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Watch Online My Boyfriend's meds. This is a long read (heads up). But if you can make it through to the end, I welcome input. Thank you. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I met my ex-fiance while I was on a temporary assignment to a country in Africa (she is part of a minority white community in a predominantly black population). I was not looking for a relationship, but we got along very well. After two months, I learned that she had a history of substance abuse/addiction. This took me by surprise and I had asked for some time to process the information because I felt she had lied to me (via omission) and because I had dated addicts before, and ended up getting treated horribly and unceremoniously dumped because in the end, their addictions always were first priority. After a few days apart, we sat across from one another over dinner one evening and she confessed her history. She told me she had struggled to accept her identity due to her sexual orientation, including the fact her family shamed her for being gay and that she had to live closeted due to the country's criminal law against homosexuality. She also told me that she had previously dated someone who used, and fell into the wrong crowd (all the typical excuses of how/why one gets involved in with drugs) and that her abuse included marijuana, cocaine and heroin. This was a lot to hear, and I was taken aback as to the number of years and types of drugs. She also told me that her family and community had ostracized her for being gay, as well as for dating non-whites, and she had a lot of shame regarding her earlier life. She also said her drug usage was also an unhealthy form of coping with all the emotional abuse from her family and friends. I weighed out her confession to me, her achievements/accomplishments since her substance abuse days, and her discipline and adherence to a much healthier lifestyle since. Also, unlike any other same sex relationship I had experienced before her, she actually treated me well. This omission of her past was weighed as baggage, but compared to how wonderful and communicative she was with me during our time together, I sensed that maybe she had matured and learned to appreciate what she had in life as an older adult. So, I opted to continue dating her knowing that she had this history, but I felt confident her many years of sobriety from the hard core drugs she had used, had proven she was more resilient and a survivor. Also, she was recovering from an auto immune disease that had come about a few years ago, and she was taking medication for it and making every effort to live a healthy life to keep it in check. Having said that, the auto immune disease is one that is commonly associated with former drug abuse so I have no doubt that the disease was a byproduct of her past choices. Let me caveat, that I enjoy adult beverages. I would imbibe on occasion, sometimes in her company. Sometimes she'd join me, others times she'd refrain. At no point did I see her abuse alcohol. In fact, she was very good about keeping her diet and exercise and routines in check. I figured I drank more than she did so I was not concerned as to her consumption at all. There was one day she and I had a few drinks though, and she had a slight reaction to her auto immune disease symptoms. So she didn't imbibe as much after. Again, I felt there was nothing to be concerned about regarding her alcohol usage. We had compared our mutual histories of bad exes, and noted that we often were the ones who were dumped, and not the ones who dumped others. I figured at our ages (middle aged women) we had been through our fair share of dramatic relationships, and maybe this was our time to find cohesion and comfort in one another, as we simply felt so comfortable with one another. Also, while I had work to do during my assignment, I was more than supportive of her studies (she was completing her degree long after her initial attempt in her 20s, which was stalled due to a strike at the university, and her venture into a professional sporting industry that she has continued to succeed in, well beyond the average retirement age for it). She often would lament about her exes giving her grief for not paying attention to them while she studied or did her job. I made sure very early on in the relationship, to discuss obvious points regarding the fact we came from two different continents, careers, and family situations. Everything we discussed was to measure out expectations, future plans, and mutual willingness to see what could come of the relationship. In hindsight, I guess she only told me what she thought I wanted to hear. At the time, I thought she was being earnest and sincere. In addition, I witnessed the emotional abuse and drama of her dysfunctional family. I met one sibling who also lived in the area, and was indirect witness to her bad behaviors and infidelities as she sought to divorce her husband. I got along well with the husband due to some professional commonalities and often provided some third party guidance on how he could better cope while his wife of 20 years acted badly and dismissed his efforts to reconcile. I also was privy to the nasty things my ex's parents would say to her, including shaming her for being happy in a relationship with another woman, and guilt tripping her on numerous occasions. Furthermore, I learned she was extremely dependent on her parents for her salary and her education. It seemed they purposely kept her just above poverty level, and exploited and enabled her simultaneously. He achievements in her world of sport, only enhanced their own images as they were part of the industry as well. Also, none of her family would visit her at her home. She was always required to