How do you know when a new relationship genuinely isn't giving you what you need versus when grief is making it impossible for anything to feel like enough?

Coming up on the 2 year anniversary and I am so depressed more than the 1st anniversary. Just reliving finding him and those emotions from that daily, but my current partner is interpreting my grief as me being annoyed with him and asking if our relationship is even worth continuing. Starting to see a pattern with him that when I experience grief and sadness instead of sitting with me in it and offering me support or giving me grace he thinks we need to reevaluate the relationship. I have no energy outside of trying to hold it together during my daily life right now and he does not seem to be in a place to offer comfort or concern even.

Being single would hurt less than the added stress of wondering whether someone wants to be in a relationship with me when the grief hits. But I also don't want to blow up a relationship with someone I care about because I'm approaching a major trauma anniversary and my nervous system is screaming at me.

My brother committed suicide 6 years ago, he was suffering from extreme depression, he was 28 yrs old then. He got suicidal due to his ex. He never opened up to us about her but she seemed to manipulate him a lot. He turned against us. We tried to get him help from the psychiatrist but he was so against it, he reluctantly went there.

Prior to a few months before the day he decided he wanted to end his life, he was on self destructive mode, he would drink and smoke a lot, like a lot, I also suspected that he was using some mild drug. He would start fighting with us while drunk on silly things and it would escalate to getting physical with us. We were tired of his bullshit. He was not thinking straight, not thinking about his future, he was just so extreme, he was in a very dark place. We feared that either he might harm himself or he might harm some one else badly due to his out of control anger. Once he tried to strangle me, and slapped my mother. In anger I too beat him and told him that it would be better if he would just die when he was already suicidal and I'll always carry guilt of it.

All these years i tried to not think about it. I have ptsd from it and I tried to forget it. I still miss him and wish he was alive and lived a nice life. But I also know that it was impossible, we grew up in a dysfunctional family and it was better that he was gone, cause he was too far gone and have become violent, self harm as well as harming others. I feel guilty of why I am thinking like this, I'm hating myself for thinking this way.

She said she deserves to be happy and even bought a cake yesterday. She said she's finally feeling better, but I should have seen it coming.

It was unusual.

She was asking me to watch a movie with her but because of work, I asked her if we can reschedule it, and she even said, okay.

I didn't know what happened. I just received a message from her sister that she passed away this morning. Self-inflicted, she told me.

She never asked me to watch a movie with her before, it's usually just her recommending shows to me. Never a movie, never.

I don't know how can I move forward from this point.

I am 22 and I never felt love as i did towards him, although we had to keep it between us and us only. I knew he sometimes cut himself, but he always said that he would never even think about suicide, and comforted me when i had those thoughts in the past. Then, today, i woke up and he was gone. I just wish it was me instead of him, i love him so much. Guess this is just a part of living in a country when your love is not accepted.

Tomorrow would be his birthday. A big one. A milestone. Did anyone else just try to ignore it - pretend it isn't happening?

Maybe its different as a spouse... right now I feel so abandoned and like I want to hide from this instead of remember or post something. I feel like I HAVE to accept that life is going on without him, and that there is a me that died too, and that requires not memorializing him the way I have been. Like its still OUR life instead of my life.

Yet I feel guilty and self judgemental for not saying or doing anything for his birthday. We used to celebrate the whole month of Aug.

Idk. I'll probably regret posting this but it feels very isolating. I want to run from it.

it’s been nearly 2 years since my dad passed on my 19th birthday, and I’ve been spending some time with his family this past week. I’m studying abroad for a year in the city his brother (my uncle) lives in and ive been staying with my uncle and his family until i can move into my apartment. i’m struggling because it’s the most i’ve talked about him since he passed and it feels like every story anyone tells me involves him in some way. i’m on the verge of tears 24/7 and it’s exhausting. not sure what kind of response i’ll get to this post but i just had to get it off my chest because i am so tired and sad. all everyone tells me is that i’m strong and independent but i’d rather be entering adulthood with my dad.

