I don't want to write...but I need to write. I don't want to unravel the nice neat package I have all my stressors tied up in, but I need to. I don't want to process the pain from this past year, but it keeps coming up and creating moments of anxiety and panic attacks. I don't want to do this...but I have to.
I said when I started writing again that I was going to keep things real and keep this blog open to the public instead of hiding it away in privacy settings. It is going to be hard for me to keep this open if I truly venture into the things I need to process. I don't like being that honest, but again, I have felt like this is what I am supposed to do. I don't even really know where to start....
Covid 19...I can start there, I guess. I know I have written a little about it, but maybe not all that it took from me. I was one of those people who did what I was told to do. I spent MONTHS at home with my only contact being with my immediate family. I stayed confined to the "compound" we live on with my parents and my brother at the time. I missed getting to go to my classroom and spend time with my students. I missed getting to hang out with friends and co-workers. I missed being able to go to church. Then the riots came following the death of George Floyd. Now, not only did a virus paralyze me, but fear of what was happening in the world around us had my anxiety on high. Things really had gotten to a point of such fear that I couldn't even go into Dallas to see my doctor. I just did not feel safe anywhere but at home. My fear intensified at the very thought of the possibility of giving my parents a virus that could kill them. I didn't worry about myself, but I was so afraid I would accidentally give it to my parents without knowing I had it. It is not good what lies the evil one can whisper in your ear when you are isolated.
Even with all the fear that Covid brought, it did give me something positive too. You see, the summer of 2020, while we were still "sheltered at home" as much as possible, allowed me some time with my brother. Time I would not have had otherwise. Time I would have skipped. Time I wish I could have back. This is why I don't want to unpack this....this is where I don't want to go. This is what is keeping me up at night. This is why I don't want to write...but I need to. This is the hard part.
I read an old post in my other blog (my private one that very few people have ever seen or read). In that post I was ranting about my family. I obviously was not in a happy place with them. I was so angry. Sounded like I was beyond angry with my brothers and pretty mad at my parents too. (Sorry Mom, if you are reading this, it was during one of Bubba's mean days I think.) I wanted a do-over. I wanted a different family. I didn't want to deal with the constant drama any more. I was done! Man...today, I would be happy to get to deal with one of those days again.

For those who don't know me well, or our family, I have two brothers. Both are younger than me. I was 6 when my first brother was born and 11 when my youngest brother was born. They were 12 and 8 when I got married and left home. I really didn't "grow up" with them. I was busy raising my family while they were navigating the worlds of middle school and then high school and college. I wasn't there to help them or protect them. Things I wish I could have done. In some ways we were two different families. The family that I had been part of when they were little and then the family they became when I moved out. Looking back, I wish I had been more connected to them, but raising babies, finishing college, managing a home and being a wife kept me pretty busy.
Sadly, my relationship with my brothers was not always very good. My youngest brother and I got along fine. I was the "second" mom for him and I spoiled him. He was my living baby doll. But my first brother and I fought from the time he realized going into my bedroom would make me mad. I loved him and loved teaching him things when he was a baby, but soon he began to require more and more of Mom's attention and I'm sure my resentment towards him began to grow even way back then. He was not a healthy baby. He had had to have some surgeries when he was very little and was sick a lot with ear infections, I think. He cried a lot! I remember one night when he had been crying, asking Mom if we could return him to the hospital. I was only 6 or 7 at the time but I had had enough. He was needy and keeping me from my mom and dad. He also figured out he could cry and say I was being mean and I would be in trouble. He was too smart for his own good even as a little kid.
My oldest brother and I continued to not have a wonderful relationship as he got older and became an adult. He had struggles that none of us can imagine. When people say they face their own demons, I believe he had some that he had to face. We disagreed on so much. I was the bad guy a lot. I called him out when he was doing wrong. I didn't like seeing him get away with things that I knew I would have been in trouble for as a child. I didn't let him talk to me like he tried to talk to others. He loved to talk down to people and try to make them feel dumb. (He had a brilliant mind.) If you know me, you know I didn't put up with that. My temper would come out and I would put him in his place if I had a chance. Our fights hurt my mom I'm sure. She hated our disagreements. She, like most parents, just wanted her children to get along and love each other. I tried, but for many years he didn't even claim me as his sister. I'm sure it was my fault in some ways, but I had to put up some boundaries years back to protect myself and my family from his lashing out. It was not a good relationship for many many years.

