nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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God thinks I can handle a lot.

I'm so tired I can hardly think.
I'm angry, more angry than I've been in a long time. So angry.
I'm sad.
It's been a hell of a 24 hrs.
My younger brother, Bobby, tried to kill himself last night. He overdosed and washed it all down with a bottle of Jack.
My mother called me at 9:30pm last night, telling me that Bobby had called her several hours before, sounding really down, apologizing for being such a dick all his life and promptly burst into tears.
My little, 24 year old brother was crying like a baby. He spoke with her for a bit, hung up on her when she tried asking him what was going on and then refused to answer the phone. Bobby called a while later, wanting our older brother Kelly's phone number. Mom gave it to him and he then called Kel and apologized for everything they've been fighting over (an ongoing feud caused by a girl who dated one brother, then cheated with and eventually dated the other brother), told him he loved him and hung up.
Kelly, of course, called my mother and wanted to know what the hell was going on because that was the opposite of what he'd expected from Bob.
So, at 9:30ish, my mother calls me and says she can't get Bobby to answer the phone. I called him and got his voicemail, left two messages, and eventually he called me back, sounding slurry and depressed and completely rambling. I asked him what was going on, asked where his gf was, asked where the baby was, asked what he'd taken, where he'd gotten it. He answered some of those questions, but basically just kept saying he was tired and sorry and couldn't be the man his daughter deserved. I asked him if he really wanted her to grow up as he did, without a father and he said he didn't know what else to do and hung up.
I called my mother and she sat in silence then asked," What should we do?"
Um. Well.
I'm so angry that she wouldn't grow some balls and do what she KNEW needed to be done: contact needed to be made with the Orlando police dept. so that a welfare check could be carried out.
Someone needed to make sure he was okay RIGHT NOW. She was afraid to call the police because she knows Bob and his gf use weed and she was concerned that police might take the baby. I was stunned and asked her what did that matter?!! At least he'd be alive, a little pissed but ALIVE.
She wouldn't call the police so I did. I was transferred to the Orange Co. Sheriff's Dept. and they sent someone to his apartment.
I found out after the fact that his gf was there the entire time, that she'd been drinking too and every time she made a move towards the phone, he'd block her. She said it was almost as if he wanted her to watch him die. At the time that I was requesting help, she'd managed to sneak out the door and was trying to find a phone to call 911.
I never before realized how completely frustrating it can be to live in another state from someone in trouble, someone you care about.
I raised this kid. He was my first son, for all intents and purposes. And here I sat in Ohio, calling Florida every fifteen minutes in hopes that the dispatcher could tell me ANYTHING. Finally, she reported that he was enroute to a hospital but that was all she could share. I didn't even know which hospital it was.
I spent until 3am this morning, trying to get someone to give me some sort of info, ANY info, unsuccessfully.
I understand there are privacy laws. I get that. I also get that he has NO family down there and I was the one who reported it, for God's sake.
My baby brother felt like Life wasn't worth living, even for the daughter he loves more than anything in the entire world. Part of me hurts unbelievably over that, and another part wants to slap him silly. I'm angry, not only at my mother who really ISN'T one but also at him because he's so selfish, so wrapped up in himself just like our mother has always been, that he can't see what he has in front of him. I have to keep telling myself that he's bipolar, that it comes with the territory but honestly, I'm so angry that he knows he has this condition and refuses to treat it that I can't keep that in my head.
And I'm scared. What's to stop him from doing this again? What's to keep him from being successful next time?
I know all the stats about people who truly intend to commit suicide. I've read a tremendous amount on it, because of the previous suicide attempts of my brother Kelly and my own mother. But what if he had really pulled it off, simply because I was too slow in getting help there? I was so scared. What if he doesn't bother to say goodbye next time and just does it? How will we even know???
I'm tired. I'm so tired, physically and mentally. In one breath I'm so tired of dealing with my family, of having to always be the one to pick up the pieces, of having to be the rock. In another, if not me, then who? I'm grateful that he's okay, that help DID get there in time. I'm thankful that, for now, he's in a hospital, that they were able to pump his stomach and bring him back to us. I'm relieved that he's being cared for, at least for now, in a place that can watch him and help him. He's being moved to the psych unit now that he's stabilized. They can only hold him for so long and that's another part that scares me. We're all up here. He has no support down there (minus his gf and baby). There's no one to keep an eye on him once he's released.
I'm frustrated because he's an adult now. He knows what's in our blood, knows how our family is. Why am I the only one who is so watchful against it all?
I want him to take responsibility, I want him to be the man I know he can be.
I want him to be okay. I don't want to worry about burying my little brother.
His gf called this morning, let me know which hospital he was at but of course he can't receive phone calls at this point. She was going to see him this afternoon and called me again afterwards to update me. He's tired, but okay, she says, and really out of it.
And alive. I have to just hope for the best. I know, when he's past this (if he gets past this) he's going to be angry at me for calling the police. At least he'll be around to BE angry at me. That's what I've told my mother. She just gets quiet at that.
Sorrow, exhaustion, anger, relief...rainbow of emotions.
Reminder to self: steady. Being the rock is better than being the sinking ship that crashes into that rock. Love my sons and be grateful for every day the sun shines. Remember that there can always be darker days.
N.
addendum: In Sept. of 2003, I wrote another entry, about my other brother and his suicide attempt. It's odd to read back over that entry, because it feels like deja vu. I'll post the address but don't really have the energy to do the whole linky thing that I normally do. http://nixtress.diaryland.com/030906_1.html How is it possible that my family is so broken? How is that even fair?? I left a message at the psych. hospital this evening for Bobby. I'm ashamed to say that before I even had the first sentence out of my mouth, I was in tears. I guess I can honestly say that even I can only hold up for so long. The woman who took the message promised to see that he got it promptly. I just wanted him to know that I love him. I hope he knows.

7:33 p.m. - 2008-06-19

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