hey ger-bear
I haven't written in here in a long time. I need the outlet, though, today.
Nothing in particular is going on, just the business of grieving. It's so fucking weird. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm crying my fucking eyes out, I'm fine, I'm crying my fucking eyes out, I'm fine. There's no rhyme or reason for why it hits when it does, except, sadly for me, I appear to be losing it mainly in groups, which, yay! My therapist said it might be that I'm afraid to cry alone and might be able to break open a bit around supportive people. All I know is that it sucks. And it's embarrassing.
I couldn't be doing more to get through this. I'm AAing it out the yin yang, I'm going to a suicide support group, and I'm going to therapy. (Every week I swear I'm not going back to therapy as I can't afford it but every week my ass keeps hauling in there… I need it right now. The cost of sanity?)
I'm just tired. Dammit, Gerry. Seriously. I love you more than you could ever know. You were so sweet to me and sometimes you were a giant asshole. You were so funny. You were so fucking depressed. You were so smart and such a fucking dumbass. I could kick your ass right now. I'd give anything to hug you right now. I've got Butters and he makes me think of you every minute. He's such a dorky dog, and so sweet. I just fucking miss you. I've never gone this long without talking to you, even when I was so hurt and angry after fighting with you that I could punch you in the face.
And why did you do what you did? I'll never know how that seemed to be your best option. I imagine the scenarios over and over again. I get that you couldn't stand anyone with the person you loved. I know it was hell. I get that. But to do THAT? I can't make that leap. I actually hope I never will. You were broken down to your toes. I had an idea then and I know now. I tried to help you and you couldn't/wouldn't take it. You couldn't admit how broken you were because to do that you'd risk breaking apart entirely. I wish I knew what would have made a difference. But you were an adult, and eventually I had to leave you the fuck alone. I would have done anything to help you. You know that, right? Anything. All you had to do was ask.
Every day I remember turning that corner at the funeral home and seeing you in your coffin. I saw your face and I still couldn't believe that you were there. It brought me to my knees that day and mentally it still does. Don't you know how loved you were? How loved you ARE?
I remember the day you came into the world. The day you left was the worst day of my life. My baby brother. I want you back.
It kills me that you're not here any more.
Nothing in particular is going on, just the business of grieving. It's so fucking weird. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm crying my fucking eyes out, I'm fine, I'm crying my fucking eyes out, I'm fine. There's no rhyme or reason for why it hits when it does, except, sadly for me, I appear to be losing it mainly in groups, which, yay! My therapist said it might be that I'm afraid to cry alone and might be able to break open a bit around supportive people. All I know is that it sucks. And it's embarrassing.
I couldn't be doing more to get through this. I'm AAing it out the yin yang, I'm going to a suicide support group, and I'm going to therapy. (Every week I swear I'm not going back to therapy as I can't afford it but every week my ass keeps hauling in there… I need it right now. The cost of sanity?)
I'm just tired. Dammit, Gerry. Seriously. I love you more than you could ever know. You were so sweet to me and sometimes you were a giant asshole. You were so funny. You were so fucking depressed. You were so smart and such a fucking dumbass. I could kick your ass right now. I'd give anything to hug you right now. I've got Butters and he makes me think of you every minute. He's such a dorky dog, and so sweet. I just fucking miss you. I've never gone this long without talking to you, even when I was so hurt and angry after fighting with you that I could punch you in the face.
And why did you do what you did? I'll never know how that seemed to be your best option. I imagine the scenarios over and over again. I get that you couldn't stand anyone with the person you loved. I know it was hell. I get that. But to do THAT? I can't make that leap. I actually hope I never will. You were broken down to your toes. I had an idea then and I know now. I tried to help you and you couldn't/wouldn't take it. You couldn't admit how broken you were because to do that you'd risk breaking apart entirely. I wish I knew what would have made a difference. But you were an adult, and eventually I had to leave you the fuck alone. I would have done anything to help you. You know that, right? Anything. All you had to do was ask.
Every day I remember turning that corner at the funeral home and seeing you in your coffin. I saw your face and I still couldn't believe that you were there. It brought me to my knees that day and mentally it still does. Don't you know how loved you were? How loved you ARE?
I remember the day you came into the world. The day you left was the worst day of my life. My baby brother. I want you back.
It kills me that you're not here any more.
