My family is in a frenzy right now.
The anniversary of my uncle’s death is coming around, and this time has always been a hard one for my family (on my mom’s side)
None of us have ever really gotten closure after his death. I was so young but I can remember it like it was yesterday…
My Uncle Silhadi comes to visit us (this was back when we lived in a condo in Yonkers) and he usually didn’t stop by that early in the morning, but this morning he did. He hugged us all, and gave us all compliments. He said goodbye to my mother and we all stood out on the porch watching him make his exit and waving goodbye.
Not even 10 minutes later, we get a phone call. All I can remember hearing was my mother screaming at the top of her lungs, “Silhadi!! Silhadi”.
I was about 4 or 5, I really didn’t understand what was going on. I grabbed a photo album and I pointed at a picture of my uncle. My mother broke down in tears.
My uncle drove straight into the guardrail. That didn’t kill him though; the seatbelt he was wearing cut straight into his chest and ripped his chest open. If he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, he could possibly be alive today. He was almost two times the legal limit. (Yes, we have alcoholism on my mom’s side). But his death was determined to be Volkswagen’s fault.
My cousin, who is 33, tends to go off the rails around the anniversary of his father’s death. Usually, it’s not so public. This year, he decides that he is giving his body to the universe for the universe to control.
He made two What’s App groups, one for women and one for men. He says that he is getting messages from god and he will revealing them in the groups. At first, I found this to have a David Kuresh flavor. But then I learned more…
I, of course, was not invited to the group. My family knows that I don’t believe in god.
Instead of my family talking to my cousin and helping since he is obviously going through some sort of a psychotic break, they allow him to believe, and spew this bullshit. They even double down on it.
He has added his clients (he is a hair dresser at a high end salon in the city), acquaintances, his boss, everyone he knows (except me) in this chat.
He hasn’t eaten in 7-8 months, and he says he is doing a fast for spiritual reasons. (If never heard of a fast that lasted that long, maybe something Ghandi has done but… this is pure starvation) I messaged him this morning and I didn’t really beat around the bush:
Of course he will not respond. He think it’s righteous and what he’s doing is helping his development.
I think his development is better served by seeing a psychologist.
Africans are notoriously anti-psychology. Not that he’s been raised as an African, but I think the same goes for American Blacks. I actually wrote a full 10 page paper about this topic… which I will not detail here, but if your brother is in need of help, you need to help them!!!
My sister keeps detailing the chat to me, and it’s making me even more angry. It’s a cry out for help. A manic cry out for help. Not only that, he will lose clients and business if his customers think he’s this crazy! My sister says that a lot of his messages show grandiose ideas.
I’m not a psychiatrist, but this looks like bipolar disorder.
god is something that people lean on when they know nothing else to do. We lean on something fictional to get us through the day, when really… we need to recognize what it is that is making us feel this way and try to fix that, instead of leaving your life to the universe to handle.
The universe is a fucked up place, and my belief tells me that I am the master of my own universe. I wish people saw things a little more like me.
UPDATE: someone from my family finally decided to listen to me and brought my cousin up to my mom’s house. He is now eating and being taken care of by my mom and my brother. I’m not as worried now, I hope he stays for as long as he need to. The anniversary is on the 10th.
if I didn’t have my siblings, I don’t know where or who’d I’d be. Every time I’m angry, sad, depressed, happy, I can turn to them with no judgement… and they make me feel better.
I have tears in my eyes when I talk about my siblings because I can’t imagine feeling what my mother felt that day. I would be a mess.
Though sometimes they don’t listen to me when I am right, I love my family. I wouldn’t trade them for anything I’m so glad I have them. I feel lucky because I do have them.