I’m back from Paris. It wasn’t anything like I was expecting. I thought I’d hang out with my brother, get hassled by the parents… ditch the parents… see the city. turns out my brother went back into the hospital the day before we were supposed to leave. He didn’t hurt himself. The tickets were non-refundable, so mom had dad and I go alone. I didn’t even get to visit my brother. The trip started out poorly and progressed the same while I was there.
My brother has Borderline Personality Disorder. He’s tried to kill himself 6 times. I think he started to feel depressed and suicidal just when we were supposed to go on the trip so he wouldn’t have to go. I don’t blame him, I didn’t want to go, either. I still wish I hadn’t gone. My parents have convinced themselves that my brother’s problem is genetic rather than environmental. That way, they can absolve themselves of any responsibility for his condition. the problem with their diagnosis is that it ignores the fact that their other son also has issues with depression. Indeed, I resemble that description of BPD from time to time. What a shock it will be for my parents to discover that two adopted sons both have the same “genetic triggers”. I’m not holding my breath for them to have some kind of self discovery any time soon. the dismissal of my own pain hurts as much as the disorder itself. Yesterday, I slept 6 hours, flew 8 hours, then drove 8 hours, just to escape. I feel much better now that I’m back in my house with my dog sleeping in the corner. Her grunting, slobbering hello when I picked her up at the Vet went a long way towards straightening me out.
I took about 1100 pictures while I was there. After the cull, there are a couple hundred left. I’m still uploading sets for the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, street scenes, Notre Dame, San chapel, the Louvre. I put a lot of miles on my New Balances while I was there. Lucky for me, dad mostly stayed in the hotel reading magazines.