My brother gave it to me

I am reminded of a reading my mom had done at a suicide survivors retreat. I don’t remember the credentials of the woman who did the reading.

In the reading she said she could see a young man who had a very messy space and the woman with him was older like a grandma who’s space was neat as a pin. She also said the young man is telling me he loved playing hockey but he really hated the cold. Then she said – this young man says he did not realize that what he did was so extreme and now he sees it differently. She was certain this was about Kevin and his Grandma Boulanger.

To my mom, these words held a lot of weight. In the late 90’s we didn’t have a smart phone or facebook, so there was no real way this woman could have know the details she knew – this reading felt genuine and real to my mom. I think if there is an ability to connect from the other side, my brother would have found a way to do this for her. It gave us all a sense of peace that he was now ok.

The weight of a decision to take your own life. Is that a heavy weight? Or is a light one?

My inability to make decisions links to this question. My ability to fix people also does.

Loosing my brother to suicide kinked up the part of my brain that could make a decision easily and over enhanced the part that connects to people and helps them.

The anxiety that even the smallest decision on a choice brings to me is unbelievable.

Is your favorite color blue or yellow? What do you want for supper? My breathe quickens, my heart rate raises, my eyes fill up.

It’s collateral damage. I lived most of my adult life surrounding myself with a circle of people who would make my decisions for me because it was easier for me. I really just want someone else to carry that burden.

I raised my children in this fear. They learned anxiety behaviours from me. I mean don’t get me wrong here, my daughters are amazing humans and the space they grew up in was the space they were meant to be in. But there is a part of me that wishes at times that I could have been a different parent. A parent that was more fun and not so tired from trying to control every single risk.

Like – “don’t run with ✂️” for me was “don’t pick up the scissors, don’t run at all, maybe don’t even walk”.

And when they were sad, I could barely cope. I had fear that saying or doing the wrong thing would bring on a depressed state, and they would end up being like him. And yes I know that is not how depression works, but in the early days of parenting I did not know how it worked so I was severely afraid of it.

Small decisions create anxiety. Really big decisions, life decisions they take me years to make. I must play every scenario and see every outcome. I think this is because his big decision was so catastrophic to me. It is fear, fear of deciding. And I know I am not in control of what happens in life, I believe this in my heart 100% but my kinked brain isn’t ready to get fully on board with it just yet. We are all a work in progress, and I need to practise what I preach sometimes.

Even with all that chaos behind my eyes, Your eyes will always tell me what’s going on. I don’t have to ask you, most often you will just tell me. Or I will have a really strong feeling that I have to share something or I should message someone, and most often that person is in a bad space. This is a gift and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, my brother gave it to me ❤️