Brothers… who’d have them? 

Hooray!!! It is not my partner that has made me angry… well definitely not angry enough to have to write my anger out. Well done him!! 

Unfortunately it’s the other men in my life, my brothers… I have three, all younger, all God’s gift, all cocky, loud and lovely (sometimes.) And really it’s only one that’s made me angry. 

We have a family whatsapp group… which, to be quite frank, is the worst thing you can do as a family – it started off as my pregnancy group so we could get the message out quickly that I was in labour – it evolved. Evolved way beyond anyone’s control. People have left the group, come back to the group, started arguments, been rude, been mean… you get the picture. Generally though, we have gotten used to it and know how to use it sensibly without creating another family feud like the great one of ’99. 

Except Michelle, I’ll call him this to protect his identity… he is in no way called Michael and my chosen name for him is in no way an old pet name from childhood when he paraded around in a matching knicker set of our mother’s with socks instead of boobs. IN NO WAY. 

Today he shared an image that I’m not going to share, but it was clealry a jewish woman who was suffering in a concentration camp with a sash stating she was Miss Auschwitz 1943. Hilarious. Well my brothers’ seem to think so anyway. 

I do not. 

Therefore I am ‘overly sensitive’ and that is what is ‘wrong with the world’. I should see that a picture is just a picture, it’s not going to start World War 3. 

I begged to differ:

I’m sure this image started as a joke too… 

No one has responded to this yet but I have my response ready for whatever they throw at me. I’m tired of letting what my siblings say fly over my head, I’m tired of them thinking they dominate discussion because they are taller, louder and reduce themselves to name calling. I’m also tired of being to aggressive, too loud and babbling when I argue. That is what the blog is for, all of these symptons are a result of my ridiculous anger!

So I will say this… but probably not, it’s a bit too raw for my family, who, while are close in many ways, sharing feelings, thoughts and hardships is not one of those ways. 

Here it is:

Do you know what? I’m sick of this rubbish. Do you know why I’m ‘overly sensitive’ as you put it? Because unlike you, I didn’t grow up as a privileged white male with no issues in her life. I may be a white woman who hasn’t really suffered any sexism, excepted Mr Crocket, who wouldn’t let me play football but what I did grow up with was psoriasis and I’m constantly discriminated and persecuted by ignorant people, lacking in any sensitivity at all.

I grew up being called scabby every day by my own family, I grew up getting odd looks for wearing big black jumpers in the middle of summer, do you know how many friendships I didn’t make because of it, how many complaints I’ve had, how many jobs I’ve lost? Why I had no relationships until I was 28?

Because people treat me differently because of something I cannot control, and only truly good people, overly sensitive people see past it. So when I see people laughing at something a person is, looks like, believes in, then yes I get overly sensitive about it and I will make my opinions known about it because I know what it feels like and how absolutely devastaing it can be. 

So there it is, another reason I’m so angry. Probably. I was gifted with psorasis and I’ve never really recovered from it, especially being free of it for so many years, it going while I was pregnant and yet I see it creeping slowly and surely back to weigh me down yet again. 

FYI I really was called scabby my every single one of my family and it is only with meeting my partner that actually the aesthetics of psorasis doesn’t mean a flying fuck to him. It’s also cazy how someone’s aprroval can do wonders for your own self worth. God damn it… I wish I had my own inherent, string of steel self-worth!

Stupid brothers, making me think about stuff!