**TW: contains references to self harm.**
I just wanted to write a bit about my Brother. He’s seven years younger than me, but about a foot taller! Of everyone in my immediate family, he has been my rock. He’s taken my illness on board and never judged. He deals with my SH better than either Parent or my Sister, and he looks out for me much like a ‘Big Brother’ would. There have been several occasions when he’s taken harmful objects from me (at my own request) without batting an eyelid, or ever mentioning it again. He makes me cups of tea and reassures me that he’s only in the next room (he works from home) should I need anything.
This afternoon I was in my bedroom drawing. As is my habit when drawing or painting I had my right sleeve rolled up. Having a chronic history of SH, this is never a pretty sight; my left arm is worse but at least it’s swathed in bandages at the moment. Anyway, my Brother stuck his nose around the door for a chat and I automatically reached for my sleeve to pull it down. This is a default reaction to anyone coming near me when I’m exposed…I don’t like people seeing my scars. But today, he told me that he’d seen me do it often and that it wasn’t necessary. He said that he accepts me for who I am and that he’s not going to run a mile…
He’s my little brother and many would assume that he’s off living his own life. He has a good job, a nice Girlfriend and is a keen (and pretty good) golfer. I myself have never asked anything of him. But he’s been here for me throughout, patient, diligent, compassionate and always with the right words. Some of the other people close to me could learn bucket loads from him.