But last summer, covid summer of 2020, we had some time together. It really had started before then. My husband and I moved out here onto the family land in the summer of 2018 and that fall it started to rain and rained every day for months. We were (still are at this time) living in our travel trailer in the middle of a pasture that was now surrounded by water and mud. I ended up living at my parents' house for most of that school year because I could not get to my "house." My oldest brother was living in his travel trailer beside my parents' house at the time as well. We spent lots of time together at our parents' house that year. Not all of those moments were good but many of them were. I remember one night when he came in late and made some coffee. He asked me, "Sis, do you want some coffee?" I was shocked! First he called me "Sis" and second he offered to make me some coffee! These things just did not happen, but during those days they did. I look back now and am thankful for those months of living at my parents. I was frustrated back then, but now I can see how God was giving me time...time to mend our relationship.
Fast forward back to this past summer. We had another chance to spend time together. Our parents had loaded up and headed to Colorado with friends for some camping in their 5th wheels. Mom and Dad loved to get away from time to time and with some of the difficulties with my brother, they needed it more often. That left me to be his go to person. He didn't drive and so if he needed things from town, I would have to help him. Honestly, I wasn't looking forward to that. Have I mentioned that he could be difficult? Then there was my new dog. We had a new puppy, a Belgian Malinois, often confused with a German Shepherd but with short hair. My brother LOVED my dog. He wanted my dog. Truth is, he loved animals and absolutely was crazy for my puppy. It was another something we could connect on. I was watering Mom's plants while they were gone and so Koda and I would go up to water and visit with my brother. Those were nice days. I treasure them now.
Summer rolled on and then August came and we got the news that my uncle had passed away suddenly on August 1st. We had his funeral in the midst of all the covid protocols and then on August 9th, my brother died. My brother died. I still have a hard time saying that...and typing it. I still can not wrap my mind around it. It is still unreal. How can my brother have died? Why did he die? Why did he have to die? WHY!?!? That night will forever scream in my brain. Finishing supper, phone ringing, Mom's calling, Mom is screaming. All I hear is Dad, brother's name, and dead. I have no idea what is happening. All I hear is screaming. Not sure if it was Mom or me at that point.
The rest became a blur. Hubby jumped up and took off to their house. I had to put on clothes. I was dressed for bed. Phone calls to neighbors for help. Phone calls to someone else...not sure who...I just can't remember. I think I called my girls. Maybe my hubby called them. I just remember getting there, running across the back yard, seeing my daddy at the gate with my husband. The look on my husband's face. I couldn't see Dad's at the time. Running in the house to find Mom. Our neighbors had beat me there. She was with Mom. Oh my poor mom....
Something clicked...take care of things mode...ON. Protector mode...ON. Caretaker mode...ON. Oldest child mode...ON. Make phone calls. Monitor phone calls. Manage company. Check on Mom. Check on Dad. Text baby brother. Text daughters and check on them. Answer questions. Wait for medical examiner. Wait. Wait. Wait. I don't know if I even cried that night. Everything was such a blur and so unbelievable. But I didn't have time to let it all sink in. I learned a long time ago how to "suck it up" and put things in a neat little box somewhere in my mind to deal with later, and that is what I did. I had to make sure my mom was okay. She just lost her brother and now her son. I had to make sure my dad was okay. He had found my brother and had to tell mom and call 911. Oh...there were all these things....I just can't unpack them all....not yet.
Grief doesn't let those boxes stay packed. Grief shakes them around and let's things spill out at the most inopportune times. Driving down the road...and suddenly you can't breathe because something shook the box. Paralyzing anxiety and sadness that spill out and force you to stay in bed for a day. Tears that will not stop. Seeing your loved one, but it's not really him, riding his bike down the road and you start to pull over and see if he wants a ride....then realize it isn't him. It can't be him.
Anger. Anger at him. Anger at God. Anger at the situation. Anger at the reason for his death...or what we suspected at the time. Anger with myself for wasting years. Anger because we had just started to mend our relationship and now...now we can't do more. Anger because that last day I saw him...I was irritated with him and did not spend the time I should have with him. Oh this emotional roller coaster has so many dips and turns that I'm not sure how to survive it.
This is what is starting to open up again. This is the box on the shelf that is starting to tumble off and spill everywhere. I really am not ready to look at it all again, but I know I must. This summer, this time to rest, grieve, and heal is the time to unpack these things and deal with them. Writing it one way I do that. This is going to be a difficult journey. I have avoided opening up my laptop because I do NOT want to do this. But, here I am, taking deep breaths and trying to just take things as they come.