Some big events occurred in my life not too long ago at the end of March that made me wonder about myself. On March 30^th, my older brother died while I rested my arms and body on his. I didn’t cry nor did I care about all the medical equipment and blood on him and or around me. All I wanted to do was to hold him as he was taken from my hands in Gods. [Skipping here and there] I made sure I felt his heart and his warm body when he was alive until his heart stopped beating and his body turned cold. I haven’t spoken about it nor have I shared in details as to my feelings with my family as they are hurting a lot due to our loss of him.

…I have scolded him, made fun of him (mutual thing between us), was disappointed in him, didn’t care for him (at times), was mad at him, and never proud of him…

My brother has always been a problem for my family and me; raised in a good home but turned towards crime and always mooching off of family and others. He was, however, good with people and liked to help them with their own problems but never his own.

I would find myself, at times, thinking about him and wanting to help him in ways that I could only do so after my heart healed from his inflicted wounds. I do not feel that I ever gave up on him but just didn’t help in guiding him. Was that my job as a younger brother out of the two?

My family kept on his back and did all that they could for him. Some of the things they did for him are incomprehensible in terms of “family love” so not sure if me not-helping him was due to the “mental misunderstanding” of support that in my own mind I thought would be a lack of on my behalf. However, a simple (not so simple in some terms) thought occurred to me that I could have just talked with him from my heart, as a human being to another human being on a level reserved for two people whom really care for each others wellbeing. If I would have done so, to what extent, path, or level do I take? My mind thinks it would be like trying to row a canoe upstream with a paddle that had large holes in it; accomplishable but to what effort and is the effort lost at its end because the stream would eventually take me right back down it.

So why am I wondering about myself? I’m wondering what energies kept me strong not only for myself but for my family. What kept me going during our hard times (and still present) that I cannot seem to do for myself, as strong, like I did for others?

Being a part of life, seeing and hearing the struggles of it (my brother’s, my family’s in more ways than one and even my own), what is WHAT?

Answers to the thoughts and questions that I have are not particularly educated conclusions so of course I am not satisfied with them. I want to know why it is that [I] as a person cannot permanently be free of anxieties but can do so in the time of need of others. Does helping other people “cope from issues” help me? Why does it feel like [I] have been given a gift of emotions and the only thing useful with it is to be more-in-tune with other people’s emotions?

I wonder if I have ever helped others with regards to them understanding his/her emotions when trauma arises. Would my help amount enough by being there for them so that they do not trigger some cell/chemical/neuron reaction, which ultimately leads to anxieties? If so, great! But then where was my “helper” when I first started to inhibit the signs of anxieties?

Here’s what I do know, I know that [I] (we) am (are) special and a gift from God. To be able to realize my (our) own limitations so that [I] (we) may help others with theirs is indeed a gift, but…, usually with every gift is a cost. I would consider anxieties as the “cost” but it just feels like there is something else lurking inside of me that is the cost, what is it? That is a question I do not understand.