"I refuse to allow my brother around my kids."

Warning: This post deals with domestic violence and may be traumatic for some readers.

It was fairly early on that my brother first displayed signs of mental health issues. He had always been a bit different but around the time he turned 12 his (and my) childhood took a dramatic turn and went from being a peacefully happy home, to essentially a war zone of violence and fighting.

By the time I was 16, I’d suffered a broken nose, jaw, countless black eyes, fractured ribs and too many bruises to remember. All at the hands of my older brother. I became an expert at covering up lacerations and cuts and my stomach still has scars from the time I was suspended over shards of glass having been thrown through a door (no safety glass in those days).

He was a young teenage boy with a lot of anger and difficulty in accepting authority. I was just the younger sister that got in the way.

My parents did everything they could think of to fix him. It’s so easy to make judgements on people when you’ve never been in their shoes so I don’t try. As time progressed though, they slowly lost control over him and he basically did what ever the hell he wanted. I don’t blame them for a second for what happened to us, they were dealt a hand they never expected and it ended up costing them dearly. In fact, in a lot of ways, it cost my mother her life.

The police were a regular fixture at our house and AVO’s were common. But in the end, AVO’s don’t really keep you safe, they’re just a reminder of things that are already illegal.

Over time my brother became more and more of a recluse. His behaviour was increasingly more unpredictable where it was once very open and confronting. It was clear that he was suffering deeply, but he was the master of illusion and could choose exactly what he wanted to show people. It became very hard for my parents to seek appropriate treatment for him because he never wanted to be treated. He never presented as psychotic long enough for him to be committed to a formal institution and so, he stayed with us and my parents persevered with trying to navigate us all through what was essentially, a catastrophic mess.

As the years passed by, he sunk deeper and deeper into himself, spending hours alone and on the computer researching god knows what. In many ways, I missed the days he was outwardly violent (which I know sounds insane) because I could read him then. I knew when I was in danger and I knew when to get the hell out of the house. Now, I had no idea what was going on in his head. He began to stay up all night and sleep all day which used to terrify me.

As his mental state declined he became involved in drugs, both illegal and prescription, and he began his slow decline into fully fledged addiction. He started to lie and steal and put my parents through a new kind of emotional turmoil.

Mum and Dad sought help where ever they could but they could never get answers. He was very skilful at lying and manipulating the system and no one would ever tell them exactly what was wrong with him. Whether he has a diagnosis or not, I'm still not sure.

In a quest to keep him involved with the one doctor he has connected with, my father has been hesitant to push for a clear understanding of exactly what we are dealing with. Dad feels that my brother will tell him when he is ready and believes that he should allow my brother a veil of privacy to manage his issues slowly. He fears that if he were to push too much for information, my brother would shut down completely and refuse the only professional help he is connected to. Having battled demons of depression and addiction himself, Dad feels this is the best strategy for the moment. I can't say I agree, but it's not up to me.

What I do know is this, my brother lives in a fantasy world. He suffers many personality and social disorders and is currently receiving anti-psychotic injections as well as high volumes of opiates, sedatives and painkillers (as well as anything else he buys on the street) . He doesn't like the life that he is in, so he escapes to one in his head which is far more manageable. He constructs lies and stories, which seem to have no basis in reality.

When I had my own children I made a decision. Until my brother had sufficient medical supervision, was off the drugs and was up front with me about exactly what is wrong with him, he is not to have unsupervised contact with my children. If I don't know exactly what I'm dealing with, how can I possibly guarantee that my children are safe?

If I visit my father, where my brother lives, I do so quickly and don't take my children out of the car. As it is, I live in constant fear that the police will show up on my doorstep and tell me that somethings happened to my dad, or that one of my brothers many suicide attempts has been successful. I won't allow my children in an environment of such uncertainty and danger.

I am hurt by my family's reaction to my choices though. You see, as has been the case since I was young they have chosen to protect my brother, shelter him and nurse his emotional state to prevent hurt feelings. I try and understand; you have someone who is struggling and you do your best to support them and protect them. Despite having no professional reassurance otherwise, I'm told that he doesn't post any known risk to my kids. Dad simply doesn't want my brother to feel isolated from the little family he has left but sorry, that's just not enough for me.

I understand that as a parent he is trying to do the best for his son, but so too am I.

What I also understand is that my brother didn't choose this life.

Mental illness is debilitating and all-consuming and I can only feel sadness at the path his life has taken. Over the years I have gone through a process of anger, upset and acceptance. I do feel deeply sorry for him and wish that he could be so much more than he is but it still doesn't mean I will jeopardise the safety of my own children.

I don't blame my brother for suffering from mental illness, but I do blame him for not wanting to fix certain other aspects of his life. The old saying of "you can't really help someone until they want to help themselves" is true. Until he does that, I cannot allow him the relationship with his nephews that he would so desperately love.

What would you do if you were in this situation?

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