For the first ten years of my life I was an only child. It was always just me and mom and one of her boyfriends at the time. One of her boyfriends stuck around, and he was the best thing to ever happen to me. My step father stayed with me for most of my life, he treated me like his own and I only ever felt comfortable calling him Dad. He showed me kindness and love when my relationship with my mom was at times frightening. All my life, he’s given me a good example of what a good man is.
Around the time I was 9, my mom and step dad split. She then moved in with this new guy that I will refer to as El Borracho. Her and Borracho moved into a house in Lancaster, where there were screaming matches and the sound of glass shattering almost every night. On some occasions the cops would be called but nothing would happen, at least not when we lived in Lancaster. They would often throw things out the window like his Xbox, her make up and the family computer. I remember looking out the infamous window they took the screen off to see their stuff shattered and covered in dirt from the second story.
I missed my step dad. I missed it when I didn’t know what an angry man was. I missed coming home to wrestle with him because I thought a girl could be as strong too and he sometimes let me win. When I’d wrestle with borracho he would never let me win and oftentimes would hold me down and fart in my face. Maybe it was his way of joking, but to me it was a reminder that he wasn’t my dad. When these arguments would break out, I’d pray in my room for my step dad to come and save me, he never came, and why would he when I wasn’t his.
When my brother was born I would quietly go into the room where they would be yelling and drag his crib to my room, covering his ears as I cried. I felt I needed to protect him like no one had protected me. From what I remember, months later my step dad was fighting for a DNA test of my brother and borracho was also fighting to be my brother’s father. Which to a 10 year old, if you see two men fighting to be your brothers father when no one fighting to be yours, thats gonna fuck you up a bit. My brother was proven to be my step dads and he began shared custody. In my head I was just happy to see him again but I didn’t know that with that I would become envious of my brother’s second life.
My brother then spent weekends, some holidays and rarely any birthdays with him. It was then that my step dad became known as my brother’s dad. His dad would always buy groceries including what I wanted, he’d buy me gifts when he bought my brother something and he’d buy me food when we were hungry, there was never a point where I wasn’t treated the same by him. But still growing up I became envious, because he had another parent to go to when I was stuck with my mother who I knew at times did not like me. I was envious that he got to sleep on the bed with my mom when I had to sleep on the couch because there wasn’t room and we were poor. I was envious he got to spend weekends with his dad when he was once mine too. I was an only child for the first 10 years of my life and although I wasn’t sure why I felt the way I did, it wasn’t wrong to feel ignored and left out, my feelings were valid. My brother and I would often argue, I hated him growing up I felt my parents chose him over me. I became the envy.
Obviously he didn’t understand why I was moody, angry and yelled often. At the time I didn’t fully understand either. When I was kicked out of my moms house at 18 I didn’t think about my brother as much because our relationship wasn’t great and that was my fault. I didn’t think I was going to miss him as much as I did and I didn’t know how to show it. When I visited after three months of no contact, he hugged me and cried telling me that he missed me. I was extremely confused because I had been nothing but mean to him my whole life, nothing but envious and I took it out on him. In the end, he didn’t see me as that person, he saw me as his big sister. It was at that moment I decided to put in the effort to get to know my brother. I will admit, I did feel guilty realizing that he was older now and I had missed so much time growing up with him to get to know him and establish that relationship. I started off slow by playing video games with him and taking him with me to places like a tattoo shop or the aquarium. To this day, my brothers never made me feel bad about how I treated him growing up. He never brought it up and I did talk to him about why I was like that. He completely understood because he was mature enough to understand our parents and what it was like for me. He had always thought of me, every time he would go to the store he’d get me something and he still does. My brother has my name embroidered on his red and black hat because those are my favorite colors. In many ways my brother has seen me for the good I could be instead of the worst that I have been.
I recalled an argument I had with him when I was 18 and he was 9, somewhere in the argument I told him to just go back to his dads house and he shouted at me, “Our dad!” Now I’m not sure if a 9 year old has ever shut you up, but it’s humbling. Today, I took my brother to get ice cream, somewhere in our walk I mentioned that his dad is not my biological dad, and he looked at me confused and surprised. He asked “He’s not your real dad?” and I said no not biologically but he’s been there my whole life. The thing that I thought separated me and my brother my whole life was something he didn’t even know because it wasn’t obvious. It was my own insecurities playing this envious sibling role to what I thought was protecting myself because no one else had. In return I was protecting myself from someone that did nothing to hurt me but somehow got caught in the cross fire because I was too blind to see his innocence.
I will forever deeply regret that way I had treated my brother, he is what heals my inner child and past traumas because he gives me the space to make it right. I will forever love him for helping me realize I wasn’t different from him at all, just a little lost.
I'm a girl in my 20s 
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