I don’t talk about my brother anymore. He stopped coming around when I was fifteen. I was content with that and so was my mom. My mom had never been a fan of him, but he never wanted to try with her. He only saw her as the woman married to our dad. She was more than that. She’s my mother and he never respected her. I believed he hated her.
When he was younger he would do things to try to harm her. When he couldn’t harm her physically he would try to make our dad and my mom argue. He would tell lies to his mom to make our dad look bad, but my dad was never horrible. He worked three jobs to keep his family going. He has always been great.
But my brother’s horrible personality seemed almost foreign. He wasn’t like my dad’s side of the family. He was very manipulative. No one knew this except for me. He used to molest me. I never told anyone until I was fifteen years old. I told my mom. I told the woman he hated that he had hurt me.
He seemed to always want to hurt the family that he was never apart of. He didn’t have a mom and dad together at home. He didn’t have the same privileged I life I do. But that wasn’t our dad’s fault. Our dad did everything in his might to make him happy. But I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. My brother’s mother has problems too. I learned about her from the stories my mom told me.
When my brother’s mother found out about my molestation she thought I was lying, but I always wondered why. I had a better life. I live with two parents. My parents spoiled me and our younger brother with love and gifts they never had growing up. I had no reason to lie. I couldn’t even think of a reason why I would lie about that.
The only time I have lied about my brother is when I deny his existence. When people ask me how many siblings I have, I just say I have a younger brother. It’s easy to tell people that because my younger brother is my whole brother.
I was always glad he never hurt our younger brother. My younger brother is so innocent and I love that. He has never been tainted by sexual abuse.
I used to be too embarrassed and ashamed to admit to people that I was molested. I was even more ashamed it was by my brother, my older brother. Older brothers are supposed to protect and keep their little sisters safe, not engage in sexual activity.
The abuse I faced I could never talk about without having tears in my eyes. Those tears were from shame, but now if I have tears, they will be happy. I’m finally able to tell my story in truth instead of hiding trying to protect my brother. I have been protecting him for years thinking that by protecting him I would be protecting myself.
I have done myself no favors. He doesn’t need to be protected. I need people to know what happened to me. I need people to know the truth. I have been learning and growing from my experiences and my hurt.
I will admit that I don’t hate my brother. I love him like I love anyone in Christ. I will never let him come around me ever again, nor would I let my future kids around him. But I do pray for him. I pray he comes to Jesus and I pray he goes to heaven. Holding onto hurt has done nothing for me. The only thing it has done is cause me to ruin relationships and to not trust anyone.
I refuse to live my life thinking that I’m worthless or that I need to hide what has happened to me. My favorite preacher, Joyce Meyer, always talks about her abuse. She always talks about how she has grown from it.
We shouldn’t hide our experiences as Christians. We should share them to let people know how Christ works in us. Jesus helped me forgive my brother. And Jesus loves my brother even if my brother doesn’t know that. I never wish bad or hate on those who have done evil because the LORD does not work that way. He lets everyone come to Him even if they have done the worse of crimes. That’s what makes God perfect. That’s why I love Him and pray to Him and let Him heal me. Because I couldn’t have written this without Jesus. So I thank you LORD and I ask you to save my brother.