Tuesday, August 15, 2017
The Barter I made...
Everyone has a story, and every story is important. This is a story about why I do the work that I do.
Almost a year and a half ago, my daughter died by suicide. It was the most painful day of my life. As a parent, my worst nightmare became a reality. Nothing will ever make it better, nothing can ever fill that void. That first night when she died my heart broke, never to be the same again.
I didn't sleep much that night, I laid in bed, but didn't really sleep. I screamed, I cried, and I wept, then at some point my body shut down.
When I awoke I laid there. There's always been those first precious seconds of everyday when nothing is real yet, and that next day was no different. Then it set in, for the first time that day those precious seconds were gone and I was zapped into real life, my daughter is gone. It was more than overwhelming that morning, I began to sob again.
I am mother who has lost her child, God had trusted me with her to raise and I failed. How can I do anything, let alone get out of that bed. I had nothing inside me at that moment.
I've always had my faith, but was never that churchy person. When I started to yell at God, to beg for him to make this all be a nightmare, and not my reality. I knew it wasn't something He could do, so in that moment I began my bartering with God.
For years through my daughter's battle with her mental condition, I would tell her, "I know you don't have hope right now, so I will have enough for both of us." This is something I said many times to her during her long battle, and now I was in that bed and had no hope left.
In that moment I knew I couldn't stay in that bed and hide from the world, but I still couldn't get up. So I prayed to God, I needed hope, I needed hope it get out of that bed and take care of my family. I had no idea where it would come from.
So the bartering began, I knew I couldn't promise to never do anything wrong again in my life, I am human and I screw up a lot, that wouldn't really be a barter God would take. So in that terrible moment I said, "God, fill me with the hope I need to carry on, and I will promise to do what I can to fight this disease, to comfort others with this disease, and to be there for those feeling the pain I knew I would always have."
Then something I had never felt before happened, almost undescrible. There was an electrifying feeling that came over me and went right to my heart. For a second I thought, maube God is taking me to be with my girl. Then I could feel it, it was hope. God was filling my heart with HOPE.
He accepted my bartering, He was giving me what I needed in that dark time to get out of that bed and take care of my daughter, my family, and anyone else that needed comfort.
I leaned on my family and my friends to get me through that time, then my chips were called in. I was asked to share our story in the hopes of helping others, when this call came I again felt that electricity of hope. I remember telling myself, I bartered with God and He doesn't forget that. I was positive I was supposed to do this.
I began speaking and telling our story and working with The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention and Surviors Joining for Hope. I talk with schools, communities, and well anyone that will listen about how to help others that may be struggling. I also work with suicide loss survivors, not to "fix them, because God knows I can't but to listen, to let them know they are not alone.
The barter that I made with God that morning was more than just that, this work that I do is as healing for me as I hope it is for those I work with. The big guy knows what he's doing when He barters.
Thursday, March 23, 2017
A Year of Grief
It’s been a year since my daughter took her life and I stand
in this world much different today than I ever have. I am broken down, defeated, lost and will
never be the same again. I stand here
as a mother who has lost a child. This
past year has been full of grief, hope, and as much strength as I can put
together to face every day.
The most difficult part of losing my daughter has been
watching my youngest daughter struggle through the grief. Seeing her struggle through her grief and
wanting to fix it and take away the pain, makes my broken heart hurt even more. There is nothing more painful than seeing
your children in pain and not being able to take it away. Her grief is different than mine, I
understand the loss but will never fully understand her grief as a sister and
best friend. I can only be here for her
and give her comfort, supporting her through her grief to find healing.
I have learned that relying on others and letting others
help has been the most challenging for me, and I haven’t quite figured it all
out yet. I have never been good at
relying on others, and now when I am grasping to hold onto the hope I have
asking or allowing others to be there is challenging. I know that I have loving, supportive, caring
friends and family that want to be there, but I have always been the one to
reach out to help others. I am trying to
let that go and let others be there for me…I am trying. Walking through this grief is something
indescribable to most people, and it has a way to make you feel alone in a
crowd of people who love and care for you.
The waves of grief have taken me through so much already and
I know that they will keep coming. In
moments that I find myself smiling and enjoying the moment I feel guilty that
I’m enjoying things without her. When
I’m overwhelmed with sadness and fall apart I feel disappointed that I’m not
being strong enough for my youngest daughter.
When I sit and think about the time we should have had together the
three of us, I am angry. I roll through
these emotions and jump from shock, disbelief, depression, hope, acceptance,
love, and hurt. I am often conflicted
about my feelings and how to best express and share them.
There are days I just fight to survive, others I take on
with gusto, some I just get through, and some that I am full of strength
wearing my tears as armor taking on the world.
I don’t always know what strength I will have each day, and some days
what I think I am ready for turns into something much different.
