So Who Delivers The Welcome Package?

Hello. My name is Robzilla, and I’m bisexual. I never wanted to disclose that fact about myself until I was comfortable enough to do so. Unfortunately, I was robbed of that chance.

My brother has been in a downward spiral since he survived his last hospitalization. He hangs an American flag on the front porch every day, supports Tang Satan, and screamed when he couldn’t hang various flags in his living room. I can only shake my head at this behavioral change. Considering his physical conditions and ethnicity, it’s like a lab rat supporting animal testing.

He’s frequently agitated like an Alzheimer’s patient, more often at my sister than I, and at his worst he loses complete control of his thoughts and emotions. Things have devolved to the point that my sister refuses to visit my place out of fear for her own safety when he’s around, and after what I experienced during the past thirty-six hours I don’t blame her for staying away.

Two nights ago, my brother disturbed me at eleven o’clock to tell me something important. I thought he was having a medical emergency, but when I opened my door it turned out to be yet another incident that confirms he’s just getting worse. I had a dream later that night. I’m driving him somewhere, like I’m supposed to do, and suddenly when I’m not paying attention he shanks me in my side. I have no idea if I lived or died in that dream, but it was disturbing enough to awaken. Needless to say, I got very little sleep the rest of the night.

Yesterday morning, I offered to take my brother’s wet clothes to the laundromat to dry them but advised him that I’m going alone. When he questioned why, I told him that after the prior night’s episode I don’t trust being in the same car as him. That’s when he completely lost his shit. It wasn’t the anger itself that alarmed me. It was what he said. 

My brother called me a son of a bitch, which is no big deal since I’ve been called much worse, and then he went there. He called me a fucking faggot, and he did with the vitriol of someone that wanted to do harm to me. He accused one of my college friends of being my high school lover, and while I never felt physically threatened I realized then that my brother will never be my ally.

I called 911 to have a psych team speak to him, and during the three hours I awaited their arrival I was faced with a dilemma. In order to convey my feelings that I also feared for my safety, I’d have to come out to them. So without a choice in the matter, I took a deep breath and then held my own coming out party. 

Throughout the afternoon, I came out to the police, a psych clinician, and representatives of three different organizations that handle my brother’s care. Then I stealthily came out to my sister. I told her with my weight loss I have both men and women interested in me, but that I prefer women. She didn’t make a comment about it, and we carried on as if nothing happened. Just the way I wanted it.

After dinner, I felt bold. I came out to my best friend that I’ve known for a quarter century. I didn’t care if he accepted me or not, and I’m glad to report he’s fine with it. I don’t know how the older woman I mentioned in my previous posts will handle it. If she accepts it, that’s awesome. If not, then that’s okay too. I’ll continue to live my best life either way.

Getting back to my brother… he voluntarily agreed to visit the ER for only his existing medical conditions, and there doctors discovered something very serious. Now I have another dilemma on my hands. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, and after what he said yesterday the feeling is mutual. 

Do I place nice and be a caring family member because that's what I'm supposed to do? Or do I make him dead to me, which is what I really want?

While I ponder on that, I’ll just sit here and wonder if it’s FedEx or UPS that will deliver the free toaster and the bisexual edition of The Gay Agenda to my doorstep.