Things get good and then you crash
Thursday, May 19th, 2005So yesterday started out happy happy happy, and then just got better and better…up until about 7:10 pm last night 
Well, I woke up in the morning yesterday, played with my foster kitties (and they are sooo cute, it makes my morning, really!), then did my morning thing, then went to work. Where I got a lot done, and called the garage to take my car in tomorrow for an oil change and tune-up stuff for all the summer travelling I hope to do. Got an email from Mimi who is back from her worldly travels! Came home to Elan playing video games, which overjoys me to no end. Elan doesn’t really like video games, so when she’s enjoying them, it makes my day…since I am obsessed with any sort of video game. We got Gamefly (free trial, it’s Netflix for videogames, but hotter), and got Katamari Damacy and Space Channel Five. Both really silly and fun games. I started laundry, started dinner, fired up the computer, took the foster kittens outside for a "photo shoot" (Nothing is cuter than playing with kittens outside in the beautiful sunshine in the grass! I had to capture it on film!), played with my own kitties…I was getting a lot done. Filed some crap in our spare room, found Elan’s old taxes so she could prove residency for tuition purposes. We ate dinner, and then we were both playing Space Channel Five. I was showing her the silliness. The phone rings. Elan answers, and brings the phone to me (while I make Ulala dance like a porn star), and says, "It’s your family."
Ever have one of those "ohmygodwhatthehellnow?" feelings before you even know stuff is going down?
My mom did small talk for a minute. Then she said, "I have news about your brother," in that tone that lets on that it’s not good news. I told her, "I knew something was probably wrong, you don’t just call me all that much." Which my mom protested about for a minute, but she knows it’s true 
Usually I’m the one to call just to chat it up.
*sigh*
He’s in jail. Again. In Buffalo, NY. Again. For transporting drugs. Again. From what we could get out of piecing together stories, they found the drugs in the car, my brother took the blame, so one other kid got off with nothing. However, there was a girl with them who is six months pregnant, who has been doing heroine the whole pregnancy, up to five bags a day. SHE had drugs on her, and she is in jail, too. In an emergency detox program. She might not be weaned from drugs before she gives birth, so that will be tough.
Unfortunately for me, dealing with family stuff like this isn’t really that bad.
It’s going to my friend’s funeral because she was drinking and driving at 18 that is hard. It’s being offered an eightball of coke by someone you know in a bar that’s hard. It’s hearing about your high school classmate dying from a drug-induced seizure that’s hard. It’s watching your best friend freak out while on speed that’s hard. It’s watching some girl shoot up heroin under her eyes that’s hard.
When I hear "brother is still in Kane," all that above and more flashes through my mind. When I hear "brother in jail," I think, ok, at least he’s not dead, and they’re watching so he will be safe.
No harm can come to him in jail. When he gets out…his friends have guns. He’s had a gun pulled on him. His friends are all on drugs. He tried to overdose.
He’s in jail. I can write to him. I can hope. I can let him know I want his existance on this planet.
My brother talked to a counsellor in the jail (he’s in detox too in the jail), and expressed severe depression, and admitted to trying to overdose on heroine a month ago to kill himself. Luckily, my brother isn’t super-bright. You _can_ overdose on drugs, but usually it’s _mixing_ drugs that kills, not simply overdose. Overdose usually makes you sick and groggy and does damage, but doesn’t necessarily kill you. I’m glad he didn’t mix. I’m sad he tried to kill himself. I remember my mom calling me because my brother was "whacked out so bad on drugs, he wasn’t coherent." We think that’s the day he overdosed.
My brother has been depressed for a long time. Even when he lived with me in Pittsburgh, he was depressed. I was just keeping him in Pittsburgh to keep him away from drugs. Well, away from more drugs and from getting into trouble. I could only do so much. That whole thing ended tragically. He lashed out at me, and I eventually kicked him out.
He has to want to get help on his own, and be serious about it.
Until then, I have a feeling I need to buy a lot of stamps. I feel like I will be writing him daily. That’s all I can do now, right? I wrote to him every two weeks before, he wrote to me at least once a month, and all of April and May he didn’t write back. I called him a few times, he never called me.
I realized a long time ago, people have to change themselves. If you care about them, all you can do is show you care. And that’s a lot to do in itself. So, I can write to him in jail. Every day (that should get the point across I care, he knows I write constantly!) I can keep in touch with my parents. I can come out for Christmas break and spend time with the family. When he gets out, I can keep sending him little presents and care packages. I can call him on the phone.
He wants to come visit me. He let me know that last time I talked to him. But he’s scared. He’s only ever travelled _with me_, not anyone else (except some trips with parents, or drug runs with friends). The 9-10 months he lived with me, we went to Baltimore, Chicago, small weekend trips…my parents are just starting to travel more. He doesn’t know much beyond his bubble of a world of drugs.
So I show him. Through pictures. Through letters. All I can do is write and show him I care. Sometimes that’s enough. And since that’s all I can do, I’ll do that.
My mom thinks she is going up to visit on Sunday. I told her to call me if she hears any other news. also to let Josh know I care about him, and I’m here for him. And that I’ll write, of course. His hearing is Monday. We’ll just see how it goes from there.
It makes me sad, and I hope this is the rock-bottom he has to hit in order to get better. I really hope. I have a feeling (sadly) that it’s not. That it won’t happen until he gets out of jail. Something will then happen to make him realize he has to make an effort to get better.
He’s my only sibling. I worry about him. We’ve had rough times, but I really want to still have my brother. I don’t want tragedy to happen to him.
I also feel sad that my mother’s bubble of "perfect world" has been burst. I mean, it drove me crazy that she always thought our hometown was great, nothing too horrid happened. Everything was ok. Meanwhile, the whole reason I moved away and dreaded visiting was because everything in that town is so _NOT_ ok, is so messed up. I mean, any town where you grow up thinking shoplifting is ok, Speed isn’t really a drug, and start smoking at the age of 12…something is wrong, terrribly wrong. I visited other places, and realized they have problems, but _NOT_ quite to the extent of what I was surrounded by. I wish I didn’t know as much about drugs that I do from personal eyewitness. I wish it was something I read about, or just heard stories about. Not watched as someone shot up. I remember Elan and I watching a movie where someone was shooting up heroine, and she was like, "Oh my God!"
I was just like, "Yeah, imagine seeing that in person and being offered it. It’s even better." Blah.
Why. I mean, it makes me wonder when people ask me, "Do you miss Kane?"
Oh. If you only knew how I dreaded every moment of my waking existance when I lived there, you would _NOT_ ask.
