#1 ·
The story is a bit twisted, so someone might suspect I'm just trolling. I actually registered as a clone specifically because of this situation, but I really don't have the time for trolling and I've been on this forum far too long to find any joy in it.
I feel like I'm about to snap, and since I don't exactly have the cash for psychotherapy, I need to vent what's eating me alive and maybe get some decent advice.
Now, I won't start from my childhood... although I probably should. 😁 But here it is, the last few years, with a brief intro regarding the past:
My father held a pretty high-level position. My mother was perpetually jealous, constantly unhappy that he was rarely home. He was dissatisfied because she spent way too much money on groceries, didn't take care of herself, and spoiled the kids. The fighting was constant. Mom couldn't stand my stepmother. One day, Dad comes home and tells us we're moving to the most impoverished state in the country because he had been stationed there for work, and it would make sense so we weren't so separated. It was strange because being apart had never bothered him before, but Mom jumped at the chance because she thought it would get her away from her mother-in-law, who she blamed for Dad's shitty attitude. I agreed because I didn't want to cause trouble, and because of my own sense of adventure; my brother agreed too, though he was a loner who struggled to fit in, and this felt like a chance for a fresh start.
We moved to that state, but not to the specific city where Dad worked because that city wasn't safe for us at the time, so we were still somewhat distanced 75 miles. We didn't see him any more often than we did before.
Three years after living in that state, my parents were forced into early retirement. Dad was entitled to two different pensions. He refused to take either until he turned 65, even though he was already 50 at the time. We were left without food on the table. After six months of literal hunger, Dad finally snapped out of it and started doing consulting gigs. He refused the pensions for "moral reasons." That’s how he put it. Things improved slightly, and for a while, we were actually doing quite well financially, even if there was zero security. We lived day to day. In the meantime, I grew up, got a job, got married, had a kid, and moved out of the city where my parents live. My brother suffered a severe mental breakdown; he's unable to work or live independently, so he stayed behind with my parents. Dad's business ventures have only gone downhill since then. By the way, they hadn't even set up their electricity properly; they were caught six months ago, and a neighbor let them run off his power on the condition they pay him back. They paid for a while, but when they couldn't, the guy cut them off. Now they're renters, and they have no clue how they'll cover the rent. Dad sold the car for pennies. Recently, he even sold all the photos from the house. He'd sell the house too, but he only has a leasehold interest—he doesn't actually own it. He still refuses to claim his pensions. He's got three years left until he hits the standard retirement age.
I am not wealthy. I still live in that same state where it's incredibly hard to build any stability in your youth if you don't have help from your parents. Neither my husband nor I inherited anything. We both work. We try. We have a beautiful marriage and a wonderful child. We have mortgages and the need to buy our own home, but we have enough for our little family and we aren't complaining.
Last year, my parents were constantly asking us to lend them money. They'd say they'd pay us back as soon as Dad got some cash. It never happened. This year is even worse. They ask for money about once a week. Sometimes I give it to them, sometimes I don't. I only give it to them because of my sick brother.
Last year, I finally learned the truth about why we moved and why my father refuses to touch those pensions. The same year we relocated, a woman in my hometown gave birth to my father's child. He helped raise that kid as much as he could, but once everything started going south for him, about 3 to 5 years ago, he stopped checking in on his own child—my brother. He clearly never wanted the pension money because he didn't want to be stuck paying child support, and he didn't want Mom to find out about his illegitimate kid.
When I finally learned the truth, I was absolutely reeling. I reached out to my brother, we exchanged a few texts, and I promised I'd come visit him—but right when I was supposed to make the trip, tragedy struck. My husband nearly died in a horrific accident. With my entire focus consumed by his recovery, I completely neglected my brother; I didn't even tell him about the accident, nothing at all... I ran away from him the moment life got difficult, acting exactly like my father did. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I suppose. Once my husband was back on his feet, my thoughts drifted back to my brother. I had no idea how to face him. The shame was overwhelming. Months have passed since then, and I recently found out that his sister went through a devastating ordeal a few months back—something truly, deeply traumatic. I feel this massive, urgent need to reach out to him, to let him know I’m here for him, to contact his sister... Instead, I just sent some money to her account, as much as I could manage, to help out.
As I sit here typing this, my mother is calling me, demanding I send more cash because my brother (not my half-brother, mind you) is hungry.
She knows I can't say no to him...
But it kills me to take resources away from my own child just because my old man refuses to touch his Social Security benefits, which are actually higher than my entire salary.
On top of the sheer awkwardness of trying to reconnect with my brother and his sister, I’ve been eaten alive by guilt whenever I was in contact with them. My parents have no idea that I even know he exists—my mother doesn't even know about him—so I feel like I'm constantly stabbing her in the back, which isn't right.
I know I've dumped a lot on you all, but it really boils down to two things:
How do I rebuild a relationship with my brother and his sister (I call him my brother because "half-brother" feels so cold), and how should I handle my parents' financial demands?
