It’s seriously been a while. *checks to see his last post*

Almost a month! And that was just lyrics.

Most of you know i’ve been through a lot the last part of the year. Are things coming into focus? Finally….I can tell you….a resound…Maybe.

I’ve got plans. Plans for everything. I’m slowly executing them. I’m getting my life back in order. I’m still facing each day with the psychological aftermath of Christopher stabbing me in the temple. Each day is a battle to find my way back to myself again. Each day it’s less and less time to do so. I’m not swimming around looking for directions without air for hours or days on end anymore. It’s more like a few minutes.

I still have my moments though. Depending on the day, I can still find myself taking 2-3 showers. I have, however, nailed it down to one for 3 days in a row. I still shake violently while I’m trying to shave. Which, after it happened, I couldn’t shave at all, so I have mostely a full beard. Well…I do have a full beard. I just shave the neck line. Afterwards I’m shaking like Michael J. Fox, but it’s the doing the deed that counts.

My headaches are still in full force. Random, immense pains, (yeah..still a “stabbing” pain) hits me around the stabbing area and behind the eye. Ache in the back and front of the head. Enough to make me think trepanning would be a good option, but it didn’t do shit last time my brother tried to “help me out”. Heh.

My brother.

Inevitably, it finally comes to him. He is no longer facing down prison time for attempted murder/assault with a deadly weapon or what have you. The higher courts dropped it. The sherriff LIED and said he took a statement from me the night it happened. Which is a crock of shit. The DA would never talk to me. He always “just walked out the door”.

Among all that, I was getting pressure from everywhere. And it was still “fresh” when it happened so I was having multiple attacks in a hour increment.

In all this…no one really thought to ask me how I felt about things. It was always “you need to do this…you need to do that.”

His court appointed attorney was the only one that really cared what I had to say. But of course that was not for me. That was for my brother.  I’m not sure how, but somewhere along the way, I managed to be painted as a bully, and him as a victim. Since I went over there to BEAT his fucking ass.

The words that escaped his lips in his fit of anger never came into an equation. I won’t utter them here, or anywhere for that matter, but rest assured that it would be enough to drive a parent into a rage of madness.

Does me beating his ass and him fighting back (trying to gouge my eye out, and bite and punch) fit in with a stabbing? I didn’t think so. Apparently they think it was self defense since I’m two inches taller, and a hundred pounds heavier. Was it an accident as he said? I don’t know. I don’t see how the knife, in the case, could be used as a fist pack. Especially since he had to cross over and stab me in the right side of the head, since he was right handed.

It doesn’t make sense.

He’s said he’s sorry, but I don’t know if he was sorry that he was in trouble or sorry he did it.

He later, just a few nights ago, admitted to me that he was on painkillers and stuff when he did it. That makes me feel a bit better about it. About as well as someone who got stabbed by his own brother CAN feel about something like that.

I’ve been asked if I’ll ever forgive him. The answer is YES. I already have. It’s just one more thing to put down in my memories, and things I’ve survived. Do I joke about it? Yeah. Hell yeah. Some people say that’s a cover or a mask. Be whatever it may, it’s just how I am. I joke about everything. I was joking with the EMTs in the back of the ambulance saying that trepanning DOESN’T WORK! My head still hurts!!!!

It’s how I cope.

It’s how I cope with the fact that it went in 3/4 of an inch. It’s how I cope with the fact that if it had went in a quarter of an inch more, or been a straight blade, I’d not be here.

I know I need in depth psychological help. Hopefully I can get it. Hopefully…I WILL get it. It’s an ugly scar, but not as ugly as the one inside that was left.

One word can describe this whole situation. Easily.

Betrayed.

I know my family…Mom, my brother, and stepdad, Luis is toxic to me. I grew up in toxic, I escaped toxic, and some how the hero syndrome kicks in and I leap back into toxic to try and save them.

I can’t save them anymore. It’s killing me. Inside, and out. I still love my mom and my brother, and I’m very proud of him.

Today was his first session in rehab.

That’s a big step. I still can’t stand to be around him without having an attack. I’m not scared. It’s just a trigger. Hell. I’m not supposed to even be around him…well..him be around me. The no contact order is still active.

Fast forward.

STOP!

Play from here.

I’m going to try and goto college. I can’t actually GO go, but they offer online courses. I’ve got my eye on my Associates for web design and developement.

It certainly seems like a step in the right direction. I hope I’m brave enough to take more of those steps, and get into therapy. Might even have to be in patient. Because to get to this, I have to start at the beginning. That’s going to take more than an hour session every week.

But I’m stronger than I ever was before. Anxiety attacks, Headaches, stabbings and all.

I’m still Smalley.

I always will be.

M.