“I don’t want to be the executor,” I said. It was ten years ago–my mom was making her trust.
“Honey, please,” she said.
I imagined myself incapacitated by grief, trying to sell the house. Being executor sounded like a horrible idea. On the best of days, it’s difficult to take care of myself. No way, dealing with a bunch of paperwork and money.
“Why do I need to be executor?” I asked.
“I don’t want your brother doing it,” she said. “You know he’d try to keep everything for himself.”
“Oh, ok,” I said, understanding.
content warning: violence
I don’t understand why my mom continued to support my brother when she knew he’s evil. She knew he’d try to cheat me out of my share, yet she continued to support him.
She carried him, birthed him, raised him, kissed his owies. Mama loved him like she loved me–more than anything. I guess it’s a mom thing. She didn’t think she had a choice.
I have only one life. It’s obvious to me, that evil is something to get far away from. But my mom was all about family to the exclusion of sense. Family is what matters–never abandon your family. Since she couldn’t exclude her own kid, dealing with his evil was at the center of our life. My dad’s evil was at the center of our life, and once he died, my brother’s evil took the place.
I can’t waste my life being abused. Men who think I exist for their well-being, and everything good in the world is theirs, are not my jam. I had to live like that as a kid, and once I was free, no way was I doing that anymore.
The men of my family see women as good if we’re easy and give them what they want, immediately. A woman standing up for her own needs and well-being is considered worthless. In my family of origin, women exist to serve men. A man might BBQ or make money at a job, and that’s about it. Opening a jar and reaching a high kitchen shelf are optional. Take the money and be glad if he doesn’t hit you.
A problem with continuing to support my brother is that he and I couldn’t be there at the same time. Letting him in was pushing me out. She needed men around so badly. That was her choice, but it wasn’t fair to everyone else.
When she was dying, I couldn’t be there to help because I’m afraid of my brother. He’s the only person I’ve even been afraid of killing me in cold blood. If she could have seen the future and how her death would be, alone with her abusive son, she might have made a better choice.
The moral of the story is… Please have healthy relationships. Learn skills. Communication, boundaries, consent, and self-love can be studied and practiced.
Think about what you really want for yourself and the people you’re close to. You can tell yourself you’re only harming yourself, but everyone you’re close to is suffering from the abuser you keep around. I never should have been executor–I shouldn’t have been pushed into that.
I’m not about cancel culture, kicking someone out of community for a wrong belief or a slight. My need to avoid my brother’s violence isn’t about purity. It’s his criminal record, the guns under the bed, and decades of destructively selfish behavior. My well-being is collective, honest, and healing. His well-being is using people until they leave him or die.
Manipulation of women is a shitshow. Once I saw how my brother had been manipulating me my whole life, our relationship was over–not because I cut it off. Once his “I love you” didn’t work on me and he couldn’t get anything from me anymore, I was nothing to him. Giving him resources and stroking his ego are all that I was good for, so I was discarded as trash.
I guess this is a topic for therapy, not a blog post. I can’t breathe because decades of misogyny are still tying me up.