Letters from My Brother

As I have said, I am trying to clear out stuff hoarded over the years.

I have found two letters written by my brother dated September 22nd 1995. One of the letters is to me and the other is a copy of a letter he says he sent to my parents.

Not only does he deny ever having written these (I asked him in 05 in our email exchange if he still thought what he wrote was true and he denied ever having written it. I am thankful I kept all of our email correspondence!)) but as far as my family is concerned, the accusations he makes in these letters were made by me! How that came about I have no idea.

Yet again I was blamed for something I did not do and scapegoated.

I quote from the letter to my parents:

'My therapy is now centred on assisting me to heal the pain caused by the horrifying trauma of emotional, physical and sexual abuse. I am helped to deal with the deep and lasting scars that have had a grip on my life as a result of experiencing being raped by '
(here he names my father and two others). These sickening and repulsive crimes were also committed against my brother Colin, and not only did I witness these crimes, I was also subject to their loathesome savagery.'

He goes on to be rather graphic in detailing the abuse and also to write:

'i also remember having a mother that witnessed one of the crimes and then chose to be silent instead of protecting the children she claims to love.'

The above are extracts from his letter copied to my parents and my other brother.

To me he writes:

'My heart weeps not only for myself, but also for you. My heart weeps for your years of torment and rejection, and for my years of silence. Please find it in your heart to forgive me for my silence.'

'Please, please show these letters to your therapist.'

'If you cannot find it in your heart to release me from your anger and to accept where I am at this moment, rest assured that i will pray for you and will send you you my love and light unconditionally.' You, like myself, were a beautiful little boy who had his dignity, heart and soul ripped away from as an innocent child. I am determined to reclaim my divine right to live with dignity, peace and love and I wish the same for you.'

At the time of receiving these, I did not believe him and still do not. I was angry. Angry because my father was a bully. Making such far fetched accusations would allow him to ignore his bullying. After all, if the sexual stuff was not true then nothing was. That is how I saw it. I might add soon after receiving these letters, my brother was on the phone calling me all the evil names under the sun.

What I really do not get is how it came to be that it was ME who got the blame for these accusations? How it was me who was never spoken to again? How it was me who was not told of his mother's death? How is it that it is me who is blamed for it all?

And they wonder why I want nothing from them or to have any of them in my life now? They have given me nothing but pain. My father made me feel worthless. He hurt me deeply with his physical violence and his verbalised disgust of me. 'You disgust me.' He did not show me love in any way whatsoever. And now they think I am the one who is mad and bad?
My brother came from the same family. I have very mixed feelings about him and his continued abuse of me. (by his scapegoating and lying now.) I am aware that he must do what he needs to do to keep his 'story' together so that he doesn't have to go thru what I did and really feel his feelings. It takes courage.

I only wanted to know if my father was still alive. I had no reason to believe I would be told. Instead this f***ing shit gets opened up again.

I have received nothing but hatred from these people. Not love at all. Only an insane person would want to have anything to do with them.

Oh and just like I did before, I shall be certain to keep these signed letters just so that i cannot be told they were not written or sent. you know, that is a huge part of their game and a huge part of why I was so ill for so long: I kept being told that what I knew happened did not. In the end I had no trust at all for own self or my own perceptions. Wonder why I was so ill? It is very common for people who are constantly told that their perceptions and reality are false to fall apart. Thank fully for me, there was always a part of me, deep and hidden but there, that knew, and kept me from losing it altogether.

My father was physically violent and cold and verbally abusive. As was my mother. I was sexually abused outside of the home-by a stranger in Singapore. I told my mother, despite being warned not to, when something happened to a neighbours child. I though I had better say what I knew. My mother slapped me and called me disgusting and told me it was my fault. She also never stopped my father from being violent and could have.

I was also the victim of a child pornographer in Australia. He was one of my teachers. Of course I said nothing. Past experience taught that was dangerous to do. Besides, by that time I believed I was evil and this man treated me a lot better than my father did so I was unlikely to blab.(I have a deep concern that these films and photographs of me might now be on the net-but there is nothing I can do about that. Oh and in 94 I was contacted by Interpol and then interviewed for 2 days by detectives with regard to this teacher. It was dreadful. I had to be specific. Only to then be told that because I had been in a psych ward, my testimony could not be used as I was not a 'reliable witness'. I didn't matter and as far as I know the case was dropped)

How I feel now? I emptied myself of all the grief, all those years of loss and pain. I want to be left in peace. I have no wish for anything from family. I wish them nothing but the peace I have found. I don't believe nay of them are evil, just in a great deal of pain without the courage to do right by themselves or me.
Long gone are the days of hoping for love and acceptance. I love and accept myself which is all that matters.

I live my life well. I live with my past and with my present. I live with 24/7 physical pain and my disability. Yet I enjoy each day, have good people in my life whom I love and who love me. I have my dogs. I am not the worthless shit I was taught I was. I am me and those who I let into my life love me for that. They don't expect me to change to suit them. And they know ALL of me, I don't pretend to be what i am not. I spent most of my life doing that and it nearly killed me.

The thought of my family still inspires fear in me and perhaps it will always be so. The difference is that whilst I feel it, I understand there is no need of it now. Old habits die hard.