go to the homes of her family as they would belittle her quaint domicile and living conditions. Also, one particularly sad and disturbing thing I witnessed, was all her trophies and awards, were sitting in the house of her parents. Their reasoning was, that they would be stolen at my ex's house, but I knew deep down that they didn't trust her with her own winnings. In fact, her parent's house could have easily been robbed liked their daughter's should someone want to target it. It seemed they more than likely reveled in the awards as validation to their own investments in the sport, and cared less about the achievements of their own daughter. It pained me to see my ex, who is a long term champion in her sport, be reduced to such a level. At this point, in any other country, she would most likely be much better off financially due to the amount of wins she had accumulated. However, it seems her parents controlled everything and enjoyed ensuring their own relevance continued, no matter how much their tight leash choked their own offspring. After several months of dating, I proposed to her because I wanted to convey my seriousness and commitment to her as I was to return back to my country. She counter-proposed to me shortly thereafter. I returned home, and immediately went to work, as well as addressed a medical injury I had suffered through my entire overseas assignment. After my medical procedure, I spent almost half a year in physical therapy. My days were full of work, therapy, caring for a cancer stricken pet (which requires daily medicine), and working towards a possible assignment that could have taken me back to the country in which she lived. The multiple time zones didn't always help with our online communications or schedules, but we tried to stay in touch as best as we could. I had no personal distractions and I felt very happy and content that I had finally found my person. My friends noted the positive vibes emanating from me (after seeing me become rather jaded regarding dating women) for years prior. After numerous failed relationships, where women would pull the most dramatic stunts, and emotional manipulation... I felt like I had something solid and secure. I returned to her country three months later for a birthday trip. We had a wonderful time (although it was a bit boozy of a week since we were on vacation). It was amazing until the very last night before I was to return home. At this point, I was feeling ill due to a stomach bug and had stopped drinking. She continued to drink with a friend who had watched her home while we were away. After the friend left, she continued to drink into a second day. I didn't really notice it until it became apparent and she admitted she was drunk that night. She also admitted she had not been taking the meds for her auto immune disorder for a month because she had not felt the symptoms. The evening turned into a hellish nightmare as I experienced her going into a lethargic mode, where I felt her drunken bender had resulted in her not only being overly intoxicated, but the alcohol had exacerbated symptoms of her to mention the fact I also felt there was some level of emotional manipulation occurring as well. I mention the latter because I have dated several women, and experienced a wide range of emotional abuse/manipulation strategies, including outrageous drunken outbursts that always resulted in me having to step in as the adult, and be the target of a wide range of abuse. All would usually culminate in a morning after "black out" memory of what had occurred, usually with the requisite remorse and apologies and promises to never do such behavior again. Back to that evening, after I noticed she was extremely lethargic and barely responsive, I had to yell at her to get her attention. This was the only way to get her to respond to me. I was also in a bit of a panic mode as we were in a country that did not have regular ambulance services. I called a friend of hers (an ex boyfriend, from her days where she tried in vain to pretend she could be with men). I asked for him to help but he declined because he was at his brother's (I have no doubt he too was also drunk) and there was a curfew ongoing in the country due to a census. I was taken aback at his refusal to help, because I knew he could easily break the curfew and bribe a traffic policeman should he get pulled over (trust me, the corruption in this particular country is pervasive and the traffic police are well known to be on the take). This is the same ex boyfriend of hers who when drunk, would try to convince her to reconsider their relationship because he clearly was still in love with her. This man, also apparently would make comments about me not being as into her, as she was me (despite the fact I was the one who proposed). A little later her father called. He was two hours away with her mother in another part of the country, therefore not completely able to step in an help either. I put him on speakerphone and we both were asking my ex where her medication was located. Numerous times she would give the wrong location or wrong medication and this would further frustrate me. He heard me over the speakerphone, yelling to get her attention and keep it as she kept rolling in an out of consciousness. But he never saw her condition that night. At some point he coordinated a medicine delivery to her house. While we waited, I struggled to her her upright, standing and to the bathroom. At one point, I had to temporarily let go of her and fell back, and hit her head on the wall. This really had me worried because I feared a possible head injury too. I was still weak, only a couple months post my medical procedures so my own strength was limited when I had to lift her each time. I eventually got her to the living room, where