No-Twitch-Tabitha
Platinum Member
I've been on this forum for over a year, posting mainly in my Trauma Diary and in some threads. I feel safe enough to talk about this now--in public. I'm looking for some feedback.
I had an uncle (one of Mom's brothers) die after a long illness last month. My cousin was very close to him, and he wasn't taking it at all well.
While my uncle was sick, my cousin was distraught, depressed, etc. and I tried to be there for him because I know what it's like to care for someone with a terminal illness...and I'm too compassionate for my own good. I always want to help, often at the expense of my own well-being.
Since depression and alcoholism run like wildfire through my family, my cousin was trying to wean himself off the bottle and get into counselling and therapy. There again -- helping him stay off the bottle (while trying to keep myself sober...I've never been called an alcoholic, but my past behavior puts me in that category). When my uncle died, that was it. He seemed to get gloomier.
The last time I talked to him was two weeks ago. I told him I would try to get over to see him (he lived about 3.5 hours away) and we could go fishing or skip stones on the water or...whatever he wanted to do. And talk, always talk. Put his head on my shoulder. And, if he wanted to, cry. Anything to help him feel better.
Last week, I got the news that he killed himself. So there was that lovely drive for an evening funeral.
No one saw it coming. He just didn't seem like the kind of person who would kill himself. It seemed to me he was fighting his demons, clawing his way out. He was always a fighter, he always seemed to have spunk and will.
He seemed deflated at my uncle's funeral, just tired. I didn't think much of it. Everyone who cared for my uncle was tired and...relieved?...that he's resting. But my cousin...he remarked suddenly, "I don't want to be buried in a casket. That's creepy." I agreed with him, but thought nothing more of it.
His suicide is bringing up my own largely unresolved grief about my other cousin who committed suicide -- she was my own best friend, my soul mate...the anger, the deep hurt, the feeling that I didn't do enough, the feeling of betrayal, etc. I'm pulling myself out of my own body more lately simply because I don't want to be in here feeling it. My heart hurts more than usual, and I'm just...all I can say is it hurts. I don't have the adequate words.
I am angry at him and, nearly a decade-and-a-half later, I'm angry at her again. I have had many people die in my life, so I expect the sharpness of the pain to lessen, but this is one pain (my best friend's suicide) that still remains sharp.
I had an uncle (one of Mom's brothers) die after a long illness last month. My cousin was very close to him, and he wasn't taking it at all well.
While my uncle was sick, my cousin was distraught, depressed, etc. and I tried to be there for him because I know what it's like to care for someone with a terminal illness...and I'm too compassionate for my own good. I always want to help, often at the expense of my own well-being.
Since depression and alcoholism run like wildfire through my family, my cousin was trying to wean himself off the bottle and get into counselling and therapy. There again -- helping him stay off the bottle (while trying to keep myself sober...I've never been called an alcoholic, but my past behavior puts me in that category). When my uncle died, that was it. He seemed to get gloomier.
The last time I talked to him was two weeks ago. I told him I would try to get over to see him (he lived about 3.5 hours away) and we could go fishing or skip stones on the water or...whatever he wanted to do. And talk, always talk. Put his head on my shoulder. And, if he wanted to, cry. Anything to help him feel better.
Last week, I got the news that he killed himself. So there was that lovely drive for an evening funeral.
No one saw it coming. He just didn't seem like the kind of person who would kill himself. It seemed to me he was fighting his demons, clawing his way out. He was always a fighter, he always seemed to have spunk and will.
He seemed deflated at my uncle's funeral, just tired. I didn't think much of it. Everyone who cared for my uncle was tired and...relieved?...that he's resting. But my cousin...he remarked suddenly, "I don't want to be buried in a casket. That's creepy." I agreed with him, but thought nothing more of it.
His suicide is bringing up my own largely unresolved grief about my other cousin who committed suicide -- she was my own best friend, my soul mate...the anger, the deep hurt, the feeling that I didn't do enough, the feeling of betrayal, etc. I'm pulling myself out of my own body more lately simply because I don't want to be in here feeling it. My heart hurts more than usual, and I'm just...all I can say is it hurts. I don't have the adequate words.
I am angry at him and, nearly a decade-and-a-half later, I'm angry at her again. I have had many people die in my life, so I expect the sharpness of the pain to lessen, but this is one pain (my best friend's suicide) that still remains sharp.
