Two yeas ago today I got a phone call that would start the worst couple of years of my life. It was from my big brother.....sort of. It wasn't really my brother. It was a run down broken version of him. One where even though I've never had a drink in my life I could taste the alcohol on his breath through the phone. It was hard to hear him like that.
Hey, Matt!
"Stephanie, your going to be mad at me."
I knew right then by the sound of his voice that he was sick enough that day to do it.
I begged him not to.
He told me it didn't matter because I didn't love him and neither did anyone else.
He hung up.
My brother's depression won the war that day.
He passed away seven hours after that phone call.
The next few days were a blur also filled with the most awful vivid memories of my life. Getting to my mom's house at 1:00 in the morning to bring her home. The broken heart of a mother screaming from the back seat of my car all the way back home. Calling for a son who couldn't answer her.
I want to tell my story because I want to hopefully be able to help anyone who may be going through this or thinking of doing this or knows someone who is going through it.
It is a LONG road. It is unlike a death that comes suddenly by natural causes. Or like one where you are prepared for it. It is one of the loneliest feelings in the world. It is impossible not to imagine how awful your loved one felt to feel like that was their only option. You will throw up from the pit in your stomach when you put yourself there. You are angry. No, you are PISSED. How dare they do this to you, to your mother, to your family. How dare him make me have to have this conversation with my children. And then you are guilt ridden. What could I have done. If only I had......".8 million things here." We knew he struggled with this. He had since he was a teenager. WHY COULD"NT WE HELP HIM?
I'm here to tell you that that gets better. The pain never hurts any less. But you do get used to living with it. You will think of them every single day. The hardest part for me in all of this was just how lonely I became. People don't know what to say to you, so they just say nothing. In my experience, they didn't call to see how I was doing. Maybe they knew, because how is it possible to be ok. Call, come over, sit with those suffering. Don't say anything, you don't have to. There really isn't anything to say. But the pressence of others helps. And staying busy helps. But the hard part is is that you are alone with it. Every day, every second for at least 6 months. It sneaks into your thoughts. All of a sudden some of your favorite movies you can't watch anymore because you never realized how many guns were in the movie. You can't stand the sight of a gun. You can't stand for people to take their lives. SO MANY MOVIES have that there. People in daily conversations make a gun with their hands and pretend to put it to their heads and pull the trigger to show they are frustrated. It WILL hurt. But you remember doing it all the time before so you can't blame them. You will be perfectly fine one moment, see something or hear something and be a complete wreck the next.
You feel frustrated with people because all of a sudden all that person becomes is their death. I can hear the word Matthew and think of a lot more. In fact I would like to remember him for who he was, not for what he did. While I know what he did, and it hurts and it's real and I think of it, SUICIDE is not my brother. Don't pretend like he wasn't a part of our lives. So this is for you who know someone going through this. We don't want them to disappear because of how he left the world. It is okay to talk about them. In fact if you remember a good time, please share it. Those things we want to remember and hold onto. We know it may be uncomfortable. But in these situations it is more important to hear the fun, loving stories about that person. My brother was hysterical. He was cocky and arrogant in a way maybe most people can't appreciate in the same way I can. I am exactly the same way. It's funny, or at least it was to us. Mathew was loving and adored kids. Absolutely adored them. He wanted to be a father so badly. He was competitive. He made everything a competition. EVERYTHING. And I loved that about him, because I always had someone to compete against. He was selfless in ways I have a hard time being selfless. He was a good person who lost a battle with a disease people don't talk about.
I don't understand why people feel like this isn't a problem. Mental illness, bipolar, depression. These things are real. They are physical things happening in your brain that you cannot control. Nobody decides to have a heart condition. But if you have one you take medicine and you take care of it. If your brain does not regulate the chemicals in it, or your thyroid does not regulate your hormones correctly you can suffer from these things. Mental illness is real. It's not your fault, but why is their such a stigma attached? If you have these problems I beg you to get help. There is no shame in having to be on medication for these things. If you don't it will destroy your life and the lives of those around you. I've seen it happen. My family has been torn apart. On so many levels more than just this. And it's because people don't want to admit their is a problem and do something about it. Their is no shame in having to deal with this in your life. People dont have to hide their heads because they have diabetes. You don't have to be ashamed of this either. People love you and they want to help you and they want help for you.
The last thing I want to say is to those of you who are left behind. We wonder and are told by people that our loved ones are going to hell because they took a life. I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS. I have spent countless hours on my knees. I believe in a loving and a merciful God. I believe he is a loving Heavenly Father and that Christ suffered in the garden so that he could understand all pain and that he could judge accordingly. Knowing this in this situation brings me more peace than with anything else I've faced in my life. I am a mother to a son who has some struggles with impulse control. He is border line aspergers. As close to the line you can get without getting the diagnosis. I know who my son is. I know that he is caring and tenderhearted. I know that he is about the sweetest thing in the world. He also, because of physical thing happening in his body has a very hard time controlling his anger. He knows it, he suffers with it. IT IS NOT HIM. I know that if I can look at my son and see this then the Lord looks at my brother and sees who he is. Anyone who knows my brother knows that he wont lose to anything. Even when he lost he won. :) He told me so.........all the time. My brother would not have done this. My brother had lost his power to choose by some things going on with his physical body we cannot understand, and by the alcohol in his system that was thinking for him. He no longer was thinking for himself and I really don't feel like he will be accountable for those actions. I believe that the Lord knows my brother and knows every small detail that was going on in his life that day. I believe that Christ suffered for him and for the pains he had. I believe that he overcame death just like my brother will, in his mercy for the things he was given to deal with in this life. I believe in hope. I have felt the peace of that hope in my life. I have had tender mercies to let me know this is true.
I miss my brother every day. He was a funny guy who suffered a lot. I can't imagine how awful a feeling it must have been to feel like that was the only way out. I hope this finds people that it can help. The day comes when most of the time you are ok. There will be hard times. There are people who love you and understand. If you knew my brother feel free to share a story. I'm sure he did something you remember that was hysterical. Feel free to share this if you feel it will help someone. :)