she promptly fell over and vomited on the floor. I had to keep all of her dogs away while I tried to clean it up and get her back to a better position. After her medicine was dropped off, and I had a witness to her condition in person finally, I then got her back to the bathroom for one more vomit session and then to her bedroom. At this point, her father confronted me on the phone as I updated him. He asked me how serious the relationship was between me an his daughter. Mind you, I didn't realize he was working against me in this moment... I figured he was just trying to inform me about the history of his daughter's addiction and how he and his wife had spent many years trying to ensure she could be her own person. Little did I know, that he deemed me a threat from the start. At one point that evening, in all the frustration, confusion and anger that welled up inside me.. I placed the ring she had given me on her nightstand. I simply was just confused as to why she would pull this stunt with me when we had such a wonderful relationship. After I got her to bed, I held her against me to keep her face out of the pillows and her airways open, despite the physical and emotional pain it caused me. The next morning she was extremely remorseful, and ask what she needed to do to make it right. I told her that it wasn't on me to tell her what to do because doing so would make me appear preachy and controlling. I made some suggestions, in the form of "if it were me, I'd do I'm not telling you to do anything". She removed all the alcohol in her house and then vowed to go back to AA meetings and double up on her therapy. She dropped me off at the airport that day, and it was awkward between us. I had asked for time to process. Again, this was my assumption that asking for time to process was a way of setting a boundary and was a healthy thing to do. After I got back home, I wasn't as responsive in some of the online communications because I felt extremely numb. I did convey this to her. I also did not stop communication. It just was a little less frequent because I needed to process and think about that event. I felt she had put us both in a dangerous situation that night, and that she very well could have died in my arms due to the medical situation that was part of the meltdown. She and I later discussed it at length. I decided to continue with the relationship because pros out weighed the cons considerably. She and I really did get along very well (despite her past and the stunt that night). I later suggested she come visit me over the holidays. We coordinated me getting the ticket for her, and her getting her visa. She applied, paid for and interviewed for the visa. At no point did she tell me any concerns regarding the visa application or process. After it was approved, she met with a couple of my coworkers to pick up another box of items I sent her and her dogs. This was one of many boxes I had given her. Approximately two weeks later, she broke up with me over the phone. I was blindsided. Confused. Crushed. Everything she said in her phone call was contradictory to what she told me before and I felt her words were not hers, but her family's. More so, her parent's words. It seemed they had gone to work on her in my absence. A week later she wanted to talk but I had gone through every emotion there was. I felt she had sabotaged our relationship, just like every single ex of mine before. I was not receptive to the suggestion we talk and she immediately backed off. At this point, I began to message her my observations regarding the entire situation. I was not nasty about it, just honest and on point about it all. She took it as me attacking her I suppose but she didn't seem to realize that she had just sabotaged a relationship with someone who loved and adored her. What I also noticed, she was now unable to communicate in her responses, which was confusing more so because she and I often had very open discussions while together. It was like she was stonewalling, and purposely deflecting to make it seem I was somehow in the wrong. Her responses became non sequitur (a familiar thing I've noticed with women in relationships). I also noticed there was never an acknowledgement of my feelings or pain. This was the most baffling end to a relationship yet because almost a year's worth of messages between us, contradicted everything she was saying to justify the breakup. In the break up phone call, she had suggested we could remain friends, to which I said no. Seriously, what is with lesbians and this need to remain friends with their exes after they've betrayed them? I also told her I did not want to keep in touch either as it would be toxic and unhealthy. And I suggested she return the ring and pay me for the airfare as she had promised to do earlier. She said she would and I gave her until the end of 2019 to return both (about two months time frame). This seemed more than fair. After a month and a half of no contact, I emailed her to relieve her of the burden of the ring and airfare. This was decided after many talks with my support group as to importance of my own emotional welfare and holding out for these items to be return based on principle. If I could afford the loss, then it was best to let them go. I emailed her the Friday before Christmas to do this. I also pointed out that the airfare would void once she failed to check in on the departure date. The weekend before Xmas, I got several email notifications from the airlines about check in times and such, which only tortured me more so. Now, I will admit I did in the back of my head, wish for her to actually get on that plane and show up to see me. As dramatic as it would have been. I would never have sent her away had she come to me. But she never came. She spent her holidays with