tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62380688643209173002024-03-05T04:29:53.576-07:00My StoryMehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-29260474005291683212014-01-20T10:09:00.003-07:002014-01-20T10:09:44.054-07:00DreamsWhat is the meaning of a dream?<br />
<br />
Lily tells me that she believes that when her Daddy is in her dreams it is him communicating with her and letting her know he is sorry and he didn't mean to hurt her.<br />
<br />
I don't subscribe to this theory but I'm glad that he is "telling" her positive things rather than what he is "telling" me in my dreams.<br />
<br />
In my dreams Shawn is scary. For one thing...he isn't supposed to be there. He's dead. <br />
<br />
He is, isn't he??<br />
<br />
There are some variations on the dream but they are never happy.<br />
<br />
When he first died he would appear in my dreams and want to see the kids. In this dream I am horrified and scared for them. His anger and sickness are palpable and my fear is that they will be confused and hurt even more than they have been while processing his death. And then my dreaming mind starts to think, "How can you be alive?" And I start trying to get a glimpse at the side of his head looking for the bullet hole. And sometimes I can see it...just a gaping hole through the side of his head as he insists on seeing the kids.<br />
<br />
Lately he is just a threatening presence in my dreams. Angry. Sullen. Refusing to talk. Until he says something so caustic and scary like, "I should have shot you in the head."<br />
<br />
I am a spiritual agnostic. I do not believe in Heaven or Hell. I don't believe in ghosts. I do believe we have a soul and an energy that survives the death of our bodies.<br />
<br />
Is this really what he wants to "communicate" with me? Could it be that
his spirit is still angry at me? Did he keep his hatred of me after he
died?<br />
<br />
This is why I am somewhat speechless when Lily talks about her belief in dreams and her Daddy apologizing in them. I don't want her to know what he is saying in my dreams and I don't want to take away the comfort she is getting from believing. And yet, I have to hold on to my belief that dreaming of someone who died is simply your brain trying to process your own personal fears and feelings. <br />
<br />
It is just too scary to think otherwise. Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-14709555904944949702014-01-16T15:21:00.001-07:002014-01-16T15:21:29.959-07:00What It Was Like for Me the Day You Died - As submitted for publication...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<b>What It Was Like for Me the Day You
Died</b></div>
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<i>“They found him. He killed himself.”</i></div>
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It is the evening of my 40th birthday. A birthday I’ve been dreading
for months. Because 40 is old, right?</div>
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Our two kids are in the back seat laughing uproariously in that way
only eight- and nine-year-olds can.</div>
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<i>“They found him. He killed himself.”</i></div>
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As I hear those words come through the phone, the car crosses the
bridge over the little creek near our house. It will be over a year before I
can cross this bridge without reliving the moment of hearing that you, the
father of my two children, my former husband of 15 years, had chosen that day,
my birthday, to end your life.</div>
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Glancing in the rear-view mirror I viscerally understand . . . there is
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Instead, I say, “Mommy isn’t feeling very well. She has a tummy ache
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jammies on <i>right away</i> and get ready for bed and then I will come read to
you.”</div>
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And somehow, I do it. </div>
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I choke back the nausea. They need one more night of sleep. One more
night to just be little kids. I smile – wan as it may be, read them bedtime
stories and tuck them into bed, already calculating how many hours until I will
be waking them to the news that they will never see their daddy again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is tonight that I will discover that 40 isn’t really that old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it turns out you can become ancient in
just 11 hours.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The first few hours after the kids go to bed are busy enough that I
can’t feel it happening. I have to call people and let them know.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But then it is bedtime even for the adults, and I am alone.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Pacing in the dark.
Kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living Room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Living Room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living Room.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Looking at the
clock. Looking away. Looking back. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two
minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five minutes. Thirty seconds.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
What is a reasonable
time to wake them both up?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Count again
how many hours until I unburden myself from this horror. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
And do what? Change
their life? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
And what choice do I
have? The news is unavoidable and I have to be the one who delivers it. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Keep pacing. Keep
moving.</div>
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<br /></div>
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At some point, I think I feel your presence. Rage fills me. “Get
out! You have <i>no right</i> to be here. <i>Go away!” </i>Your presence
feels lonely, and I’m not going to be the one to comfort you or entertain your
regret. I am the only one <i>here</i> for the kids now. You chose this.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Once exhaustion sets in, I become almost delirious. I know lying down
to sleep would be futile, but I can’t keep walking anymore. Sitting next to the
bed and resting my head on the edge is as close as I’ll get to sleep for
another 24 hours.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And finally, the sun comes up, just as it does every day. At least as
long as you’re alive to see it.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our son is awake first. I call him into his sister’s room and we sit on
the bed. It’s nothing unusual; we frequently do that in the mornings. The
kids are smiling with the anticipation of a new day.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It’s just the three of us there in the room. All in this together. I’ve
decided at sometime during the night that your suicide will not define us.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And then I say it and it’s done: “I have something very hard to tell
you. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to say. Your daddy died yesterday.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The reaction is exactly as I imagined: wailing and looking at each
other and at me with wide, questioning eyes. “Is this real?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What happened?”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I tell them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is the right
thing for them to know the truth.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But there is still the part I can’t say. That I’m changed. I’m not just
40 years and one day old. When I stayed awake all night in order to keep them
young for one more bedtime, I grew old. I don’t tell them that they're old now,
too.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>This is the true story of my 40th birthday. I turned 42 this
past August.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-14817817883705749212013-08-21T09:36:00.001-06:002013-08-21T09:36:52.895-06:00So here we come up on 2 years since Shawn killed himself.<br />
<br />
My birthday again - number 42.<br />
<br />
Last year I remember being so concerned with what my birthday would be like and how to reclaim the day as my own.<br />
<br />
This year I feel very...blase. Very unusual for me who has relished each and every birthday as something exciting and special.<br />
<br />
My family keeps asking me, "What do you want for your birthday?". I have no answer. For the first time in my life I have nothing I "want" for my birthday.<br />
<br />
I know this happens to many people as they grown older - they just quit caring about their birthday - so maybe that is all it is. Or maybe this year will be like that and next year will be something different again.<br />
<br />
Lily asked me again last night what I want for my birthday and indicated she was running out of time to do something. She commented that last year I just "cried all day" and that we "didn't do anything special" for me. That isn't exactly how I remember it. Sure, I had a melt down when no one could possibly make my birthday special and perfect enough to make up for what a hard day it was. But everything turned out okay and we had a cake and they sang "Happy Birthday".<br />
<br />
Earlier in the summer I had thought about throwing myself a big party with friends but then I ran out of...time and apparently desire.<br />
