Tomorrow is Going to Be Better
It’s all real. I can’t fix it. There’s nothing I can do. These are reminders that are difficult to digest.
I arrived home after a 10 hour workday with tasks still to complete. I looked around my vehicle at all of the documents, folders and swag I bring along with me, paused for a second then proceeded to organize some items for the following day. Exhausted and a bit flustered from the day’s challenges, I found a stopping point then stepped out of my car.
On a typical day, I’d take 6 flights of stairs up to my apartment in lieu of the elevator. On this particular day, I wasn’t feeling it. I walked over to the elevators and waited for a few minutes, only to find out our second elevator was down for maintenance yet again. I should have taken the stairs. A few moments later, a neighbor of mine arrives, takes one look at me and says, “tomorrow is going to be better.”
He didn’t have any idea how long I’ve been praying for that tomorrow, but I appreciated the comment nonetheless. The scariest thought recently crossed my mind — I can’t do this anymore. I’m exhausted. I had been running from it for quite some time, but recent events have forced me to slow down. Over the past several months, I’ve just worked my ass off and practically avoided acknowledging how I truly feel. I became great at dismissing it. So many emotions have been bottled up that all rose to the surface at once. The meditation, therapy, exercise and work routine helped me remain present, but I had to pause to be honest with myself. It’s all real. I can’t fix it. I’m unable to bring any of the people I love back into my life, no matter what I do.
Acceptance is the toughest part. Early on, I tried to force myself to accept it. I forced a lot. I might have even unknowingly lied to myself about it. I said I couldn’t deny it if the truth was written. The cognitive dissonance that followed only caused me more pain. The statistics tell an astonishing story. According to CDC data from 2021, men represent ~50% of the population, but ~80% of suicides. When you have a victim in your family, your individual chances rise 2x-3x. With the odds clearly stacked against me, I have been fighting an uphill battle.
To quote a UT-Austin article on coping with suicide, “Losing a friend or loved one is never easy. However, when you lose someone to suicide, it can feel different from other types of loss. Several circumstances can make death by suicide different, making the healing process more challenging.”
After all of this, giving up made a lot of sense. I wanted to understand the emotions, so I wrote.
It scared the shit out of me.
“I’ve carried a lot, but over the past few years, the weight has just gotten to be unbearable. I couldn’t have imagined ever actually getting here, but mentally, this pain doesn’t even feel human. I have been anxious, afraid and saddened by loss. Constantly waking up with a cloud of confusion, head pounding, anxiety through the roof, with my mind and body feeling like they’re on fire, I cannot see any light from here.”
My dad said to take it day by day. What the enemy meant for evil, God uses for good.
My eldest sister sees the bigger picture and reminds me to be a vessel.
My youngest brother gave me a reminder that it’s more than me.
My nephew said he wants to make a time machine, so he can go back and save his uncles. The level of awareness he possesses reminds me of where I was as a kid, but he appears to be even further along.
Many people have asked if I am okay. That’s a tough question to answer. I work on myself every single day, so I am intentional about giving myself the space necessary to learn, develop, heal and help others along the way. People have shared how impressed they are with my ability to keep going.
This is hard. I’m still processing everything that happened and the one thing I know to do is to continue documenting the journey. It’s unsafe to give my energy to pain every moment of the day, but I have realized how important it is to address the moments when they come. I don’t want people to feel what my brothers felt. I don’t want people to feel what I felt. All of the losses are part of the trauma and if we don’t intentionally address it consistently, we are setting ourselves up for potentially even bigger losses — and that includes losing ourselves.
You are loved. You are special. Your life is worth living.
Tomorrow is going to be better, but today is going to be great too.
