Losing my best and only brother to suicide
Hi, I’m Stefan, and I’ve been trying to write this post for over 3 months now. But today is Mental Health Day and if I don’t post it today, I don’t know if I will ever do.
So, Happy Mental Health Day — from an ex-older brother to a wonderful young man.
I’ve tried several times to write his story and quit after writing the title. It is the only thing that I wrote the day it happened and I haven’t changed it to this day. It hasn’t been easy and each time new feelings pop up out of nowhere. So, expect a chaotic read.
Here it goes:
We are a family of five, three siblings, me being the oldest at 30, with a 7-year difference between each of us. My brother and I couldn’t be more different. I was a rebellious child, always having issues with my parents, playing video games all night, and missing the bus for school. My brother was the one who would do things right — always studying for his exams and acing school. I was always the one arguing and he was the understanding one who always put others’ priorities ahead of his. I’ve always admired him for his discipline and work ethic. Also, he was taller than me, so I was just a little bit jealous about that as well.
I still haven’t seen a couple that compliments each other so well — my mom would find the opportunity and my dad would be the muscles that make things happen. My dad loves to engineer things and my mom loves to create concepts and turn them into ideas. My parents didn’t come from wealthy families and did their best for their children to have everything they wanted. We used to live in a small apartment on the city outskirts, but they worked their behinds off in order to have a beautiful house, with a room for each child, and a large backyard for us to play in.
Four months ago, our family was shattered when we found out we had lost my brother to suicide. Dimitar was just 22, an exemplary university student, an academic and moral inspiration to us, his siblings.
A Young Man Struggling
Lately, as I immersed myself in two separate businesses, Dimitar’s worry for my mental health and stress levels became evident. Little did I know that I would soon be worrying about him. Helping others made him feel appreciated and useful. He had just graduated with top honors in Electrical Engineering from the University of Eindhoven, and we were discussing enrolling him in a Double Master’s program at the same university. He was having some struggles with his focus and career path, but nothing out of the ordinary for someone coming fresh out of uni.
The Last Conversation
The night before, Dimitar and I had a long conversation about his university options, weighing the pros and cons. Little did I know, it would be the last time I or anyone else spoke to him. During the small hours of that night, alone and thousands of kilometers away from home, my little brother took his own life. He had carefully prepared his belongings, thinking it would make things easier for us, or so he thought — one of the rare occasions he was terribly wrong.
The Day My Life Changed Forever Again
I was 20 minutes into my hunt for a parking spot, after a long day at Switch Coworking, and I noticed I had 10 missed calls from both my parents. Since my dad has a medical condition, I rushed to conclusions that he must’ve gotten worse and that I should go home and check on him. I was so worried, but now looking back, I wish I was right. I will never forget seeing my mother as white as a ghost and my father looking like he aged 10 years in a day. My father smothered the words: “It’s your brother, he hung himself.” The next 5 minutes I don’t remember; I only remember screeching at the top of my lungs and my brain working on hyperspeed to think of something to fix the situation. The next thing I remember is feeling my heart crack. I’ve had my heart crushed by women, but nothing compares to this crack — it’s a crack that feels like an endless void that can never be filled and starts consuming you and every positive thought and feeling you have.
The Denial and Search for Answers
Initially, I couldn’t believe it. It must’ve been a mistake, right? Maybe there was some confusion — maybe those Dutch guys couldn’t read out the Bulgarian name, or maybe someone had stolen my brother’s ID. I went through every denial outlet possible. Then came the most difficult phase — trying to find an explanation, closure, or any sense in this situation. I devoured every mental health resource I could find — my doctor friends’ textbooks, videos, TED Talks, trying to make sense of it all.
Discovering the Hidden Pain
I started tracking my brother’s friends throughout the years one by one: the ones from elementary school, high school, and even his Discord buddies — no one had any idea my brother was even considering suicide. When my parents came back from the Netherlands I got a hold of his laptop.
I did my best to crack his digital accounts and connect with my brother one last time — my one purpose and want in life back then was to figure out how my brother was feeling and what got him to end his life. Eventually, I found out that Dimitar had been clinically depressed since his high school years. His sense of self-worth, accomplishments, and overall value to the world had crumbled over time. Not speaking about it, not knowing how to ask for help after being such an exemplary child — it’s something I can’t even begin to imagine. But now I knew how he felt and this is what I asked for, didn’t I?
Missed Signs
In hindsight, there were so many signs — his long late night walks alone around Varna, his inability to maintain focus, his lack of motivation to participate in social activities like having a beer or enjoying a video game.
I remember very vividly how once, when he was in the 10th grade, he agreed to go out with my friends (we were around 23 at the time) and he would make us laugh and feel like fools at the same time. I never managed to make him go out with my friends again. Maybe I should have been more consistent and not taken “I’m fine” as an answer… I never thought doing university-level math while in 10th grade was something to be worried about — he was a genius, he was not doing it to escape his reality, how could that be?