<br />
Maybe not wanting the day to be a big deal is my way of not creating unrealistic expectations that will be only let down? Maybe it is my way of trying to take the power of his death away from a certain day that is loaded with "shoulds" of how one should feel ("We should be sad, this is the day that Daddy/Shawn died" or "We should be happy and joyous, it's Mom's birthday."). <br />
<br />
It really is just another day like any other. I am not actually a year older on August 29th - I am really just one day older than I was on August 28th. Shawn is not actually dead a year longer on August 29th - he is still dead, just one day longer than he was on August 28th.<br />
<br />
As for what I want...hugs.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-83770735739911191942013-08-01T22:09:00.001-06:002013-08-01T22:09:04.979-06:00No really, I'm Good.Well, hello.<br />
<br />
I'm still here.<br />
<br />
And gearing up to do some writing.<br />
<br />
In fact, I've decided to rewrite the story of staying up all night, waiting to tell my children their father was dead by his own hand, and submit it to a magazine that I've read religiously for years.<br />
<br />
When I look back at the various "Capital T" traumas in my life I would have to say that this was the worst of them all. And that's saying something considering my timeline.<br />
<br />
We are approaching the 2nd "anniversary" since Shawn's death...funny that...I've always thought it is so strange to use the word "anniversary" to describe the calendar date on which something terrible or tragic happened. To me "anniversary" always seemed like it should commemorate something happy and joyous.<br />
<br />
Of course you could always just call the day of Shawn's death, "Jennifer's Birthday" if that is any easier.<br />
<br />
While talking with her Grandpa Jack (my Mom's husband of 25+ years who is like a father to me), Lily retold a dream she had of her Father. In the dream her Father was there and was crying and said, "I'm so sorry. Will you forgive me?". This was very powerful for Jack because he had told the adults in the family that as he was playing guitar at the funeral he was overcome with this powerful sense of Shawn saying the same thing..."I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."<br />
<br />
Grandpa Jack is not a religious person, nor is he a particularly "new agey" type - he just felt this overwhelming sense that Shawn was very sorry and that we should forgive him.<br />
<br />
I thought about this a lot since hearing of Lily's dream (which she had not yet shared with me).<br />
<br />
I have felt Shawn's presence a few times. I did feel him with me the night he died as I counted the hours until I could wake the children. I railed at him and ordered him AWAY - that he had NO RIGHT!<br />
<br />
I've never had a sense of him saying, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." - it is always more of a sense of him enjoying the children via me which sometimes I allow to flow and other times I shut off.<br />
<br />
I wondered tonight, "How would I feel if I DID feel or sense this sentiment of, 'I'm so sorry. Please forgive me'". <br />
<br />
I realized that maybe I haven't heard this thought - if it were even possible for a deceased person to convey this sort of thing - because I don't want to hear it. I don't want to forgive him. I am angry and I don't feel like he just gets off that easy to say, "I'm so sorry." and then be forgiven.<br />
<br />
I don't hate him for what he did. I understand that he was in extreme pain.<br />
<br />
It's just that sorry sometimes doesn't cut it. <br />
<br />
When I last saw my therapist many moons ago we talked about my feeling (at that time) that maybe Shawn had thought, in some sick way, that killing himself on my birthday was a gift to me. Because, of course, some things were better after his death. I could make parenting decisions without the conflict between us that had become par for the course (and didn't seem to be getting any better despite my repeated attempts to ignore inflammatory remarks and pleading to move past the anger because it would be harmful to the kids). I no longer had to worry from month-to-month if he would be paying child-support or if he would be asking for yet another reduction. Now the Government sends me a check each month.<br />
<br />
Maybe like some other suicidal people Shawn convinced himself we were all better off without him.<br />
<br />
And then my therapist pointed out this...when was the last time Shawn had shown ANY gesture of kindness or compassion towards me?<br />
<br />
I had to admit that the last time I could remember was before Lily was even born.<br />
<br />
Add in the fact that his suicide note to Amber was filled with vitriol and blaming and that he could not have possibly been thinking rationally enough to decide, "Oh, she won't have to fight me on everything and she will get Social Security" and we know the answer.<br />
<br />
It was not gift to me - it was a punishment.<br />
<br />
I still wanted to believe that, even in his death, that Shawn had ultimately cared about and loved me when really all that was left was this empty shell of a man with hate where his soul had once been.<br />
<br />
So, yes, I don't think I'm ready to just say, "That's okay.".<br />
<br />
<br />Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-66091161834600215952013-04-26T12:48:00.001-06:002013-04-26T14:57:54.657-06:00Just Another Statistic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSdyi_cnYLKVU0LWHYEwr_caz3UWN89CPgn2C099OjHOrHnFBTTJPyohvRSMpTVgTrLqhttftXO84OcyudYTWMTj8wgc2c0jRvO-F_RCDXS2OfjTv3p8A2JHKs9yIV2pycSvnlSX-kknjd/s1600/Stat+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSdyi_cnYLKVU0LWHYEwr_caz3UWN89CPgn2C099OjHOrHnFBTTJPyohvRSMpTVgTrLqhttftXO84OcyudYTWMTj8wgc2c0jRvO-F_RCDXS2OfjTv3p8A2JHKs9yIV2pycSvnlSX-kknjd/s320/Stat+Photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There's been a lot of talk about guns in our country...for a long time. For most of my adult life I was aware of guns being used, not only as tools of the police or hunters, but for violence.<br />
<br />
There was a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/University_of_Iowa_shooting" target="_blank">mass shooting at the University of Iowa</a> when I was a student (a friend who was disliked by the gunman avoided being a victim because she happened to fill in at work for me that day instead of going to the meeting in the Physics Dept where the shooting happened). <br />
<br />
The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Columbine_High_School_massacre" target="_blank">Columbine shootings</a> happened right after Shawn and I moved to Colorado. I was saddened but detached (my typical reaction when these "big" things happen in the news). Shawn was devastated - it happened the day before his birthday and he actually drove the 90 minutes to Denver to attend a candlelight vigil.<br />
<br />
There are lots of others that come to mind: at a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Ysidro_McDonald's_massacre" target="_blank">McDonald's in California</a> in the 1970s when we happened to be there visiting my Grandparents, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virginia_Tech_massacre" target="_blank">Virginia Tech</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2012_Aurora_shooting" target="_blank">Aurora movie theatre</a>. And, of course, there is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandy_Hook_Elementary_School_shooting" target="_blank">Newtown</a> - which caused anxiety for anyone who has to send a child off to school in the morning.<br />
<br />
What I didn't realize until recently is that, by far, people using guns against *themselves* far surpasses all the other acts of violence combined.<br />
<br />
When I heard these statistics I was stunned. <br />
<br />
People who attempt suicide by gun have a very high success rate.<br />
<br />
50% of all suicides are by gun.<br />
<br />
White males, about 40% of the U.S. population, accounted for over 80% of firearm suicides in 2010.<br />
<br />
<strong>A study of California handgun purchasers found that in the first year after the purchase of a handgun, suicide was the leading cause of death among the purchasers.<sup><a class="footnote-link footnote-identifier-link" href="http://smartgunlaws.org/gun-deaths-and-injuries-statistics/#footnote_13_5975" id="identifier_13_5975" title="Garen J. Wintemute et al., Mortality Among Recent Purchasers of Handguns, 341 New Eng. J. Med. 1583, 1585 (Nov. 18, 1999)."></a></sup></strong><br />
<br />
Shawn is just another statistic among so many.<br />
<br />
For someone who saw himself as "terminally unique" (to use the words of a friend) he did something totally un-unique.<br />
<br />
I know that Shawn had thought about suicide for many, many years and had never made an attempt. Until he had a gun, that is.<br />
<br />
If he hadn't purchased guns a year before his death might he have just gone up into the woods and hiked up his favorite trail and gotten drunk?<br />
<br />
I have no answers to suggest that would change or even make a small impact on these statistics. <br />
<br />
Outlaw guns? No. Look at what has happened in the US with our drug laws.<br />
<br />
Keep them out of the hands of the mentally ill? Sure. But who decides? And does it prevent people from seeking treatment if they get on a "list"? Would Shawn have been someone on the "list" of people who shouldn't own a gun? If they had asked me I would have said "NO - it's not safe!" But Amber must have thought it was okay for him to start buying guns, right? And what about his parents? Did they see the danger signs that I did when I heard from the kids that Shawn had become a gun owner after the divorced?<br />