her family and friends. There was never even a thank you for relieving her of the burden of the ring/airfare. Nothing. As I emotionally sank over the holidays, I had a long talk with a friend who was also a lawyer. He had married a foreigner years before so I inquired as to the visa situation. He recommended I remove my name from the visa (which I was the point of contact she referenced) because should she visit the US in the next five years, and if there was any problem with her visit, I could get held responsible. In my research to remove my name, I tried to be thorough. As a result, I came across the application she most likely filled out for the visa and I saw a question that gave me pause. The question, had she answered it honestly, would have made her immediately inadmissible for approval. The question asked about previous or current drug abuse and/or addictions. My heart sank. At this point, I knew she had lied on the visa application. Unfortunately, I could not overlook it and was mandated to report. To not report it would result in me losing my entire career and retirement pension. This is no joke. I had to again break the no contact rule to sort it out. We had a very contentious phone call about it. During this call, I don't know who I was speaking to because it seemed like an entirely different person was inhabiting the body of my ex woman I had fallen in love with and was engaged. A couple disconcerting comments were made, where she said her friends had told her they never put their personal business on the visa applications either (to which I responded that now that she has admitted further complicity, I had to report that too). She also said that had I pulled the same stunt she had done to me last summer, she would have left me.???????? She also mentioned that I was controlling like her mother when I told her the options were for her to either self report or I would be forced to do so. I was beyond belief as to her behavior and reasoning. Who was this woman? She then said that sometimes things don't work out, which confused me so I asked specifically why she and I failed. She then claimed she was afraid of my anger and that she had this painful realization that if she fucked up again, I would not stand by her. Then she claimed I shamed her that night last summer during her meltdown, and didn't help her. This was just way too much to hear, because it was not true at all. I never displayed anger towards her the entire relationship (with exception for me having to yell at her to get out of her lethargy that night, to stay awake and not die on me). She was blaming me for what I said after she broke up with me and making it seem the reason for it. This was baffling and beyond belief. Upon the advice of my work, I gave her a week to self report. I reasoned that if she self reported, there might be less punitive action and a possible chance at a waiver later. She said she would revoke the visa but not tell the about lying on the form. I stopped communicating shortly thereafter. She later asked for more time because she claimed to be too busy with school and her sporting schedule, but I didn't respond. After a week, I made the complaint via the Embassy website. They did follow up for more information and later said my comments were well noted, and they would further investigate. During all this, a friend of mine stepped up and emailed her directly. The fact my ex responded to the email and engaged in additional communication with my friend was perplexing enough, but my friend managed to get more information. It appears my ex's father stepped in and "begged" my ex to not marry me, and that I was abusive and controlling. This was not true at all. I am not either. I could not believe my ex would take his sabotage as valid and convince herself it was somehow true. I realized then that her father was a master manipulator and very much decided his daughter would not leave his control for anything or anyone. And since I was the most viable candidate his daughter had ever dated, and one who could have probably seriously had her considering leaving the country for a better, healthier life that included a chance to live openly in her it seemed he had to put a stop to us. At no point before the break up, did she ask to talk about things either. She won't even read her messages to me before to see that she isn't making sense with her reasoning. Clearly, she is a textbook addict who has severe cognitive distortions with her memory. I feel stupid for having given her benefit of the doubt earlier on, and that somehow she was different than other addicts. Nonetheless, it's been a few months since the break up. It was traumatizing being dumped so unceremoniously, but her compounded hurtful actions over the holidays, really took a lot out of me. And, I am still traumatized having to report her for the visa fraud. Any other career, I could have ignored it. I struggle still to accept all this and am in a lot of emotional pain. My friends and therapist are on my side, but in this isolating time I am struggling more than usual. Anyone have similar experiences or some pearls of wisdom that might help boost me over this emotional rut? Because I can't stop thinking about her and us, and what we had before she sabotaged it. It's crushing me emotionally.