Coulda woulda shoulda
I’d always tell him that I was the AliExpress child, and he was the store original, without defects. I tried to pave the way for him and my sister, being the oldest of three, but I wonder how many times I missed asking him, “How are you, man, but for real?” “I know the struggle of being an engineering student, having to study 16-hour days and not being able to maintain focus, it’s rough and gets worse as you stress more about it”. My mom would always tell him about me having achieved something or about her striking an awesome real estate deal. I would always tell him once he finishes his studies and comes back to Bulgaria, we will work on some projects together since I knew he was the better engineer and it would be a great experience for both of us. He was always reserved about not being good enough to work with me, even though I would try to convince him every time. During our last call, we even agreed to continue the discussion tomorrow, but tomorrow never came.
The Burden We Bear Now
For one reason or another, he could not share his mental struggles with us — his family, and now we have to carry it instead of him. It’s a burden we never expected to shoulder, and it has changed us profoundly. We’ve become more closed and disassociated from our feelings, haunted by the lingering thought that maybe, just maybe, we could have seen the signs earlier. The only choice we have now is if we want to continue with this load or give up. There is a reason why family members are 65% more likely to attempt suicide if a family member has already died by suicide. This is why I isolated myself — I didn’t want to dump my trauma on my best friends. I am sorry for not picking up calls and not being there for friends and colleagues alike, but every action at that moment felt pointless. Feeling like you’re letting everyone down just by waking up is rough.
Discovering Purpose and Meaning in Today’s World
In today’s world, especially for young males, the quest for purpose and meaning can be exceptionally challenging. The pressures of modern society often create a disorienting maze of expectations and uncertainties — 50 years ago our grandfathers knew exactly how their life would look until they were 25 and they would have children by that age, as well as formal and military education. Today, a young male teenager knows only what he sees on YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram. The relentless pursuit of success, compounded by the weight of social and personal expectations, can be overwhelming. It’s crucial to recognize that suicide rates among young males have been on a distressing rise in recent years. This phenomenon is a stark reminder of the urgent need for open dialogue, understanding, and support for those who might be silently battling their own demons.
Getting out of bed
I felt a sense of duty, not an overwhelming pressure but a genuine duty to provide some form of relief and hope — a grandchild. This instinct appears to be biological for men in these situations, as far as I understand. Still, it’s not an experience I’d wish upon any of my fellow male friends reading this, at least not in the way I’ve come to know it. Only time will reveal whether I can offer this glimmer of hope, to myself, my parents, and my 101-year-old great-grandma. I have the perfect partner to support me in my grief journey, as well as in the next chapter of my life. I am more than hopeful to have children together, but I don’t want to be forced by such an event. Does that mean I should wait? If so, how long? So many questions that neither Google nor Chat-GPT can answer…
In the meantime, I have a 15-year-old sister to guide through her best and most challenging years, and I’m doing my utmost to ensure that I am the best possible brother. It’s a responsibility I cherish, recognizing that it is my sole opportunity now to express brotherly love.
Creating your own purpose when you cannot find it
I’ve recently started working on a project related to young males’ mental health, and I’ve discovered a newfound motivation and reason to get out of bed in the mornings because of it. It’s not the everyday hustle-type of motivation we all seek, where you feel like this day is your day. No, this kind of motivation is born from experiencing trauma and wanting to become a mental health professional, or encountering injustice and yearning to be a part of the justice system. I believe this is one of the most powerful ways to find meaning in such challenging situations — to do your best to prevent them from happening again. Sadly, suicide is occurring every 40 seconds worldwide, and not enough is being done about it, especially in places like Bulgaria. But that’s a conversation for another time.
A Heartfelt Message
Don’t wait until you find yourself seated in the front row at a funeral to recognize that some person in your life needs your concern. At that point, it’s too late to ask questions and find answers. The only thing you are left with is the knowledge of the burden that you failed to help your loved one share. Think about a relative or a close friend who you noticed has been feeling down.
You never know when you will be talking to them for the last time. So, appreciate what you have, don’t delay calling them. If you feel something is wrong, don’t take “I’m fine” for an answer. Be proactive, ask them how they are really doing, and what has been going wrong lately. We should normalize sharing about our failures the same as our successes. Instead of saying “Everything will be alright” share some of your own struggles with them and make them feel like they’re not alone and life is hard for everyone at different times.
And to my brother: I hope you are somewhere watching Interdimensional Cable laughing your behind off. Know that I will take care of things here and will try to make myself a clown for our sister to the best of my abilities, although I know I will never be as good as you at it. Until we meet again in the background, where all the tall brothers belong.
To anyone reading this and relating to it or if you want to just talk — I am more than open to discussing mental struggle, it has even become a guilty pleasure of mine to try and help people through their toughest times.
