Prisoner

I'll start the new year by being completely honest...because I think I'm ready. Or at least I'm tired of holding it in.

My brother was in the hospital because of a drug overdose. Yes, he's alive. No, he did not do it as a suicide attempt. Yes, he's currently clean. No, I'm not alright.

My new years was fairly good. I was surrounded by good fun people. But we accidentally missed the countdown because we're too busy being us and talking, but at least we all got our midnight kisses. Not too long after, I managed to have a one on one talk with a friend which caused me to cry like a baby til the wee hours of the morning. It made me realize that I really am not okay. I'm coping fairly well, but I am, simply, traumatized. Still. And that's okay. It doesn't help that my father's health is dwindling also, with this situation further doing harm. This all went down on Christmas night. Which still feels like yesterday. It took me a week until I could be around other people and out in public. I have now recently informed some of my closest friends. It's an incredibly long story with details I still care to not share here. I will say that if it weren't for me and the way that night's circumstances panned out, my brother would have been dead. There's definitely no way that an individual could ever imagine how this situation would make them feel until they've been through it. I felt like I was dying inside.
I never want to feel that way again.

The good news is that he has been going to Alcoholic Anonymous meetings everyday and still trying to find residential treatment that will take him and his insurance. The bad news is I don't know how long his desire to get better will last nor do I know how long he will be welcomed in our home. Being my younger brother, despite all the horrible things he's done, I worry about him so much. It's consuming. His history with drugs and alcohol have spanned for ten years now. What a horrible thing.

I will say that things don't rub me the right way entirely lately. I'm ubersensitive and more openly affectionate. There are words that I hear now that tear me apart: OD'ed, overdose, heroin, whiskey, drunk, drugs, addicted, needle, shoot up, paramedics, hospital, brother, dead. Although I know I'm not an emotional robot, this sensitivity surprises me. But haunts me all the same.

I really do hope 2011 is better than the end of 2010. It was odd that on my way home tonight, for a quarter of the ride I was driving behind the ambulance that picked him up. That fire dept. number is 13.

I don't really know what else to do to make myself feel better. I am talking about it. I cry at least once a day. I still laugh and make dirty jokes constantly. And I hang out with my brother and tell him I love him daily. I don't know when the images and the pain goes away. But in moments like these, it makes me happy and proud to be the person I am.