Nr. 21

I wanted to write down my thoughts today about me being adopted and how that has been growing up. Sort of to move away from constantly writing about lows and such. However, last night I did something I have never really done before and I felt I needed to talk (write) about it to sort it out. 

At around 1am I did a familiar staring-aimlessly-out-the-window routine. I remember doing this when I was a young boy too. I would smell the damp air that only nights seem to provide and I looked at all the houses; finding peace knowing they were sleeping, feeling solitude and calm. I could see a lighted window far away. It used to house a girl I had a crush on when I was about about 10 or younger. It pulled my mind into the realm of reminiscing and nostalgia. How easy life had been before it came crashing down when my sister died. I thought about Hillevi for quite a while and felt proud that I had managed to store so many detailed memories about her. For so long her memory was getting dimmer and at one point a couple of years ago I found myself not even remembering her voice. That was a heartbreaking moment and guilt came rushing in. This was not so long after I was diagnosed with depression so maybe it wasn’t that strange I couldn’t handle it properly. 

However, last night I remembered everything. The small details, long conversation...I felt her. I could see her. And I remembered her voice so clear I could almost swear she was right there by my side. I imagined she would be proud that I’m still here. It can be so hard sometimes thinking I can never tell her how much she meant to me and how much I loved and adored her. She wasn’t only my best friend, but my hero whom I would always try to make smile and laugh. She always accused me of being arrogant by boasting knowledge or always arguing every side of a case. I guess I always have been an INTP at heart. But then she would also tell my family how intelligent and creative I was. She would be impressed over all the crazy things I could do. And seeing her smile always made me want to keep doing crazy stuff to keep her smiling. I guess I knew even back then that she had this childish pure joy about her, but simultaneously riddled with darkness. I was saddened knowing that she can’t meet the people in my life. Most of them never met her except my friend, Fredrik. And he only met her a couple of times as we became friends about a year before she died. However, I did find solace in knowing she would have loved them all, especially because they take good care of me. She would see that quite easily. She could always tell my mood. If I was hurt she would know and stop by my room to talk. If I had a crush she would be so supportive and encouraging. If I had problems at school she would protect me from negativity. I was the younger sibling unable to truly understand the undying care she had. Even at that age she displayed more love and care than I see in most adults today. I love her still, but: 

She was a ferocious cheater in board games! She always cheated, but also always lost. Maybe on purpose, I’m not sure. She loved being caught cheating and I was usually the one pointing it out. We laughed and she swore she would never do it again...and I always believed her. 

She gave me so much love as an older sister. We never really fought. We had disagreements and she would be annoyed with me or I with her, but we never called each other names or yelled. And if we did have a sour phase we would hug it out ten minutes later, both engulfed in guilt. 

Last night I gave her my time and thoughts. I walked up to the attic from where she hung herself December 2nd 1998. I sat there and tried finding out how she must have felt and how she did it. There wasn’t any beams straight over the hatch so it must’ve been tied from a beam on the left. I sat there looking down the ladder, what must’ve been her last sight. Although knowing how my depression is I guess you don’t really see the reality around you. 

Whilst I was sitting there looking at the practical situation rather coldly I simultaneously ran questions of why this didn’t feel terrifying to me. I had no desire to end my life, I wasn’t experiencing a low. So why? I think I felt I owed it to her to try to understand and not run away from it. Or maybe I tried convincing myself I was ready for this, thus subconsciously (or consciously now) boosting my confidence.  To show myself I wasn’t afraid of this anymore. 

And strangely it kinda worked. I felt calm and even did some tidying up there while I was at it. Finding old toys and notebooks from school (my Mom saved everything and it seems no matter how much I find there’s always another box somewhere).

I didn’t sleep until 6am. I spent almost 5 hours with my sister. So even though I didn’t get much sleep I woke up feeling ok. I had plans to go out in the garden today and trim the hedges, maybe mow the lawn. However I think I’d rather want to savior this feeling of okay-ness. I can maybe do my chores later if possible.