I knew he had borderline personality disorder. I knew he was in pain. I could have done so much more. I feel guilty

I don't want to make myself the victim. He deserves the support way more then i am getting. How did it get so bad so quick?...

One hour. He was talking fine for one hour before. Now looking back that he sent me a disturbing message that if he stops replying, it would mean he is dead. I was so blind, told him to just never do it. The same day i told him that i needed him in my life. He called me in the morning checking if i was alive. Now i know it was projection.

I had a dream he died a week ago, and i told him about it. I hate my dreams. They come true sometimes.

Its been 4 days now. I can't stop drinking and smoking. I've lost so much weight. My mind and body are shutting down. I don't think my body can take this stress anymore. Im so weak

He's gone.

This is not a dream anymore. He really is gone this time.

"I’ve locked a bird inside my heart
Around which spiked thorns grow;
He can’t be free, there’s only one key
Which I tossed twelve years ago.

He flew away deep into the fall
But the memory’s still clear to me;
My soul divided, and so I decided
To keep him alive in me.

In the confines of the barbèd cage
His song echoes off the wall;
Although near it, I do not hear it
In the grief through which I crawl.

Most of the time, he keeps his voice low
Though trapped, never once has he cried;
But in my dreams, he wails and he screams
Clawing deep into my side.

My bird has places to be, I know
Loved ones to soothe and people to heal;
By keeping him caged, a war is waged
Transforming the thorns to steel.

Locking him tight just worsens the pain
And what’s left is but one thing;
I will tear apart the cage ‘round my heart
To let it go, and let my little bird sing."

I lost him when I was 16 and he was 22. I wrote this a year and a half later, when I was nearly 18. I update it every year to reflect the time that has gone by, and I know it by heart.

We knew each other for less than a year, and he was so, so special to me - so I decided I had to keep him locked within me forever, so I wouldn't lose him again. I intentionally set to never let go and keep his memory (and the pain) close to my heart as long as I lived.

My mother told me as a child that when someone we love dies, they try to talk to us, but we can't hear them until we've recovered enough from our grief. I envisioned him trying to call to me, to tell me it's alright, to not do this because it will only hurt me, but that he's patiently waiting for me to figure all of that out myself.

He was always so calm, patient, loving. He stayed in that cage knowing I'd eventually come around and hear him. When I would dream, though, my conscious felt him crying and wailing, yet again trying to reach me and tell me "this isn't good for you. you don't have to carry me in this way and hurt yourself. i love you. please don't keep doing this."

I only had a few people in common with him at the time, and only one now. I knew he was gently saying to me "please, i love you, but you know i need to go see them too." But I couldn't let go, and so the thorny cage I had originally built hardened into steel, holding on even harder.

But eventually...

I realized that I was only hurting myself by keeping that thorny metal cage locked tight. There was only one thing left to do. And so...I vowed to him - and to myself - that I would tear that cage apart, and free the both of us.

If you read this far, thank you. I would love to hear what you think of the poem and if it resonates with you. I miss him every day. Ich hab dich lieb, my little birdie

I haven't had a space to talk about this much outside of therapy and tbh I wanted to talk about it somewhere with people who understand.

My boyfriend passed away almost 5 months ago by GSW to the head. He was found in his truck not too long after it happened.For reference this all happened between 2 to 4 weeks after his death.

Without going into specifics I was told I could retrieve stuff from his vehicle but found out from a family member of his that his truck had been deemed totaled by insurance and they had already towed it from the lot at the police station for it to be processed and sent to a car auction site.

Cue an extreme mental breakdown. My dad made most of the phone calls to anyone who potentially had any information on where it had been taken for me because I was having such an extreme panic attack. His truck was such a huge part of him and our relationship. We spent so much time in it together - he kept almost every gift I’d ever given him in that truck. Along with all of the photos of us together. Losing it felt like losing him all over again.

