#livingwithit

Seeing my brother today for the first time in 7 months was exactly what I should’ve expected. It still hasn't stopped hurting when I see him, like a jab in the gut when he hugs me hello. Im not sure why I called him last night, or why I told Ben it was so important for him to come with me. I’m not sure why I wanted Ben to meet him, I’m not sure why I wanted to reopen this wound. It never feels any better to see him sober and then hear about how his relapse three days later. I keep wanting this to get easier, I keep wanting him to get better and half of the time I feel like he doesn’t exist. It is the worst feeling to know that he is Peter’s father, that he won’t know his biological father and that its better that he doesn’t. I want to crawl under a rock knowing that there are parts of Peter’s life that I am inescapably associated with, and there is nothing I can do to make it better. I will always be his alcoholic father’s sister. I love that little boy so much, and it makes me so sad how unfair life is already for him. How the problems of others are already his problems too, and no matter how much we deny it, its the truth. This disease has taken so much out of us already. It has deprived my mother of a son, me of a brother, and my nephew of a father, and its not even close to done yet. 

Being infamous isn't something I tried to be It is not something I'm proud of Nor is it something I can change