60 - The third fall

I did it again. 

Another collapse. 

This one deeper than the last two. 

The third fall

the heaviest I’ve known.

I thought I had escaped the monotony. 

I thought I had finally found shape, 

a rhythm, 

a life worth living. 

Stable income, 

no real worries. 

Enough saved to start anew. 

I told myself I was building meaning. 

But life has a way of reminding me how fragile my illusions are.

I was busy. 

Too busy. 

Caught up in the bubble of work, 

serving, 

striving, 

surviving. 

I even got better at socialising, 

at being part of the community. 

But I forgot one thing 

the one promise I swore never to break. 

I neglected my family. 

The ones I swore to protect. 

The ones I left behind.

I moved overseas, 

telling myself it was for them 

to support, 

to provide. 

But deep down, 

maybe I was just running away. 

Running from the weight of staying. 

Running from the burden of being present.

And then, 

in the height of my career, 

the phone rang. 

My mother’s voice, 

fragile, 

trembling. 

It had been months since I last spoke to her. 

I thought it was just a welfare check, 

a simple catch-up. 

But she said one phrase that shattered me at work,

that broke me in front of the world

“Your brother attempted suicide.”

One phrase. 

Enough to turn my world upside down. 

She couldn’t say more. 

She just cried. 

And I stood there, 

broken, 

knowing I had failed.

Later I learned the pieces of his story. 

Married too young. 

Two years in, 

he lost his wife and newborn child. 

Grief swallowed him whole. 

Depression dragged him under. 

And in his despair, 

he tried to leave this world. 

The details are too heavy to share, 

I still don’t know everything. 

I’m too afraid to know.

Now I’m carrying him. 

Trying to lead him into recovery. 

My hardest task to date. 

One I’ve already failed at times. 

Sadness, 

resentment, 

exhaustion, 

regret

all woven into this rocky road. 

I thought I was already walking a rough path, 

but I had no idea back then.

It is a weight too heavy for me to carry, 

but I have to. 

At times, 

shamefully, 

I thought he would be better gone. 

At times the weight almost dragged me down to the other side with him.

But those stories are for another time, 

when I am ready to share.