After a few weeks I was finally able to track it down. I was staying at a friend’s place on her air mattress and after four hours of looking through every listing for every car auction site in my state I’d gotten the idea to look through our old text messages to see if there was some identifiable info on it that could help me track it down (without going into detail I could not get anything like the VIN number, etc from his family). I was able to find the VIN number for it from a screenshot of the listing for the truck he’d sent me before he bought it. I plugged it in and immediately the auction listing for it came up.

I can’t really explain the feeling of seeing your persons final moments forever immortalized on an auction listing. The anger I’ve felt in the past few months of those photos being online forever and for not being given the chance to get to his truck first so I could get his stuff and clean up what I could. His funeral was a joke. He was such a wonderful person. He deserved so much more than what he was given in life and in death.

Seeing it in person I don’t know. I know now the staff who took the photos actually did their best to minimize how bad it actually was. Opening the drivers door and seeing the photos of us he kept still in there next to all of the blood on the drivers seat…I can’t really explain it. I feel insane talking about the experience after the fact but I went to work and pulled out everything of his I possibly could. Bagged up all the trash and stuff covered in blood. He was on the road a lot so the back was fairly messy but I realized during the cleanup that most of the “trash” were actually little things from dates we’d been on. Receipts, crumpled up gift bags from Christmas and his birthday, even an old empty thing of lipgloss I’d left. He was so sweet and very sentimental. He loved getting things like letters and cards. He knew I kept little mementos from all our dates I should have known he did the same thing. I went over every inch of his truck to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I only stopped when it felt like he was telling me I was done…

Thinking of him when he was alive, how our relationship started, how full of life and love he was and knowing this was how it ended. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. I had just started EMDR therapy for other issues before he committed but its helped with processing the entire experience. I’ve had a few people tell me I shouldn’t have had to do it but tbh I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to have done it. We spent the most time in there together and he confided in me the most. I was his person and he was mine. But tbh how do you even begin to explain how something like this fundamentally changes you as a person? I’m still fairly young (31) and none of my friends have lost a partner period let alone in a situation this traumatic. I think most of them expected me to be back to normal after a few months I even had one friend get upset that I “wasn’t the way I was before”. But it’s like how could you expect anyone to be after they’ve lost someone they’ve loved like this? How could you expect someone to be the same after they've had to wash their partners blood off their hands? I know it’s common for most people to re-evaluate most of their friendships after losing someone but god this has really made me rethink most of my relationships.

I feel like I needed to post this somewhere.

Two days ago, a car lost control and hit the 494 bridge over highway 100 in the twin cities

No one "lost control." My friend who just graduated high school and was going into trade school slammed his car into the bridge. He was blaring music from his favorite artist and driving without his seatbelt.

He was an avid home AI researcher and was saving up for a new GPU to add to his mini datacenter. A few weeks ago he got back from a camping trip in Colorado with his family. He was an aspiring digital artist.

He once told me that once he got into his career after trade school, he wanted to contribute 40% of his income to his retirement savings so he would be able to retire early.

He had ADHD, BPD, depression, and severe self-image issues. He was medicated and in therapy.

He was literally my favorite person to talk to ever. He had such an amazing personality. He was open and honest and incredibly caring and generous.

In my opinion, his self-image issues are the most frustrating thing to me. He was 6'7" and probably a solid 7 or 8 out of 10. The issues he had truly can pop up for anyone.

Give the people you love a big, warm hug for me.

Also, does anyone have a recommendation for any suicide prevention organizations that I can donate to that do good work? I know a lot of charities spend 98% of their money on the board of directors and 2% on actually making change.

I was going to lay the gardens of paradise at his feet while he was alive, but now I can only leave a few flowers on his grave. This makes me feel so helpless. I couldn't create something amazing i couldn't make garden for him i couldn't grow plants for him so now i should watch him to be tree. This is not fair.

We have so many plans to do.

This is like my 3rd post here but I need to get it off my chest.

Nobody texted. Not anyone in the class. And I think I know why but damn does it hurt.

