Letter to Brian: December 29, 2022

Dear Brian,

A few days ago, I experienced on of my worst mental health days in a while.  It was such a struggle to get through the day– my mind was racing at high speed with destructive self talk, desperation and very powerful, intense suicidal thoughts.

I went into “triage mode” and actively tried to turn things around by utilizing some  of my self care tools such as guided meditations, journaling, deep breathing, etc. But it was all so intense and painful that even amid all the self care stuff, I still felt an overwhelmingly intense pull towards self harm. I took out all my supplies and had them all lined up on a tray ready to use.  I had decided that I’d wait until my work day was over to do it… but I was able to distract myself and kept putting it off but still left it all sitting there with the intention of allowing myself that release later.

Eventually, as I sat on the couch (with a couple of very concerned kitties keeping watch over me) putzing mindlessly on my phone, I received an alert.  Sometimes, Google Photos will pop up with a notice that says, “Look Back on This Day” that when opened, contains a slide show of photo memories from that day a year ago, or several years ago.  But this alert popped up with one word: “Rainbows.”  I opened it to find a collection of rainbow photos that I’d taken over the past few years, followed by a few pictures from Christmas last year.

I’ve been trying to listen to the little “nudges” I get from the Universe and I’m certain that this was another one of them.  I don’t believe it is coincidental as just when I’m at my lowest points, something happens to try and knock some hope into me.  A meaningful song comes on the radio just in time… or I receive a text from an old friend who is just “checking in on me”… or I find a penny from you… or, in this case, I suddenly receive a slideshow of hopeful rainbows– reminding me that the storms do eventually move through.

I don’t know if you and Moomie had a hand in this or not, but I like to think that you did.

Love,

Laura

 

 

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lhabedank

I lost my brother Brian, my only sibling, to suicide on October 13, 2010. I write about dealing with the loss as well as my own life-long struggle with depression and suicidal ideation.

2 thoughts on “Letter to Brian: December 29, 2022”

  1. I love this SO MUCH!! I love that you are getting these little nudges and that you’re able to see them and feel them and recognize that there are still rainbows… all over, sometimes we just have to look harder for them.
    You are loved and there are MANY lives that you have touched in a very positive way. I hope you know that.

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