As a person who’s life could be described as one traumatic event after another, I’m really good at catastrophic thinking.  I can plan for the worst with the best of them.  I mean, I used to think about the fact that terrorists could hijack a plane and use it as a missile ever time I got on an flight long before 9/11.  

It’s a defense mechanism.  A survival instinct.  If I can imagine the worst case scenario, I can plan for it.  And if I can plan for it, then it won’t be that bad.  Except it doesn’t actually work that way.  No matter how much you plan for the worst, when the worst happens you are still taken by surprise and it still sucks.   

So, it’s kind of hard to believe that it never once occurred to me that my brother would die before I did.  Or that he’d die before he turned 50.  I mean, it should have occurred to me.  I have thought about every other person who is important to me dying before me – my parents, my wife, my friends, my son; but not once did it occur to me that Matt would die before I did.  

He’s been with me through all the tragedies.  Every death that I’ve ever faced in my life, he’s been there.  And now he’s not, because he died a week ago.  

I have never felt so alone, despite being surrounded by so many people, in my life.   And I’ve found myself unable to believe that I never thought of it – as if thinking of it would have made it easier.  I know it wouldn’t, and still I’m mad at myself for not thinking of it.  

This is how my brain works.  This is what a lifetime of trauma and tragedy does to a brain.  It warps your thinking.

I have been doing all the things that I know I need to do to take care of myself.  I’ve been meditating.  I’ve been talking about my feelings.  I’ve been to meetings.  I’ve made and taken phone calls.  I went to a therapy appointment.  I’ve examined the root causes of my uneasiness when others offer help.  It’s clear to me that I’ve made a ton of progress over the past 7.75 years. I can identify the specific feelings that I have now – the ones that I didn’t understand in the past.  The ones I drank over.

 It’s also clear to me that the work never ends.  

This evening, I found myself enticed by an ad for some kind of special ice maker.  The ad showed two rocks glasses, one with regular ice, and one with this super special clear ice.  Bourbon was poured over the ice in each glass and the special ice seemed to completely disappear in the bourbon.  I have to admit that the bourbon looked good for an instant.  It was powerful – and then reality hit me.  

No romancing the drink.  

I had a bowl of ice cream instead.  I’ll go to bed with a clear mind and a clear conscious and I’ll wake up feeling better.