Mental Is As Mental Does

Today, I received an email from a source I didn't expect to. My brother decided to include me on one of those round robin "Jim never returned from the war, if only they had made up before he died" e-mails.

Not particularly unusual, bar the fact that I haven't spoken to my brother in many years. To give you an idea of how long, he has never met my 3 year old daughter, and when my son was in paediatric intensive care at 18 months old, he chose not to come to visit him, despite the fact that he was doing work experience at the same hospital, regardless of the additional fact that The Boy crashed 6 times whilst on a ventilator and the very real possibility existed that he could die.

He has never sent a card to my daughter for birthday or Christmas, my son has received one of each.

So, as we approach the season of goodwill, I should embrace this gesture, cling on to the olive branch, and thank him for his kind interest in me.

Bollocks I should, and bollocks I would.

I told him he was deluded and should be ashamed of himself. He replied with a barely literate missive that concluded that I was mental (yes, good one Dick Van Dyke - when shall we expect your appearance on "Diagnosis Murder"?), I always have to be the centre of attention, and that he was through with me.

Cue an emotional call to my Ex where I sobbed heavily and said, in a voice that only dogs could hear, "I'm not mental, am I?". As he was assuring me I wasn't, I suddenly burst into laughter as, pretty clearly, calling someone and crying down the phone asking if you're mental actually is a bit, well, you know, mental.

Then, in a way that only Himself can do, he asked me why I cared about what this person thought about me. Instantly, I could answer that I didn't care what he thought, it was what he said about my mental ill health, and how he had chosen to play the victim in the scenario, once again ducking all responsibility for what has gone on between us in the past.

However much I think I am ok with having depression, there are always flash points that can upset me. Being directly "accused" of being mental is one of them, especially when it is said with the malice that only a sibling can afford.

When you grow up, sometimes there is no place for the childish things of youth, and this can include a bad relationship with a sibling about whom you no longer care. How freeing to sever that tie, and no longer feel guilt about disliking them.

However, being a grown up doesn't always mean that you should act maturely at all times, you should still enjoy pursuits that may not be deemed appropriate - like splashing in puddles, eating cake instead of dinner, rolling in mud, telling your mother's eldest child to go fuck himself...

Well, what do you expect? I'm mental.