I want to express my feelings to my brother who is grappling with mental health challenges.
I truly miss you. Despite the fact that you are nearby and I can visit you anytime, it doesn’t feel the same. You’ve changed, and so have I.
Mental illness has shifted everything in our lives. It crept in silently, an unseen force that quietly pulled us away from the shore. We continued to navigate life, oblivious to the subtle signs warning us of the impending storm. Now, we find ourselves staring at the distant shore, unsure of how to return to solid ground.
We’re stuck in a current with no escape, and it feels like help is out of reach. We’re just trying to stay afloat, hoping we can keep our heads above water. Medications, therapists, doctors, police, and emergency room visits come and go, but they often leave us with more questions and anxiety than answers.
It’s ironic how we can feel so isolated even when surrounded by so many voices in your mind. There are times I wish these voices were tangible companions, fighting through this with us. Yet, I catch myself realizing how “crazy” that sounds, and “crazy” isn’t a label I want to wear as the one who remains grounded.
Sometimes, it’s exhausting to be the stable one. I look back at the 14-year-old you and wish I could have taught you to navigate these turbulent waters better. Mental illness is a formidable adversary, one that many cannot conquer alone.
Even articulating the reality of your situation is difficult. The terminology becomes overwhelming, and when I finally grasp it, it feels disconnected from the genuine you I know. You should understand that this is not the future I envisioned for you. I see your beautiful brown eyes from years ago, the ones filled with uncertainty when you first arrived here. Though our journey wasn’t without its struggles, you found your place and brought joy into my life with your radiant smile.
I miss that smile. It seems hidden behind the haze of medication and invisible battles. We’ve endured so much, but the one thing I wish would shatter is that mask you wear. Yet, it’s become the lifeline that keeps you afloat, or so they say.
At least for today, I find comfort in knowing you are safe, though it’s within the confines of a locked facility designed to protect your physical self. But none of this feels truly secure.
Tomorrow could bring a different reality. Mental illness has taught me to question everything; emotions shift so rapidly that it’s disorienting. The aftermath of hospital stays can be just as swift. I struggle to recognize this version of you, and frankly, I don’t like this unfamiliarity.
Nevertheless, I want you to know that I am here for you. It might not always feel that way amidst the chaos, but even if I had to step back to breathe, I want you to know you are never alone. You never were, and you never will be.
It may be harder to reach out to me now. I may keep my distance, but it’s only because I need to find my own breath amid the turbulence. I wish you could see that I back away to prevent you from feeling isolated. Regardless of where this current takes us, remember you are my brother, and you are loved. Always.
Your Sister
Resources for Family Building
To explore more about pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource for family building options. Also, for those inspired to cook, consider visiting this link for great recipes. And if you’re interested in learning more about home insemination kits, you can find helpful information at this resource.
Conclusion
In summary, this heartfelt letter expresses a deep sense of longing, love, and support for a brother navigating the complexities of mental illness while emphasizing the importance of connection and understanding during difficult times.