<br />
Education? What do we tell these young-middle aged men? Just don't do it? <br />
<br />
What can be done about this gruesome statistic?Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-40666547904543914862013-04-11T11:56:00.001-06:002013-04-11T11:56:02.189-06:00She's Not 8 AnymoreI haven't been writing and I don't think anyone has been reading.<br />
<br />
Everything has seemed...normal lately. <br />
<br />
Lily's depression magically seemed to lift when I finally realized that her sleep problems seemed to be the source of her inability to cope with <em>anything</em>.<br />
<br />
Despite my reluctance and fear I did finally start giving her melatonin which has worked so well that I actually now fear, every night, that it will quit working.<br />
<br />
For at least a year bedtime was a terrible time for her. She would want to talk about her Dad and some of the terrible details she knew...right before laying down for "sweet dreams". She would cling to me and ask, "Where I he? He's right here isn't he?" and she would look blindly around the room. I, of course, was exhausted by this time of night and <em>really</em> didn't have the energy or the knowledge about how to help her.<br />
<br />
I knew it would take her several hours to finally fall asleep and I knew that she would wake up 2 or 3 times a night and have trouble getting back to sleep.<br />
<br />
Once I started thinking about how things really must be for her I realized that I couldn't just ignore her situation just because of my own hang-ups about "medicating children".<br />
<br />
She will be 10 years old on Sunday. It will be her second birthday without her Dad. She is growing into such a beautiful and amazing girl - I know he could have never envisioned her like this. I know he thought he was making things easier by "going away" when she was young. <br />
<br />
I wonder what memories she will have of her Dad as the years go by?<br />
<br />
What kind of things do you remember from when you were eight?Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-32733998376121840002013-03-05T09:59:00.001-07:002013-03-05T09:59:27.711-07:00RebootI wonder how long the denial phase of grieving can last?<br />
<br />
I can see how anger, sadness and acceptance can be a cycle we go through our entire life.<br />
<br />
After 18 months, though, it still surprises me when, out of the clear blue, I feel this deep and utter disbelief...<br />
<br />
Did he <em>really </em>do that?<br />
<br />
Anyone who has experienced a death knows that this is not your run-of-the-mill, "Oh my gosh! Can you believe that happened?"<br />
<br />
It is a deeper surreal feeling of being out of sync with reality.<br />
<br />
I have found that it seems to happen after I've been going through a period of acceptance.<br />
<br />
Perhaps that is why it feels so jarring and unexpected?<br />
<br />
And it seems like each time it happens it, at least temporarily, reboots the acceptance phase and gets me thinking again.<br />
<br />
Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-24134308401638947482013-02-25T14:41:00.000-07:002013-03-07T09:49:28.527-07:00Lily's FeelingsBedtime is hard for Lily. She has extreme separation anxiety - complete with clinging, begging for "one more hug" and bringing up topics that are way too big to tackle when it is time for bed (and when Mom is exhausted). <div>
</div>
<div>
The difficulty is that she doesn't want me to go. And she knows that if she brings up her grief for the loss of her father I'm not just going to walk away.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
She asks the hard questions about things that a Mom doesn't really want to send her 9.75 year old daughter off to bed thinking about.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Her level of questions amaze me because these are the same mixed up questions that everyone has when they lose someone to suicide - and I already know they are unanswerable. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Below is a collection of some of the things I have heard from her, at bedtime, over the course of the past 6 months.</div>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li>She misses her Daddy, of course. She wants to know WHERE he is...she points around the room like a blind person and says, "Is he there? Is he over there?" and then says, "Daddy? Where are you?"</li>
<li>She struggles with the “not getting to say goodbye” – she talks about when someone gets cancer and dies you usually get to say goodbye. This seems to be a very hard thing for her – she talks about how she just waved and said, “See you Monday.” and that if she had just known she would have said a better goodbye.</li>
<li>She wonders why some people have this same disease and DON’T kill themselves</li>
<li>She gets upset when she tells people her dad had a brain disease and he died from it and they, in trying to be empathetic (which she does understand is their intent) talk about people in their family who are also depressed and are getting help. She wonders why her Dad was one who killed himself and finds it maddening because it makes her feel like they don't understand it isn't the same to know someone with depression as it is to lose your Dad.</li>
<li>It is hard to hear other girls talk about their Daddy’s</li>
<li>She still wants more information about the disease – did he have “the disease” before he started drinking? I told her I didn’t think so. I told her I thought that there was a family history of alcoholism and that when he started drinking at 14 that he enjoyed it and thought he could control it but that it damaged his brain so he couldn’t think properly. She wanted to know if anyone had tried to help him when he was a teenager.</li>
<li>She talked about his selfishness to do this to his family.</li>
<li>One of her questions prompted me to concede that it wasn’t the first time he had gotten so angry that he had threatened to kill himself. She wanted to know how I stopped him those other times? I told her I couldn’t stop him – he stopped himself. She wanted to know why he wasn’t able to stop himself the last time.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Also during our bedtime conversations I have learned that she has been given far too much information about her father's final 24 hours by her step-mother. These details I wish I could take back from her...</div>
<ul>
<li>Shawn's final words to Heather before he drove to the mountains to kill himself were, "I'm outta here". Why would you tell a little girl this? It is not helpful to her. Her take on it is one of anger..."If you knew they were going to be the last words you said to someone you loved wouldn't you say something nicer?"</li>
<li>He left a note or notes and "she can read them when she is older - like when she is 15". Originally Amber told me she thought he had left notes for me and the kids. Later she said it was only one long horrible, hateful note written to her. I can imagine what it might say - I have my very own version that he wrote to me many years ago. Why was it helpful to tell Lily about the existence of this note? It was not written to her. It has no answers. And NO - the last thing a 15 year old girl should do is read her father's suicide note!! I've talked with both my and Lily's therapists about this extensively. We all agreed that, even if Amber agrees to not show her the note, there is nothing to stop her from giving it to her later (possibly out of anger at me, Shawn or Lily. There is also the possibility that Lily could find this note if it isn't secured. The only thing I can do is try to prepare her for the moment she is faced with a decision of whether or not to read the note. I did tell her the other night that I "didn't think she should ever read the note" because it was written in anger and wouldn't answer any of the questions she had and that "I didn't think her Dad would EVER want her to see it".</li>
</ul>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I have talked to Amber about the fact that this information has caused Lily so much distress. With the coaching of both therapists I have gently told her that "less is more" when it comes to sharing details of her father's final 24 hours. I encouraged her to share happy memories of him and to keep it simple if she presses for details on the end. Lily's therapist also talked to her this weekend. I am waiting for a report on that.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I understand it is hard and one doesn't want to feel like they are lying but I also think for a child of 9 that saying, "It is too hard for me to talk about right now." is perfectly okay.</div>
Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-38866269550275244792013-02-15T09:56:00.002-07:002013-03-07T09:49:52.645-07:00Time PassagesDear Shawn,<br />
<br />
It's been almost 18 months since you died.<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it be something if people who committed suicide could see what things were <em>really </em>like after they were gone and <em>then</em> make a decision. But I guess we have no "Ghosts of Christmas Future" in our lives to show us these things.<br />
<br />
I've reached a point where I can accept, and possibly even understand, that you saw no other possible future other than death. This hasn't stopped me from scripting what you might have been able to do differently.<br />
<br />
Remember how the morning after our wedding you woke up and told me you wanted to pack all of our belongings into our VW Bus and live on the road? It wasn't too late for you to have done that. Sure, your parents would have been horrified. Your kids would have missed you. But you could have done it.<br />
