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I don't know your brother, but I do know depression (at least my depression - it does seem to manifest a little differently from one person to another). When I'm suicidal, it would never even cross my mind that my death would hurt anybody, because it would never cross my mind that I matter enough to anyone for that. I pulled myself away from it when ds1 was about six, by reminding myself that if he were the one who found my body, that experience would scar him for life...but I still didn't really believe it would hurt him. I thought he'd be better off without me (and my ex was barely employed and refusing work for no reason, doing nothing around the house, barely interacting with ds1, and sliding down a path of crack addiction that eventually ended up with him on the streets, then in jail). I truly believed that the best thing I could do for my son was remove myself from his life. Depression is really, really, really ugly.







