Venting I miss my family

[Sphinxi]

I wish that I could go back. My oldest brother died in a car accident when I was six, he was nineteen. Since then my home life has been a wreck. My father became depressive and bitter, my parents divorced, my brother became addicted to heroin, and since that day, with maybe two exceptions, my mother has refused to touch me.

My home life was hellish, but I was something of a normal kid, until when I was thirteen, I was told that my father had committed suicide. He hung himself in his closet. My brother, who had been clean for a few years, began using in his old apartment. My brother found his body, and he stayed in that death filled apartment for months. One day I got a horrible feeling in my stomach, and I took the bus to his apartment. I found him hanging in that same closet, his body ridden with maggots. Even seven years later, thinking about the smell makes me nauseous and makes my vision an el greco painting.

I have had no closure, and I only really talked about it with a few close friends, and my girlfriend, none of which are in my life anymore. I feel robbed of innocence, and I feel as though any chance of being happy was stolen from me. For seven years I have been building up the courage to end my life. Now, I have no friends, no girlfriend, and no family that I keep contact with (I see my mother and my sister sparingly on certain holidays).

I still don't understand why it happened to me, or how it affected me, really. I've never admitted to anyone irl that I found his body. Sorry if this post was more ramblely than my normal ones, it's hard to write lucidly about this.

 

[Gabbi_Station]

I wish that I could go back. My oldest brother died in a car accident when I was six, he was nineteen. Since then my home life has been a wreck. My father became depressive and bitter, my parents divorced, my brother became addicted to heroin, and since that day, with maybe two exceptions, my mother has refused to touch me.

My home life was hellish, but I was something of a normal kid, until when I was thirteen, I was told that my father had committed suicide. He hung himself in his closet. My brother, who had been clean for a few years, began using in his old apartment. My brother found his body, and he stayed in that death filled apartment for months. One day I got a horrible feeling in my stomach, and I took the bus to his apartment. I found him hanging in that same closet, his body ridden with maggots. Even seven years later, thinking about the smell makes me nauseous and makes my vision an el greco painting.

I have had no closure, and I only really talked about it with a few close friends, and my girlfriend, none of which are in my life anymore. I feel robbed of innocence, and I feel as though any chance of being happy was stolen from me. For seven years I have been building up the courage to end my life. Now, I have no friends, no girlfriend, and no family that I keep contact with (I see my mother and my sister sparingly on certain holidays).

I still don't understand why it happened to me, or how it affected me, really. I've never admitted to anyone irl that I found his body. Sorry if this post was more ramblely than my normal ones, it's hard to write lucidly about this.

No- don't feel sorry! There really is something about family dying young (especially when it's traumatic!) that does make you feel cursed and like you lost a sort of innocence everyone else was allowed to have. (My mom died when I was a teenager…kind of medical suicide, in the fact that she took poor care of herself and tried to die at home in her bed. I still have nightmares of her half lucid and basically rotting. I attempted 8 months after her death.)

Honestly that's the thing about suicide… it's often kind of a domino effect.

A friend of my family had a son with schizophrenia who eventually committed suicide really young…he killed himself several years after his son died.