Mental Illness Sucks Ass

It has been quite an eventful last 24 hours.  I've joined the Third Writers' Platform-Building Campaign, I've scheduled appointments, I've done the grocery shopping, I've had lunch and dinner with friends and in-laws, Oh! - and I've dealt with my brother threatening to kill my husband and just generally losing his mind...again.

Bi-polar/schizophrenic with psychotic tendencies...that is his official diagnosis; but he refuses to admit that there is anything wrong with him.  SO, I live my life loving him and wanting a better life for him; constantly bringing him back into the fold for one more chance (when he can pass for sane, usually).  EVERY time I do this, he screws me over and goes crazy again.

Logically I understand that he has a mental illness that is not under control and so I cannot really blame him; can I?  But I want to!  I want to rail and rant at him!  I want to scream "GET SOME FUCKING HELP!"  Is there really any point?

He is unemployed, he has a record, and he sleeps in parks.  It makes me so sad when I think about how I left him with my mother to go away to school.  I wanted out so badly, I didn't even consider what I was abandoning.  She did not want to deal with the responsibility of raising another child, she sure as hell doesn't want to deal with his mental illness now. God, I feel so shitty right now...

Through all of this, I have my mother here...living comfortably with me - off of my husbands sweat and hard work.  I have so many issues with her, that can be a book in and of itself...