Dear Therapist: My Mother Is Rewarding My Brother’s Bad Behavior

I feel like she’s ignoring his mistakes by leaving him a substantial inheritance.

one person in a building block house, while another sits out, and the house is being built by a woman
Illustration by Bianca Bagnarelli
Editor’s Note: On the last Monday of each month, Lori Gottlieb answers a reader’s question about a problem, big or small. Have a question? Email her at dear.therapist@theatlantic.com.

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Dear Therapist,

I am the older sibling; I have a younger brother.

My brother is incarcerated. When he is released, he will be in his late 50s and will have no assets. As a felon and a sex offender, he will probably have difficulty finding a good job. He will move in with my mother, assuming she is still living. My mother has chosen to leave her mortgage-free home and its contents to him, and to divide the rest of her assets equally between us. There are no conditions in place, such as leaving the property in a trust, to deal with his possible recidivism, marriage, or financial irresponsibility (he has a history of foreclosures).

The rest of her assets are not much, because she has spent so much on his legal fees and continues to support him financially while he is in prison. She is making significant improvements to her house, which will be his house. The value of his inheritance will continue to increase, while her liquid assets will continue to decrease. In the meantime, I am the one providing her with the everyday help and support she needs.

I am struggling with feelings of hurt and resentment. She is rewarding him—generously—for his very poor choices and behavior. I never felt entitled to an inheritance, and if she were traveling around the world and spending it all so there was nothing left, I think I’d be okay with that. I know it will cause her a lot of pain if I tell her how I am feeling, and I don’t want to add to her burden. She is still grieving the loss of my father, coupled with her emotions about my brother.

Can you help me frame this in a way that helps me overcome my bitterness? I’m not proud of how I’m feeling.

Anonymous
Seattle


Dear Anonymous,

Everything you’re feeling is completely understandable, so much so that if you’d said you had no feelings or were completely at peace with the situation, I would raise my eyebrows. I’m starting there because you’re asking me to help you “overcome” the way you feel—bitter, resentful, envious, unseen, unappreciated—when what will help you most is to welcome those very reasonable feelings without judging yourself, and then use them to take action.

I don’t know the particulars of your situation—how early in life your brother’s behavioral issues began, what the age difference is between you, how long your mom (or both of your parents, before your father died) has been supporting your brother through the consequences of his behavior even before he became incarcerated—but I imagine you’ve had feelings about your family’s relationship with your brother for quite some time. Perhaps your brother’s behavior in some form or another has been challenging since childhood or young adulthood. A common dynamic in families with a troubled sibling is that the parents are so focused on navigating the crises at hand that they don’t notice—or have the bandwidth to address—the burden placed not just on them, but on any other children they have.

In families where one child has a chronic illness that feels all-encompassing, a similar dynamic emerges. An intense focus on the sick child stretches the parents’ financial, emotional, and logistical resources so thin that the healthy siblings try to do the opposite: not ask for much, stay under the radar, and be as accommodating as possible. In the case of a sibling with a behavioral issue, however, the other sibling—you—faces added burdens: Maybe you were embarrassed by your brother, teased about him, or even scared of him. Maybe he acted out in ways that harmed you, and you didn’t get the emotional or physical protection you needed, or were afraid to ask for it. You might even have hated him or wished he didn’t exist and then felt ashamed for these thoughts, not knowing how normal a response this was.

Sibling relationships are complicated, even under the best of circumstances. Siblings can be our protectors, rivals, tormentors, playmates, nurturers, co-conspirators, mentors, role models, and/or cautionary tales. They are, in most families, the only other people with whom we share a particular set of parents, a unique household environment, and years of experiences during a formative time in our life. For these reasons, a sibling relationship can have a lasting impact into adulthood. For you, this might include a sense of being overlooked for being the “good” child while your sibling gets “rewarded” for being “bad.” If there’s a history of this pattern, now it’s being illuminated by your mother’s inheritance plans.

