Lost in translation

As you know Tim, I lost you at the age of 22 to suicide, you were two years older than me. This was in October of 2006
I’d had issues living life on its own terms prior to this but after hearing the news, any tangible value that I saw in life was ripped from me in an instant.
Just shy of twelve years on and I’m still not able to function well enough to hold down employment. I feel like my soul has been broken, never to feel whole again no matter what I do.
When you suicided, life lost whatever sparkle it had. I lost my innocence.
I lost my belief that the world was fundamentally a good place or that people were fundentally good, albeit with their own issues as everybody has.
I realise how much this may read as if I’m stuck in self-pity, but it’s not as if I’ve sat on my hands and just self-pitied the last 12 years away; I’ve tried to move forward with my life and find new reasons to live instead of just exist, but all attempts have resulted in the same end result, my emotional volatility and this feeling of feeling defeated constantly. Anger, denial and confusion still plague me.
I’ve recently been seeing a psychologist which made a decent difference, but he’s moved jobs and I need to find another one. This has resulted in me feeling like I’m back at step one. At least I’ve found a clinical psychogist and will be seeing him tomorrow for the first time. He specialises in trauma and issues surrounding trauma.
I’m constantly tormented by a lack of trust in other people now aswell, moreso than I used to before he died. I distrust their loyalty or genuineness and always have fear that they’ll abandon me like he did.
I have to have hope that I’m finally going to get to the bottom of the barriers which are keeping me stuck, or life really would be pointless. It often feels like it is anyway since he died. I don’t use substance to suppress my emotions anymore and have been clean for 13 months, aside from a few beers nearly a week ago. I’ve realised that self-medicating my torment isn’t the answer anymore.
I want to live instead of this existence I’m scratching out, I just don’t know how. I can’t give up because I’ve come too far. P.s I don’t want to either. I will not be another suicide statistic. At least I’m grateful to not have any desire to end my life.
Thank you for taking the time to read my letter.
Does any of this letter ring true to anyone else?

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One Response to Lost in translation

  1. Will Cox says:

    This letter forms the words of the pain thats dragged me through the last year after losing my brother in July 2017. He shot himself in the car that was parked up against the pool that I was swimming in. I too refuse to be a statistic, but the moment I saw the blood and the lifelessness I truly lost the innocence that kept me going. You hit the nail on the head; I couldn’t argue that this world is a good place after that moment. There are things that keep me going, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t lived a single good moment since his death, because I sure as hell have, just with a piece of me missing the whole time. Hang in there my friend, I wish we were not bonded by pain.

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