A few different things happened this week, and with each new little event, I’d think “I could write about this!” And then new things would happen, and I’d think about 3 some more, so I decided to take the following approach: Instead of describing all of the things that happened this week, I’ll focus on what I learned. Rebuilding my damaged self-awareness, bit by bit 🙂
1) This week started off with a pretty intense disagreement between me and my roommate about the temperature of the apartment. She things I’m unreasonable, I think she’s illogical; she’s easily offended, I have a terrible propensity for saying stupid shut. It’s just not a good combination. Before, I’ve had bad days that all seem to circle back to 3’s death. Something goes wrong, I feel bad, and oh yeah, my brother’s dead! This time, I didn’t feel worse because of 3. Maybe it’s because I was mad, not sad, but still. It was oddly refreshing to feel a negative emotion that had nothing to do with my brother’s suicide. I was frustrated and pissed off. That’s it. Didn’t matter that my brother is dead, I just wasn’t going to live in an 85-degree apartment! Lesson: I can compartmentalize negative emotions now. Yes, 3 killed himself, but that has nothing to do with the current situation, nor does it have to have anything to do with my reaction.
2) For the past few weeks, I’ve been tutoring one of the grad students (RM) in statistics. She’s nice enough, and we get along pretty well. This past week, RM decided that she didn’t want to study, so we just chatted and watched TV. We traded roommate stories, and got to talking about our siblings’ significant others. I told her about S & VT, and she asked how I handled the wedding, having such a negative opinion of VT. With very little hesitation, I told her about 3’s suicide to explain my thought process before the wedding. RM asked appropriate questions, and the conversation was typically (for me, at least) straightforward and factual: 3 was 21, I don’t think he was depressed, I was back in my apartment when I got the call, etc. Lesson: Apparently, I can’t keep up the “not telling anyone new about 3” game plan for very long. Does this mean that RM and I are now “close friends?” I don’t think so; in fact, part of me doesn’t want to bother even thinking about making new “close friends” for the time being. Friends are exhausting (more on that in a minute). Still, there is now officially one person at my job who knows about my brother.
3) This weekend, I went back to my undergrad college for a football game. Most of my boys were back in town: Pete, O, Mr. MK, and my darling KP. I love seeing all of them, but like I said, friends are exhausting. Or, more accurately, my version of how I should act around my friends is exhausting. I have long believed that I am a very emotionally demanding companion. Therefore, I make a concerted effort to spread out my crazy so no single friend has to bear the full brunt of my neuroses. Example: when my paternal grandmother died freshman year, my friends were marvelously kind and offered to take me out to dinner. Before we left, I discovered that my car battery had died. To me, this was too much. A dead grandmother is understandable, but I can’t ask people to comfort me in my grief AND jumpstart my car! That’s too many things going wrong at once, and I was mortified at the idea of asking so much at one time. Likewise, my friends have been truly magnificent since 3’s death. Gifts, prayers, all manner of kindness.
Well, now it’s been 10 months. I really, really feel like I’ve maxed out my recipient-of-generosity allowance. So this weekend, I didn’t talk about 3. I didn’t want any of my friends thinking about me, thinking about 3. There were moments, however, that made this plan pretty difficult. Watching a kid stab himself in the neck in Nightmare on Elm Street? Please don’t let KP make that connection between [Freddy-Krueger-assisted] suicide and my brother. Pete and his friend joking about horrible fathers, and Pete saying, deadpan, “Someone had to protect my younger siblings!” I hope no one notices how close to home that one hit. In the end, I chose not to stay on Saturday night, making the 2.5-hour trip back to my apartment at 11:30.
Lesson: I have reached the point where I can prevent myself from talking to my friends about 3, especially when no one asks. That being said, I still want to. I want to be able to discuss my brother’s death, because I’m still processing it. I’m still learning how to live a life that is supposed to include 3, but doesn’t. I don’t want to continue to burden any of my friends (Char, I have already anticipated your response and LALALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU YOU CAN’T MAKE ME THINK DIFFERENT!!!), but I want someone that I can talk to, no-holds-barred, no limitations. [The rest of the world: The thing you are looking for is a therapist.]
Conclusion: 10 months is a long time, you guys. There’s so much you can do in 10 months. Entire human beings are made in less time. But 10 months is still too brief to completely grieve a dead brother.
Real or Not Real? 