I Fight the Fight: TBT

Everybody needs a hero in their life. Mine just happens to be my brother. The story goes that when he was told he was going to have a baby sister, he was asked what he wanted to name her. He responded that he wanted to name her "Spot." Apparently, when I arrived instead of a new puppy, he was ok with that. He has always been my "big bubby" yet I have always had a hard time thinking of myself as his "baby sister." He did not help that any when he turned 40 and started telling people I was his big sister.

From the beginning, life was us against the world. Each other was all we had, for me it was the only person I could always count on. When no one else was there, Joey was. Sure, I was totally the annoying little sister who wanted to tag along everywhere. Joe's best lived across the road and I always wanted to go be one of the boys too. Sometimes I got to go too, most times I had to stay home.

Joe wasn't well as a kid. His severe asthma bought him more time in the hospital than out of it. Asthma attacks, breathing machines, ambulance rides, and hospital visits were just a part of life as I knew it. It was ok, because due to all of that, I still had my brother. Thank goodness for medical advances, as one would never know it now as he runs, bikes, and does as many active things as he can. He always says he has 18 years to catch up on.

Yup, it didn't get much better than this.

We were typical siblings. We argued and fought and the next moment we were playing together. Most of our lives were under a single parent roof, so each other was the one constant we knew was not going to go away. We had great imaginations and used them all the time. We would play SWAT and police at our grandparents all the time. Who knew that all these years later, he would not only join the police force and the honor guard, yet become a sniper on the SWAT team as well.

I would do anything he asked, I mean, he was my brother, why would he ever ask me to do something that was wrong?? One winter this guy dressed as Santa kept driving through the trailer park. Joe says, hey, next time he comes around, run out there, stand on the corner, and flip him off. Um, ok. We still laugh about this and all the many other things I would do simply because he told me to. One would think that I would eventually learn. I am not sure I have just quite yet.

As teenagers, we were still pretty inseparable. We were only 2 years apart from each other in school, so there were a lot of activities (like band) that we were in together. He was more quiet and timid and I was more outgoing which meant he had to put up most times with being known as "Chris' brother", yet he seemed ok with that. He used to come home from work after I was already asleep and would get me talking to him (he had to go through my room to get to his) knowing that I would not remember the conversation the next day. And, since I was half-asleep, I would give the craziest answers. I hated it when he graduated and went off to school. It was like my best friend moving away. Sure, he wasn't too far away, yet it was too far in my eyes.

We both had our demons to deal with and it seemed that just as we did most other things together, we went through our "find ourselves" stages at the same time too. Unfortunately, it was several years of not speaking to each other and when we did it ended in someone threatening to call the police if we didn't back off each other. It was an ugly time for us, yet it was necessary. We both said and did things through that time that we wish we had not, yet we finally came to a place in life where we understood it, we got it, and we let it go. As our roles within the family changed through the years, we just took the roller coaster ride together again.

Joe has always looked out for me with my health. He was always willing to study and learn about things I was dealing with so he could know how to help me best. For many years I never told him all the details of things I struggled with because I knew he would only worry. He watched me struggle a lot of times and was patient with my choices. When I was diagnosed with PTSD, I sat and told him quite a bit. I told him things I had never intended on him to know. I never wanted him to worry, yet knew he would be my greatest strength. He just did what he always did best, be my big brother.

5k buddies for life

He always pushed me to be better. When I fell down the stairs in 2009 and fractured my back, he took me under his wing as my personal trainer. I spent mornings in PT and afternoons at the Y in the gym and the pool. He told me that he would get me to the point that we would do the 5k that following April together. My back healed, I lost around 30 lbs, and we did the race. Sure, I was the very last person to cross the finish line, yet I finished.

The next year (having put the 30 plus more back on) I did the race again with my sister as Joe was doing the half-marathon. He may not have been on the course with me, yet he was in the stands as I came into the stadium to cheer me on. We missed the next year, yet in 2013 were back at it again. I was 4 months post surgery and there he was at the finish line waiting for me. In all my races - literally and figuratively - he has always been there at the finish waiting for me.

He knew something rough had happened this past summer, yet did not know all the details (I refused to tell him). He had watched me struggle with emotional issues for too many years, he did not need this added to the plate. Early in the fall, I sat and told him everything, every detail, every scary thought. I told him he needed to know so he could keep me safe. As always, he understood.

My journey these past 7 months has not been alone. He has been there right with me. He listens to my struggles and celebrates my wins. When I was struggling through Thanksgiving, he would call me multiple times in a day (more than the normal 3-4 calls a day) and just be obnoxious to get me to laugh. He would say, "am I annoying you yet" to which I would reply, "Yes" and then he would say, "do you want me to stop" and I would say. "nope, call me back in a few hours." And that's how we got through it.

He likes to hear about class and sessions and what I am learning. He loves my stories. He has decided that the phrase should be "Pink elephant, blue donkey, while sparkling champagne" because if you just can't find your blue donkey, the champagne will help you not really care. The other day he says, "Hey, did you realize that if there was no Murphy, there would be no law?" He generally follows these comments up with, "you should share that with your therapist." I remind him that one point of therapy is to help me not be so crazy, not make it worse!

Over these past few months we have started talking a lot more about life when we were growing up. Stories and memories long put away for various reasons. Sometimes we laugh, other times we shake our heads and wonder how we turned out as good as we have. It has been very healing for both of us. It is not surprising, just us taking care of each other in yet another way. I am truly blessed with a great brother who love me, fights for me, and refuses to ever let me give up. Thanks bubby.