<br />
And can I tell you, Shawn, that it's these memories that I miss the most.<br />
<br />
Because I have no one to share them with.<br />
<br />
These were OUR memories. No one else lived this life we had built together and there is no one left to remember them <em>with me</em>.<br />
<br />
We did amazing things together, Shawn.<br />
<br />
You were my youth. <br />
<br />
Do you remembering sitting at our tiny red kitchen table and deciding, together, to pack up everything we owned into a U-Haul and move 1,500 miles to a city where we had no jobs, no place to live and didn't know a single person? And it took us only 3 weeks from when we decided to do it to when we were actually there with jobs and an apartment! Do you remember how sick I was? Do you remember that campsite in New Mexico? Do you remember how the VW broke down at the first light after we got off the exit in Phoenix? Can you believe we did all that and it was no big deal?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgRiK_IWTbLF5wMvsKKruZNAOgX2HVnwEtjzHP-ssHcFMhFNCYz5f6ZOqOva0Lex3sUekv6ee9n0D5N6TJthe3Btc9AYwQn5IO7MBziMyh1CNzgNFn3nkoClXcdHpr5eeOHnjeZchV-kF/s1600/Map.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgRiK_IWTbLF5wMvsKKruZNAOgX2HVnwEtjzHP-ssHcFMhFNCYz5f6ZOqOva0Lex3sUekv6ee9n0D5N6TJthe3Btc9AYwQn5IO7MBziMyh1CNzgNFn3nkoClXcdHpr5eeOHnjeZchV-kF/s400/Map.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
And what about all the other things we did? Together.<br />
<br />
Remember how I told you to wait on the big adventure and that we would make it happen? And we did. We put everything we owned in storage and took our old VW and three dogs as we traveled through every state west of the Mississippi looking for a place to start a family and a business.<br />
<br />
Do you remember all that I do about those three months? Who else is there that remembers these things <em>with me? </em><br />
<br />
Do you remember Goosenecks State Reserve in Utah and how it was FAR better than the overcrowded Grand Canyon? Do you remember how hard it was to leave Durango and all the people we met there? Do you remember the world's nastiest bathroom (as mutually agreed upon for years) near Crested Butte? What about Salida? That heavenly place of streams, flowers and butterflies. Do you remember when we found Fort Collins and almost didn't leave because it felt like home? Do you remember being covered with sap and sand in Moab and having to drive to the edge of the Colorado River where we dunked ourselves and the dogs and then hopped in the van to escape that hellish place as quickly as possible? Do you remember that military jet that zoomed out of nowhere in Nevada and made the ground rumble? Remember how I came flying out of the tent into your arms, sure that the earth was about to open up beneath me? And then there was Eugene, OR, where we thought we would find what we were looking for and, instead, found it just didn't "feel right". And Minneapolis where you got so sick you had to be hospitalized. And Greg and Michelle's wedding reception that we went straight to when you were released from the hospital. And visiting your Grandpa in Oklahoma - which was surprisingly mountainous and beautiful. And what about all the little things on that trip? Little flashes in time that became part of who I was?<br />
<br />
Can we just spend some time now talking about these memories? Because I don't have anyone to share them with now.<br />
<br />
And you let me down, Shawn.<br />
<br />
You broke the deal.<br />
<br />
We moved to Fort Collins. We started that business that had been your lifelong dream. We had two beautiful children. <br />
<br />
And you got angry. Or maybe you always were but it was easier to handle when we were young and free of the big responsibilities of life.<br />
<br />
You scared me, Shawn.<br />
<br />
You were gone, Shawn.<br />
<br />
Your essence had escaped.<br />
<br />
You no longer took joy from hiking. Or animals. Or bikes. Or your children. The happiness you showed was hollow - most especially for you.<br />
<br />
And so now here I am raising our kids without you. That wasn't part of the dream.<br />
<br />
Lily has struggled. Part of me feels like you never really <em>knew</em> her and so you didn't realize how much she would be hurt. I know how much you loved her - that's not the issue. But I think you were so checked out emotionally by the time she was born that you couldn't see what a sensitive child she is and you couldn't fathom the pain you would cause her. I think part of her struggle is because she has only a few memories of fleeting connections with you. Why do you think she cries and cries about the fact that you only took her to one "Daddy-Daughter Dance" and talks about that night as if it was magical. My wish for her is that someday she will find a way to reconcile the good memories of you along with the ones of you being angry and checked out.<br />
<br />
Lennon is doing okay. I know he misses you. He has a little shrine in his room with some of your ashes, your favorite hat (with those white sunglasses I hated perched on top), a special rock, a Livestrong bracelet like you always wore, and a feather. He is missing out on all the things you would have taught him. <br />
<br />
I'm okay, too. It is different for me because we had been divorced for 4 years before you died. I did a lot of grieving for the loss of you before you were even gone. The hard part was that I always believed you would find a way to rediscover yourself and that we would be friends again. I thought I would be able to talk to you and share these memories and laugh and laugh.<br />
<br />
Jennifer<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mZRumeimME" target="_blank">PS - I made this movie for you. You know the song - it is one we used to listen to together in college.</a></div>
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<br />Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-44928174320286336932013-02-07T13:08:00.004-07:002013-02-07T13:08:51.787-07:00Whose Story is This Anyway?Every.single.day.<br />
<br />
Every single day I think, "I'm going to write today. I'm going to answer the question. I'm going to share what I would say to Shawn if he was back <em>for just two days."</em><br />
<em></em><br />
It's not that I don't know what I would say.<br />
<br />
I have been having the conversation with him in my head for over a month now.<br />
<br />
I even shared with Lily what I would say to her Dad if he was back <em>for just two days</em>.<br />
<br />
Two days is quite a long time, actually.<br />
<br />
Do I have two days worth of things I would want to say?<br />
<br />
And what about him? <br />
<br />
Do I imagine him reacting in the way I would want? <br />
<br />
Or do I imagine the way he might have really reacted if I had shared these things with him before he died?<br />
<br />
I suppose it is my exercise - my story - I can make it up however I want.<br />
<br />
And maybe that is what has made it hard?<br />
<br />
If I imagine the reaction I would want is it too painful to never actually have it?Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-16351558767715934942013-01-07T11:52:00.000-07:002013-01-07T11:52:53.114-07:00Two Days..To Be ContinuedLily's therapist recently did a role play where they used anime characters on the computer - one was Lily and she typed the dialogue for that character, the other was Shawn who had come back for two days - the therapist typed the dialogue for Shawn.<br />
<br />
It was very powerful to watch the finished project - both the therapist and I cried for sweet Lily who responded to "Shawn" saying, "I'm sorry I hurt you, Lily. I hope you can forgive me." with, "Of course I will forgive you, but I miss you and wish you could stay longer."<br />
<br />
It got me thinking...what would I say to Shawn if he was back for just two days?<br />
<br />Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-10899604599541578732012-12-24T10:46:00.001-07:002012-12-24T10:46:36.910-07:00FriendsDuring my marriage to Shawn I saw my own personal friendships relegated to the couple time a year, "We should get together more often" conversations.<br />
<br />
Because, really, how could you look your friends in the eye and either 1) put on a smiling face and lie about what your life is really like or 2) spill your guts and tell them how much your husband drinks and how scared you are for your life and his? <br />
<br />
It robs your soul to try to put on the happy face with anyone other than acquaintances your true deep friends would say, "What are you doing? You have to get OUT!" if you told them your reality.<br />
<br />
So Shawn's friends were also my friends. Ryan, Rob and Jason.<br />
<br />
I liked them. We all hung out in the bike shop that adjoined our home for many, many hours each week and listened to music. We all resided in the bicycling world and talked bikes. They shared my same dark sense of humor and dry wit.<br />
<br />
Our house was the "hang-out place" for the guys and I was "one of the guys".<br />
<br />
Sure they were Shawn's drinking buddies and I never joined them on their "real" bike rides but that was okay because I had the children to care for and the behind the scenes work of the business to keep me busy.<br />
<br />
Yet their presence in my home met my social needs and kept me from isolation.<br />
<br />
Not surprisingly, when Shawn and I divorced they allied themselves with him.<br />
<br />
This was logical, expected, and not hurtful. They weren't unkind to me - they just simply disappeared from my life.<br />
<br />
For the sake of their friend they had to believe his stories that I had "broken up the marriage" and "left Shawn for someone else".<br />
<br />
