02. " Rise from the ashes" - Samantha Wood
For those who don’t know me my name is Sammi.
I am an avid Mens Mental Health Advocate, proactive in Suicide Prevention and also raise awareness about Sibling Suicide Loss and Grief. I had always been a Mental Health Advocate after suffering mental illness myself in early 2017, however I have really taken it to the next level as of last year. On the 28th August 2021, one of my younger siblings suicided.
On the 28th of August I went to bed for the night and my brother was alive, and I woke up on the 29th of August and he was dead.
My brother Jamie struggled with mental health illness for 13 odd years. He had been in our system for 13-16 years, being consistently knocked back. He suffered through late teenage years up until recently where he tragically took his own life by the way of hanging, in his Bowen Hills apartment in Brisbane, at the age of 31.
At an early age he was diagnosed with ADHD and was being treated for that condition until mid to late teenage years. Unfortunately, ADHD isn’t dealt with in the best of ways for adults and this only added to my brothers struggle. Furthermore, Jamie was recently diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) earlier last year. He was seeking help for his conditions but as BPD isn’t looked at as a ‘mental health illness’ under the current Mental Health Act, his treatment was always minimal and or/ dismissed. My brother struggled to seek help because there is just not enough support for BPD sufferers, or patients with complex post traumatic disorder.
A little truth behind (arguably) the most misunderstood mental illness of our time- BPD, despite being more common than schizophrenia and bipolar disorder combined, borderline personality disorder remains one of the least understood and most stigmatised mental illnesses. An estimated 2% of the population has BPD, a type of personality disorder that is characterised by intense poorly regulated emotions, self harm, suicidal tendencies, and unstable self-image. People with BPD often harbor an intense fear of being abandoned by the ones they love, suffer from chronic feelings of emptiness, engage in suicidal behaviour or threats, and have difficulty controlling anger. They feel that they will literally explode if they cannot in some way discharge this agitation. This discomfort can lead borderlines to self-mutilate, which sometimes provides them with a sense of ‘release’- shockingly this is something my brother would regularly do. The hard truth is that about 8% to 10% of BPD patients die by suicide. My little brother being one of them.
The thing about sibling suicide loss is- I didn’t just lose my brother, Jamie. The day he took his life, I also lost my youngest sibling, and he lost his only sister too. The day that my 31 year old brother took his life, was the day my youngest sibling and I metaphorically died too. I frantically researched sibling suicide loss in those early days following Jamie’s suicide, and something I found super surprising is that- “the risk of death following the loss of a sibling is higher than that after losing a parent”.
Let that sink in.
I’m not ashamed of sharing my truth, and how I felt the days, weeks and months following when my brother suicided. I was crushed to the core. No words in the English vocabulary could explain the pain I felt. I FEEL.
I felt suicidal, I wanted nothing more than to be with my little brother.
I remember vividly texting my best friend for months after his death, begging her to just let me go, to just allow me to leave this earth so I could be with my soul sibling. I just immensely needed to be with him. I needed her approval to go, however she wouldn’t let me. She knew I was needed on earth, for my son, to hold my family together and to make a significant change in our system, in my brothers honour. Almost 11 months later and I’m damn grateful she dug her heels in, and never ever gave up on me. If it wasn’t for her, I know I would be six feet under, too.
The reality is; sibling suicide loss strips you bare naked.
It strips you back to the very core of what it is to be human. It has yanked me away from the world I have known since childhood. It strips you down to the raw realisation that grief and loss doesn't end, that there isn't a moment where you are ‘done’. Grief is defined as though it is a process with an ending. This leads our society to believe that one day, you lose your grief, as you have lost your loved one. Only now do I learn, while feeling for its porous edges, that there is no way through.
When something such as grief comes along, and strips away all aspects of who you are, all that can possibly remain is your broken soul, merely exisiting in a world so cruel. What most don’t understand is, grief not only involves a death, but also the loss of your dreams, hopes, identity, fears that once was. The person you once were when they were alive, that is now no longer. The weight of this pain is crushing.
Yet; There is something purely soul awakening, and heartbreakingly beautiful about grief.
Grief has simply taught me that you’re never ready for its arrival, it is more than a human heart can ever bear. Grief is a cruel kind of education. You learn how ungentle grieving can be. You learn how much grief is about language, the failure of language and the grasping for language. Grief rips apart anything and everything it touches, however it has also been my greatest teacher. It has taught me that a broken heart is not only full of sorrow but also full of joy simultaneously. It is truly amazing to me that while we are crushed by grief, survivor’s guilt, shame, regret, we are also empowered by how it can make us determined to stand up more for what we believe in. Could it be that grief, with its endless component, is really a gift to be opened and dealt with, and used for our benefit?
My grief is an example of all the love I have for my brother, that will forever live on in my soul, that is rooted so deeply in him. It has taught me to hold on for dear life the examples of those who’ve experienced grief before me and hold on for dear life for the ones recently acquainted with grief behind me. I never wanted grief to come, but I refuse to see it wasted.
Its really kind of ironic- I often speak on Mens Mental health, and suicide- but I don’t generally speak on my own mental health battles since losing my brother.
In 2017 I was diagnosed with PTSD after a traumatic event in my life. I’d worked on myself over the last four years and had it under control to the point I was feeling somewhat ‘normal’ again- then my younger brother who was also my best friend, took his own life in his Apartment. The re-traumatisation caused me to relapse and my PTSD is now rampant, some days being out of control. I couldn’t physically and mentally deal with ‘blood’ or even mention the word “belt” without it sending me into a spiral of absolute panic and avoidance. Obviously, because I related those words with HOW my brother died.
The relapse is something I find very hard to accept. I had worked so hard to be where I was prior to my brothers death, and now I often feel like I’ve taken 2 steps forward, and about 10 steps back. It was undeniably, disheartening.
My PTSD is associated with ‘death anxiety’- I have an overwhelming fear of my loved ones dying. I have an irrational fear that anytime my phone is ringing- it is someone on the other end calling to tell me that someone is dead. I know it’s irrational, and I know it’s the PTSD triggering these awful feelings, but it’s something I struggle with daily- it’s something I’m working through with my new therapist.
I’m not ashamed to admit I recognised something wasn’t quite right with my mental health after my brother died, I’m not ashamed that I had to seek help, and I’m also not ashamed to let people know I now take targeted PTSD medication to help with my recovery, because to be quite frank- it is my lifeline at present and my life is worth living, too. I have so much work to do before I can leave this earth, content and satisfied that I have made a difference. I have so many more lives to touch by sharing my story, and that of my brother, in honour of him.
I want everyone reading this to know that it is perfectly OK to ask for help. It is perfectly OK to need extra support from a professional. It is perfectly OK to receive a diagnosis of mental illness-it does not define you, or make you a bad person- you are loved regardless of your mental illness.
And lastly, I want everyone on this earth to know- to TRULY know and grasp;
They will not be better off without you.
They will NEVER be better off without you.
Please stay,
Please keep fighting, because we are all in this together.
Jamie’s Sister,