After my brother died, I felt guilty when experiencing joy. I'm learning to let go of that.

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The first time I felt true joy in the months after my brother Ben's death it was followed by a wave of depression that I had never anticipated. I hadn't felt joy, true happiness, in so long that I didn't think those kinds of highs were even possible. Then, when it happened, it was as if I had finally made it to the top of the tower of terror, only to plunge back down again.