Perhaps the reason why none of this bothered me at the time was because I thought, <br />
<br />
<em>"They know the truth. They've seen how Shawn treats me. They know how much he drinks. I told them how he goes inside and sneaks extra shots when they are hanging out getting drunk. I told them he was suicidal. They've seen how much I gave to this marriage and this business. They KNOW me. They are my friends. They know who I really am."</em><br />
<em></em><br />
When Shawn died I needed them.<br />
<br />
I needed to grieve with them.<br />
<br />
And they haven't been there for me.<br />
<br />
I kept believing they would reach out to me and comfort me.<br />
<br />
I feel embarrassed that I need this. And yet it feels to me like they are the only ones who might understand...how he could be so sick and yet still be someone with whom you wanted to spend time.<br />
<br />
And they're not there.<br />
<br />
They avoided me at the funeral.<br />
<br />
The one time I saw Jason he was at work and he just maintained polite, distant, conversation.<br />
<br />
They've never asked how I am doing. They've never asked how the kids are doing.<br />
<br />
They watched our children growing from the time they were infants. These are their good friend's kids who have been left without a father. Kids who might appreciate someone who knew their father well.<br />
<br />
I was asked, a few months ago, by Shawn's Dad to be part of the group he was gathering to come up with ideas for a memorial for Shawn in Fort Collins - something artistic and bike related that would make sure that Shawn wasn't forgotten.<br />
<br />
The others in this group: Rob, Ryan, Jason and a few others from that time in my life.<br />
<br />
There have been a number of "Reply to All" emails sent as ideas have been thrown around.<br />
<br />
I participated in the ideas and talk of logistics for getting the memorial placed.<br />
<br />
And every time I see these names on the email list it feels like a punch in the gut.<br />
<br />
I guess it is a good thing because it made me realize how hurt I was feeling.<br />
<br />
I sat on this situation and feeling for quite awhile. I didn't tell R. or my Mom or anyone else that I was participating in a memorial plan for Shawn. Probably because they might have questioned if it was healthy for me and my healing.<br />
<br />
But I did finally bring it up with my therapist who pointed out, "It seems more like it is a memorial for them. Is this something you need for your own healing?".<br />
<br />
And the answer is, "no". I don't need it for my healing. <br />
<br />
I participated in the planning in an effort to be included in the group again. It was an invitation for one of them to email me privately to see how I was doing. It was a way of trying to show, "I DID care about Shawn. I do remember him." It was my way of asking, "Do you really think it was my fault?".<br />
<br />
Because they haven't reached out to me I am left guessing the reasons why.<br />
<br />
Do they believe his suicide was caused by me ending our marriage? Did they really believe all the things he told them about how I was making his life hell after the divorce? Couldn't they see that his anger was not about me or anything I did or didn't do?<br />
<br />
Have they blocked out the time I called them asking for help because Shawn had disappeared into the mountains threatening suicide? Or do they feel guilty that they didn't take it seriously and are now struggling through their own grief and questioning of what they could have done done differently? (PS - there was nothing you could have done, guys).<br />
<br />
Do they not realize that I crave a chance to talk to them - to be real with them?<br />
<br />
Were they ever really my friends?<br />
<br />
These questions are, of course, unanswerable right now. <br />
<br />
I could reach out to them, I suppose. I could ask them how they are doing with their own grieving. I'm sure I have selfishly ignored how hard it must be to have a best friend commit suicide.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-80485292640935149102012-12-24T09:37:00.000-07:002012-12-24T09:37:01.719-07:00Rubik's CubeI haven't been writing because everything feels too jumbled...or like there is too much to tell...or it is too inter-connected to sort through.<br />
<br />
I just feel tired when I think about trying to form these jumbled thoughts into something coherent such that someone might be interested in reading.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-17115371288882303132012-12-21T10:10:00.003-07:002012-12-21T10:10:45.770-07:002 DaysI've got a lot of things I want to write about...<br />
<br />
I did get a response to the email I sent to Shawn's Mom.<br />
<br />
I want to explore how it feels that friends Shawn and I had during our marriage but who became "his friends" after the divorce have never reached out to me after his death.<br />
<br />
What Lily "told" her Dad during her therapy session when she role-played that he had come back for just two days. Very powerful.<br />
<br />
What would I say to him if he came back for two days?<br />
<br />
Stay tuned.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-30753448099500765402012-12-12T13:23:00.000-07:002012-12-12T13:42:45.957-07:00I Guess She Doesn't Want to Talk About It.I talked to Shawn's Mom on the phone for about 40 minutes this past Sunday.<br />
<br />
His mother, Kathy, is someone who is <em>always</em> put together.<br />
<br />
She is not one to show strong emotions - neither positive nor negative. I can't recall ever seeing her joyously happy, overcome with love or anything beyond mild annoyance.<br />
<br />
During the 15 years of my marriage to her son, I saw her without full make-up, hair done and cute outfit only a handful of times.<br />
<br />
You also don't really talk about your own feelings with her.<br />
<br />
At Shawn's funeral she physically ducked away from hugs people tried to give her.<br />
<br />
Stoic and controlled are words I would use to describe her.<br />
<br />
Our conversation on Sunday started out light - talking about Christmas presents for the L's.<br />
<br />
At some point we began to talk about Lily's struggles. I told her that Lily missed him, of course, but was also angry.<br />
<br />
Kathy told me that she had never, not once, felt angry with Shawn. She said she didn't think it was possible for a parent to be angry at their child who had committed suicide and that her experience during the (very brief) time when she went to a Grief Group (which she told me did NOT help at all) was that children and spouses felt anger but none of the parents did.<br />
<br />
This surprised me.<br />
<br />
To me it would be normal for <em>anyone</em> to feel angry. It doesn't mean you didn't love them.<br />
<br />
Maybe she has supressed her anger? Maybe it just hasn't come yet and it will come later?<br />
<br />
Clearly I can't worry about how she is processing her own grief - I have mine and the children's to worry about without taking on others.<br />
<br />
We talked further about how much pain Shawn must have been in to do what he did. She told me that, knowing how much pain he was in, that there was a sense of relief that he wasn't suffering anymore. She explained that, if he had cancer and was in severe pain, she would have told him, "It's okay, Buddy. Let it go."<br />
<br />
As a parent this was touching. I do <em>get</em> this sentiment, although I haven't necessarily experienced it during my own grieving.<br />
<br />
Next Kathy asked me..."but when do you think he first got sick?"<br />
<br />
This caused me to pause. It was the first time she had ever asked me anything about his illness.<br />
<br />
I never fully realized it on a conscious level but...I did truly know Shawn better than anyone - maybe even better than he knew himself.<br />
<br />
Not only were we married for 15 years but he did actually talk to me on an emotional level.<br />
<br />
Of course I never really understood the TRUE depths of his pain. Could he have even expressed how dark things were for him if he wanted? <br />
<br />
And, although he had talked about suicide in detail for a number of years, I can't say that I ever thought he would actually do it.<br />
<br />
I answered Kathy's question the best I could. <br />
<br />
I told her that I thought starting to drink as young as he did, probably even younger than she and his Dad knew, had surely caused changes in his developing brain.<br />
<br />
I told her about how after he was sober for 7 months and then relapsed that he said drinking was "different" for him because he realized he could never be happy sober and he could never be happy drunk. I shared that I wished I had been strong enough then to insist he get professional help - even though I knew it probably wouldn't have changed the outcome of things.<br />
<br />
I told her we would never know if the reason he was so attracted to alcohol was because he was self-medicating a biological brain disease. I did share that he often referred to alcohol as his "medicine".<br />
<br />
I told her about how scared I was that he was going to commit suicide while I was pregnant with Lily (I will have to look back and see if I've written on that, yet)!<br />
<br />
I was very careful to share only information that would be helpful in her understanding of "WHY" while protecting her from specific details of the fear and anger that was a part of the last 5 years of our marriage.<br />
<br />
I woke up the morning after this conversation thinking of Kathy. I knew that it was probably being processed with a mixture of new and resurfacing feelings and may even be leading her to have more questions.<br />
<br />
