Day 7 of My 40 Day Fast: Something Dark Possesses My Brother - Part 1
And it talks to him
I feel better today than the last couple days, but I’m still relying on water for energy. Last night I was nauseated. My stomach felt ill, and my mouth kept watering the way it does when the body is gearing up to barf. I abhor vomiting. It’s one of the worst feelings in life. Luckily the nausea passed by the time I woke up this morning.
There’s also some acne popping up on my face. A sign my body is purging.
If you’re wondering why I’m doing this to myself click the story below.
My younger brother is schizophrenic and also has psychosis, which makes him overly paranoid. The medication lessens the paranoia, but he’s never free of it. He doesn’t leave the house, except to receive his shot of medicine and to deposit his government disability checks. The medication took him from a naturally slim guy to weighing around 300 pounds, although him always satisfying every passing whim doesn’t help.
This morning he was screaming out colourful language to the voice in his head. He wanted it to leave him alone. This is a regular occurrence, and it can go on for awhile. We all just continue with our business as there’s nothing we can do. Currently he’s listening to a video of a phone call and the people are angry and swearing at each other. Every second word out of their mouths is a curse word. It’s very low-vibe content.
Throughout childhood he was a normal and fun-loving kid. After having two girls, my parents were thrilled to have a son. My dad has described it as winning the lottery. Males always get spoiled in Indian families, and even though my parents weren’t raised in India, we’re Fijian-Indian, they were no exception to this archaic practice. My brother never faced consequences for misbehaving. If he didn’t want to do his homework, my parents were unable to make him even though they had the resources. His teacher said he had to be held back a grade, and my dad somehow talked them into changing the fail to a pass. This happened more than once.
When my mother attempted to get him to take a bath, she would give up and ask me to get him into the tub. I’m five years his senior.
If he didn’t get what he wanted he would whine and pester my parents until they gave in. This hasn't stopped. He is more relentless now than he was then.
I have fond memories of our childhood. We’d play video games, board games, ride bikes, skip rope, etc. We spent days, along with my sister, outside and inside letting our imaginations run wild. The 90s were a good time to be a kid.
It was when he turned 18 that the transformation began. Anger settled inside of him. Little things would set him off. He erupted at my mom because he didn’t like the sound of her footsteps and threw flour at her. It landed all over her face and hair.
There was the time I was about to make a call on our land line, and he wanted to use the phone. We fought and struggled over it. In favour of keeping the peace, my parents always backed down to his anger. I never have even though he’s a lot bigger than me. He kicked me in the gut and it sent me flying backwards. I had the phone so I told him I was going to call the police and locked myself in my room. My mother came to my door and pleaded with me to not call the police. She always stopped us. She likened it to betrayal. To this day anytime the police come to take him she cries.
I called the police anyway and they told me I could press charges on him. My mom begged and pleaded with me not to, so I didn’t.
I was sitting on the family computer one afternoon working on a 22-page essay for one of my classes in college. I rarely used that computer, because my brother had full reign over it. He came in and without saying a word he unplugged the computer, took the power cord, and walked out. I screamed after him that I’d lost all my work. He didn’t care. Awhile later I went back to the computer because I knew he was playing a game on it. I went to the power cord and put my hand on it. I asked him how he’d like it if I unplugged it. He begged me not to and apologized profusely. He wasn’t sorry. He was just saying it. I could have unplugged it, but I’m not him. I left to handwrite my paper all night and left early the next morning to type it out at school.
There was a lot conflict in that house because of my brother and eventually the family had to separate. My mom, sister, and I lived in one place, and my dad and brother lived in another place. We didn’t know what had come over my brother, only that there was a lot of anger that was never there before.
He stopped speaking to us, and we’d receive news of him through my dad. He told us that my brother was complaining that someone was pulling out his hair when he was sleeping. That’s when I clued in about possible mental illness. I tried to tell my parents he needed medical help, but they didn’t know anything about mental illness. They thought it would eventually pass.
One night my dad woke up to my brother in a rage punching him and screaming at him for pulling his hair out. He pushed my dad around and beat him up. He threw things around the house and flipped furniture over. My dad ran out of the house afraid for his life. While my brother tore the house up, my dad found a phone and called the police on my brother for the first time.
