Online Therapy

I try to make people feel better.

How many times have I heard people hypothesize that our culture would save billions of dollars on counseling bills if we'd just listen to one another?

I want to listen. And I think I'm pretty good at it. Maybe that's my problem.

The problem I'm facing now is that I want to talk. I desperately want to let out a lot of the frustration and angst that's been building for just about a week now, but I haven't found a chance too.

Let me explain.

Just under a week ago, my older brother was drunk and got in a fight with a meth-head. If any of you don't know, the only reasons one would get in a fight with a meth-head are a suicidal nature or another form of impaired judgement. Now, his jaw is wired shut, and there's been "structural damage" to the bones in his face.

He was always the prettier one. We're only 18 months apart. Ever since I started noticing girls, they were all busy noticing him. He dated a beautiful blonde super-christian who broke his heart because she read "I Kissed Dating Goodbye." Then, he got edgy.

Older Brother got into drugs. Slowly at first, but my current tally of the drugs he's done include Cocaine, Ecstasy, and possibly LSD. I've been watching Older Brother slowly choke himself to death on half-hearted hedonism, and all I could ever do was watch and try to learn from his mistakes (I didn't learn well enough, I date blondes).

Anyway, he's recently been skipping across Lake Rock Bottom like a perfectly smooth stone slung from the sidearm of a major-league pitcher. He got in trouble with the law a few times, got into debt with friends and our parents. And, now, he can't chew.

Growing up in Philomath, you learn pretty quickly a few things about meth and meth-heads. Number one, first thing you learn: Leave the meth-heads the fuck alone. They are stronger and less mentally stable, than they look. Older Brother knows this just as well as I know it, just as well as Littlest Brother knows it. He had to be really drunk.

All this to say... I hear this, and it kills me. I don't know what to do. I want to help, but I don't know how. I want to talk to him, but I'm afraid to call. I want to be home so that I can help in some way, but I'm here. I'm far away. And I always will be.