By mid-morning I decided to write her and sent this...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>Hi, Kathy. I just wanted to check in with you after our long conversation yesterday and make sure you are doing okay. <br /> <br />I will always answer any questions you have to the best of my ability. <br /> <br />I wanted so badly for so many years for Shawn to get well. He was a truly amazing human - a young man with a wit that wouldn't quit, a love of nature and animals, a sense of justice in the world, a man who adored his children.<br /> <br />I had always hoped and believed that he would find a way to get help and that we would be friends again.<br /> <br />Just wanted you to know I am thinking of you today.<br /> <br />Jennifer</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em></em> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As of today I haven't received a response, although there have been other email exchanges between us about Christmas gifts.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My feelings aren't hurt. I guess I did hope for an acknowledgement...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Of what? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That what I told her was helpful? That she knows I did care about him? That I tried to help? That she wants to know more?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="" border="0" class="embeddedimage" src="http://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/bananainmyear_6729.jpg" /></div>
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Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-17999602407539549752012-12-11T10:54:00.001-07:002012-12-11T10:54:43.787-07:00Something to Read: Last 100 Days Alcoholic: Gotta Be More#c7586603641299020482This is a blog I follow which is written by a man struggling for sobriety.<br />
<br />
I have tried many times to explain how my husband of 15 years and father of my two children described his relationship to alcohol before his suicide.<br />
<br />
And he has done it so hauntingly and beautifully that I am considering sharing this piece with his friends and family in an effort to help them understand how stuck he felt.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://soberin100days.blogspot.com/2012/12/gotta-be-more.html?showComment=1355248045698#c7586603641299020482">Last 100 Days Alcoholic: Gotta Be More#c7586603641299020482</a>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-81582416512118559132012-11-30T09:49:00.001-07:002012-11-30T09:49:16.151-07:00I Know Too Much.Every morning when I take Lily to the bus stop she clings to me.<br />
<br />
She weepily begs me not to leave and tells me she "doesn't want to go". She tells me she "needs me". At night she makes me signs for work telling me I am special and make her day better just by being in it.<br />
<br />
Any therapist will tell you this is separation anxiety that is natural after the loss of a parent. They would tell you to do exactly what I do which is to stay calm and assure her that I know she has these feelings and that I know she can handle them. They would tell you to not give too much attention when she is showing the regressive behavior and simply show your confidence in her ability to get through them. They would tell you to talk about the feelings during a different, calm time and to acknowledge why she has them.<br />
<br />
Yes, I've done all these things.<br />
<br />
But what do I do to stop MY separation anxiety? <br />
<br />
I know too much.<br />
<br />
Every time I drive the car without the kids I worry, "What if I get killed in a car accident?".<br />
<br />
When I found out I have to have a fairly minor surgery to remove ovarian cysts in January I thought, "What if it is cancer? What if they put me under for the surgery and I never wake up?"<br />
<br />
I know that these things DO happen, despite my assurances to her that everything is fine.<br />
<br />
I worry all the time about something happening to me and my kids being orphans.<br />
<br />
What would happen to them? Would they really be able to handle it? Or would they be doomed to a sad life?<br />
<br />
I don't want this for them.<br />
<br />
I worry that Lily is not resilient enough.<br />
<br />
She doesn't seem to have (yet?) developed the ability to rise above hardship.<br />
<br />
Is it just in her nature to be most comfortable in the role of victim? I get so frustrated with her when I see her going straight to this role every time she gets upset.<br />
<br />
It's how her father was. He was always a victim of someone else or circumstances.<br />
<br />
Despite my anxiety about all these things I understand that this fear will always be with me and I can't let it change how I live my life (except in a positive way of always being fully present). And I acknowledge that these fears aren't truly different or unique to me. All parent worries about what would happen to their children if they were gone.<br />
<br />
I just wish it weren't so.<br />
<br />
Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-63613822123671120722012-11-30T09:32:00.001-07:002012-11-30T09:32:21.548-07:00Like an old fashioned coffee pot...Although I haven't been writing there have been a lot of thoughts percolating that will soon get shared...Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-48443467170714025572012-11-10T08:07:00.001-07:002012-11-10T08:07:07.240-07:00It's unavoidable"I could just kill myself!"<br />
<br />
"I would rather take a bullet to the brain!"<br />
<br />
I don't think one notices the prevalance of these types of expressions in our vernacular until you've had a loved one kill themself in this manner.<br />
<br />
I cringe when I hear these comments - especially when the kids are present.<br />
<br />
People mean no harm by them, of course. These statements are just a way of expressing how strongly someone feels about a situation.<br />
<br />
Lily had to go to the counselor's office at school last week because there was a story (that 4th graders were reading!) where someone got shot in the head.<br />
<br />
She got visibly upset and the teacher, fortunately, knew what was going on and excused her.<br />
<br />
I know with time we will all have less of a visceral reaction to hearing these comments but for right now I am going to feel nauseous everytime I hear Lily innocently dancing to "Livin' La Vida Loca".<br />
<br />
"She will take away your pain...like a bullet to the brain."<br />
<br />
I keep debating whether to tell her the song makes me uncomfortable - thus drawing attention to a line she hasn't deciphered yet - or just let her enjoy being 9 and dancing to a catchy song.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-37346484539640300812012-10-26T10:10:00.000-06:002012-10-26T10:10:05.989-06:00Surprise!Last night I went to a friend's 40th Birthday Surprise Party.<br />
<br />
Her husband was meticulous in his planning. He thought of every detail including a map of where people should park so their vehicles weren't seen and a back-up plan in case it snowed (which it did) so there weren't footprints leading up to the house when she came home.<br />
<br />
I was so excited! I have always wanted to be at a party where you jump out and yell SURPRISE and the person has the look of shock and delight that people would go to such lengths to show how much they care.<br />
<br />
Everything went off exactly as planned. <br />
<br />
The birthday girl came home with her two children from a long afternoon of practices and lessons and the look on her face was priceless.<br />
<br />
As I watched her husband anxiously wait for the door to open and then the look they shared when she realized what he had done for her, I felt a tear escape the corner of my eye.<br />
<br />
And then I crashed...<br />
<br />
All my feelings of sadness and grief over my 40th birthday bubbled to the surface.<br />
<br />
It wasn't just the pain of remembering that the only person who remembered my 40th birthday was Shawn - it was having to sit there in a crowd of 60 jovial people telling stories about what people did for their 40th and knowing that there was no socially acceptable way of sharing any stories about MY 40th birthday.<br />
<br />
I mean this is a PARTY for goodness sake!<br />
<br />
After feeling the tears well up a few times I went into the bathroom where I tried to decide between taking some deep breaths and pulling it together or staying in there and actually letting myself grieve.<br />
<br />
I can guarantee if I could have just let it out and not had to walk out of the bathroom with a red nose, puffy lip and smeared eye make-up I would have just let it happen.<br />
<br />
I can also guarantee that if I hadn't had the L's with me I would have just said my goodbyes and driven home in tears.<br />
<br />
I took the deep breaths, went and had some cake (who says a little comfort food can't help!) and thought about how nice it would be to go home and let myself cry after the kids were tucked into bed.<br />
<br />
What actually happened was that the intensity of the emotion faded once I was out of the situation. And I came home and read the story about the mother in NYC who came home from her middle child's swimming lesson to discover her nanny had stabbed her eldest and youngest children to death.<br />
<br />
Surprise! Just when you feel the most sorry for yourself you can be reminded of how small your problems really are.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-58546057748797071982012-10-22T15:37:00.000-06:002012-12-12T14:04:31.377-07:00Damn you, Santa!Is Santa Claus real? <br />
<br />
He is real to my sweet Lily-Girl.<br />
<br />
And believing he is real is only hurting her.<br />
<br />