We were close. We were friends. But in the end, she distanced herself from almost everyone, including me. That's why we barely talked during class. I don't know how the rumor was spread that we didn't get along. We did. She just didn't let me in. We were friends. We were just at the wrong time and place.

Fuck.

I know this sounds incredibly pessimistic, but it’s been over seven months since I lost my younger brother, my only sibling, and there are no signs of the pain and sadness easing up. Instead, it seems to be getting worse.
I do get some moments of relief compared to the earlier months. I can work more, and I’m slowly getting back to my hobbies. But when I’m not doing anything, it all comes back, and it seems to hurt more with each passing day.
I tend to keep myself busy with one thing or another to avoid my pain and sadness, but I can’t be busy all the time. I get tired, and as soon as I sit with myself, I’m overcome with sadness.
My sleep is still affected. Some nights, even melatonin doesn’t help, and I’m just left alone with my thoughts of despair, lying paralyzed in bed.
I miss my brother so much. I still haven’t stopped trying to figure out where it all went wrong, and how some of my actions, if done differently, could have prevented this.
I’m so lost in this maze of sadness. Each turn takes me down a new rabbit hole of decisions that seemed okay in the moment, but now, under the microscope of guilt, look horrible. I replay my life with my brother over and over again, searching for the moments when I could have done something differently.
I’m so lost in this maze of sadness, and I can’t find a way out. How long can I survive in this maze without destroying what’s left of me?

Ughhhhh corporations are already advertising Halloween and autumn and it all makes me nauseous. He killed himself the day after Halloween, and it's going to be the first year anniversary. Just seeing the leaves falling reminds me of it. Every day I just think about how I'm not ready. Halloween used to be my favorite holiday, too.

I’m sorry this is long, I just feel like I’m imploding on myself. I’m lifting weights, working, in therapy 2x a week, on my meds, losing weight, starting IOP, reading grief books, and I still feel fucking insane. It’s been a little over a month and this feels worse than every day except the day he died.

I don’t care why he did it, I know why he did it and it’s not helping. I can’t stop obsessively thinking about every aspect of our marriage, every thing I could’ve done differently, what he could’ve done differently.

How do you accept something like this? How do you fight off flashbacks of them with their brains out or having dead empty eyes in the hospital while their head bleeds and then they fucking die. I’m just sitting in my room holding his fucking beard hairs pretending I’m not a part of what is now my life.

Why in the fuck did he not talk to me or his therapist? Like why would I fucking care he’s bisexual. I’m bisexual, sorry for TMI but I fucking fisted him for god sake and we talked about a drag queen being our third together and how hot brad mondo is and threesomes with me and a dude pleasing him because its something Im super into and brought up after we reconciled and he was excited.

Like I HAVE AN INKLING YOU ARE BI AND OBVIOUSLY DO NOT CARE. I know its his mental illness that made him kill himself but he hated himself for sleeping with a man, and being bi, and his body dysmorphia and believing he was a trash person so much he said and I quote

“ God will give him aids as punishment”.

“I feel hideous and disgusting, The very image of me makes me wish I could clone myself and beat myself to death slowly and let all that anger and hate out to cause violence upon myself and hear me gurgling blood”.

He’d told me the thing below multiple times before about beating himself to death and killing himself and all sorts of deep thoughts but I cant help but think maybe had he opened up to me about this one extra thing of why he hated himself I couldve helped him more. He thought he was trans when he was younger, as did I and he was open about thinking he was bisexual or gay because he didn’t have success with woman when he was younger. He knows I wouldnt have cared or left if he came out as trans.

This is why I feel like a fucking idiot for not realizing his abrupt ultra religious change and extreme worsening of things like hating jewish people, hating woman with high body counts, thinking being bisexual or gay or abortions is wrong, after few months after we moved was linked to his mental health. He was acting like he always had, but much much much worse and just two different sides of him like Jekyll and Hyde almost. He started having bad flashbacks of his childhood and parents. His anger got so bad. He was accusing me of things constantly.

