I lied. Things are not going okay.

Sort of a recap. About 2 months ago, the day of the 2024 election, I tried to end my life by overdose. Thankfully, someone caught me before I had the chance to go through with it. After being caught, I finally broke down and told said person what I was dealing with at the time. With that person's help, I was able to go to therapy and generally recover from events in my past.

A few days later, after I finished my last scheduled meeting with my therapist, my foster brother (15M) got into an argument with his ex gf at the time. My brother was trying to help me recover after therapy that day when he heard this news. His ex got mad at him for being around me all the time, saying smth like "he's not even your real brother. Why do you care so much?" before finally saying that her and my brother are breaking up.

I want to say this now. My brother had been abused by his previous foster family both sexually and physically. (mostly sexually) This breakup was coming after he had seen a member of said foster family at the hospital where I was doing my therapy sessions. While I was discussing stuff with my therapist, my parents were in the waiting room with my brother, who also had a meeting with said therapist I was seeing. This is kinda unrelated overall, but does provide a bit of context.

After my brother broke up with his ex, he began distancing himself from me and my parents, saying that he didn't want to be a burden to us and that we shouldn't try to help him. I tried everything I could to talk with him and keep him safe from harming himself. He almost entirely stopped talking to me and my parents, even going as far as to run from us if he was seen at all.

One night, about 2 weeks ago as of writing this post, my brother brought me to his room. At the time, I thought he was going to let me talk with him, but that was not the case. He told me what his ex was doing to him and what he was going through outside this relationship. He was being verbally attacked by his ex and her family, almost being blackmailed into staying quiet after they physically scarred my brother. (That family is in prison now, on multiple different accounts and reasonings)

This next part gets disturbing, so be warned.

My brother began telling me how seeing me recover was why he dealt with any abuse he was dealing with, saying that he wouldn't want to see me in his situation again. He then out of nowhere asked me to get him something to drink, so I went to get him a glass sof water. I never should've left him by himself that day.

When I got back to him, I saw that he had cut his wrists with a razor. In a panic, I tried to get the wounds to stop bleeding, but neither wound ever did. I called 911 as fast as I could, but when I finished with the call, my brother was already limp on his bed.

I was completely devastated at this point, just staring at my brother who committed suicide in the seconds I wasn't by his side. I remember falling to my knees and gently holding his hand as the ambulance showed up, paramedics rushing inside to find us.

I cant out into words or text what I felt in that moment, seeing someone bleed out with my own eyes. All the days of therapy and recovery I had were useless, right there and then as I saw my brother being taken away by paramedics.

The sheer disbelief and hopelessness I felt the day after made me think that I couldn't recover anymore, and I still feel that dread today. The morning after this all happened, I almost subconsciously tried to kill myself by overdosing again, but I was caught again by my dad. Everything in that moment felt distant, like I wasn't the one controlling my own body. When I finally knew what was happening, I was in a hospital room surrounded by my family and my therapist. The next few days went by, and I didn't make any progress on recovering from my brother's death.

Since that day, I've hit my true lowest point in life, like any and all progress i made on getting better just went down the drain. I can't think straight, do simple tasks, or even speak clearly or understandably. These past few weeks have legitimately broken me.

I'm seriously grateful for anybody who even tried to read the essays of trauma in this post.