I never wanted to "do the Santa thing". I always felt that it was a bad message to send...Santa brings toys to all the good boys and girls in the world.<br />
<br />
No. Actually there are many, many good boys and girls in the world who won't even get dinner that night.<br />
<br />
But Shawn insisted. He called me a Scrooge. He asked why "I would want to take that away from the kids".<br />
<br />
So I <span style="padding-bottom: 14px; padding-right: 15px;">acquiesced.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="padding-bottom: 14px; padding-right: 15px;">It seems to me that every Christmas has been a disappointment to my kids.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="padding-bottom: 14px; padding-right: 15px;">In movies kids see knee high piles of presents surrounding a big tree on Christmas morning.</span><br />
<br />
Except it's not like that when your parents are divorced. Your gifts get spread out among multiple celebrations. It's hard to manage your expectations when you're a kid.<br />
<br />
After the divorce I basically turned Christmas over to Shawn and his family. The day itself didn't matter to me.<br />
<br />
We had a beautiful Winter Solstice celebration with my Mom each year that included gifts as well as readings from various religions and a lighting of candles to welcome the longer days. The kids always wondered of Santa was going to visit our house as well as Daddy's but I just told them it didn't work like that - only one stop per kid.<br />
<br />
The December before Shawn died I decided to celebrate Christmas Day with the kids (in addition to Solstice) because I wanted to take them to the mountains and enjoy a special day with them.<br />
<br />
Before we even hit December 24th the L's had celebrated: Solstice with Grandma (and gifts), Christmas with Daddy (and gifts) and Christmas with their paternal Grandparents (and gifts). They were ALL fired up because they were thinking, "This is great! We've already received all these cool things and the BIG day is yet to come!"<br />
<br />
They aren't spoiled kids. Or entitled kids. But they are kids. And they do like presents.<br />
<br />
On Christmas Eve, after hearing their excited chatter, I realized...they are expecting gifts from SANTA under the tree. I had spent a lot of time selecting gifts that I thought they would love.<br />
<br />
I didn't plan on giving Santa any credit for things I had so painstakingly purchased!<br />
<br />
And I didn't really have a lot of extra money left to go buy more things.<br />
<br />
And yet there I went off to Walmart on Christmas Eve.<br />
<br />
On the barren shelves I found mostly cheap plastic junk that I am inherently against.<br />
<br />
Finally I saw a variety of (cheaply made) board games - chess, checkers, bingo, etc and decided that maybe Santa would bring these types of things as a message that he wanted you to play nicely with your sibling.<br />
<br />
Christmas morning arrived with excitement and the gifts were opened in no time flat.<br />
<br />
And then my kids began acting like brats.<br />
<br />
I finally called them out on their behavior and said, "I'm sorry if Christmas didn't live up to everything you expected."<br />
<br />
And Lennon. Poor boy. He was foolish enough to indignantly say, "Yeah! Five gifts isn't enough!"<br />
<br />
There was a lot of Mommy-Guilt laid down in the next 30 minutes with threats of taking the toys to Goodwill for other, more grateful children, to enjoy and long statements of how they had "robbed me of any joy that I might have felt from watching them play with these toys".<br />
<br />
We all were crying. It wasn't pretty.<br />
<br />
It was when I felt myself wanting to tell them, "You don't know ANYTHING about shitty Christmases! Let me tell you about the time my Dad told my Mom to throw away all of my Christmas gifts and then beat my feet with a 2x4 all day" that I realized <strong>STOP!!</strong> This isn't about them - it's about you!<br />
<br />
They wrote me beautiful thank you notes and I calmed myself and apologized.<br />
<br />
Eight months later their father killed himself.<br />
<br />
And four months after his death the kids went off to Florida by themselves to see their paternal grandparents.<br />
<br />
They had gone by themselves to see their grandparents on multiple occassions and had spent most Christmases of their lives there so it seemed like an okay decision at the time.<br />
<br />
I was so, so wrong.<br />
<br />
Lily was very homesick and cried on the phone every time she called me.<br />
<br />
When she came home she was an emotional wreck for months.<br />
<br />
How stupid could I have been to not realize that Shawn's parents were as deep in their grief as the rest of us? They weren't able to provide Lily with the kind of emotional support she needed because they needed it themselves.<br />
<br />
And this is a family whose motto could be "Suck it Up" - you just don't talk about feelings.<br />
<br />
This doesn't work for Lily. <br />
<br />
She is highly emotive.<br />
<br />
And the thing that threw her for a real loop was Santa...<br />
<br />
Shawn's parents hung a stocking for Shawn, just as they always had. It was comforting for them.<br />
<br />
On Christmas morning the kids got up to dig through their full stockings. After sorting through her assorted packs of gum, candies, toothbrushes, etc Lily discovered that Santa had brought Daddy an ornament in his stocking.<br />
<br />
When she got home she told me this...<br />
<br />
<em>"I know why Santa only brought Daddy one thing in his stocking. It was because he was bad last year."</em><br />
<br />
Oh, God! What do I say to that?<br />
<br />
There IS no Santa! It was your Grandma that put in the ornament because it helped her with her grieving!<br />
<br />
But, of course, I couldn't tell her that right then.<br />
<br />
And then there were the gifts under the tree from Santa. <br />
<br />
Her younger cousins who are basically hell on wheels and who had been harassing Lily endlessly had mounds and mounds of presents because...all their presents from Mom, Dad, two sets of grandparents, Lennon, Lily and Santa were all in one place to be opened on the same morning.<br />
<br />
Lily was so upset because she couldn't figure out why her cousins got so many gifts when they had been behaving so badly.<br />
<br />
Oh, Lily. It's because there is no Santa and the world isn't a fair place.<br />
<br />
Here we come up on Christmas 2012.<br />
<br />
Lily still believes in Santa even though he has let her down over and over.<br />
<br />
She decided not to go to Florida - even though her brother wants to and is going. She wrote a beautiful letter to her Grandparents telling them how much she loves and misses them but that "Christmas is a really hard time" and that she is "still grieving a lot".<br />
<br />
She specifically requested that we have Christmas at home - our home. She wants to wake up in her own home on Christmas morning to the presents Santa brought.<br />
<br />
Writing this, part of me thinks maybe I should try to make the big Christmas for her she's always wanted. I can afford to spend more on presents this year than I could a few years ago.<br />
<br />
But I also know that happiness doesn't come from THINGS and that no amount of gifts will fix the anxiety she feels over Christmas.<br />
<br />
I need to talk with her soon (with the help of a therapist) and let her know that Santa resides within all of us. We can be Santa to others who are in need - we've always donated to charity as a family but we could emphasize it even more this year.<br />
<br />
We can decorate the house heavily the way she envisions a house should looke (lots of lights!).<br />
<br />
We can do our Solstice Celebration sans gifts.<br />
<br />
I can ask all of the friends and family who give the L's gifts at Christmas if they are willing to sacrifice seeing the kids open the gifts in person and send them to the house so they can be opened on Christmas morning.<br />
<br />
I can give her love and hugs and time together.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="204" id="il_fi" src="http://cdn-media.ellentv.com/2012/11/26/bad-santa-274x204.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="274" /></div>
Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-82018484753815044222012-10-12T11:12:00.001-06:002012-10-12T11:12:21.144-06:00Here's the ProofThe fact that I've been quiet here means a few different things...and it's not just because I've been too busy.<br />
<br />
I have been feeling so overwhelmed by my emotions and the enormity of all the crap I have to work on that I have found myself unable to be very introspective about what I am feeling. <br />
<br />
I have had WAY too many times in the past few weeks when I have found myself in a very child-like mode emotionally. This, of course, means I have been very difficult to live with and just want to shut down/run away to a place where I can be by myself so at least there is an explanation for why I feel so lonely inside.<br />
<br />
Sometimes when you <em>feel</em> so alone you just want to <em>be</em> alone.<br />
<br />
There may also be an element of not wanting anyone who cares about me to see how **cked up I really am inside.<br />
<br />
Ugh!<br />
<br />
I feel as if I've spent the past 5 years - or maybe my whole life - fooling myself into thinking I'm really okay inside...believing that the trauma I've experienced in life didn't impact me...that I am stronger than all that. I want so badly to believe that everyone has bad things happen and that mine are not worthy of being traumatized.<br />
<br />
But when I get in these modes I start to make a laundry list of my life and it seems pretty bad...and then I feel stupid for fooling myself.<br />
<br />
