I had three brothers and two died
by taking their lives only a few years apart.
I was just starting my teens at the time so it wasn’t until later I
thought more deeply about this. My
eldest brother was a medical doctor but he suffered from depression, I do not
know if this was due to a lithium imbalance or a hereditary condition. I remember him as a quiet, intelligent person
who did not laugh or become angry, he did not seem to be any worse the day he
drove away and took medicines to end his life.
I remember saying to him in the elevator of the hospital to stay awake,
that was the last time I ever saw him.
How did his death feel to a little boy of 12, I think I felt a little
responsible for I went to the store with my mum and she was not there for him. It was only a couple of years later when my
other brother took his life by jumping in front of a train, he was not able to
live with us at the time as his schizophrenia made him dangerous to be
around. This was induced or enhanced by
drugs (including LSD), I remember him taking a large kitchen knife in the
middle of the night saying he wanted to keep away the spiders. I saw mum cry as she sent him away at the
train station, a depressed young man as he entered the carriage to go to the
capital city. What could we do, there
were hospitals for the mentally ill but nothing local that we could send him to. I know now since I also had a mental
breakdown at 27 that the best way out of a situation like that is to seek help
yourself; know your resources and draw upon them to get you out of the place
you are in. Antidepressants may be
needed during a tough time but you need to start focusing on the root cause of
the depression. You may crash your car
and get seriously hurt, in a few years you may be well again but crash your
mind it may be a lifelong battle, those injuries don’t heal easily. Don’t think your mind will never heal, it may
but it is going to take you to make it happen (know yourself). My father, mother and I were in the lounge
when we heard a knock on the door, two police officers stood at the door
telling my mother my second brother had died, they handed her a small bag of
his personal possessions (he lived in shelters). As they drove away, my mum put together a
torn card which had been shattered in his pocket as the train hit. She cried and prayed to God and asked Him will
she see her sons again in heaven, as she turned the card she saw typed “promises
of God are sure”. These things will
never leave my mind, it is what makes me, all that matters is what I am doing
now and not to give up, help is at hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment