People Judge Because They Don't Understand

Charley taught me what it takes to process and grieve. He would walk me through logic vs. emotion and how the latter affects and clouds your judgment. "think logically" he would say. "Logic first, emotion second". It took me years and several situations to grasp his mind of all masters and look to him for objective guidance. Never weary, never judgmental, Charley would provide two sides of the spectrum, what was best for me, and how to bite my tongue and choose battles. "You're level-headed" is what he recently told me. I like to think so. I'm not quick to judge, I'm compassionate, patient, loving, sometimes selfish, and anything but uptight. My brother shaped me and always always always allowed me to make my own decision with very little weight from his own opinion. Or if I'd go to him with an issue he'd politely ask, "Do you want my opinion?" before unleashing any unwarranted insight. He respected me and everyone he knew. And if I wanted sound input- Charley was the man.

It's taken me weeks to try to comprehend HOW his mind made up his mind. How emotion superseded logic in his darkest hours, when he always taught me NOT to do that. Depression hit him so quickly he never came out of it. It took a matter of weeks for my uber-strong of a man to fall, stagger, push push push and never get back up. A trigger that was unforgiving and selfish. A trigger that hit him by surprise. A trigger that my brother, of all men, did not deserve.
Do you know that there are two types of depression? Situational vs. Neurological. I have both. My brother had both. I envision him living life with an invisible boulder on his back. Living as if that boulder is normal. I mean, come on, we ALL have baggage and some sort of depression to some extent. Who hasn't thought of leaving this life at one point of another. That thought is honest and normal.
Charley hadn't been sleeping very much, so in steps sleep deprivation. Situational depression is self-explanatory. Neurological Depression is a chemical imbalance. It has to do with the chemicals your brain isn't creating--all the "feel good" chemicals like epinephrine, endorphins, serotonin. Charley had a combo. No physical rest, no brain rest, no "feel good" chemicals, working out twice a day to exhaust himself, social social social, upbeat, positive and fighting. Fighting for a life he loved. If you know him, and I mean really know him as an individual (and not on the surface), and know him as a skilled and trained professional, then you can easily gather that he did everything LOGICAL he could think of to feel good. But when all the "feel good" chemicals were absent, how was he supposed to get through his quick-mannered depression? How?

What the general population does is judge. People judge because they don't understand. People who take their lives are cowards, losers, pussies, easy out, etc etc. Charley was none of those things. And fuck everyone (I'm entitled to anger and will not be swayed by insensitivity) who say ignorant and crude comments like that. Suicide victims do not want to die, they just want relief from the pain. RELIEF. Their pain and anguish is so desperate that they see no other way out. None. No matter how much we love them, no matter how much they have to live for, no matter their awesome careers and striking good looks. None of that matters. Only relief does. A pure dark moment of both courage and surrender. In that scary moment of sadness and irrationality, Charley took his life. Charley was embraced by God and my father and all the dearly departed. He had a relationship with our Lord while alive and even stronger in spirit. Screw all religions that state my brother went to Hell. We have a merciful God,  forgiving God. A God that opened his arms to my brother and welcomed him home as he encouraged, "Finally. I've been waiting for you". That's what I believe and that's all that matters. My faith. Charley's faith.