Trigger Warning: thoughts of suicide 

Growing up with two younger brothers who are 18 months apart from me, meant that peace and quiet was never really an option in our house. My twin brothers, Derek and Devin, and I spent most of our childhood at each other’s throats. We were not the type of siblings who sat around a campfire singing songs and making s’mores. No, we were the type who could turn a simple car ride home into an all-out war.

One specific car ride, just days before I attempted to take my own life, is one that, even all these years later, is burned into my mind.

The three of us, mainly my brother Derek and I, were going back and forth, our voices getting louder and crazier, until my mom was screaming too. Everyone in that car was at their breaking point, and looking back, that was the last true, serious argument we ever had, with none of us, including me, not knowing what would happen shortly after.

For years, the pattern was always the same. My brothers would push my buttons in ways that only a younger sibling can. They would instigate, poke and prod until I snapped. And when I snapped, I didn’t just yell; I would get physical. I would beat them up in ways I am not proud of, and that guilt still eats at me, even now. 

My parents begged us to stop. I would then promise them over and over again that I would change, that we would be better. However, none of those promises would last a week, and the toxic cycle would just return.

Megan Gilligan of the University of Missouri, who has studied sibling dynamics over several decades, has found that tension between siblings typically peaks during the teenage years before a turning point happens in early adulthood. She also notes that earlier sibling conflicts stick with us and shape how we relate to each other long after the fighting stops.

I can say from experience that she is right. Every argument I had with my brothers left a mark on all of us, even if we did not talk about it. The frustration built up on both sides. They saw an older brother who was supposed to protect them, acting like someone they needed protection from. 

All I saw were two kids who did not understand what I was going through and who seemed to enjoy making things worse. 

Neither perspective was fully right. Neither was fully wrong.

However, after I was admitted to an inpatient facility following my suicide attempt, everything between us changed. My family came to visit me, and Derek sat down and started crying because he was scared that his big brother was not going to be around anymore. I walked over to him and hugged and kissed him, promising that I was not going anywhere and that I was getting the help I needed. That moment was the first time in years when the walls between us started to come down.

A year and a half later, I can say that I have kept my promise. We have not had a single major blowup since that last car ride from the dentist, and the dynamic between the three of us is the healthiest it has ever been.

Derek has stepped up and has become a real support system, not just for me but for my parents. When I would get into an argument with either my mom or dad, Derek is the one who would come upstairs and help calm me down before things got even uglier.

I got into a nasty fight with my dad on my brother’s birthday a couple of months ago. Things escalated so quickly that my dad and everyone around me were confused about what had gotten into me. 

Things were said that crossed a line, and I knew better not to cross that line, but I was so emotional that I didn’t care who was hurt by my words.

In the middle of all the chaos, my brothers stepped in, got my dad away from me, and got me inside the house, where they talked to me at the staircase and got me to calm down.

A couple of years ago, that would have been unthinkable because instead of adding fuel to the fire, they were the ones to put it out, which I couldn’t be more grateful for.

I will admit that even with all the progress, our relationship is still not perfect. I still retreat to my room more than I should. There are days when I do not even go downstairs to talk to either of them and my only interaction is when we pass each other upstairs when we are getting food or taking a shower.

Living in the same house does not mean constantly connecting, and I can take responsibility for that. But what is different now is that there is a foundation of sibling love that is more present than it ever was. 

One of the biggest regrets in my life was not being the big brother that my brothers deserved until recently. I spent too many years being the one they feared instead of the one they looked up to. That is something that will bother me for the rest of my life, but I can say to anyone struggling with the same sibling relationship that anything is possible, even between people who spent years hurting each other.