Well, damn.
Mar. 24th, 2010 01:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flyboy_foxI can't stop thinking about Bruce. How long was he lying there before the police broke in and found him dead? Days, maybe. What finally tipped him over from self-destructive behaviour to absolute destruction of self? Did he know he was dying anyway, or was he just sick of it all? How far gone was he that even the friends who rallied around him couldn't save him?
It's such an odd feeling. It feels weird enough when you hear that some guy in your town, in your neighbourhood, killed himself. But when it's your immediate neighbour and one of only three households in your tiny private street (including your own in the middle), it's just kind of surreal.
Last night I just kind of felt numb. Today, I cried, snapped at Jei, and felt guilty for feeling so affected by this random senseless suicide. No, Bruce wasn't a close friend. But I knew him and liked him a lot... and more than that, my family knew him. My brother knew him most of all, since they were always down the pub together. My brother and I don't talk much, but I called him today to break the news. He wasn't surprised to hear that Bruce had passed, but he was shocked to hear that it was suicide. "No way," he said. Then "Did the note say why? Did he overdose? What happened?". My brother never seemed stunned by anything, but he was clearly very taken aback.
He asked if Mum was okay, and I told her that she's very upset and not happy about the fact that she's alone in the street now that Jill and Dave have gone away for a week. Then, in an unprecedented show of sweetness and consideration, my brother said he'd see if he could go home today or tomorrow for a few days to be with my mum so she won't be alone. I was deeply touched; my li'l brother seems to be growing up at last and I'm very proud of him for being so sweet.
I would love to go home to be with her now too, but I have job fairs and applications here this week and Easter break starts next week. I'm probably going to try to go home on Saturday, asap.
Seeing (and feeling) the effects of a self-inflicted death on someone I knew, even if not closely, but was familiar with on a daily basis... I know I could never do that to anyone else. What you leave behind when you do that is horrible. It's a horrible trauma for anyone to have to deal with once you're peacefully gone. I think that's what will stop me in my most selfish moments when I think about doing crazy shit. I'll just think about Bruce and remind myself that it's horrible.
I don't know what to do with myself right now. I just feel kinda lost and confused and, well, angry. God dammit, Bruce! You had friends, people who cared about you, people who wanted you to be okay... Why the fuck did you refuse their help? Why the fuck did you refuse to go to the hospital the first time the police broke in and found you half-dead? Why would you do this to your friends... and worse, to your FAMILY and children! Sure, you were estranged from them... but this is gonna fuck them up so bad! Argh.
... I should calm down, 'cause I need to get my arse down to the Job Fair at the Premier Inn, and then get my Support Worker application in for a local school. How great would it be to work with autistic teenagers, given my diagnostic history? The school system chewed me up and spat me out; I left school at 14 with nothing but my fractured mental health. There are better systems in place now for people like me, who may be slow on the uptake when it comes to dealing with that crazy thing called 'life' (and don't always do it so well even now), but can become capable functioning adults in the end with a lot to give back.
It's been a long time since I've considered myself neurologically 'disabled'. I live by myself, I've studied, held down jobs... and while I may be somewhat certifiable in a few odd ways, I cope. I'm no danger to myself or anyone else, and I honestly believe I can be a fruitful and productive member of society. I will achieve. I will fly high.
If Bruce's painfully unnecessary and senseless death did anything, it reminded me of the worth of my own life and that I should not squander it feeling sorry for myself. I am better than that.
It's such an odd feeling. It feels weird enough when you hear that some guy in your town, in your neighbourhood, killed himself. But when it's your immediate neighbour and one of only three households in your tiny private street (including your own in the middle), it's just kind of surreal.
Last night I just kind of felt numb. Today, I cried, snapped at Jei, and felt guilty for feeling so affected by this random senseless suicide. No, Bruce wasn't a close friend. But I knew him and liked him a lot... and more than that, my family knew him. My brother knew him most of all, since they were always down the pub together. My brother and I don't talk much, but I called him today to break the news. He wasn't surprised to hear that Bruce had passed, but he was shocked to hear that it was suicide. "No way," he said. Then "Did the note say why? Did he overdose? What happened?". My brother never seemed stunned by anything, but he was clearly very taken aback.
He asked if Mum was okay, and I told her that she's very upset and not happy about the fact that she's alone in the street now that Jill and Dave have gone away for a week. Then, in an unprecedented show of sweetness and consideration, my brother said he'd see if he could go home today or tomorrow for a few days to be with my mum so she won't be alone. I was deeply touched; my li'l brother seems to be growing up at last and I'm very proud of him for being so sweet.
I would love to go home to be with her now too, but I have job fairs and applications here this week and Easter break starts next week. I'm probably going to try to go home on Saturday, asap.
Seeing (and feeling) the effects of a self-inflicted death on someone I knew, even if not closely, but was familiar with on a daily basis... I know I could never do that to anyone else. What you leave behind when you do that is horrible. It's a horrible trauma for anyone to have to deal with once you're peacefully gone. I think that's what will stop me in my most selfish moments when I think about doing crazy shit. I'll just think about Bruce and remind myself that it's horrible.
I don't know what to do with myself right now. I just feel kinda lost and confused and, well, angry. God dammit, Bruce! You had friends, people who cared about you, people who wanted you to be okay... Why the fuck did you refuse their help? Why the fuck did you refuse to go to the hospital the first time the police broke in and found you half-dead? Why would you do this to your friends... and worse, to your FAMILY and children! Sure, you were estranged from them... but this is gonna fuck them up so bad! Argh.
... I should calm down, 'cause I need to get my arse down to the Job Fair at the Premier Inn, and then get my Support Worker application in for a local school. How great would it be to work with autistic teenagers, given my diagnostic history? The school system chewed me up and spat me out; I left school at 14 with nothing but my fractured mental health. There are better systems in place now for people like me, who may be slow on the uptake when it comes to dealing with that crazy thing called 'life' (and don't always do it so well even now), but can become capable functioning adults in the end with a lot to give back.
It's been a long time since I've considered myself neurologically 'disabled'. I live by myself, I've studied, held down jobs... and while I may be somewhat certifiable in a few odd ways, I cope. I'm no danger to myself or anyone else, and I honestly believe I can be a fruitful and productive member of society. I will achieve. I will fly high.
If Bruce's painfully unnecessary and senseless death did anything, it reminded me of the worth of my own life and that I should not squander it feeling sorry for myself. I am better than that.
