In the aftermath

Over the last week, my family's been in the hospital with my younger brother, Tucker. He's in a lot of pain, and so are we. He wakes up screaming in pain, confused because his eyes are swollen shut, and unaware of what happened with only a fuzzy idea of where he is. Recovering from what he went through is a lot of effort, time, and is extremely painful.

I know nothing we feel can even compare to what he is enduring, but I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we would gladly take away his pain and bear it for him. There's no physical pain I've experienced as painful as watching him suffer.

This pain we're all feeling has brought so many emotions to the surface; sadness, anger, confusion, regret, bitterness to name a few. It's been the single most difficult thing for me as an individual, my relationship with my husband, my relationship with my other siblings, and my relationship with my parents. We're all burdened with our own demons and they're so close to getting out.

I wonder how other families have made it through this... I'm plenty haven't, because I can feel something breaking on the inside. A pain so immense that it feels like I'm being split into two persons; the old Kelsie who was struggling to become a (paid) author and preparing for graduate school, and the Kelsie who is so wracked with anxiety, struggling to stay strong, and ready to drop anything at any second just to ease his suffering by one little bit.

He's my youngest brother, and in a way it feels like I'm watching my own child suffer. It's hard not to feel guilty. I have to remind myself that he had a mental disease, and that sometimes diseases are latent and hard to detect.

I'm overjoyed he's still with us. That night, driving 100 mph to the house, not sure whether I would find my brother alive or dead, is burned into my mind. I know I could be so much sadder right now, but it's still hard to cope.

When I started writing this post, I thought it was going to be this insightful look into how families react to suicide, and it's more like me driving in the thick haze of my own emotions. Maybe one day we'll sort it out and be okay, but right now "okay" seems so far away from all of us.