I used to look at life as just hours in a day and numbers on a clock. Having ups and downs, but taking them day by day as if I could go to bed and take the world with me. Over time the meaning changes and growing up, having a better understanding on things I now look at life as chapters in a book; you’re the author. Life is a journey, not a destination.
Learning about life and it’s crevices is where my brother struggled. He didn’t grasp the difference between fantasy and fiction. He envisioned life and planned his life around his envisions. Everyone had looked at him differently. At a young age he had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. He would go through periods of depression and periods of being extremely happy, being cross, or irritable. Always alone and by himself, never wanting to be bothered. Looking back upon our childhood, I realize my brother was never really apart of it. He was physically there, but his mind was not. He had always been the boy who was lost in space, the boy disappearing always, forever fading away farther into the background. Depression had taken full effect as if he had been a free bird one minute: soaring and being on top. The next minute he would be in tears as if he were fine china, about to teeter, fall and break. Being bipolar had robbed him of who he truly was. It had taken him from the core of his being and replaced it with something completely opposite of who he had been. Every moment spent with my brother was precious, I often reflect upon those moments with a reserved smile. However, I look back at one moment specifically and wish I could erase it forever; I had been planted in front of the tv, as if I had been glued there, and it was a priority to stay. I had been so interested, I had centered my attention on it with little to no effort. I had been blinded as to what was going on around me until I had heard my brother in the bathroom. He hadn't closed the door all the way, so peering in I noticed he had been shuffling through the medicine cabinet, opening every bottle, and popping every pill. Beginning to shake with tears streaming down his face, he gripped onto the bathroom sink, and said
" I've done this for far too long. As I look into this mirror I'm seeing someone whom I do not recognize or understand. I can no longer tell reality from fantasy, and I'm walking in a world no longer my own. I need help."
In that moment in time I had been so scared, not knowing what to do or say, but I had to make a decision. By doing nothing, nothing happens, and that's exactly what I did; nothing. It's easy to decide on what is wrong to wear to a party, such as a snowmobile outfit, but deciding what is right is much more difficult. Not from my decision making, but my parents, my brother did receive help only to relapse and fall back into the same pattern which was popping pills to feel 'normal'. In later weeks he had left the world without saying goodbye. He had ended the pain, but passed it on to those left behind.
The pain had been transferred- I never visioned losing someone so close. I had felt in that moment nothing but anger; a sense of restriction in my chest that was beginning to fill with pain. My face inflamed, wanting nothing more than to just plunge to the floor. Grunting and squealing in anguish, I had sat down, grasping my body. My eyes watery with the sheer pain, my breathing came out in sharp,  shallow grasps. I had believed no one could possibly understand that hurt, but when looking around I noticed tears pouring out of the eyes of others and in that moment I knew I was not the only one.
To this day I am constantly beating myself up as to the decision I had made that day, but I have my life, that I must live. It's twisted, exhausting, uncertain and full of guilt, but there's something there. There are days I just want to paint the words "it's my fault" across my face. My lack of actions could have led to change. So referring back and using the analogy of my life as a book, then it’s safe to say the book will have many chapters. Looking back at life I  realize and see that each experience has a reason and fits perfectly into the construction of my life. I must be willing to learn and trust the unknown. I  as a human hold answers to life's questions. I am coming to realization of my own being, and understanding the dynamics of how life unfolds.