On the morning of September 8th I received an early morning message from my baby brother Robert asking if I was awake. I instantly knew something was wrong. I replied that I was awake and he immediately called me. As soon as I said hello, he said, “George killed himself last night.” George being our brother. In shock I asked, what, how, where – all the questions. He said here, he jumped off the roof. I told him I loved him and that I would be there within the hour. I called my boss, and loaded up Hercules because I needed my emotional support animal in a huge way and we headed to Albany. I think I cried the entire way there, knowing I would need to be strong for Robert and get myself together. By the time I was hugging my baby brother I was just kind of numb.
I drove Robert to see his son. His son loved his Uncle George so much, he was his person. As soon as we arrived the first thing little Wesley asked was, “where is uncle George?” Robert took him inside and explained that George had passed away. We are not sure young Wesley understood, as 20 minutes later he was heard telling his step-dad that Uncle was going to be ok. As I sat with Robert and this large extended familiy him and George were apart of, the story that unfolded quickly moved me from shock to full on anger. See, two months earlier George lived in my town in a sober living house, had a great job and was doing amazing. What would happen in the next two months rocked my world.
Apparently 2 months ago George decided he wanted to move to Washington to be with his daughter and to marry his baby momma. He arrived in Washington, proposed and was turned down. I would soon learn from the baby momma that she didnt want to marry him. She said she is too old and him too young. While he was there he isolated himself in a room for about a month, reading the bible. He relapsed on drugs and alcohol. He made his way back to Albany where Robert took him in and paid for his room at the sober living house. He helped him get sober and found him a job. George couldnt hold the job as his anxiety and paranoia were back, due to his relapse. He began hearing voices and talking about suicide. The week he died, they took him to the emergency room, twice. Twice he told them he was hearing voices, scared and wanted to committ suicide, and twice they sent him away and did nothing. The day he died they took him to the Linn County Mental Health Crisis Center where all they would do was schedule him an appointment in two weeks. Less than 24 hours later he killed himself. He tried so hard to get help, and was continuously turned away.
The system is so broken. I have clients in the mental health field on both sides of the country, and they all agree. To add to this story, in February he was taken to the same hospital for the same reason and they turned him away. In his frustration he broke his phone and was going to committ suicide, but instead he walked 15 miled to the Lebanon hospital and asked for help. They found him a psych bed in Portland and had him transported. The problem was, he had no phone, so we had no contact or idea what had happened. I filed a missing person report with Albany PD and his extended family searched all the homeless camps and posted fliers. We spent weeks afraid he had jumped in the river. The Summer before this, I received a call from a Eugene Police Detective. She informed me George had walked into the police station covered in blood and claimed to have killed his brother Robert. Robert was homeless at the time and it took us two days to find him. George had not attacked him, but he had almost killed a man he didnt know on the bike path because in his delusion it was Robert. George was using during this time frame and was in a paranoid delusion. After almost a year in the county jail he was released and found that he was not sane at the time of his crime.
My brother battled his demons with drugs and alcohol for years. When he was sober he was the best, but it never lasted long. George and I never had a great relationship. I am very much the stern, pusher of tough love sister. I have zero tolerance for drugs and looking back I was very judgmental and I always favored Robert. I always look at Robert as my son, I pretty much raised him and he lived with me for his teenage years. I tried having George with me as well, but it was always a battle of wills between us. Robert battles the same demons as George, my sister Samantha in Arizona does as well. Drugs and alcohol, addictions they learned from their parents. I always wonder how I turned out so different from my siblings. I drink occasionally, and have never even tried drugs, not even marijuana. Addiction scares me, so much so that I struggle to take my prescribed opiates, even when I am in severe pain from my Lupus or Fibro. But I also often wonder if I didnt obtain those addictive qualities and focus them elsewhere, such as eating or in my promiscous behaviors as a teen and young adult. I love the nature vs. nurture debate. I often say the reason we are all different, but from the same house of horrors is that I chose to be a survivor and they all continue to be victims and blame their father.
This is the second brother that I have lost to addiction and suicide. I lost my mom to Cancer, caused from her smoking, and even with a trach and feeding tube she still smoked and put alcohol in her feeding tube. My father, different from the boys dad, left when I was three and died from a drug and alcohol overdose. My remaining family is my baby brother Robert and my little sister Samantha. They are both in their 30’s, but I dont think I can ever stop worrying about them or feeling responsible for them. I pray everyday that Robert stays sober and off of the streets. Just like I pray everyday that our mental health system improves.
Check on your friends and family, you never know what their smile may be hiding.
