Beltane
09-10-2001, 06:25 PM
It has been a year since my Sister, Angie, left this world. In truth she had been mostly gone from it for quite some time. Mentally Ill, (with no specific diagnosis, because she would not go into treatment, or the one time she actually saw a shrink, she lied about her symptoms) hearing voices that were not there, having argument with herself, totally isolated from all of her friends, terrified of the world, but even more terrified of anything that could help (any type of authority- the police, doctors, etc.) she put a bullet in her head.
It was not two months earlier that I had talked to my mother and stepfather. I had asked them to consider having her committed. They would not hear of it. She was living with my father at the time. (She had lived with my grandmother, which is next door to my father’s, but Nanny asked her to leave when she became too hostile- this from a woman who nursed an alcoholic while he drank an smoked himself into his grave.) I vividly remember saying to my stepfather “ I know that you bought her pistol from her. I know that you didn’t want her to have it because you were concerned. I appreciate that, I really do but there are other guns in that house! No other pistols, that I know of, but I am really concerned that she could go off the deep end and shoot someone else- and you CAN shoot yourself with a rifle too, it is just more awkward.” They didn’t want to hear it. They had lots of reasons that seemed to make sense to them. They just thought that if they prayed hard enough, maybe she would start going back to church and maybe God would heal her. And, to be fair to them, they did not want to see Angie in a state-ran institution, which would have been what would have happened, whith her having no insurace. And I gave up.
When I was 14, my sister paid for a psychologist for me, out of the money that she made working at a toy store. (She was 18.) She did this because she was worried about how depressed I was. My teenage years were a hell that I don’t want to revisit, but I was suicidal for a large amount of it. I actually tried seriously on two occasions. One left me in a coma for three days. My sister was a huge source of strength though all of this. She was my greatest protector and ally. I looked up to her so much. The one thing I admired most about her was her sense of humor. She could make a rock belly laugh. There is a big part of me that feels that I should have been able to do something to help her.
In the year since her death, I have not really lived very much. In fact, I have on three occasions made an attempt to join her, although I have never used a gun. On her birthday last June; I made an oath at her gravest that I would make no more such attempts. I am still having a really hard time getting on with my life. I don’t plan for the future, not even so far as to go grocery shopping. I am seeing a therapist, and about to go back on medication. (I was on a bunch of meds after my suicide attempt, but I felt I was being overmedicated, and just stopped all of them) I am no longer having panic attacks that leave visibly shaking for days at a time. I am started (I think) to reconcile with the roommates who asked me to leave after my second suicide attempt in their house. I am getting a new roommate, so I will no longer be living alone.
I am taking the next two days off work. I am going to visit Angie’s grave. I am going to drive around some of the roads that Angie and me used to spend hours talking to each other on, while driving around aimlessly. I am going to talk to my Grandmother, and maybe my Mom. I may see if I can get in touch with Angie’s ex-girlfriend, the one she left when she decided that she was going to be straight, shortly before she really began to deteriorate. And I am going to think about what I WANT. Not in a selfish sense, like I have been doing the past year, thinking of only the immediate future, or how miserable I am or ways to escape my pain, but what it is I want out of life, and maybe ways that I can start doing something to help other people again.
Thank you for letting me share this, and I would like to pose a question to any of you who have also gone through traumatic experiences similar to mine. (I mean similar in effect on you not in actual circumstance) Were you able to eventually pull something out of all of it? There is a part of me (largely the Wiccan part) that believes that life is a place of learning and that even tragedy of this kind has the potential to further growth. (Yes I know you can be a humanist and believe the same thing, just less metaphysically based)
There is another part of me (the cynic) that just believes that some people are stronger that others and some people just have fatal flaws that cannot be overcome. My sister had such a flaw, and so do I. The best I can hope for is to muddle through and not end up like her.
In an attempt to favor the former, I would love to hear from anyone who can say they have not just weathered an emotional typhoon, but actually came out of it with something positive. I don’t know, maybe my hopes are too high or maybe not high enough.
It was not two months earlier that I had talked to my mother and stepfather. I had asked them to consider having her committed. They would not hear of it. She was living with my father at the time. (She had lived with my grandmother, which is next door to my father’s, but Nanny asked her to leave when she became too hostile- this from a woman who nursed an alcoholic while he drank an smoked himself into his grave.) I vividly remember saying to my stepfather “ I know that you bought her pistol from her. I know that you didn’t want her to have it because you were concerned. I appreciate that, I really do but there are other guns in that house! No other pistols, that I know of, but I am really concerned that she could go off the deep end and shoot someone else- and you CAN shoot yourself with a rifle too, it is just more awkward.” They didn’t want to hear it. They had lots of reasons that seemed to make sense to them. They just thought that if they prayed hard enough, maybe she would start going back to church and maybe God would heal her. And, to be fair to them, they did not want to see Angie in a state-ran institution, which would have been what would have happened, whith her having no insurace. And I gave up.
When I was 14, my sister paid for a psychologist for me, out of the money that she made working at a toy store. (She was 18.) She did this because she was worried about how depressed I was. My teenage years were a hell that I don’t want to revisit, but I was suicidal for a large amount of it. I actually tried seriously on two occasions. One left me in a coma for three days. My sister was a huge source of strength though all of this. She was my greatest protector and ally. I looked up to her so much. The one thing I admired most about her was her sense of humor. She could make a rock belly laugh. There is a big part of me that feels that I should have been able to do something to help her.
In the year since her death, I have not really lived very much. In fact, I have on three occasions made an attempt to join her, although I have never used a gun. On her birthday last June; I made an oath at her gravest that I would make no more such attempts. I am still having a really hard time getting on with my life. I don’t plan for the future, not even so far as to go grocery shopping. I am seeing a therapist, and about to go back on medication. (I was on a bunch of meds after my suicide attempt, but I felt I was being overmedicated, and just stopped all of them) I am no longer having panic attacks that leave visibly shaking for days at a time. I am started (I think) to reconcile with the roommates who asked me to leave after my second suicide attempt in their house. I am getting a new roommate, so I will no longer be living alone.
I am taking the next two days off work. I am going to visit Angie’s grave. I am going to drive around some of the roads that Angie and me used to spend hours talking to each other on, while driving around aimlessly. I am going to talk to my Grandmother, and maybe my Mom. I may see if I can get in touch with Angie’s ex-girlfriend, the one she left when she decided that she was going to be straight, shortly before she really began to deteriorate. And I am going to think about what I WANT. Not in a selfish sense, like I have been doing the past year, thinking of only the immediate future, or how miserable I am or ways to escape my pain, but what it is I want out of life, and maybe ways that I can start doing something to help other people again.
Thank you for letting me share this, and I would like to pose a question to any of you who have also gone through traumatic experiences similar to mine. (I mean similar in effect on you not in actual circumstance) Were you able to eventually pull something out of all of it? There is a part of me (largely the Wiccan part) that believes that life is a place of learning and that even tragedy of this kind has the potential to further growth. (Yes I know you can be a humanist and believe the same thing, just less metaphysically based)
There is another part of me (the cynic) that just believes that some people are stronger that others and some people just have fatal flaws that cannot be overcome. My sister had such a flaw, and so do I. The best I can hope for is to muddle through and not end up like her.
In an attempt to favor the former, I would love to hear from anyone who can say they have not just weathered an emotional typhoon, but actually came out of it with something positive. I don’t know, maybe my hopes are too high or maybe not high enough.