Dizzy

It has been a week since my brother's overdose. I have not spoken to him directly nor seen him yet. I left a voicemail and he left me one too. We have texted trying to plan to get together, hopefully tomorrow or next weekend I'll see him.

The entire week has been rough, I've been more quiet, pensive, and reserved than usual. I haven't told many people about it at all. Just a few relatives and a couple of my friends know. I contemplated taking time off work, but realized I didn't want to spend time by myself, and my brother went back to work as far as I know too. I just wanted to continue with my life and wanted to see my brother and figure myself out more after that. I currently work Tuesdays through Saturdays. This past Saturday was the hardest...

I drove out to Gilbert early Saturday morning for work. As I just got on the freeway I noticed a sign that said there is a crash at Gilbert on the US-60 eastbound, the exit I needed to get off at. I decided to drive there anyways. When I arrived upon the exit there was no crash, but there was traffic, as I drove closer, I thought I saw a big piece of something broken off of a vehicle that was blocking traffic. Just as I was about to pass it, I noticed a body instead. A black young male laying in the middle of the road on the freeway. He did not look conscious, fresh red blood was pooled around his head. I was damned sure he was dead. Everything in my body leapt and I cried as I drove on, noticing a truck pulled off the road, a man on the phone gesturing towards the body. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw all vehicles at a complete stop, some people getting out. I wished I had stopped, but everything in my body couldn't do anything. What disturbed me was that there was nothing else there, no emergency vehicles, no crashed vehicles, nothing. Just a bloody body. Why was he there all alone? Then I instantly got an image of my brother in the middle of the street. I can't describe the dread and sorrow I felt. I wanted to break down, but just couldn't. Obsessively all morning I kept Googling on my phone every chance I got trying to find out what happened, watching the news on the televisions around at work. Nothing. Still nothing, no news whatsoever. This is a nobody...I checked traffic reports, nothing. The crash that occurred just before was all I could find, that opened up traffic by the time I drove by. Usually a death will block all roads, but that didn't happen, so there is a sliver of hope that he survived although deep inside me I feel he did not. After thinking and talking about it to some coworkers, it is possible it was a suicide since his body was just below an overpass/bridge. To this day I still can't find a single ounce of information and this depresses me more.

This in combination with my brother's overdose has left me wanting to just cry and cry, yet I can't. I feel it well up in me, but I just continue on. Eventually over the last few hours of my work day I forgot about it all, I had some really nice blood donors that I had talked to and made my day better. I had plans to go to two different friends' houses after work which I decided not to cancel because I still wanted to be around people but I did not discuss any of these events with them.

With all this in mind, I had been thinking a lot about my feelings and just expecting myself to breakdown, almost wanting or waiting for it to happen. But it hasn't, I feel okay to say the least. It reminded me that I am stronger than I think. I always seem to handle things better than I expect. Not that I think I'm a mess of a person, but I am easily effected emotionally, and while I have definitely been moody and sensitive, I have been strong. I can handle this.

My decision not to see my brother in the hospital seemed to have struck my best friend in a way that I think she disagreed with me horribly. It made me feel defensive, and mad as I thought about it more. Then I remembered that she does not have the same experience as I do. I've dealt with lifetimes of addiction with many people in my life. She has not. As thoughtful, compassionate, and empathetic as she is, she will never understand where I come from until she experiences it herself. I have yet to discuss this with her and how it made me feel. But it made me discover something about myself, the people in my family, and some friends who have the same experiences. We know.

Universally it is said that you cannot help someone that doesn't want the help. You can't help until they are ready to help themselves. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard my father say this now for over half of my life. When I was 16 my parents divorced for a combination of things but at the root of it was addiction. My father has been sober since their divorce, my mom was an alcoholic before my birth and started again when I was a teenager. My brother has been an addict since he was really young. Other relatives of mine are also addicts or former addicts. My brother's first overdose laid the groundwork for this one. Which in a very sad way helped me deal with this one. I knew that once he arrived to hospital, they would stabilize him and release him no longer than a couple hours later. I knew that he would have the same mental state he did when he went out and got the drugs, he wouldn't be a different person in that time frame. He would be still fucked up and hostile. I cannot see that and will not see that again as far as I can control it. I knew he needed time to cool off and think about what he had done before I could see him. I truly believe that my presence wouldn't of done a damn thing had I seen him. I also know that now whenever I do see him, it will have little affect, but much more than just after the overdose. I should also state that I wasn't the only one that made that decision. My dad didn't see him, my mom didn't see him. Because we just know.

