I'm Idle, Not Suicidal

Death is so final. It's absolute. There's no coming back from it...no "I changed my mind" or "maybe that wasn't such a good idea". When someone takes their last breath and they see the dimension they're drifting off to, they move forward and they are gone from this Earth-bound life with us. Believe me, I wish death weren't so final so that I can call my brother and tell him not to take his life.
"Charley! I have so many resources (as if he didn't know about them) and have so many answers. I will help you surface and use all my strength to save you". If only...

The week of my brother's death and the heavy days leading to his funeral services, I was mute and lifeless. I remember people coming to my parents house and I felt them hugging, holding and talking to me, but I was deaf. My eyes were downward-facing, my head hung as though I had no spine and a force was pulling me to the floor. I wanted nothing more than to be told none of this was real. The day we chose his plot at the cemetery, it felt like buying real estate. The far back was the most affordable, the center was the most desirable and expensive, so we chose a median which I visit every other day. It's peaceful and quiet and it's deep and vibrant like the colors in my brother's heart.

Surreal wasn't the word. It was more like a hypnotizing trick that I would never come out of. And it was frightening. All the emotions and thoughts I had been having began to swell and turn with such paralyzing force that I, too, began to have suicidal thoughts. "I can't live without Charley. I can't do it." At the time it didn't matter that everyone was encouraging me to think about Mia. My anguish was so bottomless that I couldn't fathom coming back up. I had many many nights of desperation and dark confusion. My only refuge was to be with my brother. I had two choices: get through this (which seemed impossible at the time) or take my own life to be with him. If he could do it, so could I. BUT, my thoughts never sought out the action. I never thought HOW to do it- all I wanted was the relief of seeing him again.

One night, I felt so overwhelmed with tears and panic that it occurred to me in that same moment that I was experiencing a fraction of what Charley had felt. A fraction. And it scared me. And I felt him tell me to calm down and rationalize. Breathe, Yolie, Breathe. So I did, I breathed. I breathe everyday.

I began therapy so that I can have an open forum to say and feel whatever I want with absolutely no judgment placed on me. Guidance to help me healthily grieve and a coach to push me in a brighter direction. It's not an easy journey--in fact, it's a long one assembled with high highs and low lows and the occasional "meh" days. I'm very conscious of how I'm living, but I'm also very honest with myself (as I've always been) about the realities of my feelings. I don't expect to be fine by now or in a year...I truthfully don't expect anything. I'm just being me. Taking the time for me. And doing as best I can with how I feel.
I'm also on homeopathic medication called 5-HTP which is a precursor to serotonin and helps to produce melatonin, Holy Basil which protects the body from stressors that can cause inflammation in the nervous, endocrine and immune systems. As a nice addition to my cocktail, I sometimes take a droppersful of Kava at night to restfully sleep. I actually tried the legit organic root while I vacationed in Fiji six years ago. I have to say, it works so well. I don't feel lethargic, groggy or drugged. It's simply soothing.

At the suicide walk, a suicide loss survivor spoke one poignant statement that resonated within me,
"When you lose someone you love so deeply to suicide, all of a sudden, all the people close to that person become suicidal as well". I thought, Aha! I'm not crazy. I'm not the only person thinking this way. However, once I heard that, my gears shifted into neutral and I began to slowly push on my gas pedal of survival. I will get through this season of clouded affection and misplacement. It'll take some time, but I'm still me. I'm still Yolie. I'm just a different Yolie. Fiercely loving my daughter more than I did before, embracing my family with such comfort and support, and tenderly appreciating my friends.