there is no reason why my brother should be on 9 medications.
but first, earlier tonight.
my mom wanted to introduce my dad to the mentalist, but he didn’t want to watch it. even though she’d already sat through a movie he wanted to watch. so i yelled from the other room, “i vote for the mentalist. two to one, majority rules.”
i come into the room a few minutes later and see my dad flipping through the movie channels. i look at my mom. “your dad didn’t want to watch it.”
i look at him. “you can watch one episode. and if you don’t like it, we’ll watch something else.”
“no,” he said, flipping through the channels.
i take the dvd out, open up the player and pop it in.
“don’t you dare,” he said.
i close the dvd player, and search for the remote to change the input on the tv.
“i said i didn’t want to,” my dad said.
“too bad,” i said. “this is where you learn about compromise in order to get along with people.”
i say it lightheartedly, almost jokingly, but it’s tough love. a part of me is beating icy branches of fear through my veins because i worry he might hit me, even though i’m pretty sure he’s too afraid of me walking out of his life for good to do that anymore. it hasn’t happened since i went off to college.
he gets up, throws down the remote. “you guys show me no respect,” and stormed out.
“we tried to share something we enjoy with you and you weren’t interested. your own loss,” i said.
later, i talk to my mom about my brother. she said that he’s on a new medication that makes him hyper. i tell her that i don’t think michael’s sleeping. i’m up pretty late at night and i hear him tossing and turning until all hours. he’s probably been cranky lately because there’s something disrupting his sleep cycles, and it’s tilting his moods. it’s the medication.
she showed me the list of meds to see if i recognized any uppers. i had gone in to see his doctor once for myself, and he’d offered me adderol (speed). i’m always telling my parents that he’s a drug dealer, and there’s something wrong with how they keep adding drugs to my brother’s cocktail.
i just can’t believe the list. this poor kid.
i told my mom what she needs to do is hire someone to research these meds. find out treatments and compare them. find expert opinion who can evaluate my brother’s meds and design a plan to take them off of them so we can see who he is, baseline. got in an argument with my mom, being negative about every suggestion i made, about why we would need a lawyer if we weren’t going to sue his doctor (because lawyers are experts at research. and even if they couldn’t take this on, they would know people or companies who do, because their business is built on research). but still, she was so negative, saying she didn’t have time to do all this, and asked me to do it. i told her that i’m tired of her manipulating me to do the things she didn’t want to do.
she told me that i should want to be helpful.
“so i should be helpful and always do the things you don’t want to do.”
“yes.”
“because you don’t want to do them.”
“what’s the problem?”
“i am not your secretary. you get to work with me or not at all.”
i just got tired of hearing excuses. i could do the research, but i want to see her dedicate herself to him for once, really see him and figure out how we can help him. she loves him and she’s always there in body, but he’s resorting to manipulating her with fear to get her attention.
he needs her right now and she’s trying to negotiate this.
i was disappointed, but just left the room on a sarcastic note. you can’t get mad at people. you just have to be adamant that they can be bigger people than they’re currently being.
*****
update: dad is throwing a tantrum. walked out of his room and back in, slammed door. minutes later, walked out of his room, then back in, slamming door. repeated one more time. sounds of minor banging. one loud, “FUUUUUUUCK.” then silence.
childish.
we, of course, are ignoring him. i’m blogging and my mom has finally seen the light and is researching my brother’s medications.
“it’s like a storm,” i had told her in regards to the members of our family’s tantrums. “you can get irritated with getting wet from the rain, but you can’t get mad at a storm while it’s happening. you just have to accept that it’s storming right now, and find ways to go about your life until it passes and you can come out again.”
i just act like it has nothing to do with me. and when they’re ready to have me back in their lives again, all they have to do is talk to me nicely.