I have a feeling, though, that underneath this sense of injustice is a long-standing loss you might not have grieved. Recently, you lost your father and whatever role he played in your life, but even before that, there were other losses: of the brother you didn’t have, the sense of peace that was taken from your family by your brother’s behavior, the stable family you deserved. Many people who have problematic siblings yearn for the closeness of a sibling they will never have. They don’t feel like an only child—they feel like a child whose sibling has died. The shadow of this lost sibling looms large in their daily life and sometimes feels inescapable, like when someone in an otherwise enjoyable social situation innocently asks, “Do you have any siblings?” If your brother is incarcerated, not only might you feel anxiety, shame, or resentment at that moment, but you’re also experiencing the loss of the hoped-for sibling all over again.

What does this have to do with your mother and her decision regarding the inheritance? Your feelings about your sibling can’t be separated from how you feel about the relationship your mother chooses to have with him. It might be easier to be angry with your brother than with your mother, but it’s okay to be angry with her too—and to talk about your feelings with her. That doesn’t mean yelling or accusing. What it means is letting her in on what’s going on inside you.

Your conversation will go better if you can imagine her experience before you approach her. Instead of thinking of her choice as “rewarding him” for his “poor choices and behavior,” recognize that what she’s actually doing is honoring her unconditional love as a parent—the same unconditional love she has for you. You might think, Well, yeah, but I would never be in my brother’s situation. I would never do what he has done. That’s a false comparison. Your mom is demonstrating that she will be there to protect her children, full stop. Her decision to give him the house doesn’t mean that she loves him more or condones what he’s done. She’s simply acknowledging a grim reality: Her child, who has likely long had challenges functioning in the world, needs a roof over his head, and, given how hard it is for someone with a criminal record to find a home or a job to pay for that home, she’s taking care of him when she can’t be here anymore. She’s filling a need that she imagines you don’t have. Except that you do have needs—and that’s where your conversation can begin.

You might say something like “Mom, I want to have an honest conversation about us as it relates to my brother. I’m bringing this up because I love you and I know how much you love me too, and I don’t want my silence to get in the way of our close connection. Let me start by saying that I can only imagine how hard this situation has been on you as a parent, and I admire the fierce, relentless love you’ve shown us children as our mother. It takes a lot of resilience and grace to do what you do, and I want you to know that I see and respect that. At the same time, I feel like the pressing issues with my brother have taken so much attention and focus in our family that I haven’t shared my feelings at times with you, and I’m hoping I can do that now so that we can be closer.”

Then you might say something to the effect that even though it seems like you’re doing well, the situation with your brother has affected you too. Give a few examples of your experience without blaming him or your parents—just this is how it has felt for me. Then you might say that you’ve been thinking about the dynamics in the family and her decision to leave the house to your brother, and you’re feeling hurt and overlooked, and you want her to know that. Reassure her that you’re not blaming her or even asking her to necessarily do anything about it. You’re just opening up a dialogue and letting her know how you feel, because holding it inside has been painful, and sometimes you need a compassionate mother too.

A few things to remember: First, the initial conversation is usually the hardest, so if it doesn’t go well, remember that you’ve still opened the door for more open communication to follow. Especially if these topics have never been discussed, you and your mom might need to adjust to this new way of relating to each other. Eventually, you might even find some connection in your mutual grief. Second, the benchmark for a successful conversation isn’t dependent on her reaction or what she does or doesn’t do with what you share; the conversation is successful if you show up and share your truth with kindness.

By welcoming your feelings, processing your grief (possibly with the help of a therapist), and communicating honestly with your mother while she’s still around to hear it, you’ll do more than find a different way of framing your feelings. You’ll find a way to live with your feelings while also moving forward.


Dear Therapist is for informational purposes only, does not constitute medical advice, and is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician, mental-health professional, or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. By submitting a letter, you are agreeing to let The Atlantic use it—in part or in full—and we may edit it for length and/or clarity.

Lori Gottlieb is a contributing writer at The Atlantic and the author of Maybe You Should Talk to Someone.