Yesterday....

Yesterday I didn’t cry….

Yesterday I wasn’t sad.  I didn’t isolate myself from my family.  I didn’t get quiet or make any random outbursts.  Yesterday I spent time with my family, and I allowed myself to be happy.  Yesterday was usually a day I dread.  Yesterday was a day I usually have nightmare the week before. But yesterday came and went and yesterday I didn’t cry.

Yesterday was the 20-year anniversary of my brother passing away.  That’s forever and not very long at all.  Losing him has been the biggest loss in my life.  A hole that I never think I can fill.  A void that would last forever.  And it may still last forever, but yesterday I didn’t cry.

Recently I’ve decided that I don’t want to be sad anymore.  See, for 20 years, I’ve been unintendedly making myself feel bad.  For what?  For the actions of another person?  For being alive?  For being happy?  All the above.

A clinician friend recently told me “Your brain won’t make you do anything that you aren’t getting something out of.”  I know right?  Ya’ll, what have I been getting out of being sad for a month every year and have nightmares for a week anytime anyone mentioned a gun?  So, in true me fashion, I started questioning my life. 

Thing is, there were actually a few things I was getting out of it.  However, none of them were healthy.  Fear, Guilt and self-loathing; all lies.

First, I was giving into the fear.  Fear of what may or may not happen to my children.  Fear of what choices someone else I love may make.  Fear of losing and hurting like this all over again.  And fear is a liar.  Fear is like the enemy that gets into your heart, and you mind and builds a wall between you and God.  Saying “don’t be afraid” is so easy.  Not being afraid is a lot harder than that.  At least it is for me.

Thing is, I’m not afraid of a lot.  I’m the YOLO mom that will try just about anything.  I drive my Jeep down the freeway with no top and no doors with the “flow of traffic” setting the speed.  I’ve driven across the county by myself.  I’ve traveled alone with 2 toddlers.  The military took me to 28 countries and I explored with no fear.  I live my life with my head held high know that God has a plan and I’m along for the ride.  But my brain wasn’t buying it.  My brain kept telling me that I had to be afraid or else I’ll lose control.  And truthfully, control is an illusion.  God has all control, I have none.

Then there is the guilt.  I should feel guilty because I left and went to the Navy.  I should feel guilty because I didn’t realize how much he was hurting.  And the biggest guilt of all…I should feel guilty because I bought the gun.  (breath in, breath out) Ya’ll it just got deep and I will be raw by the end of this!

Guilt is defined as “the fact of having committed a specified or implied offense or crime.”  What offense did I commit?  What crime did I commit?  I didn’t do either.  The Navy was a choice I made for me.  No one was “left” behind out of spite or lack of love.  I just moved forward with my life in the way I wanted to.  That wasn’t about anyone but me.  When a person is hurting, how do we know?  Truly, we can only know as much as they tell us.  I was there for him as much as I could’ve been.  After reading and studying everything I’ve come across about suicide, I learned that once a person gets to the point of desperation that he was at, not much can pull them back.

My biggest guilt…the gun.  But my house was full of guns growing up.  I know because I inherited them all.  We were straight up ready for the zombie apocalypse.  If he was ready to take that step, he had a way.  Nothing would’ve changed that.  Not me or any other gift I could’ve given him instead.  The gun wasn’t what took his life.  He took it. 

Now we get to the biggest of the lies my brain was telling me.  Hold on tight because this is a doosey! 

If I am not sad in the weeks leading up to my brother’s birthday and for the month between his birthday and the anniversary of his death, like I deserve, I’m a bad sister.

Told ya it was gonna get raw.  We were so close growing up.  In high school, we had the same friends.  I still keep in contact with my “boys” that looked out for me when my bulldog mouth overloaded my chihuahua butt.  I was a good sister, and he was a good brother.  For years after his death, I would be so angry at him because he left me.  Then I’d make myself miserable because I was a bad sister if I didn’t mourn him.

And mourn him I have!  For 20 years.  20 very long sad years.  But it is okay for me to be happy.  June 22 each year does not have to be a day of mourning for me.  Will I always miss him?  Of course.  I’ll even have days when I wish he could see my life now and know my kids.  My family has learned to walk on eggshells around this time and I am tired of making them do that. 

Making a conscious decision to change the way you think and react to something is hard.  It’s easy to say, “I’m going to do better,” but it’s so much harder to apply.  Until you’re ready.  And I am ready! 

The Bible verse Ecclesiastes 3:4 states, "A time to mourn, and a time to dance". In this verse, King Solomon is reflecting on the emotional seasons of our lives, contrasting a someone dying to a celebration.   Mourning is a natural process of working through the heartache that follows a significant loss.

Key word here is “working through.”  And it has taken me 20 long years to work through it.  And yesterday I didn’t cry.  For the first time in forever, yesterday was just another day.  And I’m ok with that.