The pain my daughter’s illness caused her had to be even
greater than the pain we are all in without her here. Her illness was truly debilitating and she
fought with everything she had against it.
The reality of grief is that it is different all the
time. It changes day by day, hour by
hour and even minute by minute.
I will forever be reaching to my daughter and for the rest
of my life not finding her there and that is how I explain my grief.
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
Friends Through Grief
Friends Through Grief
Though this past year since my daughter took her life, I
have found that there are many types of friends, some that should be in my life
and some that just need to be just where they have left themselves, out of my
life. My daughter’s battle through
depression was a long road that ended in the most terrible way. I was always her advocate and focused on the
help that she needed. This left little
time to be with friends. Some understood
and some did not.
Through her illness there were many times I had to cancel
plans, change plans, or make plans at the drop of a hat. The friends that understood that, understood
that my priority was being a Mom and those that didn’t fell away.
I will likely never be the same person I was before losing
my daughter, this loss has changed me in a way I can’t describe. The grief will
never go away, and the friends that understand that are the ones that have been
carrying our friendship over this last year, because I just couldn’t.
Friends can bring more pain to your grief or they can
support you in your grief and know that just being there is what a friend truly
is. Each type of friend has brought
something to my life and taught me things that I needed to see. Some brought hurt, and many brought love and
support. I am grateful for my friends
those that are here and those that have moved on.
The “I’ll always be here friends…” these are the true
friends, the ones that check in when they are thinking of you, the ones that
stop by just because. These are the
friends that understand that there aren’t words to make things better, there
isn’t really anything I need other than just to be my friend. Their contact may be a simple message, card,
phone call, or even a random drop by the house.
They don’t stop for anything but to let me know they care, the words are
not always profound but they mean more than anything else. These friends are unconditional and stand
beside me and just listen, talk about my girl with me and truly listen to what
I am saying. These are the friends that
I can count on, the ones that have not only basked in the sun with me in my
happiest of times, but are now sitting in the rain with me in my darkest of
times….and they brought an umbrella for us to share.
The “See you around friends….” These are the people that
were “friends” before anything happened, they were around right away when
everyone was watching, but now are gone.
These friends wonder why I haven’t done things for them during my
grief. They don’t really want to know how
I am doing, they just want to know why I’m not doing things. They have made it clear that my grief is a
burden to them and that they don’t want to be with me through anything
real. These are the “friends” that just
fade away from my life and as much as it hurts, I have to let them. I will love them and forgive them…..from
afar.
The “Chosen as Family Friends…” this is the friend that was
there though everything, the one that would check in though the long battle
leading up to my daughter’s death. The
one that did so much when my daughter died but I had no idea because I was just
in a haze. Even now they just do things
for me because they know I’m terrible at asking for things. They are the ones I can always count on for
anything, even if I don’t know what I really need.
The “Were they ever a friend friends….” These “friends” are
the ones that called or messaged to be nosey.
They asked lots of inappropriate questions and said really off key
things, like “She’s in a much better place” and “She is spreading her wings and
flying now”. Seriously, my daughter was
17, is there a better place to be than here with her family? These friends didn’t ever think to check in
when the battle was tough with my daughter’s illness, they only came around to
be nosey during a crisis. They are the
ones that don’t understand the grief, and I hope they never have to.
The “Friends in Grief friends…..” these are the people I
have met since my daughter took her life.
They have surrounded me with love, support, and positivity because they
know exactly what I’m going through.
They understand the loss, the grief, and don’t push me to feel or do
anything I’m not comfortable with. They
listen and ask questions, they hug and they support me doing new things. These friends bring a new spin on my future
and help me find my new normal.
Monday, January 2, 2017
My Face Will Leak!
My Face Will Leak!
I will let my face leak
whenever and where ever I need. I'm not hiding or running from my grief, I live
my life pretty loud and proud, and my grief will be no different. Grief sucks
and if I have to hide it, it makes me feel ashamed of it. So I will grieve when
I need to.
If you see my face leaking,
then know that I needed to cry in that moment.
I’m not afraid of my tears, I’m scared to hold them in.
While in the grocery
store, picking out some oranges the other day, I swear I heard my girl behind
me. I quickly turned around to see that
it wasn’t her and this moment brought me a flash of happiness and then a crash
of devastation, it wasn’t her. I know
that she has been gone now for almost 9 months and she will never be the voice
behind me in the produce section, yet for those fleeting seconds, I hear her
voice and hope she is. In this moment I
needed to let my face leak.
We are encouraged to
share all the joyful things in our life, why do we have to deal with grief
alone?
Grief
is the form love takes when you lose someone so very special. Having this grief shows we loved so much and
so great that the grief hurts this much.
I will no longer
apologize for doing what I need to grieve, because what I’m doing is not
wrong. What I need may be different than
what you need, but it is not wrong.
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