My brother

Very much love and sympathy,

Clyde

(((((((rapunzel)))))))))

Rapunzle,

That is just sad. I am so sorry for your loss.

I don't know what else to say, but pleae feel free to PM me.

Hugs,

EJ

((((((((((((((( Rap )))))))))))))))

Love,
Fuzzy

My deepest condolences to you and your family. I personally know who difficult that can be. if you need to chat pm me anytime.

warmest wishes,
agony007

Thanks again, everyone. I'd like to tell you a little bit about my brother. I can't remember what I have already told you. I never did really know him very well, and I am sad that I didn't. I am afraid that I wasn't much help to him either. He was 8 years younger than me, and when he was little, he irritated me so much! He went in my bedroom and messed up my stuff and dumped out my perfume. He did gross things like licking all the salt off of crackers and then serving the crackers to everyone, and then announcing that he had licked them first. Once I screamed at him, "I hate you!"

As he grew up, Brent had a rough time. He was a smart kid. He figured out how to read at 3 or 4 years old, by asking people what sounds the letters made. He had a poem published in a city newspaper when he was in kindergarten. He called himself a genious. But he didn't get along with other kids at all. He was big and awkward and clumsy, and lacked social awareness. Later on, we found out that he had muscular dystrophy (it's a non-debilitating form, but it affected him, and does me too although less noticeably). He probably had a pervasive developmental disorder - on the autistic spectrum, but not clearly enough to be recognized and treated when he needed it. He had more and more problems in school (with social aspects) as a teen, and stopped going to school at around 15 years old. By that time I had moved out and cut off contact with the family, so I have found most of this out from other family members. Brent was eventually hospitalized and diagnosed with schizophrenia. He had suicide attempts, and besides hating himself, apparently he had voices telling him to do it. He also turned himself in to the police for molesting our youngest sister, who has Down Syndrome. The first time, years ago, nobody was sure that he had actually done anything, and since there was no evidence and he was having problems, he went to a group home and there was no conviction.

He went back to living at home, and seemed to be stable on medication. My mother told me once that Brent felt like trying to finish school (he did get his GED), and go to college and get a job. In other words, he was interested in having a life. But this made mom uncomfortable so she asked for his medication to be increased so that he "wouldn't over-exert himself."

More years passed, and his doctor was concerned about weight gain and high blood pressure related to the meds. He switched to a new med, and didn't do well with it at all. He said that he was having trouble and something was going to happen. Mom tried to get him admitted somewhere, but there was no hospital that would take him. Apparently they don't believe in prevention - the problem has to have already occured before they will do anything about it. So he turned himself in for molesting our sister again. This time, he apparently did (and maybe he did before too - we don't know). He apparently had thoughts that were abhorrent to him, and he believed that he should be punished for his thoughts. Since nobody was willing to punish him for having bad thoughts, he acted them out so that he would be punished. He also thought that somebody should just blow up the world because he didn't want to exist anymore.

Brent was in jail, without a trial and without adequate treatment (sometimes meds were withheld, and he never had supportive therapy), for two years. He killed himself after being transferred out of jail but was in a temporary setting while they were deciding where to send him next. He didn't get adequate treatment, and lost everything that was keeping him going - his books, visitation, etc. The system is way messed up. People who need help are not able to get it, and then they are punished for having a mental illness that they can't control and aren't given the support that they need to control it.

My brother was an incarcerated sex offender, and I didn't always like him very much even before that. But I also know that he got a raw deal in life, and he could have done so much better. He had good talents and interests too, and he wanted to do good. His thinking was messed up, but he actually had impossibly high morals and values. There was just a major disconnect somewhere. He deserved better than he got. I feel horrible that I failed him. I didn't really get to know him (other than through e-mail for a couple of years). I'm concerned about another sister, who probably really does (or did) hate him, as she was unable to take into consideration all of the relevant facts and limitations. She wanted to exclude him from a family website, family activities, etc. I think that will catch up with her at some point, although I can't blame her for feeling what she does. I just think that she may have some regrets eventually.