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Rodney/Rod- younger FtM sibling, a good few years younger than me, next in line of us kids, still a minor OS- older sister, a few years older than me Mom- bio mom, had many kids Dad- bio dad, fathered those many kids Okay, so this is a whole lot but these past few days I've been having breakdowns constantly, and I just need some support and someone to tell the story to, so strap in! I'm sorry for how scrambled it's all going to be, it's a lot to sort through for me. Rodney was always a... tough sibling to have. When he was a baby, I was expected to help raise him (her at the time), and same for my other siblings as well. Being an older girl in the family and having mom and dad working alternating full time+ jobs, it was the norm to wake up at 4 when one parent left for work and stay awake with the babies until the other parent got home, and if they were tired, watching the babies until 10 or so when they would take over or I'd switch shifts with my other, older, sister. We'd change diapers, wash bottles, clean puke, and during the summer we were expected to watch whichever baby was in need of supervision from 6am to 3pm every day except the weekend when grandma would come over and relieve us of our duties. Rodney was never put in a position of caring for any of the younger ones because he was "just a baby" and "didn't know how". He got away with saying he didn't know how to sweep or wipe the table until he was 9. So to say, I didn't quite bond well with him from the start. Growing up, mom and dad always referred to Rodney as a "Type A" personality and used that to excuse his behavior. When we were young, if things didn't go his way, he would lash out completely; he'd bite, scream, kick, poured pixie sticks in my hair, and (although it's stupid of me to care so much) broke my favorite crayons -a limited edition run of a specific type of crayola twistable, True to Life, that I loved so much I only ever used maybe 3 times because I wanted to keep them safe. (I want to buy a new set eventually but they're 25 dollars for 8 of them which I can't justify just to cover up something that traumatized me. ) I didn't like to spend time with Rodney because of it, and mom and dad catered to his middle child syndrome completely. "He's the middle, he's got it so tough. None of you siblings ever spend time with him. He doesn't have any friends. " "He's strong willed, he's going to be a lawyer when he grows up. (Mind you, his grades were meh, and I was doing everything I could to get absolutely straight A's and cried when I got my first B in 4th grade, but Rod was the one to be proud of who would get into a good career because he was strong). " So far so good, just sibling rivalry stuff, I wasn't a fan of him mostly because of how mom and dad treated things, but no biggie, right? I just kind of thought he and I would grow out of our behavioral stuff, and we'd be fine as adults. He was hard for me to deal with because everything he did was everything an autistic child couldn't handle- he was loud and didn't play by the rules, he didn't let me have my patterns and he destroyed my special interests. Fast forward to our teenage years, or mine, I guess. When I was going through puberty and early adolescence, I struggled a lot, more than mom and dad would have expected. My older siblings has issues as well, but the oldest didn't even need much therapy and the second oldest, OS, was barely older than me and internalized most of her issues. I'll admit that mom and dad were head to deal with OS and I getting bad at around the same time which sucked. It was when I was 12 I got diagnosed as autistic. I was "high functioning", a label I hate, and an excuse everyone used to dismiss not noticing earlier or putting more pressure on me. The only reason I got diagnosed was because my younger siblings were at the age of being loud, crazy monsters, and the noise sent me into meltdowns where I would pinch myself until I bled, which was a big enough red flag to get some help. I was in therapy and started some medications which helped with depression and anxiety. I had wanted to go to a school specifically for autistic children because home wasn't a good place for me, school wasnt a good place for me, and I needed more support than I was being given. I went through the work as a kid to find a state and No Child Left Behind accepted program, printed the papers out, researched and explained it all to mom and dad, but they didn't listen; so I had to tough it out. I was bullied a lot but didn't quite comprehend what that even meant, because my experience of meanness was limited to stronger abuses than just mean words said at the same volume as everything else. My only experiences came from Rod. He was a lover of the word "hate". He hated everyone at the loudest volume he could hate. He started going to therapy when he was in 4th grade because he was dealing with similar depression and anxiety issues to us older ones, and it was of course way too early for him to handle- he went through puberty early and I sympathize with that completely. He didn't deserve to be feeling so terrible so young. Me and OS were self harmers during that middle school age and into high school, and Rodney started to self harm in 5th grade. Mom and dad always made a point to tell OS that she was the reason I started self harming, and that I was the reason Rodney did; what a wonderful thing to tell depressed teens who feel like burdens, right? Taking a moment to note that my autistic behaviors were usually "masked", meaning that I would try to mimic the behaviors of other people. As a child I assumed everyone had trouble with eye contact or hated noise, and was just really good at covering it up. It was during those teenage years I got bad at masking because it's easy to copy what kids do- if kids scream, I scream because their screaming makes me scream, fair enough. But as a teen, I couldn't mimic things like crushes or friendships or normalcy like I should have. I would meltdown, shut down, and isolate a lot. OS and dad fought a lot while I was 10-12- loud screaming matches, "like gasoline to a fire" as mom would always say to me. I developed a protector complex over all my siblings through that, because I remember so distinctly