![]() ![]() You know, the kind where the room spins, and you don’t know what’s happening. It gave me the opportunity to breathe life into my worst skeleton and for that I’m grateful.Īfter my public shaming on social media, my initial reaction was intense, uncontrolled anger. Even in their hate and attempts to destroy my emotional stability, it gave me a platform to take the first step in admitting my truth to the world. However, I must say thank you to my accusers. I waited for other family members to start turning on me when they realized the truth. You already have blamed yourself, why do you need the reminder? It shows the true evil that lies within the depths of that person’s soul. Being blamed for another’s suicide is one of the cruelest, most vindictive comments a person can make. It wasn’t until I was publicly blamed for their deaths did I speak my horrific truth for the first time. My feelings of guilt have been internalized for over a year and a half. I want to share with others who may be in the same position that I am. I want to eliminate the power that this thought has held over me for months on end. I find myself constantly feeling sorry for others and knowing the amount of guilt they will live with, if they are anything like me. I would be remiss if I didn’t say that guilt has affected my actions since then. I would remind myself of the compassion I know I’m capable of. I wish I could erase that year from the archives and pretend like it never existed. If I had a time machine and I could go back to the beginning of 2017, I would do so many things differently. I’ve felt an enormous, crushing amount of guilt since I got that phone call the night of July 16, 2017, and it has continued. So to clear the air, yes – I feel guilty. There is nothing I can do to change what I have done. After he left, I complained about his actions. I literally gave him change out of a pickle jar, so he would know how low I thought of the situation. My hard-earned money was not going to enable his addiction issues. Two months before my uncle took his life, he came to my apartment and asked for money. I was horrible to a man that was heartbroken. I reminded him of my grandmother often, and the love they shared for years on end. I would call him when he was at her house and monologue for 30 minutes, so he couldn’t spend time with her. I carefully constructed our conversations, so she wouldn’t come up. I told him that if she attended family functions, I wouldn’t. I cried that morning sitting in the kitchen while he cooked breakfast. The day he told me he was seeing another woman, I cried for hours. He found another woman, and I couldn’t have reacted worse. His soulmate of 60 years was gone, and he was desperately seeking to fill that void. During the aftermath of my grandmother’s death, my grandfather was lost. These are my worst moments at their finest. The secrecy of the situation yields a power over me that I’m ready to leave behind. You already knew it to be true but tried to convince yourself otherwise. They weren’t afraid to say the truth out loud because the words were so obvious. They spoke the truth and held nothing back. But, what happens when you say out loud that you look fat, and someone says “Yeah, and I can see your jelly rolls a mile away?” You believe it. You can’t possibly think it’s your fault.” It’s like saying out loud how fat you think you look, and everyone around compliments you on your appearance to diminish your self-deprecating feelings. ![]() But when you muster the courage for those words to come off your lips, those around ring out in a chorus of “NO! It’s not your fault. You know it to be true no matter what others say. You blame yourself, internalizing every thought, and never allowing yourself to speak your most horrific introspection. The fear that saying it out loud will confirm its truth. The place that you only allow yourself to go occasionally, because the thought is too painful for you to visit. The guilty feelings, that I assume some feel, are swept to the darkest, furthermost corners of our minds, never to be spoken. (If you haven’t gotten that far and are reading this post, that’s ok.) Some discuss anger and feelings of betrayal. In the aftermath of suicide, most survivors discuss their grief at some point. ![]()
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