Current events at PC are hitting a little too close to home for me right now. I used to wish that my brother could participate in this community and get some support and encouragement. But now I know that he would not have been welcome here. At a time when my life feels like utter chaos, and I need this community the most, I'm not sure what I feel - the word coming to mind is betrayal, although it isn't me who has been betrayed. Maybe that isn't the right word, but this community is something that I rely on, and right now it just feels like it is continually being torn apart. People whom I love and care about disagree with each other and can't get along. It hurts. And I am afraid to say what I really feel and to share experiences such as what I have just written, because maybe it isn't acceptable.

My family never was much for communication. They kept what was happening with my brother a secret. They wanted to protect the relatives from knowing about it. My parents overprotected my brother, and me, and all of us. It was not helpful. It was destructive, and finally lethal. I'm seeing those same patterns here now. And I am afraid to say so because someone probably won't like it. This doesn't feel safe to me. But it needs to be said.

I'm sorry if I have offended anyone.

Rap

(((Hugs))) Take care of yourself. I look forward to reading your brother's story.

My uncle was a musician and we played his CDs at the memorial service. It gave us all a comforting reminder of how he was when he was feeling healthy.

I'm so sorry your brother had such a troubled life. It is heart-breaking that he didn't get the help he needed -- especially early on when he was a child. I'm also sorry that your younger sister was victimized. It's such a horrible situation.

My little brother was adopted and had similar issues to your brother as a child. He went to reform school for the first time at the age of 12 and stopped going to school at 13. He was very bright, but his behaviour and inability to pay attention got him expelled. He spent quite a bit of time in jail after he turned 18 and then he spent time in rehab (very helpful). It wasn't until he was in his 20s that we found out the reason for so many of his behaviours and challenges -- he had Fetal Alcohol Effects. We are incredibly fortunate that he has struggled through, getting support and doing well now -- staying out of jail and has had a full-time job for nearly 2 years.

I wish your brother could have found the help he needed. I agree with you about prevention. It's not right that we have to wait for something horrible to happen before a person gets the help they need.

I hope you can take some comfort in the fact that he is no longer in pain and is in a place of love and peace now. I hope you can find some peace and solace in your own mind. Once again, my condolences. This is so sad and I'm so sorry this has happened and you're in such pain.

((((((( hugs )))))))))

Juliana, thanks for understanding, and I am sorry that you have been close enough to a similar situation to understand. I'm glad that your brother is getting better help now, and hope that he keeps it up.

Rap

Today was his birthday. He would have been 30. I have been thinking about him today. I wish that I could have made a difference, and that he could have realized that he did have options in life.

Just over a week ago, my T was telling me that my "pseudopsychosis" is not organic, and I'm not crazy. I could easily let go of my grip on reality if I chose to, but T says I couldn't stay there for long. Even though my brother was diagnosed schizophrenic, I don't think that his psychosis was any more organic than my own. He didn't have to be limited in life, the way he was. Mom wanted us all to be so impaired that we would always need her. I managed somehow to break free (sort of), but Brent didn't. She got to him, and convinced him that he had no future. She didn't mean for him to die, but she kept him from having a life of his own. He could have been helped, and nobody helped him. My T never met him, but she also said he probably could have recovered. He could have had the same choices in life that anyone does. But it is too late for him now.

Twist, written by Brent when he was 14, and starting to develop symptoms of schizophrenia:

What I am about to relate to you is something very odd that happened to me. It may help scientists to understand the nature of our universe, though no one who did not witness it first hand could ever fully understand what happened completely. I am not the best one to describe what happened, but no one else was there, and I feel responsible to do my best and try. Almost everything I say will be nothing more than the closest substitute I could find.
My friend Keith and I were walking home one day early in the school year when we noticed a most peculiar object in our path. It was best described as a silvery-white sphere levitating above the ground. Even if I tried to look directly at it, my eyes could not focus on it. I couldn’t tell exactly where it was, except that it somehow was “above” everything in a totally new way.
Keith decided to examine it more closely, but when he tried to touch it, his hand slipped or rolled or something, and vanished into thin air. I couldn’t see a hole, but his hand simply was not there! He then “twisted” in a way that made me realize that higher dimensions were involved. I could still recognize him as Keith, but he did not look like anything that naturally exists in the way the dimensions are set up in our perception. Parts of him were appearing and disappearing, growing and shrinking, and dancing wildly all over the place. At the same time he stayed motionless and unchanged.
Then the whole situation became extremely odd. As his appendages flailing back and forth, I couldn’t watch any longer. I looked away, and saw birds in the sky flying back and forth. I remember those few minutes happening dozens of times, even though I think it probably only happened once. The multiple copies of him continuously dragged on and on flowing, melting, turning inside out, and making completely indescribable motions, his insides visible at the same time as his outside. Then, as if I were awakening from a dream, it all stopped. My friend and the object were gone.
Finally, I was able to make my body work, and I ran home. The rest of that day is missing from my memory. I wouldn’t and couldn’t let myself go back the same way the next morning. All day I went about my business like a mute zombie. After school, I had to go back. As I walked, I was able to think about what had happened. I realized that I didn’t remember any details about the last seven hours. People must’ve asked if I knew where Keith was, and when they got no response, thought I was acting really strange.
I began to behold yesterday’s event all over again. I still have no idea whether it was actually before my eyes again or if it was only an extremely vivid flashback. When I arrived at the spot, I saw nothing, something, and everything all at once. But it wasn’t strange. It wasn’t anything to me. I had become emotionally numb. That same day repeats for a week in my memory. I have no idea what went on in that time, but I must’ve subconsciously done everything I normally do, because neither my grades nor my health suffered.
On my first day back in the realm of awareness, I noticed people looking at me strangely. How long had it really been? What if I had lost all my friends for good? I couldn’t bear the thought. I didn’t know what would be the best way of going about letting them know I was myself again, so I just kept silent through the morning.
At lunch, I sat with my friends, wondering if I had been doing so while my mind was out. I finally thought of something to say: “Hi!” They all gasped sarcastically and looked at me.
“He speaks!”
“He’s ba-ack (poltergeist style)!”
Then my girlfriend, Loren, came over to our spot on the quad, not noticing how I was acting: “Guys ! I finally got through to Keith’s house! He’s not just sick, he’s missing! No wonder this guy…” She saw that I was acting normal again and listening to her ramble on about what I already knew.
“Hi, Loren. I’m back in the realm of the living, in case you didn’t notice. So it wasn’t on the news? Not exactly surprising, considering the war taking up all the media. Exactly how strange was I acting?”
“Strange enough, but you had a good excuse. Look at me; I was born strange! People accept me without an excuse! By the way, would you happen to know how he disappeared?”
“Uh, no,” I said, more seriously than I would normally answer such a typical Loren question. We had previously lost a couple of our friends to drive-by shootings, and knew it helped to joke about things like this, and didn’t think of it as disrespectful. Most people would know that question was a dumb one, but Loren was known for blurting things out without thinking first. She wasn’t really dumb, just strange. Besides, this time it wasn’t dumb, even though I wouldn’t have been able to explain the truth. At any rate, the others teased her for seeming so dumb.
After that, I was usually a quiet person. Not too exciting, but not so boring that I would lose my friends. I kept my mind off the subject, and had to use hypnosis to keep my sanity while writing this. If I read this after it’s published, I’ll have no idea I wrote it.

Here, Brent is shown at age 27. He died at age 29.


This photo of Brent was taken at UC Davis Picnic Day in spring 1991. He was 13 years old. Around this time, Brent was showing the beginnings of a functional decline typical of a schizophrenia prodrome. He was later diagnosed with schizophrenia at age 17.

Hopefully, this story will be helpful.

The pictures didn't show up. I'll try to upload them to my photos.

Rappy, I love you.

Thanks Clyde.

Rap

You are very welcome, my love.