This weekend I watched Interstellar. This isn't the first time I have watched this movie. However, this time it just hit different.
As Matthew McConaughey yelled at his younger self, "Don't Go!" Screaming and crying, I broke down inside. I felt that to the core of my bones. I wish I could have yelled to my brother, "Don't go, you asshole." or, "Call me, we can talk this out."
I have been having nightmares of losing other family members. In my dreams, I am back at Kohlhoss Rd., playing with childhood friends. I rarely remember details of these dreams but I wake up numerous times in the night and I am exhausted during the day.
Growing up, I was the strong one. I have always been the strong one. Even when I didn't feel strong, I pulled up my big girl panties and was strong. From a VERY YOUNG AGE. I learned that I had to care for myself and watch out for my little sister and brother. I did the best I could.
Here of late, I don't feel strong. I find that I get a little stronger and then I watch a dumb movie and I am wracked with grief. I went to google to research what the hell is happening to me. I found that when someone loses a loved one to suicide, they experience Complicated Grief. I dug deeper to find out what that means and how the hell I fix it. I research, you see. I find out what I need to do to get through it. I have always done it.
The only way through this is with time and therapy. Both of which I have and am using. In the days of quick fixes and magic potions, I am finding that there is nothing I can take or do to make this easier or faster. I have to work through it and that is tough.
I have also found that most people won't understand this type of grief. When you lose someone, usually you grieve and move on. However, that isn't the case with this. I lost my baby brother because he decided to take his own life. Rather than live here with me, he chose to die. Take that in for a moment. Now, I know, other things contributed to it but when you are in it, truly in the shit, that is the crap that you think.
Then I start the blame game. If so and so didn't say such and such, maybe he would have called me. If this didn't happen, maybe I would have called him. It's an endless cycle that is fucking exhausting. There are days that my brain takes a break and I go outside and just breathe. I sit on my deck in my old lady rocking chair, close my eyes, and just breathe. So, don't worry, I have breaks.
But then there are days like today, when I am listening to music and silent tears start falling. I quickly wipe them away so my daughter doesn't see them. I don't want to be THAT MOM that is constantly crying. Remember, I'm the strong one. I have to say, my friends. That is a really fucking hard job. To always be the strong one. So, as I write this, please don't tell anyone. Some days, the strong one is just as broken. She just has to do what she has always done, pull up her big girl panties and live another day.
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