Coping With Grief And Loss
While trying to stay mentally healthy
Mental illness took my brother’s life. Not just the literal way he died, but the way he had to live. My brother was brilliant. Beyond his brilliance, there was a compassionate side. He understood, intrinsically, that people in life had different experiences. Experiences that could help or hamper their lives. He was studying social anthropology when his illness debilitated him.
After he died, I was grieving for myself and my loss and for his life that was stolen by mental illness. There was something that always haunted me in life about my brother. When he was off his meds it was dangerous. He was at high risk of harming himself or of being harmed by others. But when he was on his meds, he still wasn’t happy. The side effects often made him miserable. I was always relieved that he was back on his meds, but always sorry to hear he wasn’t feeling good. I felt constantly torn between guilt and relief. The illness stole the boy in childhood that I knew and adored. It stole his joy. It even stole his brilliance at times. There were times the meds made it impossible for him to do what he loved so much, read.
In his death and my grief, I wanted to honor the boy and remember everything he was. Everything that made him so special for the world. And yes, even debilitated by the illness and the…
