Mhairi's blog: My older brother and I

We were pretty inseparable until we were around 10 or 11. We drifted apart as young teens, which is probably normal with siblings. The thing is we drifted so far apart that, even though we were living in the same house, we didn’t talk at all. This lasted for a few years. Conversations would consist of short questions and yes or no answers. He used to sit in his room for hours, only surfacing when necessary. Everyone assumed it was just part of his character.

In his late teens he experimented with cannabis, went out drinking most weekends. Got in trouble with the law a few times, for minor offences. It was when he got into his early 20’s and the rebellious stage didn’t finish as it had with his friends. He continued getting in trouble with the law. Became obsessed with Martin Luther King. He used to joke around that in a past life he was, in fact, Martin Luther King. He always had a weird sense of humour so we thought nothing of it.

Early 2008 he quit his job. He worked for an IT department for a local company. He went in that day, completely shut all the servers down and walked out. This is when my Mum started to worry. His attitude got worse. July 2008 - everything changed. Everything exploded in a way that could never have been anticipated. I remember the Thursday - it was really hot. I was hanging out washing and noticed broken glass in the garden. I texted someone who'd been staying with me while my parents were on holiday, asking if she'd noticed it.

She hadn't and I forgot about it. I was getting ready for work on a Friday, 5pm start. I can't remember why exactly but I'd entered my mum’s room and the first thing I saw was the broken CDs all over the bed. And then the window. The smashed glass. The broken laptop, the smashed computer on the floor, the broken desk, lying in pieces. I remember the panic rushing through me. I don't remember much during the next ten minutes. I sat on my bedroom floor. I phoned a friend and she met me. I sat on the floor in her flat.

I called my work. I could barely speak. I knew  that it was my brother. I just didn't understand why. I went to my Gran’s and explained it to her. I took her and showed her the damage. The weekend followed with phone calls to the NHS and nurses coming in and out of the house. The looks of hatred from him. I always felt guilty for going to my Gran.

Cleaning it up and fixing it before my parents got back and pretending nothing had happened crossed my mind. But it was unrealistic. Something was wrong.I'd always suspected he had bipolar disorder. All the symptoms fitted; the constant mood changes. But never had I imagined it could be schizophrenia. I eventually went into work that night. No one knew why I was late and no one knew what to say. I didn't talk. I got asked to work in a bar. It'd keep me busy. He was taken into the psychiatric hospital by the police on a Sunday night and released a few hours later. I remember being petrified of him coming home, thinking he'd be furious. They told us he was absolutely fine.

Mum came back on the Monday. I was working a lunchtime shift. A half day. I finished at 4. Parents were due back shortly after. I didn't know how mum would be. She was calm on the phone when I told her. She went straight to my Gran’s. I was in the house, my brother was upstairs. She didn't say a word to me when she came down, just went up to see him. I remember him leaving. She came into the living room and completely broke down. She told him he had to leave, that he could stay with my Gran.

Things were stop and go until Christmas. He saw a psychiatrist, got a formal diagnosis. It was always just a waiting game. They always talked of hospital stays, be prepared for it. It'll happen. It's what he needs. I knew it’s what he needed. But it just became talk. And for a while he seemed to get better. I even saw him at a friend’s party in October and he came over and spoke to me. On January 4th 2009, I was at a friend’s and got a phone call saying I needed to come home immediately, I'd be picked up. I knew it would be about my brother.

I remember feeling sick. I got home. There had been a vodka bottle thrown at our living room window. He never denied it. January was a rocky month for the family. There was a few incidents which seemed likely to iniate a hospital stay, but it never happened. On January 29th I was woken by my mum saying he had been taken in. The sick feeling was back. He'd gone in voluntarily. That was a good sign. They wanted him in over the weekend. I had this weird feeling of relief, despite still feeling physically sick.

On Friday 30th he wanted to come home. They tried to convince him to stay. I've never been told exactly what happened that day, but I do know he had to be sedated and they sectioned him. It was one of the most horrible things I've ever been told. Mum broke down that night, worse than I've ever seen before. One Saturday night mum asked if I wanted to go and see him. I did but I didn't. I was petrified. What do I say? What kind of state would he be in? She drove me out to the hospital. We didn't say one word to each other in the car. I couldn't even tell you what was playing on the radio, I was utterly zoned. She showed me where to go. I rang the bell and was greeted by a man. I said I would like to see my brother. I was shown into a waiting room. I remember sitting there. Unzipping my jacket, zipping it back up. I didn't want to assume it'd be a long stay. Bag on the table, bag on my lap. I kept it close, on my lap, something to grasp onto. A nurse came through. She sat down and gave me that sympathetic look. He didn't want to see me. I don't remember what she said after that. I think I just sort of nodded and then left. I welled up. I didn't want my mum to see me cry so I stalled for a bit. The car journey was the same. No words. She hugged me when we got home. Said she was sorry. Nothing has ever come close to the hurt I felt that night.

He was discharged from hospital in February after a months stay and went back to my Gran’s. I never really saw him for a while. I was working a lot at the time and always used that as an excuse, but I guess looking back I was scared. Things are better, he speaks to my Mum now and visits often. He lives in his own flat in a nearby town. We do speak when we see eachother. Nothing major, but better than it used to be.

I guess I should be happy that things seem to be slowly resolving, but there’s always the questions at the back of my mind that I don’t dare ask him. I still sometimes feel that ignorance is bliss, but it isn’t. It’s just easier, and its selfish. I’m yet to to fully try and rebuild our relationship. And while I believe it will never be the same,  it’s always worth trying for.
 
He was discharged from hospital in February after a months stay and went back to my Gran’s. I never really saw him for a while. I was working a lot at the time and always used that as an excuse, but I guess looking back I was scared. Things are better, he speaks to my Mum now and visits often. He lives in his own flat in a nearby town. We do speak when we see eachother. Nothing major, but better than it used to be.

I guess I should be happy that things seem to be slowly resolving, but there’s always the questions at the back of my mind that I don’t dare ask him. I still sometimes feel that ignorance is bliss, but it isn’t. It’s just easier, and its selfish. I’m yet to to fully try and rebuild our relationship. And while I believe it will never be the same,  it’s always worth trying for.