When the cops showed up my dad was still outside. They handcuffed my brother and took him to the police car to ask him questions. My brother told them my dad was pulling out his hair when he was sleeping and he showed them the back of his head. The police told my dad that his son was very sick and they were taking him to the hospital.
He was admitted into the psychiatric ward and put through analysis. The doctor diagnosed him with psychosis and prescribed him medication. My dad asked if the pills would cure my brother, and he was told that my brother would always have to take medication. He asked if the pills would make my brother stop thinking someone was pulling out his hair. The doctor didn’t give a yes or no.
Still, we were optimistic about my brother and hoped he was on the path to getting better. Little did we know we had just embarked on a dark path headed the opposite direction.
About the Creator
Neelam Sharma
Been on a spiritual ride for awhile, and these are my takeaways
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You're Not Lazy — You're Mentally Exhausted (And No One Told You)
You’re Not Lazy — You’re Mentally Exhausted (And No One Told You) For years, many of us have carried the same quiet belief. That we’re lazy. That we lack discipline. That everyone else seems to have life figured out—except us. We watch others move forward while we feel stuck in place, and the conclusion feels obvious: Something must be wrong with me. But what if that conclusion is wrong? What if the problem was never laziness at all—but a level of mental exhaustion you were never taught how to recognize, name, or respect? The Silent Burnout Nobody Talks About Mental exhaustion doesn’t always announce itself loudly. It doesn’t always come with breakdowns, tears, or visible collapse. More often, it shows up quietly. It looks like wanting to do better, but feeling unable to start. Like beginning tasks with good intentions, only to abandon them halfway through. Like feeling guilty for resting, yet too drained to be productive. Like losing interest in things you once cared deeply about—without knowing why. From the outside, you may still be functioning. You show up. You meet expectations. You get things done—just enough to survive. So you call it laziness. And eventually, you start believing it. But laziness doesn’t come with guilt. It doesn’t come with frustration or shame. Exhaustion does. Why Motivation Alone Doesn’t Work We are constantly told to “push harder.” To “wake up earlier.” To “stop making excuses.” But motivation cannot fix a tired nervous system. When your mental energy is depleted, discipline feels heavy. Focus becomes painful. Even simple decisions begin to feel overwhelming. This is not a failure of character. It’s a biological and psychological response to prolonged pressure. A mind that has been running on survival mode cannot suddenly switch into inspiration. No amount of self-criticism will create energy where none exists. You’re not broken. You’re overloaded. The Pressure to Always Be Improving We live in a culture obsessed with progress. Hustle culture. Productivity culture. Comparison culture. There is always someone doing more, achieving faster, resting less. And without realizing it, we internalize the message that slowing down equals falling behind. Rest becomes something you must earn. Slowness feels like failure. Pausing feels dangerous. So instead of listening to our limits, we punish ourselves for having them. We push through exhaustion. Ignore warning signs. And call it “self-improvement.” But there is nothing healthy about constantly overriding your own capacity. That isn’t growth. That is self-neglect disguised as ambition. What Actually Helps (Quietly) Real progress doesn’t begin with pushing harder. It begins with honesty. Honesty about your energy—not your intentions. Honesty about your limits—not your potential. Healing mental exhaustion often looks unremarkable from the outside: Acknowledging that you’re tired without turning it into a flaw Allowing yourself to pause without guilt or justification Reducing noise instead of adding more pressure Choosing consistency over intensity Creating space instead of forcing motivation Energy cannot be bullied into returning. It must be restored. And restoration is not weakness—it is strategy. A Different Kind of Strength We’ve been taught that strength means doing more. But real strength often looks like knowing when to stop. Like choosing clarity over chaos. Like offering yourself compassion instead of criticism. It’s the courage to admit that something isn’t working—without blaming yourself for it. If you are struggling right now, hear this clearly: You are not lazy. You are mentally exhausted. And exhaustion is not a personal failure—it’s a signal. A signal that something needs care, not punishment. You don’t need to become a different person. You don’t need to “fix” yourself. You need rest. You need understanding. You need permission to be human. And that is not a weakness. That is where healing actually begins.
By Med Abdeljabbar7 days ago in Psyche
Comments (1)
Thank you for bravely sharing your story. It's not easy to open up about such personal and painful experiences. Your love and dedication to your brother despite all the challenges are truly inspiring. I hope you find moments of peace and joy amidst the chaos, and that your brother finds some relief from his struggles. Keep being the amazing sibling you are.