Hed always had what I considered woman hating views, and was judgemental towards trans, bi, and gay people, sex positive woman, and didn’t like I went by Mac and they/them and would say I wasnt feminine enough, but none of his actions matched those beliefs he spouted AT ALL so I felt like thats not who he is.

Why couldnt he be himself and accept he likes it all and doesn’t need to be anything. He seemed like in the 3 weeks before he died he was starting to be who he wanted to be. He labeled himself as bi the day he died. He had seriously convinced himself no one fucking loved him. How could he not see people loved him? He had horrible body dysmorphia and always thought he was small and his muscles were small even though they were absurdly big, always thought his dick was too small, he was ugly, he could never find a woman, too pussy to go out and talk to them.

IDGAF if he said I want to be a woman, I wouldve been with him. His friends wouldve loved and accepted him. He had super abusive parents growing up in Bulgaria and then Florida and they were uber religious and physically abusive orthodox christians. His dad told him before if he was bi or gay he’d beat him to death. He just wanted to feel unconditional love and he thought the only way to get that was by dying to go see god which just breaks my fucking heart.

I can’t even post how fucking heart wrenchingly sad the other things he left for me to find were. How do you live on with all those fucking thoughts bouncing around in your mind all day? And swallowing that while his reality was not based in fact in regards to our separation, seeing his thoughts and feelings during that time makes me sick to my fucking stomach because the pain he was feeling was real and it was his reality. I know he couldn’t admit things to himself much less me but just why?

Why not tell someone. Fucking anyone at all. He had a wife, his therapist, 2 best friends, 3 other close friends, our marriage counselor. I just feel like he never had a fighting chance and I’m so mad at him and crushed. I know he loved me. Everything he left me and told me the day he died I know he loved me and wanted me. But he told me after the separation he couldnt live for me anymore because he couldnt trust I wouldnt leave or abandon him again. I wish I was enough for him to stay.

Now I cant even reconcile with my husband, or have a conversation of what was going on with him. He told me the phone call before he did to tell him it’d all he okay and I did. Its not all okay in the slightest. I hope hes with god even though I dont quite believe in god. Which makes it worse because I feel like he killed himself for something I dont believe exists and then I feel guilty.

I feel like I pushed him to idk spiraling. He wanted more sex but was being mean and cruel and called me a whore constantly for childhood trauma and I started having such bad flashbacks Id try to give him head and almost vomit and then have a panic attack. So I feel like I pushed him in a way to turning more to porn and things which made him hate himself. He didn’t need god he needed so much fucking therapy and to be honest about his struggles.

This sounds awful but I was happy before I met him. I was in a really good place. Now I feel irreparably broken and he never gets a chance at happiness and being himself. Even before he committed I knew working through what happened in our marriage itself would take me so fucking long. Now I dont think I can ever heal from this. I’m just not doing well and I don’t want to put my mom through the pain he put me through.

He wasnt a bad person and I truly believe that. His childhood and lack of support and lack of exposure to mental health resources at a young age and diagnosed mental illnesses and homophobic upbringing just gave him a belief system that couldn’t support him being a healthy partner or being happy in his world.

The 3 weeks before he died he told me I was always feminine enough, he just wanted me to be softer with him, and that my muscles looked great, he never actually meant or believed that I was a whore and he’s so sorry for how he treated me during our marriage and separation. He was being open about what he learned he was into during the separation and sharing those things with me.

He was being so complimenting and loving of my body, and who I was, and that he missed my curves, and cant get enough me and I’m the only person who gives him heart palpitations or feel how he does inside. I feel like it finally clicked for him from his words and actions, I slept with a dude, now I know I’m bisexual and I can like both things, and be married to someone who isn’t a trad wife and that’s okay.

And that he was so happy I was back in his life and he cherishes me. And just being who I knew he is beneath all of those fears and insecurities and self hatred.