I do know that my brother needs mental help, this is something that will help him far more than just being sober. He needs it, badly. But unfortunately I know the reality that I cannot be the bringer of this information. He will not accept it from me, it has to come from somewhere else...But how? Who? This is where I feel the most helpless. In continuation of my self preservation, do I just let this go? It is hard to say and hard to do either way. I did let my mom know and in our conversation I could tell she never thought of it before and thinks it's a really good idea. But I still don't know if she has spoken to him yet. I'm in the dark still, and I think I have kept myself there. Is it selfish? Sure, I guess, but my selfishness is nothing compared to his offenses over the years. Who is responsible, really, to help these people? I know, deep down, it is themselves, but it leaves the rest of us just waiting around. How many more rock bottoms, how many more overdoses...eventually death will bring guilt to us for not doing enough. But everytime we try and I mean "we" in a collective sense, to all the people who have been in this position with a loved one battling a disease such as addiction, we end up pushing them away or they push themselves away from us. There is such a fine line everywhere in this fucked up situation. I'm not entirely sure what to do or more accurately, how far I will or should go. I have tons of questions for him, but I realize none of the answers will help me find peace. It will only destroy me further. "What about his peace?" I'm sure you're thinking...but again, I am not the bringer of that, not for him. And I probably never will be. Yes, I will be there for him, but minimally so. I know the extent of my hand, my help, it's something to him sure, but mostly impenetrable. Not worthless, but not enough. And this is where it makes me suffer instead. Wanting to help and being able to help, to make a difference are different things. If I knew it would change things I would do it all, but I know it won't. I've accepted that. And this is where people without these experiences don't seem to understand. They don't understand the standing around, the waiting. How could they?

There is so much pain in this. Pain from the event or the addiction itself. Pain from lending a hand, an ear, whatever to whatever extent, and it being ignored, taken to further the addiction, taken and stomped on. There is so much pain in helping someone who will not take it from you. And we've tried, god, we have tried countless times but the results are almost always the same. Eventually you have to draw the line. I'm sure any rational person would come to realize that, but they don't think about that when they watch us wait.

In another light, how do you help those like me? Help the ones that are trying to keep their own heads above water? Help those that have had this repetitive pain inflicted upon them by the very ones they love and try to help? I don't have a direct all encompassing answer, but in this recent experience I realize I just need support and understanding without judgement. I've spent the better part of the week being hurt and worried about someone who didn't agree with my actions than by the overdose itself, so it seems. Or maybe it was a distraction. Granted, emotions are high, yet what does this say about us? We need someone too. So we are all here for each other. Talking to those who have similar experience is a very special thing. We may not realize it right away or at all, it almost becomes something you take for granted because the number of these people in your life seem to rise. There is an unspoken understanding and acceptance with everything you say and feel. There is a common goal, a common feeling, a common train of thought, a common pain. I don't think I have ever been so grateful that I have people like this in my life until now. It is a stark contrast to trying to connect with people absent of this experience. If you're reading this, thank you. It is more than you know. This is also why there is such a thing as Al-Anon, something I think I might need to be a part of in the future. My dad's wife attends their meetings and has recommended it to me at least once before.

After the first overdose, I recused myself from friends for weeks but I did go out, it was on New Year's and I wrote about that experience here [which I realize now is really the most I ever wrote about his overdose until recently]. I ended up spending most of the night crying my soul out and talking with a friend who is a former addict who helped me very much that night. I already know that when I'm ready, I will speak to that friend again.

This post is a ramble at best, helping me form thoughts because I have kept this to myself for the most part as I try to figure my next steps. If you are wondering, yes, it does help me. Tremendously.

This title refers to a song by Ours. The lyrics get me everytime.