So maybe I've been quiet in my writing because I want to prove to myself I am alone?Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-32678298337520599162012-10-05T10:40:00.002-06:002012-10-05T10:40:24.512-06:00A NightmareMy sweet little Lily-Girl was in tears shortly after she awoke this morning.<br />
<br />
She told me she had a dream about Daddy.<br />
<br />
I knew we were already running late and were going to be late for sure but I immediately stopped my frantic morning routine to go and sit on the bed and hug her.<br />
<br />
The dreams of her Daddy she has told me of previously were happy ones where she was seeing him and hugging him. I knew this was different.<br />
<br />
She said, "I dreamed that he was about to...to do what he did...I was calling to him saying, 'No! No Daddy!' but he couldn't hear me."<br />
<br />
Oh, my Lily-Girl. I am so sorry you had this dream.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I forget that you will have to deal with this the rest of your life in a way that the rest of us escaped. He was your Daddy. He loved you so much. And you adored him.<br />
<br />
I am sorry he was so incredibly sick.<br />
<br />
And may you be immune to this sickness.<br />
<br />
May you never fall into that darkness.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-66324646686236988572012-09-29T20:02:00.003-06:002012-09-29T20:02:27.588-06:00The FacadeThere was an article in the local paper last week titled "Bringing Suicide Out of the Shadows". It was about the high rate of suicide among white males age 35-65 who have lived with depression their entire life but who hide it until...they just can't anymore.<br />
<br />
It took me many years to realize that Shawn was severely depressed. In fact, I think the first time the notion even <em>occurred to me</em> was in 2002 when he stood there in the dark and told me, in precise detail, of a suicide plan he had formulated.<br />
<br />
He told Amber at some point during their marriage that he "had thought about killing himself every day for 20 years".<br />
<br />
I didn't know the darkness that resided within him. <br />
<br />
He had always seemed carefree and happy-go-lucky. <br />
<br />
It was an act he had perfected and he had a lot invested in it.<br />
<br />
As he got older he couldn't maintain the facade with me and, later, with Amber.<br />
<br />
The article identified the warning signs of suicide in "middle-aged" men who had been living with depression for many years. This list was one of the first that I thought reflected what I saw in Shawn.<br />
<br />
Perhaps other lists over suicide warnings were written for teenagers or, more likely, women who display the more stereotypical signs of depression (lethargy, crying, etc).<br />
<br />
This list and the mission described in the <a href="http://www.coloradoan.com/article/20120927/NEWS01/309270044/Bringing-Suicide-out-Shadows?odyssey=mod%7Cmostview" target="_blank">article</a> seem important! There are other men out there who have suffered silently their entire lives. Men, who are wearing a happy mask while hurting inside in a way that damages their soul. Maybe their <em>is</em> help for them. Maybe the stigma of depression can be removed for these men so they have a voice and use it to DEMAND help for themselves!<br />
<br />
I can't say that if I had seen this list during our marriage that I could have done anything differently. Nor can I tell you that I would have ever believed you if you had said he would become one of the 80% of suicides in our county that are committed by men between the age of 35-65.<br />
<br />
I can tell you now, however, that it seems so obvious to me now that the ending of Shawn's story had been heading there for many years.<br />
<br />
Here is the list...<br />
<br />
• Threatening to hurt or kill oneself or talking about wanting to hurt or kill oneself. <span style="color: blue;">Yes, starting in 2002 - almost 10 years before he made his first and final attempt.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
• Looking for ways to kill oneself by seeking access to firearms, pills or other means. <span style="color: blue;">Yes. It turns out that him hoarding pain pills after surgery wasn't for recreational use as he claimed. He later admitted to Amber he had been trying to save enough to kill himself. And then there was the gun collecting and target shooting he started - with no previous interest - in 2009.</span><br />
<br />
• Talking or writing about death, dying or suicide when these actions are out of the ordinary for the person. <span style="color: blue;">It was certainly out of nowhere the first time he detailed a suicide plan to me. And there were all the times when he would go stand out in a lightning storm as if challenging the lightning to hit him.</span><br />
<br />
• Feeling hopeless. <span style="color: blue;">He kept this hidden behind the anger.</span><br />
<br />
• Feeling rage or uncontrolled anger or seeking revenge. <span style="color: blue;">Oh, boy! This became prominent in the years after the kids were born.</span><br />
<br />
• Acting recklessly or engaging in risky activities. <span style="color: blue;">I guess standing in lightning storms counts? Or doing crazy things on a mountain bike.</span><br />
<br />
• Feeling trapped — like there’s no way out. <span style="color: blue;">Again, he kept this hidden behind his anger. Although he did talk about feeling trapped in our marriage when he wanted to be with someone else "because it was the honorable thing to do"</span><br />
<br />
• Increasing alcohol or drug use. <span style="color: blue;">Yep.</span><br />
<br />
• Withdrawing from friends, family, society. <span style="color: blue;">Does hating "society" as a whole count?</span>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238068864320917300.post-36146993576156310312012-09-29T11:18:00.001-06:002012-09-29T11:18:29.310-06:00Cue - ScreamI woke up screaming at 3:10am.<br />
<br />
The dream was so bad that I was actually nauseated when I got out of bed in an effort to re-enter reality.<br />
<br />
Hours later, when I rose for the day, I realized it didn't take much effort to figure out <em>why </em>I had the dream.<br />
<br />
You may have seen the headline in the past few days about how Fox News inadvertently aired a suicide on live TV.<br />
<br />
They were following a police chase live, apparently that is a popular news story since the OJ Simpson excitement of years ago.<br />
<br />
Instead of surrendering peacefully, the suspect got out of his car, pointed the gun at his head, and - as the news anchor hurriedly commanded to "cut" the scene - shot himself.<br />
<br />
Of course, websites picked up this story and had the video available so you could <em>watch it for yourself</em>.<br />
<br />
I clicked on the video...without even considering the ramifications.<br />
<br />
But it wouldn't pull up and I returned to my work day.<br />
<br />
This was all forgotten until about 11pm when I woke up after several hours of sleep and checked my phone. I know they say not to do this but I do it every night.<br />
<br />
There, in front of me, was an article on <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/technology/2012/09/fox_news_car_chase_suicide_video_was_buzzfeed_wrong_to_post_it_on_youtube_.html" target="_blank">Slate</a> chastising websites for posting this video - pointing out that it risks sensationalizing suicide.<br />
<br />
Even in my sleepy state I questioned myself as to whether it was a good idea for ME to watch the video and I realized how stupid I had been to click on it earlier without even thinking about the impact it could have on me.<br />
<br />
I drifted back to sleep only to dream this...<br />
<br />
I <em>was sitting in my living room watching a Denver football game on TV. Suddenly the broadcast was interrupted by news media saying that multiple planes had been hijacked across the US and that they were following the story live. I watched in horror as they suddenly showed the Denver football stadium as a plan approached. I saw the people fleeing and screaming. And then I saw the plane hit the stadium.</em><br />
<br />
<em>The broadcasters kept replaying the video over and over in slow motion so you could see the people running, falling and burning.</em> It was extremely graphic. Horribly graphic.<br />
<br />
<em>And then they showed that there were hundreds of planes - all across the US and they were flying into crowded places.</em><br />
<br />
<em>I ran terrified in to where R. was sleeping - yelling and trying to wake her to tell her of the danger and to get comfort from my fear. She wouldn't wake despite my desperate shaking and pulling of her arm.</em><br />
<br />
<em>And then I saw the plane flying sideways outside along the windows of the house.</em><br />
<br />
Cue scream.<br />
<br />
Analysis:<br />
<ul>
<li>Clearly there is a 9/11 theme - an event that I had a somewhat interesting reaction to considering I was 40 weeks pregnant when it happened and gave birth 8 days later</li>
<li>The news showing death is clearly about the suicide video</li>
<li>The part about R. not waking up - even though it was her in the dream I don't think it really was her (if that makes any sense) - I think that I was actually about me trying to "wake Shawn up" to alert him to the danger (of his ultimate suicide) and that it was too late. The trying to wake scene was a familiar one of trying to get Shawn up after he had passed out.</li>
</ul>
I was thinking about Shawn today and looking at pictures (nope, still haven't found the invisible picture). I looked at him and said, "I didn't know you were so sad."<br />
<br />
I thought he was angry.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12935224098503086110noreply@blogger.com0