Coming Home

My entire body ached like I had been hit by a truck. Just opening my eyes felt like the most exhausting thing I had ever done, even harder than BUD/S or Green Team. By the time I had them open, I was in more pain than I had been, seeing my surroundings.

Hospitals were a fucking nightmare of mine. Every time I was in one, I felt like I was trapped. It was one thing to going to a hospital willingly, but I had no recollection of why I was here. As my eyes took in what was around me, I noticed my band mates in various states of sleep. A small smile ghosted my lips, but then I looked down and saw my hands were restrained. That's when it all came flooding back to me.

The actual thought of my attempted suicide burned my insides as I recalled taking those pills. My right hand was wrapped in gauze from where I had hit the wall, mirror, and medicine cabinet. My throat felt like it was on fire from the pills tearing at my esophagus. What hurt the most though was my stomach. From what I was remembering of trying to kill myself, they probably had to pump my stomach.

A groan escaped my mouth and four pairs of eyes snapped over to me. There were chocolate brown eyes that were narrowed, frustration clear in them. Green ones held a muted tone of sympathy. Brooks just looked happy I was awake. It was really Johnny's eyes that made me realize how fucked up what I did was. Johnny was our strong one. Seeing him with tears in his eyes broke me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, tears that hadn't fallen since Jimmy had died. I could feel them trail down my cheeks as the boys hugged me. They held on to me like I had died and been resurrected. It felt good to feel them, to feel alive again.

But as they hugged me, I realized why I did try to kill myself. People have this thought that those who attempt suicide or succeed at it, felt like they had no choice. They think we're trying to take an easy way out. That's not the way we view it. Everyone tries to talk you out of it by saying there's so much to live for. What those people aren't fucking realizing is that we tried to kill ourselves because we saw nothing left to live for! I was glad I was alive, but I just wish that my life was in a better place than I had imagined it to be in.

"Matt, why?" Zach's voice sounded broken.

"It's not an answer you'll understand or want to hear." My voice was rough. "I didn't see a way my life could get better, Zacky. The demons, the nightmares, everything from that war all the way back to 2003 lives in my brain.

"I cannot sleep without seeing the things that happened, the things I did. Jesus, I killed people. And the thing is, I don't know how many innocent lives I took. I don't know what I did beyond what I was told to do. And then Jimmy died!

"You and Brian and Johnny and Brooks all have a place in life they feel comfortable with. You all have wives and children, and the one person that I loved... fuck! I still love her, I probably always will, doesn't love me back." The tears kept streaming down my face. "I didn't see the light. I didn't see the good in my life, but that's the thing with depression and PTSD, it blinds you."

Brooks smiled at me. "Matt, this doesn't make you a weaker person. It makes you human. You are struggling with mountains of mental health issues, and you are trying to make yourself feel better. It is going to to take time. This... this is a hurdle you didn't quite make it over. And trust me, Matt, I understand. I tried myself about ten years ago."

I looked at the man I saw as my older brother. "What helped you through?"

"I'd be lying if I said my wife didn't help, but it really boiled down to my brothers. We're here, Matt. And we don't want you to feel alone... ever."

I nodded. My brothers loved me. That was all that mattered.

Notes

Short, corny, but important.