any more relaxed and she’d be dead, he says to me the other night. My brother called me a few nights ago to ask if he was hearing what he thought he was hearing, that my step-mother was kicking him out of the house. She’d said she couldn’t relax with him and the dog there. Mostly she blamed it on the dog. The dog she claims she is uncomfortable around. It’s a four month old puppy. She just can’t stand the noise it makes when it walks. (Which is funny, since her dog clicks on the hardwood floors every time she walks, because they never cut her nails.) She can’t relax. Blah, blah, blah, bullshit.

Mostly, she just doesn’t want him living there anymore. Six months or so ago, when his company started doing poorly, they cut his pay and hours in half. They fired 60% of their staff, so my brother was just happy to still have a job. He had to give up his apartment though and move in with my dad and step-mother. First time he’s lived with them in twelve years, since he was sixteen years old. It wasn’t like he was living their for free, he was paying rent. More than I knew even. Anyway, now he has found some buddies to live with and he’ll be moving out this weekend. The house he’ll be moving into is a mile from his job instead of a 40 minute drive. His company has picked up, he is working tons of hours again. This will be better for him.

I’m livid. Not because of just this. Because of everything. Because it’s just another thing added to the long list of things that suck about them. I’m livid, because they did this to him. I am used to being a low class citizen in their world. I learned at a very, very young age, that my place in the family, came after the fish. I could give you a million examples, but it pains me to write any of them down. They have moments of treating him like that too, but mostly he ranks right above the dog. This is just too much. My dad probably knew this was coming and didn’t even bother to warn him. To give him a heads up. To say, hey son, you may want to start looking for a new place to live. Nope, he wasn’t even home with this conversation happened. She cornered my brother a few days ago. My dad is the biggest freaking wussy in the world. I doubt the man takes a crap without her approving it.

I’m used to being called a bitch, she said to him. He didn’t even call her one. You know what? The word fits. It is her. She’s used to being called one, because she is one. He didn’t even say the Valium and wine line, although it cracked me up when he told me about it. It’s true. She’s an alcoholic. She drinks a bottle of wine a night. At least. She’s a verbally abusive drunk. Then she passes out. It’s what she does.

I’m angry. I’m so freaking angry. Nothing I could do or say would change anything. They’ve already written me off. I am too much like my mother according to my step-mom. Truly, that’s BS. I am much more like my dad, than my mom. Really she doesn’t like me, because I’m a girl. Because I was the oldest and I’m a girl, so I’m a threat. Doesn’t matter that I was a week over six years old when we met. She’s never liked me. Treated me like crap ever since then, while acting all fake and caring in front of other people.

They don’t care what happens in my life. I only talk to my dad once every say six weeks. He only calls me from work. He NEVER calls me from home. The only exception to that is Christmas. I am normally worth one call a year from home. They don’t know my kids. They’ve only met Harrison once. Hell last year, I took my kids to see them, the day after I’d had a miscarriage. They were fine when I was there. When I got home, neither of them called me for three months. Didn’t call to see that we’d made it home okay. Not to say, hey we had fun with the kids. Not even to check on me. I normally call my dad after 6 weeks or so if he hasn’t called me. That time I didn’t. I was depressed and I truly just wanted to see how long it would take him to call me. It took three months.

Even though I technically have a father, he doen’t really exist for me. He is alive and lives in Northern California. But I don’t really have a dad. I have grown used to this. I hate it, but I am used to it. This was just another blow for my brother though, one more thing to show him, that he sadly doesn’t either.

This is rough and I’m sure it makes no sense. I’m not even going to edit it. Today, I am make no sense and I’m a bit rough around the edges. I’m angry. Mostly though, I’m sad for my little brother. He’s only getting shit right now and he deserves better. He deserves the world. I’d give it to him if I could, but I can’t. And that makes me angry.