we are all complicated. we are all love.

one of the hardest things about scottie's death - which is probably felt by many families of people who overdose - is trying to find out the impossible why. it's like scott's life was a huge puzzle, where so many of the tiny pieces are lost. i want to dig beneath the couch cushions & sweep over the entire floor, finding each & every missing fragment to somehow assemble the mystery into something tangible & conclusive. but i know no matter how deep i search, i will never be able to fully comprehend my brother's death.

there are so many layers that complicate a person. we all easily label people to separate them into certain areas in our lives. but when you assemble all these segments together, it creates a true, beautiful, intricate human being. one part of my brother i am just beginning to understand is his mental illness. bipolar runs strong on both sides of my family. scottie was diagnosed with the disorder as a teenager, & again in florida, but didn't do anything about it. i think his only way of dealing with his extremes of mania & depression was to self-medicate, first with pot & alcohol. no one wants to feel more different than they already believe they are, especially in those formative teen years. you are already trying so hard to fit in & make friends. scott at that time was dealing with being home alone with a very sad mom, & a dad who was trying really hard to assimilate him into a foreign family. my brother probably just wanted some peace & normalcy. he needed somehow to be himself, without having to be a different son for each of my parents.

scottie was always a people pleaser. he loved to make people laugh & feel loved & accepted. as much as he loved this role, it must have been exhausting & an impossible task for him to fulfill. he couldn't seem make my mom happy & he wasn't able to bring my dad back. when his friends started doing other drugs, he didn't want to disappoint them; after all he was the life of the party. at the same time, he liked the drugs & the drinking. with them he was able to escape the reality that had been haunting him.. the cavernous depths that his thoughts would fall into & the secret toxic memories that were kept down below the surface but never fully forgotten.

studies show that drugs can hinder a person's maturity. my brother never seemed to grow emotionally or mentally older than a teenager. as he got older, it was difficult for him to think about his future. he could envision grandiose plans for himself but when it came to taking the first step, you could actually see his brain shut down. the light in his eyes would fade & he wasn't able to talk about it anymore. anything beyond the moment was too far off, too foreign for him. i think he liked the dreaming more than the succeeding. but while he was imagining, other former high school friends were actually doing. he found other friends who were younger & closer to his maturity level. or he hung out with older people who shared scott's stunted mentality. they were alcoholics & drug users & gladly provided scottie with as much self-medication as he desired.

all the while the caverns in my brother's brain were growing wider & deeper. he experienced more damaging memories & they, too, were colliding around secretly inside his mind. his drug use & drinking became a way to escape. but it also became routine. scott created bonds with others because he was unknowingly falling away from the people he loved the most. i wish i could see through my brother's eyes & know what he was thinking & feeling. i wish i could know all those secret stories that plagued him. i haven't decided if i should keep hidden the ones that he told me, or let them free. but the ones i know are sad & horrible. & scottie had lived quite a full life for someone a few months into his 24th year.

i have to be okay with never knowing the whole truth. i think it would be too much for me to handle anyway. my brother was a sad & hurting soul, but brought so much joy & love to people around him. i wish i could tell him that having a mental illness isn't so uncommon or harmful. one of our most beloved presidents, honest abe lincoln, is now thought to have suffered with depression throughout his presidency & most of his life. unfortunately, he probably wouldn't be elected into such an office today because people with mental illness are as seen as unpredictable or incompetent. but when has anyone been truly steadfast & unfailing?

maybe it starts with me. if i was diagnosed as bipolar tomorrow, how would i take it? would i be so lighthearted & secure in myself? honestly, i think i'd feel how scottie did: scared, confused, in denial. but through scottie, i know i'd have to not only accept it, but to own it. each & every one of us has something impure, that we'd rather keep hidden inside. but that's where it festers. & it usually ends up eating us from within. then we look outside of ourselves for happiness, acceptance, & salvation. maybe we can help each other to find the goodness that lives inside ourselves, especially in the forms of mental illness, addiction & deep dark secrets. we will soon find that we are not alone.. & that we are all beautiful, intricate & true. that we are all love.