Letting Go: Part 2

A brief update before I go onto this post. I weighed in at 91lbs this morning. That's fine. Whatever. T and I got into an "argument" last night. I was pretty much just letting him vent about my eating disorder and how it's destroying not only my life, but everyone else's as well. Even though everything he spoke was true, doesn't change the fact that it hurt. But oh well. I brought it on myself by purging twice yesterday. So I started this morning with a non measured bowl of Cherrios with almond milk for breakfast. Maybe I am putting too much faith in EDC and they might not get me in because of insurance, then what? I have to do it on my own anyway. So to continue on to my letting go series, my day 2 is my brother, Jeremy.
Jeremy is my youngest, older brother. He is 7 years older than me. When my parents were still together, he was the one who taught me how to tie my shoes, color the right way, and even put up with me when he got his tonsils taken out. When my parents split and my mom and two of my brothers moved to a new town, it was like I didn't exist to him. He wanted nothing to do with his little annoying sister. Or at least that's how it came off in front of his friends. There was a secret that Jeremy was hiding from the entire world, and I was the only other one to know about it. "It's a normal thing for brothers and sisters. It's how they show they love each other." That is what he said to me every time we interacted. To the outside world, he was the towns best skater, had this annoying little sister that followed him to the skate parks so she could learn, and a decent kid. But to me, he was a nightmare.
I went to my mom's every other weekend. My other brother had moved out with his girlfriend and Jeremy was still living with my mom. It was a small two bedroom basement apartment. It was like clock work with him. As soon as my mom drifted off to sleep and I was in the living room watching TV, he would come out, motion for me to come into his room, and my heart would practically fall out of my chest. I wish that I could say that it only happened once, maybe even twice, but for 2 whole years, Jeremy touched me and made me touch him in ways that were not supposed to happen, despite the lies he told me. I was 6 when it started, 8 when it ended. In the course of those two years, I became so scared of him. I looked forward to the weekends when I was there, and he was staying the night at a friends or girlfriends. Anywhere but at my mom's house. Not to mention in these two years, when I was 7 years old, my dad's brother raped me. I don't have much memory of it, but all I know is that there was a lot of blood. I think he gave me something to not remember it all so well. After my brother stopped molesting me, he wanted nothing to do with my mom nor I. Our weekends were spent alone, enjoying a great time together. If I happen to come across Jeremy, it's like an unspoken conversation. He knows what he did to me, I now know that it wasn't right. If I would have had a choice and would have known better, there is no way I would have let him do those things to me. I haven't seen Jeremy in nearly 2 years. He ran off and married some Russian chick and had a baby with her. He lives the next town over, but I have no interest in finding him. I don't have to have an actual conversation with him to know what he did is wrong.
This is how I am with Ana. I don't have to stop to think about what she's going to say. She already has said it before and will most likely say it afterwards as well. Letting go of what my brother did to me and getting over the fact that I grew up way too quickly will contribute to my recovery because I've held onto that baggage for way too long.
So there's another small insight into my life and why I am the way I am today. I'm going to bake cupcakes later since my birthday is tomorrow. I might even enjoy one. I hope everyone has a fantastic day. Much love.
XOXO Katie