Toddson, Teppy, JZ, and whoever else is being put on the brink by other people's problems, ease and help and relief wished to all of you, solutions that help and don't make things worse, and a better spacing of unpleasant events. Hugs (except for Teppy) and hairpats and extravagant compliments galore to each of you.

I'm sorry that things conspire.

Whoops! Did I conflate two people? Frankly I can't see that well on my phone! I think I need bifocals!

That was me! I've got an interview tomorrow and I am sooo happy. Bye to bad boss who does not have my back.

Teppy I am so sorry about all of this. I like Toddson's idea.

Can your therapist help you figure out away to shift some of the care taking responsibility in someway?

My brother was sounding better last night, but I just talked to him for the first time today (I called 2 hours ago and then 1 hour ago and got his voice mail both times), and he sounds rough. He does have a friend there, because I talked to them (the phone was on speaker).

He needs to go to the damn hospital this time. He was fucking lucky that he was able to taper down with just beer when I was out there in 2016, but it's not working this time (in part because he doesn't have people there with him 24/7 to keep an eye on him). He told me just now that if he still feels this rough after he has his current beer (he opened it while I was on the phone), he'll call 911 or have his friend take him to the hospital. I really, really hope he does that.

I am, to be 100% honest, glad I didn't go out there. Because I don't know if I could have done this again.

But then, I also wish like hell I had gotten on a plane yesterday. So. It's complicated as fuck.

And then -- well. Let me say this first. And I mean this 110% percent. I have gotten in people's faces who didn't agree with this: addiction is a disease. Absolutely, no question, a disease. Not weakness. Not a moral failing. Not a series of bad choices. It is a disease. I mean that with all of my power.

Having said that, while still believing it 110%, I am PISSED at my brother. I am so, SO angry at him. And I just have to be okay with those 2 things co-existing. I know he didn't relapse AT me (or at anyone); it's part of the disease. I know that. But I'm still really really Hulk ragey right now. I'm just trying my hardest to not let him know how angry I am, not right now. (My therapist said, "You think he doesn't know you're angry? He knows better than anyone what your reaction is, because 1: he's a therapist and is trained to expect people's reactions in situations like this, but 2: more importantly, he's relapsed before, so he knows you're angry. You're doing him a kindness by not unloading it on him while he's in this current crisis phase, but there will be nothing wrong with telling him about it when he's stable on the other side of it.") (She's very smart.)

I want to punch him so fucking hard. And scream at him. And fly out there and take charge and help him. But I'm glad I didn't go out there. Except when I think that staying home was the dumbest thing I've done in my life. I'm having too many feelings.

And I'm exhausted after yesterday's roller-coaster, plus I got up stupid-ass early (for me), like 2 1/2 hours earlier than I normally do, to take the cat to the vet, so I'm running on 5 1/2 hours of sleep and fueled by too much coffee and a lot of anger and stress. I'd like to nap, but I'm too jittery wired at this point. Plus I have to wait for the vet to call to let me know I can go get the kitty (he had his annual exam, shots, and dental cleaning, so he gets dropped off at the crack of fucking dawn and they keep him most of the day because they have to put cats under anesthesia to clean their teeth, and then monitor them afterward to make sure they're okay).

Anyway. That's today. SO FAR.

That all makes perfect sense to me.

I just called back and talked to the friend who is staying with him, because my brother is sleeping. She (the friend) says that he seems to be hanging in there, but she also told me that she told him she's happy to drive him to the hospital. I asked her to have him call me when he wakes up, so I can try to convince him to go to the damn hospital.

The friend also texted me her phone number (I called my brother's phone, obviously, and she answered it), so I feel better having her contact info, and knowing that she has mine.

This is some straight up bullshit, y'all.

Rage and grief and fear are hard, and complicated. I am right there with you, with a situation in my family, and watching people I love make terrible choices in response to horrible circumstances is breaking my heart.

We were brought up to fix things, because our parents wouldn't. That instinct is hardwired. Boundaries are NOT us. We've got to learn how to make them, and then how to defend them, because the illness means that they will take everything we have to offer and want more. It won't save them, and it will break us.

Might it be better that it's his friends staying with him, that there's that little bit of separation, lessened chance of blowback from whatever shame he might feel after he's come out of the hospital? Everyone's going to have to live with the aftermath of this, but the effect on you is going to be on a different level.

I like your therapist. I especially like that she is telling you "Yep, appropriate emotional response! The person inspiring it needs to hear about it when they're strong enough; here's what to do with it in the meantime", that "Yes, he's sick AND he needs to be called on his shit".

In the moment, though, it's a mess. I'm sitting here with mine, and I'm thinking of you in yours, and wishing you grace and howling in the shower and any other non-harmful things you need to get through it.

And I just have to be okay with those 2 things co-existing.

This is so true and SO DAMN HARD

I'm really glad you have the friend's contact info. That makes me feel better.

I'm so glad your brother's friend is there, and that she and you can now easily reach each other, and that your therapist is 1000% supportive of your storm of feelings.