watching OS cry in a corner and hearing dads voice boom throughout the house. The fights were, as I now know, pretty much shouting matches for the both of them, and my need to step in just put me in harm's way (as it seems to always do now). OS would get mad, dad would get mad, but it wasn't necessarily... abusive, I don't think? There was no power in the fights, and once they were done, they were done. My brain doesn't work that way though, and fights like that had me pushing dad to leave OS alone, crying, rocking back and forth, and even trying to run away once. So, protector complex. I 'needed' to keep my younger siblings from experiencing that. So when Rodney started having issues like me and OS, I wanted to help be his voice. If he was having trouble with bullies at school, I'd tell mom or the teachers, or joke to Rod that I'd beat the bullies up cuz that always make him laugh- he knew I'd never hurt a fly. I projected my own issues on to Rod a lot, and he took advantage of that. My freshman year (which I had started a year early because I needed to escape the stressors of middle school and my grades were on par with skipping a grade anyways) I was put into an outpatient program for autistic teens because I had wanted to die. I told mom and dad and my therapist, found the program myself, and the next Monday, there I was. It changed, and saved, my life. It was about there when Rod was around then beginning to notice what he considered "the preferential treatment" that I was getting. So, he would come to me more. In the mornings he would cry to me that he couldn't go to school that day, and I'd convince mom that it was true and he needed a mental health day. Soon he was doing that twice a week and I was getting wary of it. I started some new meds and was having some side effects, one of them being hallucinating, and one night when Rod and I were talking, I said as much. I trusted him because he trusted me, and it's not like mom and dad didn't know about my problem, so what could go wrong? Well, Rod asked me what hallucinating meant. I explained it, and wouldn't you know it, the next day he started hallucinating! Okay, weird.. but maybe genetic, I thought. I put it aside in my mind. I sat down with my younger siblings and explained to them that I was sensory sensitive and that I needed them to quiet down sometimes, and the next week, suddenly Rod would freak out in his class because noise was too loud (but when he had his best friend over and they blasted music and stomped around, that was just fine)! I was feeling a bit weird about it all at that point and didn't want to talk to Rod anymore because he always seemed to be copying me- and I felt like such a shithead to even mentally accuse him of that because all the issues suck, and accusing someone of faking felt so toxic. It was around now that he came out to me (and me first) as trans, and my best friend had come out as trans a few months prior, so I did everything to be his biggest advocate. I tried to explain it to mom and dad when he was ready, I offered to buy him a binder, I gave him resources online to help, and tried my hardest to make him feel accepted. Another one of my siblings was diagnosed with OCD, and once Rod learned what OCD meant, he then had to turn light switches on and off a random amount of times whenever he left a room because he had to- except sometimes he didn't do it if no one was around. Heck, when we were kids he was the one to pretend to have bad eyesight because he wanted glasses like the rest of us. It was around then I learned that he was pitting the family against each other; he would tell my younger siblings that I was faking autism because I just wanted them to shut up, he would tell me that they hated me, he would tell mom and dad that I was making things up and copying him, he told the sibling with OCD that I thought they were faking, etc. He wanted us all to love him and hate each other. Finally, one day he tells my siblings he was the one with Autism and I was copying him, and I was done with his crap then. I stopped advocating. If he needed help, I told him to talk to mom and dad. I had my own issues and as selfish as it felt, they were my issues; I wanted them to be mine, not something shared. Rod got worse and in his middle school years. He started getting louder and meaner. He switched schools to start a new one as "Rod" officially rather than being the-girl-who-now-goes-by-Rod, which hopefully would have fixed things, but didn't. He tried smoking, drinking, a variety of self harm behaviors, and taking children's medicine in a "suicide attempt" (it was a normal children's dose he took, and he knew that, hence my quotes there). He went to inpatient then, but rather than learning coping skills, he learned bad tricks. One day he was pissed off at mom, yelling at her while she cooked dinner, and since she wasn't giving him full attention, kicked the dog and stormed out into the backyard. Well, that didn't sit well with me, at all. I wasn't even out of high school and I had to put my foot down- I would not let him abuse animals, he needed help. I helped mom and dad find a residential program to send him to, and off he went. He was there for a while but got homesick, and mom and dad caved and let him come home. He blamed me for him being "sent away", and became even more verbally abusive. He told mom to "suck a big black d*ck", called her a whore, and whenever it got bad and we thought about calling the police, he'd say "go ahead, I don't care, they won't lock me up". It was a lot. An unfortunate addition to my own life around then is that reaching an understanding about sexuality made me aware of an abuse that happened to me as a child. (Prior to, I blocked off the memories, but it got to a point I couldn't. ) I told mom and dad