My brother (34) has struggled with addiction for well over a decade and when he overdosed on heroin in 2014, it was the most devastating time of my life. 

I (26, f) don't want to go into too much detail about my brothers overdose because that's not what this is about, but I think its important for perspective to know what my family went through. He was given 20 minutes to live, he had 2 strokes and 4 cardiac arrests, his hands and feet died, he was in a coma for 49 days. And he made a near full recovery. It was amazing. 

Since then, he has lived with my parents and I. And to be honest, its been difficult. He went straight back to drugs. We've had to call the emergency services so many times. And when he's in a state, it has been awful. 

However, since November, after a few months of binging, he went cold turkey (which is dangerous, but he got through it). He hasn't done drugs or drink since then. And yesterday, I found out he was moving out. 

Now, my brother is amazing. He really is. Despite his addiction issues he was still functioning, had a job and is doing really well in his field. 

But here's where I stand. To clarify, I'm not normally a jealous person, this emotion isn't a common one for me, and usually, when people do well, I am genuinely happy for them. 

But when my brother was recovering in hospital, my very successful uncle gave my brother a laptop, and offered him a job at his company. But years before when I was going through hell, I came to that uncle and told him about my rape. He did nothing. 

Both before and after my brothers overdose, rich extended family members (and my other rich brother) offered to pay for my brother to go to rehab. My brother  has always refused. 

I'm not trying to dumb down my brothers recovery from addiction at all, there's no doubt that it must have been difficult, but it felt like he just decided to get off drugs one day and then did. But if that's the case, then all the shit he put my family through when on drugs was a choice. It means that at any moment he could have decided to stop but didn't. I know this probably isn't the reality, but this is what it feels like. 

I'm jealous because he can now be independent, he can now leave and live his glorious life and be successful. Yet, I'm at home, unemployed, and desperately seeking treatment for this godforsaken disorder, yet my health services won't treat me. But I could get it privately, but none of my rich family members have ever offered to pay for my treatment. And it makes me feel so fucking unloved, or uncared for. 

When my brother was in hospital everyone came and loved him and helped him no matter what. But when I admitted myself to a psych ward, my eldest brother travelled across the country to see my Gran who had witnessed me at my worst, and to make sure SHE was okay. Are you kidding me? I'm literally in hospital! When I insisted he came to visit me, he then interrogated me about my rape and the abuse id suffered from another uncle. I know my eldest brother doesn't believe me, but even if I was lying, surely that would indicate I am ill? 

I fucking hate that everyone loves my brother more than me. How much suffering do I have to go through before my family gives a shit? Why does my drug addict brother get to CHOOSE to put us through hell, and everyone's still there for him, offering money to get him well, giving him a life and a job. But when I'm ill, and I'm not chosing any of this, everyone acts like "this is your fault, just stop doing it". I feel like such shit. No one cares. 

I wanna get better so I can live! I've put my whole life on hold desperately campaigning to get rid of this serious, deadly disorder so that I can actually be independent. And my brother just decided all this shit and everyone loves him

Fuck