcourt (that is about half an hour from Bendigo) and my mobile phone rings. It's Mum and she is very distressed. I'd left her talking to my brother on the phone. I thought if she talked to him while l was driving down to Frankston she might be able to distract from his mission of mass destruction. I thought it was a good plan but I am known to be wrong occasionally. Three police cars had arrived at his house with Paula to arrest him and get him out of the house. Apparently, he had also put an axe handle through the lounge room door and threatened to hit Paula with it. Hmm....now I am beginning to feel sick in the stomach. Why is it that my family have to solve everything with alcohol and violence ?

My mind was working overtime because l was still two hours away. Only one thing to do at a time like this....PHONE A FRIEND ! Preferably somebody who cares. My friend Pidz has been looking after his Dad who has just had a heart attack and they live in Frankston. Yes, Yes, he is in Frankston and Yes he will go around to my brother's house and try to stop him from being locked up. The police had left unable to remove my brother from his house but l feared that they would return, probably with a court order. I thought a sober person might help this situation. Pidz is always so calm and rational. I love that man to bits. He knows how crazy my family are and he still agreed to go around there.

I was about 45 minutes away from Frankston. Nobody had rang me to say that the police had come back. Mum hadn't rung back to say that he'd killed anybody. I was thinking it would be safe to phone my brother and see if he'd calmed down. No answer. I phoned Pidz. He felt that he had the situation under control and that he'd leave and go back to his parents place. I begged him to stay at my brother's place until l got there. He agreed. I am so pleased he did. I love this man to bits but he really was kidding himself that he had the situation under control. This was my brother we were talking about and l know him to be as manipulative and conniving as my father. Memories of my abusive childhood flooding my brain and tears are running down my face. I felt sick in the stomach. I struggle with the concept of my brother being an abusive drunk like my father. How can my brother abuse his children after watching what my father did to me ? He watched as my father bashed me. He always hid fearfully in the corner, scared that Dad would hit him next. How does he live with himself creating so much fear in the people that he supposedly loves?

Finally l arrive. I've stopped crying. I need to be strong. Stupidly l thought that l was going to be about to reason with this man. Nope. Not a hope of this man seeing any reason. In the hallway is a pedestal fan in pieces having been thrown at the wall. The lounge room floor is covered with kid crap. Paula isn't known for her cleanliness. However, my brother's path of destruction is evident with hammers, nails, a saw and bits of board spread across the floor. He spent the next hour yelling at me and telling me that l owe him. He threatened to come to Bendigo and get Dad out of hospital because l have no right to keep him locked up. He voiced his opinion about my marriage and told me that l deserve to be divorced. Apparently, he believes that l deserve to have nothing and he is going to see that my life is destroyed. Then he had a few words about the man that l now love and continued to tell me that he always has to help me.

That's when l lost it. Truly the Tracey of 25 years ago raised her head and told him a thing or two. It was about then when he threatened to put a hammer through my head. "Go on then. Hit me" l said. My heart racing because the last time l said those words was to my father and l ended up with a monkey wrench around my face. It was time to leave. This situation was never going to be brought under control. My friend Pidz was still sitting in his chair. I think his was scared to move. My brother had threatened him before l arrived. Always calm, Pidz says, "If you are so concerned about your father, build a unit in your backyard and look after him". Good on you Pidz ! My brother cares about nobody but himself. I have no idea why Paula puts up with his abuse. I was stupid to think that l could go to Frankston and help this man. He is beyond help. For as long as amber fluid runs through his veins instead of blood there will be no way to help him.

So instead of writing in my blog Thursday night, l drove two and a half hours to Frankston. Got abused for an hour and then drove two and a half hours back home. I cried most of the way home not believing that l had restored to yelling abuse back at my brother. Crying because my years of hard work controling my aggression had slipped away because l felt a need to defend myself to an abusive, manipulative arsehole. I really didn't handle the situation well. He was so hurtful. I couldn't believe the things that he had to say to me. I shall struggle for the rest of my life to forget the words. I shall struggle for a long time to forgive him but l will because l'm better than sinking to his level. Really he is a novice compared to my father and l found the strength to forgive him. I shall find the strength to forgive my brother. But l shall never forget what either of them have said or done to me.