only, and the abuser was only in the families life until I was 4, before Rod was around, and I kept it from him (which felt like such a difficult thing.. I couldn't cry with mom about it because he would hear someone crying and want to be a part of the story, he liked to steal mom or pry into why I was sad. ) Mom and I looked into information to make sure none of my other siblings or relatives were victims of the abuser and after that, I wanted to move past it. I'd have occasional flashbacks or breakdowns, but other than that, it was just a real life bad dream that I could put aside... Until one day Rod overheard me talking about it to mom, trying to tell her it wasn't her fault. It was morbidly funny, he stepped in and specifically said "nothing like that has ever happened to me, I'm so sorry it happened to you.. " which almost felt relieving in the moment? To own my trauma as mine. Not his. But it didn't last, of course not. He started acting out again and went to another program, and a day or two into that program, he asked to talk to me during his phone call. He said he was sexually abused by a person with blue eyes but he doesn't remember anything else. Well... that story has since become a person with green eyes, a father's friend, probably our uncle, not our uncle, his friend he used to sneak out with, not that friend because he made that friend up, etc. This line of stories is, to me, what broke the camel's back. His abuse became this mystery to solve and became so much more serious than anything I went through, and whenever I needed support he would butt in about needing it more. I don't think he was abused, point blank, because he himself told me so. He lies for his own benefit and it feels exactly like that. I don't think I can forgive him. Since then he has been hospitalized an additional 5 times, been through 3 more residential programs, an outpatient school, accused 7 more people of rape including his boyfriend at the time (they got caught fooling around and Rod later admitted he just didn't want to get in trouble), claimed that mom and dad were physically abusive, tried to abuse cough syrup (but he's an idiot and just ended up pretty much taking the equivalent of honey cough drops in liquid form, rather than the stuff he wanted) and one of the worse ones, stolen pain medicine from another member of the family to get high, in the morning, while the rest of us were trying to get ready for school. I've personally reached my limit with him. And he's going to be coming home today as a stop on his way to a new school. Seeing him is bad enough, but then mom told me about the school. A bit of backstory here, there's one resource (I'm sure you guys will figure out what but I don't want to say it obviously to keep it from being tied to me) that I've always considered to be something that would help me immensely in public. It, unfortunately, is a somewhat expensive resource, low end around 4-5 grand, more realistically about 10, takes a year or two for the people who create the resource to make (as it is person specific) and most people who create the resource don't really create it for older autistic individuals, and focus more on other issues or young autistic children. I had been researching it since I was 12 and tried to get mom and dads help applying to programs that would assist us for low cost or free, asking for help, asking if we could fundraise, but they never had the time or money. It got so frustrating that I tried to create the resource myself, and failed exponentially. My version isn't okay to be in public, and although it helps at home, doesn't fulfill the goal I had set (which i know is my own fault because i was grossly underprepared and shouldn't have tried at all). this new school Rod is going to provides that resource to its students. I asked mom and dad if they could now help me make my resource work, and they said they didnt know about stuff like this when I was younger and it's too late now, and that they're sorry but we need to move on. Its.. not a resource that just disappears? It just takes training. But they can't afford that for me, just for Rod. The kid who hurt something of the same type. And of course the didn't tell the resource program about that because it would screw up his chances, because him hurting something is better than him not getting it, right? I've been breaking down a lot over this. I feel like a burden, a failure. Mom and dad say I need to move on, forgive Rod. Give up on the resource because if I don't want to use an abusive method that they like, I obviously don't know about the resource at all and will fail anyways. Whenever I explain that I can't forgive him because he makes up rape accusations, they say that they don't know if they're ALL fake so we can't be mad at him for that. Mom keeps saying how "when you were at your worst, I hated you. I didn't want to come home because you were so bad. " And that Rod is "trying his best". Why is it he always tried his best even when he abused us, but I was so bad that she hated me because I didn't want to burden her? (It reawakens that feeling of being a burden, too). I haven't self harmed in 4 years, I've never drank, never done drugs, I've tried so hard to be good to everyone and make people happy, but somehow I'm the screw up in this situation... Rod needs help but mom and dad reward him for his negative behaviors. I realized that I'll never believe it when anyone says they're proud of me. All I'll hear is the background "I hated you". I'll leave it at that for now, cuz I'm crying a bit and should take a break. Any advice for handling being in the same home as him? They're going to expect me to celebrate with them and I can't escape because the quarantine order. Edit- a word.

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