My youngest brother finally had his mental crash like we all knew he would. Before he ended up in hospital last week, the youngest brother wrote everyone of us in the family a long large letter cussing us all out, crying for help, recalling jokes and planning his final exit. We all got them in the mail over the week.
These letters were a bit sad, a bit sweet, scary, disorganized, disturbing, uncomfortable, rambling, odd and on and on and each of them different and ranting and just makes me shake my head and say… “Poor guy, I remember too well the pain of my brain zinging around like that.” I remember being on the edge of psychosis, convinced it wasn’t me… it was them… it was all them… I was fine, but I wanted to kill myself… I’m so glad I’m not on that ledge anymore.
Chain reaction… my other brother who we’ve also been expecting to crash, (one year younger then I) who is almost ready to loose his wife, who had resumed his relationship with alcohol and weed got his letter and read it in horror. I guess his letter hit very close to home. Scared the wits out of him and for the first time in a long time, he asked his wife for help and he’s decided it’s time to drastically change his life.
I don’t know if that means he and I will ever be friends. But for the first time in a long time, he is actually listening to his wife, not threatening his kids and open to getting professional help.
Honestly, I never though this day would happen. Never in a million years would this man admit he was anything like us. Now he’s asking for help and has admitted not all is right in his world.
I am very surprised. I’m also even more hopeful.