I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned it on here before, but I have a younger brother that has severe autism. He's thirteen but he's really tall and built like a linebacker. At the moment, he is going to a special school for children with behavioral disorders because out local public school couldn't handle his outbursts. The older he gets, the more violent his outburts get. He has damaged property and hurt other students. If he behaved like this in a regular school, he definitely would have been in juvie by now. Anyway, he never used to get violent at home until the other day. This is what happened:

I was down in the basement working meticulously on a painting (I was trying to stay distracted, as I had already been bingeing and purging that day…oops) when he came storming into the house and slammed the basement door so hard it shook the walls, and then stormed off into his bedroom. I was startled by the sound and dripped paint all over my canvas in reaction- I was ticked. I went upstairs and through his bedroom door asked him why he had to slam my door. He screamed back at me that he would knock me out and I said, "What?" and the next thing I know, he comes barreling out of his room, slams me against the wall, spraining my hip, and starts punching me. My arms are all bruised up now because I was using them to block my face. I managed to squeez my way past him, ran out of the hallway and ran outside to where my mom was working on her garden. He was chasing me, but I knew he wouldn't follow me outside. I yelled for my mom and started explaining to her what happened as fast as I could and she got mad atme.She said I'm making us look bad by running outside and making a scene. It didn't matter to her that I was scared and hurt. She went inside to see what the heck his problem was, but she hardly scolded him. The focus was on the fact that I ran outside to get away from him and that the neighbors might have seen. Let me take a moment to mention that we live in the kind of neighborhood where you can hear parents screaming at their kids from outside and people chase their dogs down the street in their boxers. It's really nothing fancy, so I don't know what she was so upset about. After a screaming match with my mom about how I don't feel safe here and that I'm not the one she should be yelling at, I went downstairs and shut myself in my room and cried for a good two or three hours, one bad thought snowballing into the next.

At one point during our argument, I had told my mom, "Why do you think I'm suicidal? Because I have to put up with shit like this!" I blatantly threw it out there that I was feeling that low, but she made no mention of it. When I was down in my room crying, she took the rest of the family out for dinner- didn't even tell me they were leaving or ask me if I wanted anything (there was no food in the house at all, so it's not like I could have eaten anything at home). I had just told my mother that I couldn't deal with life anymore and she just left me at home by myself. I couldn't believe it. I feel so trapped here. It's always such chaos in my house; there's so much more than I can even explain in this one blog. Everyone here is wrapped up in fighting their own demons, we're hardly in any shape to help each other.Unfortunately, I don't make a lot at my job so I can't even see myself moving out any time in the near future.As for friends I could stay with, I only have a couple that I would be comfortable asking to take me in for a night when things get really bad but when they're both busy at the same time, I have nowhere to go. I feel like there's no safe place for me and that I'm trapped here with my misery. That is the scariest feeling- that, and knowing that no one can save you.