TRIGGER WARNING: SELF INJURY, DEPRESSION, AND SUICIDE ARE ADDRESSED IN THIS POST.
When I was a teenager I always had these random ideas: Let's go walk the cemetery at midnight. Let's go watch as many movies as we can in theaters back to back in one day. Let's sit in my truck, in the middle of a baseball field, during a thunderstorm so we can watch the lightning strike around us. And once during a tornado warning. Let's stay up all night just to watch the sun come up. Let's climb the abandoned peanut mill tower to see what the view is like from up there. My brother came along every time; no complaints. Then I hit that point in my life when my depression kicked in the hardest it ever has in my entire life. Some days I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed, and he was right there with me. Reading a book, watching a movie, or playing a video game. He'd never leave my side. Then one night, my parents were at a company party a few towns over, leaving my brother and I home alone. I don't remember making a decision as I said goodnight to him. But I can still, vividly, remember feeling like I couldn't go on anymore. Everything felt heavy. So, instead of walking into my room I walked into my parents closet, and grabbed one of their guns. And before you say anything about gun control just know that I was sixteen. The guns were purchased legally. I KNEW BETTER, but I also didn't care. I walked back into my room, turned the radio on, sat down on my bed, and began loading the gun. I sat there for a few moments just feeling the weight of it in my hand. I remember feeling tired, tired of fighting the thoughts running through my head, and then holding it up.
"Don't do it. Don't you leave me here to face life on my own. You can't leave me here by myself. If you go, I'm going too. I can't be here if you're not here. Please. Please don't do it. Please don't go."
That night my brother saved my life. My brother knew something was off. My brother held me up, took the gun, and told me that he would help me get through this as I began sobbing. I couldn't explain why I felt like dying. Why I was so hopeless. And even though he didn't understand why I felt the way that I did he knew that what I was feeling was real to me. We sat in my room for hours, and he just kept telling me that we still had so much life left to live. That everything would be okay. He said that no matter what happened, and no matter what I did-- I was loved. He assured me that nothing, and no one would ever take that away. The next day I asked my parents for help. I told them about the self injury, and suicidal thoughts. I was set up with a doctor's appointment, and my mother found a counselor for me to start seeing the following week. But up until a few years ago, the only other person that knew about this incident besides my brother was my therapist. So, when I say that my brother is my rock. I mean it. When I say that he's the reason I made it this far. I mean it. And when I say that I will spend the rest of my life thanking him for being there that night. I mean it.
My brother has always been my biggest supporter. EVEN when my decisions weren't the best. A few years after that incident I found myself better. Ready to take on the world. So, I decided to move half way across the country to California. For a boy, but mostly for an adventure. My brother backed me up when I told my parents. They all came with me to help me move. And when it came time for them to start their journey back we stood crying at a gas station. "You're going to do great, kid." he told me before sliding back into the truck. Then a few weeks after moving, I found myself completely overwhelmed and on the brink of a panic attack. I called him in the middle of the night, and he talked me down. A year later I moved back, and decided to get married. He asked me if I was sure this was what I wanted. When I told him I was in love he said, "Okay, well then, lets get this show on the road." When I found out I was pregnant, feeling slightly terrified, he hugged me. "You're going to be a great mom!" When I was eight months pregnant, arguing with my husband, my brother got there just before things escalated. Again, saving me from a bad situation. Soon after that he was there for my daughter's birth. He was there for her first bike ride, her first kayaking adventure, and her first camping trip. When I got the idea to go to college he said "Shit yea, you're going to college." My entire family helped us out when I had to work full time, and attend night classes. He and his now wife included. Five years later I graduated with my Associates, and told my family I wanted to get my bachelors at a local university. He said, "You graduate from Tarleton, and I'll pay the $100 to have the A&M stamp placed on it." Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to finish, BUT he always tells me that I'll get it done eventually. And that his offer always stands.
Throughout all of this he has worked his ass off. He got married to the love of his life. He's moved to two different towns. Both have been hours away, but I let it slide since it's still in Texas and technically there was that whole California thing. My sister-in-law graduated, and then they started their own family. And through all of this he's put so much of himself on hold for others. For his family. For our parents and his in-laws. For myself. Always the selfless person in every scenario. My brother has always put himself last. So, recently, when he decided to finally go for something that he's always wanted in life I felt like it was my time to be the supporter. "You've got this! You can do this!" Whatever he needed from me I would offer up without hesitation. Because it was HIS time. Because if anyone deserved to pursue their dream it was HIM. And this is why we had been seeing a lot of each other recently. Why we had dropped everything to help out. Because my baby brother was finally able to do what he's always wanted to do in life: He joined the Army.
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