If anyone actually has the patience to read all this, I would be incredibly grateful for any advice you can offer.
I feel like I'm about to snap, and since I don't exactly have the cash for psychotherapy, I need to vent what's eating me alive and maybe get some decent advice.
Now, I won't start from my childhood... although I probably should. 😁 But here it is, the last few years, with a brief intro regarding the past:
My father held a pretty high-level position. My mother was perpetually jealous, constantly unhappy that he was rarely home. He was dissatisfied because she spent way too much money on groceries, didn't take care of herself, and spoiled the kids. The fighting was constant. Mom couldn't stand my stepmother. One day, Dad comes home and tells us we're moving to the most impoverished state in the country because he had been stationed there for work, and it would make sense so we weren't so separated. It was strange because being apart had never bothered him before, but Mom jumped at the chance because she thought it would get her away from her mother-in-law, who she blamed for Dad's shitty attitude. I agreed because I didn't want to cause trouble, and because of my own sense of adventure; my brother agreed too, though he was a loner who struggled to fit in, and this felt like a chance for a fresh start.
We moved to that state, but not to the specific city where Dad worked because that city wasn't safe for us at the time, so we were still somewhat distanced 75 miles. We didn't see him any more often than we did before.
Three years after living in that state, my parents were forced into early retirement. Dad was entitled to two different pensions. He refused to take either until he turned 65, even though he was already 50 at the time. We were left without food on the table. After six months of literal hunger, Dad finally snapped out of it and started doing consulting gigs. He refused the pensions for "moral reasons." That’s how he put it. Things improved slightly, and for a while, we were actually doing quite well financially, even if there was zero security. We lived day to day. In the meantime, I grew up, got a job, got married, had a kid, and moved out of the city where my parents live. My brother suffered a severe mental breakdown; he's unable to work or live independently, so he stayed behind with my parents. Dad's business ventures have only gone downhill since then. By the way, they hadn't even set up their electricity properly; they were caught six months ago, and a neighbor let them run off his power on the condition they pay him back. They paid for a while, but when they couldn't, the guy cut them off. Now they're renters, and they have no clue how they'll cover the rent. Dad sold the car for pennies. Recently, he even sold all the photos from the house. He'd sell the house too, but he only has a leasehold interest—he doesn't actually own it. He still refuses to claim his pensions. He's got three years left until he hits the standard retirement age.
I am not wealthy. I still live in that same state where it's incredibly hard to build any stability in your youth if you don't have help from your parents. Neither my husband nor I inherited anything. We both work. We try. We have a beautiful marriage and a wonderful child. We have mortgages and the need to buy our own home, but we have enough for our little family and we aren't complaining.
Last year, my parents were constantly asking us to lend them money. They'd say they'd pay us back as soon as Dad got some cash. It never happened. This year is even worse. They ask for money about once a week. Sometimes I give it to them, sometimes I don't. I only give it to them because of my sick brother.
Last year, I finally learned the truth about why we moved and why my father refuses to touch those pensions. The same year we relocated, a woman in my hometown gave birth to my father's child. He helped raise that kid as much as he could, but once everything started going south for him, about 3 to 5 years ago, he stopped checking in on his own child—my brother. He clearly never wanted the pension money because he didn't want to be stuck paying child support, and he didn't want Mom to find out about his illegitimate kid.
When I finally learned the truth, I was absolutely reeling. I reached out to my brother, we exchanged a few texts, and I promised I'd come visit him—but right when I was supposed to make the trip, tragedy struck. My husband nearly died in a horrific accident. With my entire focus consumed by his recovery, I completely neglected my brother; I didn't even tell him about the accident, nothing at all... I ran away from him the moment life got difficult, acting exactly like my father did. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I suppose. Once my husband was back on his feet, my thoughts drifted back to my brother. I had no idea how to face him. The shame was overwhelming. Months have passed since then, and I recently found out that his sister went through a devastating ordeal a few months back—something truly, deeply traumatic. I feel this massive, urgent need to reach out to him, to let him know I’m here for him, to contact his sister... Instead, I just sent some money to her account, as much as I could manage, to help out.
As I sit here typing this, my mother is calling me, demanding I send more cash because my brother (not my half-brother, mind you) is hungry.
She knows I can't say no to him...
But it kills me to take resources away from my own child just because my old man refuses to touch his Social Security benefits, which are actually higher than my entire salary.
On top of the sheer awkwardness of trying to reconnect with my brother and his sister, I’ve been eaten alive by guilt whenever I was in contact with them. My parents have no idea that I even know he exists—my mother doesn't even know about him—so I feel like I'm constantly stabbing her in the back, which isn't right.
I know I've dumped a lot on you all, but it really boils down to two things:
How do I rebuild a relationship with my brother and his sister (I call him my brother because "half-brother" feels so cold), and how should I handle my parents' financial demands?
If anyone actually has the patience to read all this, I would be incredibly grateful for any advice you can offer.