I really wish moving out was a viable option
They let my brother out today. He came back here.
And just like a Goddamned battered housewife suffering from Stockholm syndrome, we let him back in.
There are three simple house rules he’s supposed to follow in order to be allowed to stay here:
- Stick to prescribed medication
- Maintain regular sessions with therapist
- No marijuana
And, once housing is available, he’s supposed to go. If he breaks any of these rules, he’s back to the shelter.
But apparently, these are just too difficult; he already broke rule three.
This should mean he’s out, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought too. But no. His alligator tears, banging on the walls, and wailing about how everything is everyone else’s fault convinces my mom; all he gets is a slap on the wrist. Now that third rule is “let me hold onto it and I’ll give it to you in a few days”. (He went out and bought it just after the rules were laid down)
He’s still not happy with that, he’s trying to weasel some out of her at this very moment. (“Oh come on, I bought that s***, it’s mine!”)
He came into the front room earlier to play his piano. My other brother had a couple of small pieces of semi-expensive recording equipment sitting on it, on one ot the speakers. He just thoughtlessly shoved it all onto the floor. I guess “respect for other people and their property” just should have been one of those house rules. Ha ha ha, oops!
I am so sick of this game.