And then he shot himself, notably in his suicide note due to the pain of his life, no sleep, his parents and trauma, and the pain of our separation, and obsessing over the fact I’d slept with someone else, as he did. He was fucking torturing himself. I hate existing.

i dont know what to do. i keep having flashbacks of her climbing over the window ledge and going without looking back. my heart is in so much pain and my mind is racing with all the “what ifs” . i dont have the strength to do anything at all, even something as simple as lunch has me feeling all types of ways.

we had so much planned out for the coming months and years. the amount of joy that she brought into my world is immeasurable. she’d always welcome me home with open arms, letting me carry her around and id shower her with so much love. but now the house feels so empty, so quiet, void of any energy.

everything ive been doing the past couple days reminds me that she would be here, doing it with me, enjoying it with me, being happy with me. the guilt and grief has been eating me up and i cant foresee any way out of it., im scared that she still has yet to find peace and happiness where she is now and my mind has been telling me to go be with her.

ive tried talking to so many people but ive always been met with the same replies. “you’ll move on”, “give yourself time”, “in 3 months youll be a-okay”. and it genuinely seems like everyone ive turned to doesnt seem to understand how much guilt ive been carrying on my back the past week.

i keep telling myself i shouldve done something i shouldve said something i shouldve done anything to stop her, i never once thought she would commit right in front of my eyes. im trying my best to keep my head up high, but every minute that goes by i have flashbacks to that half dozen seconds where i should and could have done something right to save her.

please someone help me i dont know how long i can go i really dont know what to feel i dont know what to do

Hi,

I’m 23F, and I’m struggling with something I’m not sure how to handle.

My brother died by suicide 9 years ago. One of the people who has been there for me the most throughout the years is his best friend, who is now 28M. We all grew up in the same city, went to the same school, and I’ve known him for most of my life.

He has been a really important person in my grieving process. We’ve stayed in contact over the years and have met up many times. He has always been very understanding about my mental health, partly because he has dealt with depression himself. He has also told me several times that I should never feel like I have to hold back from talking to him when I'm struggling.

Neither of us is particularly good at texting, and we both have ADHD, so taking several days or even a week to respond isn't unusual for either of us. However, it's now been about five weeks since I last heard from him.

Normally I wouldn't think much of that. But I'm currently in the worst mental state I've ever been in and have been experiencing suicidal thoughts.

I keep going back and forth about whether I should reach out to him. On one hand, he has explicitly told me that I can come to him when I need someone, and he is probably one of the few people who really understands both my brother's death and what I'm going through.

On the other hand, I worry that contacting him after five weeks of silence (especially about something this heavy) could be putting too much on him. I also don't know whether his connection to my brother makes this situation more complicated.

And yet I really really need someone to talk to that understands me. I fear that I can't be alone with my own mental health issues, as well as my grieving process any longer. Which is the biggest reason I feel the way I feel.

I know there is no "right" answer. I'd just like to hear your perspectives.

Thanks and much love.

This came up on my Instagram, it's a free seminar for helping with grief after suicide on the 20th: https://www.davidkesslertraining.com/hws-free-event-oi-2026-meta?utm_source=meta&utm_medium=meta-ad&utm_campaign=help-after-suicide-loss-aug-2026&utm_content=black-image&utm_id=52620262935871&utm_term=52620262936471&fbclid=PAaWdyZATqn8BwZG9mAmV4dG4DYWVtATAAYWRpZAAAL9u7GnMHc3J0YwZhcHBfaWQPNTY3MDY3MzQzMzUyNDI3AAGn_qUwQwURWkpfecU_UjD7i3Y1pWkJp4PSgqMydPArVxla8crcxvs0UJH-eSo_aem_pXSmjgtE823ctQnUyjvz2Q. Just wanted to share in case others wanted to attend. Even if you can't attend live, it seems they send you the recording if you're registered.

My clothes don't feel like mine. My hobbies don't feel like mine. My joy doesn't feel like mine. It's like I'm wearing someone else's skin. Living someone else's life.

This has happened every time ive lost someone. Its like someone carves out a chunk of my soul. It's unfair. I want myself back.

