Aftermath

We took my brother and his family to the airport Saturday. Not a day too soon and probably three days late.

I've obviously had some time to calm down from seeing him hit his kids. But, it's not over.

The few days following the incident were difficult and tense. We didn't talk about it and nobody could make eye contact.

My brother also spent a few hours on his bed. Not sure why. I have no clue if he had emotion about losing control or the confrontation. It doesn't really matter now.

If it had been cost effective, they would have been flown home that night.

There are a few things still resonating with me.

I don't regret my retreat to the bedroom. I was in a full blown PTSD episode and I would not have wanted my niece and nephew to see me in a reduced state. I do however regret the time lost with them. I also regret not addressing the issue with them. They had visible signs of shame afterward. They needed to know that they were loved by me regardless.

I do not regret the confrontation with my brother. No abuse in my house is a firm boundary. He needed to know that. My regret is that I didn't get physically involved when I saw the situation escalating.

My brother had shared several stories earlier in the visit of how he still beats the kids with a belt. My regret is not sitting him down then and letting him know that isn't normal and isn't acceptable.

My PTSD is not gone. I'd like everyone to think that it's almost gone, but it's not. A big trigger solicits a big response.

Under no circumstance is my brother allowed back in my house. We have a no abusers welcome policy here. He failed to apologize to the kids or us for his behavior. That solidifies that he still believes that it's ok to beat kids. That's not ok. That's not welcome here.

I'm left in an absolutely impossible position. I witnessed the abuse and heard the stories. I don't have a choice but to report him. This sucks. I know, I've done it before. I've only confessed that to one person since I made that call seven years ago. I don't know the outcome. Nobody could have ever known before now that it was me.

This time, there's no hiding it. It happened in a different state and I was a witness. There's no way to be anonymous to my family. As was the case last time, I have this emotional quandary of doing the right thing and the guilt of potentially breaking apart a family. It touches on so many issues in my life.

When we dropped them off, I didn't cry. Every visitor we've had, I've cried when they left. This time was different.

Talking with my husband later, I did cry a little. I wasn't sad they left, I was sad they came. Heartbroken.

If they'd never have come, I'd never have lost them...again.

Once my brother knows I've reported him, I'll never see the kids again. I know how that works. I'll probably never see my brother again.

This is a time when its ok to be all or nothing. Even if he didn't hate me afterward, I'd still not be able to have a relationship with him. I cannot allow toxic people in my life.

The reality is that dropping them off at the airport was more than saying goodbye to visitors. I was saying goodbye to my family. I had them in my life for such a short time and now they are gone again.

Emotionally, I feel orphaned all over again. The rebuilding from the past few years is gone. It's all gone.

We are exhausted. Emotionally and physically. Parts of the visit were good, but they were minimal. We spent a lot of money to fly them out here. We spent a lot of time watching them play on their phones and waiting on them. It's been hard and the difficulty isn't over.

I'm not sure I have what it takes or enough support to be back in this place again. My husband fears I'll become depressed again. He is a bright man.