I used to go to church when I was younger. I actually liked going to church. Then something happened and I grew up. I wanted to sleep in on Sundays, or spend time with my boyfriend, whatever. For the most part, my faith has stayed the same. I went through a really dark period in my life when I was a late teen, and I questioned my faith then, but I think deep down I always believed in God.
I should find a church down here... I should start going again...
My boyfriend doesn't "really" believe in God. He believes science more.
I think deep down that bothers me.
Back in March I got a call at 3am from my little sister. I knew right away it was bad news. She told me that our 16 year old brother had over-dosed on Tylenol & Advil (about 75 pills total) and was in the hospital.
WTF do you do when you get news like that?!
I remember calling my boss (yes, at 3am) and telling her I was going home for an emergency and I wouldn't be at work the rest of the week. I remember driving the 3 hour trip home trying to see the road between my tears. I remember shaking so bad and feeling like I was going to puke at any moment. And I remember asking God to keep my brother safe.
My family spent 3 days in the hospital waiting to hear if my brother ruined his liver, and if it was going to function. I can still smell the hospital, taste the jello my mom forced me to eat. And I remember the stupid bunnies all over my brothers room. He was a minor, he was in the children's ward.
That was a horrible week.
We thought he was better. He cried, told us he was so sorry for putting us all through this. He got a therapist, and life went back to normal.
Until the day after Christmas...
My phone rang at 3am. I just knew. I didn't even answer my phone, I just knew it was my brother and something bad happened to him.
It was my sister again, telling my our brother sent out "goodbye messages" and wasn't answering his phone. She was babysitting, my mom was at work. They had no choice but to call the police. My mom told them to bust down the door if they had to. (After the "incident" in March my mom locked up all the pills in a safe. But he's 17 now, how hard is it to really get some tylenol?!)
The police showed up, busted down the door, and my brother wasn't there.
The police searched for him for 5 hours. I searched for him for 4. From 3:30-7:30am my boyfriend and I drove around looking for my brother. We got stopped by the police THREE times. I guess we looked suspicious driving around at 4am, huh?
The police found him and brought him to the hospital. He got relesed yesterday. He says he is "fine." No one believes him. But in MN, he's old enough to refuse hospital care, and a therapist.
I don't know if my brother is okay or not. I don't know how much longer he will be alive. I am drained, my whole family is drained. We can't keep going through this. I want to smack him and knock some sense into him, I want to help him, ANYTHING. My hands are tied.
I believe in heaven. I have to. Life if too f*cking hard to live without the hope that there's a God and Heaven. I just hope my brother doesn't go there anytime soon.