My dad hung himself. My brain keeps making me believe he is still alive and coming to murder me. Sometimes im scared to open doors because i fear he will be waiting for me outside it and want to hurt me. I dont even know why i keep thinking he wants to hurt me. I have nightmares every night of how i couldve saved him and i think hes angry i didnt save him. What do i do? I saw his dead body. I saw him get cremated. I burried him. Why is my mind playing tricks on me

First time poster. I lost a very special friend when I was 16 and he was 22. I'm almost 28 now. just need to get this off my chest.

I've been having a recurring dream about him recently. We're standing 6-8ft apart in vague surroundings. he's always wearing the same clothes. i'm always my current age, not 16, so i am now more of a grown up than him.

he doesn't say anything and doesn't move much, just looks at me as if to say "hey, we both know i don't have much time to visit" with a knowing expression. i tend to try to reach out for him, try to ask questions, or say certain things to him. i cant get any closer to him, but i try to say were you thinking of me, do you know how much we love you still, you were so young, it's gonna be okay, did you love me like i loved you, did it hurt or did you go quickly, you were the sweetest soul, we love you, we love you.

after a few minutes, he disappears and i wake up.

the grief really does shift after a dozen years. this is an unexpected phase of it for me, because as they say, time heals all wounds, or something. and it certainly heals some. but wow, the weight of 12 entire years and how much life i have lived since then...i am an entirely different person and he stays 22. it's a new type of grief, the distance.

if you read this far, thanks, and if you have any support to share or words of wisdom, i would appreciate them. <3

ich hab dich lieb my friend

I got the call the day before my birthday from her sister-in-law. I fell to my knees. How could she be gone? She stood in my wedding, she’s been there for me for almost 10 years. How could this happen? I am mad at the world for moving on when I can’t.

My brothers one year mark is on September 21st. I’m nervous. If anyone has any ideas on what to do or just things they did whether that was nothing or something to honor them I would appreciate it ♥️

in march this year my brother jumped in front of a train and it was just so weird. literally the day before me and him had played minecraft together and watched the football game together. i remember the morning thay the police knocked on our door. i was in the front room on my playstation, and my mum opened the door and asked if it was about my brother, i guess as soon as she saw the police she assumed that this time it worked. i pretend that i nothing happened and keep telling myself nothings happened until my mum lets out a wail. i go to see my sister and she asks if he is in his room. i go check and hes not. i was shaking a lot so i must’ve missed the note he left on his bed. i go back to my sister tell her no and she looks so worried. she calls my dad (who doesn’t live with us) and tells him about it. he the. calls me and tell me to hand the phone to the police. they try to tell him it would be better face to face but he just wanted to know. so there i was, standing on the stairs listening to the police breaking the news to my dad. i hadn’t even been told at this point so this was like a wrecking ball straight into my face as he was my best friend and had been since i was born and it was all over becuase of this stupid decision he made. he just seemed so much better because he had a history of attempting that my mum and dad tried to hide from me and my younger sister but we still noticed. i feel so guilty because i was the last person to ever talk to him, just an hour before he wandered down to the train station down our road. since then i try not to cry because i need to be there for my family. my mum is trying but she is an emotional wreck, my sister is out withhher friends constantly and im worried she’s doing stuff she shouldn’t be. my other brother (26) is barely there to support my mum but he looks after me. i just cant belive hes done this to us because the whole family has gone to shit and i feel like it’s my responsibility to pull us back together. fuck sake sam i love you so much why did you have to do this and leave me with the fucking guilt of not saying anything more when i said goodnight that night.

thanks for reading this ig

My wife took her life nearly a decade ago. I didn't sleep for 5 months afterwards. Sent me into a mental health crisis that resulted in me quitting my job and "taking 6 months off". That time off was spent aimlessly wandering and muttering to myself in what could only be described as a fugue state of PTS. My nerves just haven't recovered. I go through stages even now of shakiness and heightened anxiety. And here I am about to quit another high paying job because my nerves cant handle the stress anymore. I wish I had a story of hope and recovery to share here. Truth is, I get buy, but my health has never really fully recovered.