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.
I have humbly asked by e-mail that Arnold Winkelried fix my grevious error and place this were it belongs
I am startig to thing my sig should read " Yes, I know I am a putz.
Wow. Beltane, after your asking about whether you should post this, I intentionally came and looked for your thread. I wasn’t necessarily expecting what I just read, though.
I am impressed. I’m not normally rational enough when I’m depressed to realize I need help AND to get it, and you’re not only doing that, but wanting to get back in shape to help other people.
The most important thing I can say to you is not to forget to take care of yourself. You can’t help the rest of the world if you’re ignoring your own needs. Making a list of what you want sounds like a great plan to me.
Keep us posted, ya hear?
Corr
I realize this is not mundane or pointless, but that would be my best guess for the appropriate forum for this thread.
Jill
Beltane, I’ve never encountered anything remotely as tragic or heartbreaking as what you have, so anything I write here should be taken with a grain of salt.
Of all the people I know who’ve gone through cosmic shitstorms and come out okay on the other side, all of them have at one point made the concious decision to live. Live, heal, grow, and someday be happy again. It’s not an easy thing to do. I know a bunch more people who, for whatever reason, are unwilling or unable to let go of what’s happened to them.
A former friend lost both her parents one night when she was sixteen years old. Later, an ex-boyfriend tried to kill her and last I heard was still stalking her. As horrible as these things are, she cannot or will not move on. Part of who she is is invested in being this tragic figure. She gets loads of love and support and attention, but she never, ever gets better. In the course of three years of friendship, I never once saw her decide that she would survive and get better. She avoided the topic whenever possible.
An ex-boyfriend is still waiting for someone to make up for his crappy childhood. Until that happens, he absolutely refuses to do anything meaningful for himself. He sabotages relationships (including ours), gets himself fired from jobs, runs up enormous debt, and then behaves as though the world is out to get him.
One of my best friends was sexually assaulted in college. Talking with her a few days later, I saw her literally square her shoulders and decide that what that SOB had done to her wasn’t going get the best of her.
I can keep repeating stories, I suppose, but the conclusion I’ve drawn - and what I’ve experienced after my own minor heartbreaks - is that you have to be willing to get on with life. Get busy living, or get busy dying. There isn’t a whole lot in between.
Beltane, you sound to me as though you’ve decided to get busy living. I’m glad to hear it. I’ll bet your sister would be proud of you. The circumstances surrounding her death were tragic - doubly so because maybe she really could have been helped. Her death, however, should not be the defining point of her life. Her love for you, her strength, her compassion, all of those should be remembered first.
For now, lean into your pain. It’s not as bottomless as you think. There is a finiteness to it that’s comforting. You’ve had a year of just surviving. It’s time to live again.
Beltane, I haven’t experienced a loss that was even remotely as earth-shatteringly painful as yours, but I’ll try to share what little bit of experience I have with you. I hope that, even though the circumstances are vastly different, you might be able to glean something helful from this.
My father died 4-1/2 years ago. Now, one of the things that was different there was that he had lived a fairly long and quite full life. Also, I was able to prepare myself somewhat emotionally beforehand because he had heart disease and knew that he could die just about anytime. He talked about his own mortality, and that made it OK for me to think about it and so when it did happen, I was at least a little bit ready. It didn’t make it any less painful, I don’t think, but it did make it easier for me to let go and get on with grieving and ultimately my life.
And that’s my point, that you have to make, as phouka said, a conscious decision to live, to get past the death, and the first step to that is to make a decision to grieve. Feel the feelings, let them come and go, realize that some days will be agony and some will be almost like normal, but you have to allow them to happen in order to move on.
Death is just another part of life, the other end of the journey that begins with birth. The body is just a vessel for that essential whatever it is that makes us who we are. You are going to miss your sister like I miss my father, you will never stop missing her. But realize that she is now OK where she is. She is no longer in the kind of pain that earthly living brought to her.
The fact that you are still here says to me that you have far more strength than you might think. One of the things that you can now offer to the world is that strength–a friend said to me after my dad died, “Now you can help others who are going through the same thing.” Think about that.
Wow, Beltane, that was a beautiful post. I am so sorry to hear of your loss. It’s sad enough when we lose a loved one, but when the death was preventable, it’s truly catastrophic.
This year marks the seventh anniversary of the birth and death of my son, Andrew. I can truly understand many of the feelings you’re experiencing right now. Even though the worst of it is over, I still feel an intense sadness on the anniversaries of his birth, death and on Thanksgiving, which falls just before or just after the anniversary of his death.
What helps me is remembering him. I’m Jewish, and every year at sunset on the day before the anniversary of his death (called the Yahrzeit), I light a candle that burns for 24 hours. I also go to synagogue on the sabbath before or after to say the prayer for the dead. I don’t look forward to it; I’d rather be schlepping my seven-year-old to Hebrew school, but these rituals help me feel a sense of connection to him. Even though he is not physically present, he is always with me, just as your sister is, and will always be, with you.
Please feel free to e-mail me. My e-mail is below.
Robin
Beltane, allow me to express my deepest sympathies. Losing a loved one, especially in such a way, is one of the most difficult things a person can live through. And you will live through this.
While remembering my best friend who was killed in a car accident in April of 2000, I posted:
“I’m proud of myself because, once she was gone, I never expected to last this long. She saved my life though, so I couldn’t take that away from her. She always wanted me to be happy, so now I try. For her.”
You should try to remember much the same thing; that Angie, in her living years, wanted nothing more than for you to be happy. Do try to smile through your tears of saddness. It’s hard, I know, but concentrating on those aimless drives, those long conversations, will remind you that, although Angie can’t be with you now, the two of you shared some really great moments. Hold on to those moments and remember Angie as your sister and your friend, not as your tragedy.
All my best to you.
I really wish I was eloquent enough to offer some sort of commiseration or support.
I can tell you that I hold you in great esteem for sharing that.
I’m in the middle of getting divorced (I’ve been separated form my wife since March) and I know that is nothing compared to what you’ve gone through, but the day I decided to share what I was going through with others, both on this board and in person, was the day I took a step toward believing I could get through it.
I found that everyone – to a person – in whom I confided my feelings supported me with no questions asked. I’m trying to return the favor.
As for philosophies, I’ve been buoyed in my darkest hour by the following: “That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.” I know it’s never that black and white, but believing that makes me feel stronger for eveverything I experience.
Good Luck - One Day At A Time
I just wanted to share that today’s tragedy falling on the anniversary of my sister’s death has felt positively surreal. Talk about encouragement to find a way I really can help other people!! Not to mention putting my
Own problems in perspective.
My mom died 10 years ago. I talked to her on the phone the previous night, then she wrote a note and took the pills and did not survive, which was apparently her wish. I was questioned by the police and had the chore of identifying the body. This was the third family death in a 3 month period. Needless to say, I was in shock for quite some time. I continued to work and do my normal activities, but I have never felt healthy since her death. There is guilt, anger, remorse, pain. Too much to deal with, so I put up a shield and try to feel nothing. I have been suicidal in my life, and I understand the part about wanting to stop the suffering. But I also understand what happens to those who are left behind. It seems like a cruel punishment, and certainly an end of innocence, to lose a loved one that way.