Don't Ask Why

 

I recently stood by a friend as she lost her friend to suicide.  As a loss survivor and a friend, I was with her to offer her support.  I quickly realized that being a support also meant that I was there to also help field the “why” questions. 

The pain my friend sat with when fielding all the “why” questions over and over was heartbreaking.  In the moment we have lost someone so close to us to suicide the only thing needed is love and support.

I am here to tell you, the “why” doesn’t matter anymore.  That the “why” questions we all have will never really be answered.  We have to accept that there was no one thing that takes a person to the place of suicidal crisis.  We have to accept that we as curious human beings are not going get these answers and that we need to keep our questions to ourselves.

What all the “why” questions do is look for blame and often cause more hurt for the family and loved ones. The “why” questions you may have are likely something they have already been asking themselves.  What they need from you now is love and support, not more questions. 

My Tribe, Healing and Shamrock Shakes

 

It did not start out this way, I never wanted to start to heal from this pain.  To me if I healed at all it felt like I was leaving you behind. Five years has given me a long time to process, a long time to feel, a long time to know that healing doesn’t mean letting go or moving on.  It means honoring the life my girl lived and the celebrating everything she brought to the world.

This last year has taught me more than ever that my inside needed more care than I was acknowledging.  I was standing in my pain but forgetting to honor my self care.  2020 taught the world to take nothing for granted, but I learned that in 2016 when I lost my girl.  What 2020 taught me is to slow down and focus on the things that are right in front of me.  Right in front of me was me, screaming for the love and care I give everyone else.  What my patterns have lead me to over the past 5 years have not been where I need to be, now is the time to find new patterns to take care of the me I know I am and need to be.

Grief sucks the life out of you, I filled myself back up by taking care of others.  It’s something that comes naturally for me, it’s easier than taking care of myself.  Year five, I explored inward more.  What did I need?  This was something really foreign for me.  It seemed selfish and it seemed like I was abandoning Brittany.

Healing, what is healing anyway?  How do I heal?  Why do I need to heal?  I set out to find these answers for ME.  I found the answers with a lot of self-reflection and support from the tribe of people that support me full heartly.  Healing isn’t moving on, it is honoring and celebrating.  I need to allow myself to honor and celebrate the joyous days, while still acknowledging the hole that will forever be in my heart.  Healing can only happen if I open myself up to seeing things in new ways.

I have surrendered to the pain of every parent’s worst nightmare while holding my head high with HOPE to continue to help others.  Now I am learning to take that same HOPE and give the light to myself as well.  I never imagined I had the time to nourish my mind, body, and soul but the more I did it the more time found itself.  People would always tell me you make the time for the things important to you, this is  true.  You can find the obstacles or you can find the solutions. 

It was the Shamrock Shakes that taught me the most this year. I know this sounds odd with all the healthy changes I made to take care of me.  Oddly enough when Shamrock Shake season came I wasn’t prepared.  Brittany LOVED Shamrock Shakes from McDonalds and geared up for her big hockey tournaments with them each year.  Shamrock Shake Season also leads us right up to her angel day and her birthday, so it always hits like a ton of bricks.  This year it hit harder because I wasn’t ready for it, and when I saw the first Shamrock Shake walk into my office, I fell apart.

What my tribe did for me was to help me see just how far I have come in this healing this year.  To look at these Shamrock Shakes and to celebrate my girl, celebrate the joy they brought to her and the joy of the Shamrock Shake Season!  My tribe all went out and got a Shamrock Shake and followed Butchie’s instructions to drink half of it then save the other half for Brittany.  This started a campaign of photos of people sharing their Shamrock Shakes for Brittany.  It didn’t end with just my little tribe it spread into my whole army of people and kept going! 

I could go on and on about everything I did this year to learn how to care for myself and the work I put in to do the work from the inside out, but that one story of putting something heavy out there to my tribe, letting them help me carry it, turning it into something beautiful, and celebrating the life of my Brittany sums up more than I could even explain.  That right there is HOPE and that right there is SELF CARE!

Today I will cry because I miss my girl, but I will also smile and laugh because for 17 years, 11 months and 24 days my girl LIVED and for the rest of my life I will choose HOPE….with a little help from my tribe and a Shamrock Shake.

If you are grieving, find your tribe to help you carry the heavy and find your Shamrock Shake story to help your self care and your HOPE!

A Conversation with My inner Sad Girl

 

This time of year grows increasingly hard for me. This year is proving no different despite all the work I am doing to heal and grow. What is different this year is how I am taking care of my Sad Girl and giving her the grace she needs. The grief isn't any less but these conversations I can have with myself now help.  

 

This week I am struggling with my inner sad girl again. So, I sat with her and had a chat.

Me:

Sad Girl why are you sad?

SG:

I expected this year to be easier and I want to be so much further, I thought I would be by now. I feel like I'm failing, letting myself down.

Me:

Nothing is ever going to be easy about this time of year.  You have big goals, and have crushed them all along the way, which goals have you failed?

SG:

I just see the old me in the mirror again. I am afraid, scared, and hurting.

Me:

The old you will always be in the mirror, she is you. You have grown from that time and learned so much, now tell me about the other victories along the way.

SG:

I have learned how fragile my heart is and how much it needed my own love and kindness to find some healing. I have given myself the permission to keep promises to myself just as I do to others because I'm worth it too. I have learned I can do more than I thought possible.  I have learned how to fuel my body properly, not punish it by withholding, not reward with treats and junk.  I have learned to build my tribe to support me.  I have learned that I am not just alive but I am living too.  I have not given up on myself.

ME:

All of that shows you how you haven't failed, but how you have soared and come so far.  You may have fallen and failed before but you have always gotten back up.  You are not failing, you are still going, still taking care of yourself and that is wining. 

Take another look in the mirror and really look because the reflection you see has grown from the woman that was there, you are LIVING! You have come so far from where you were.

SG:

I am certainly a work in progress...inside and out.  Thank you for loving me through this. I needed ME through this more than I ever knew.

 

THANKFUL, GRATEFUL, BLESSED AND A MESS

These things all describe perfectly how my Thanksgivings are.  This year is the 5^th one without my Brittany here.  I know it’s the “new normal” but there is nothing normal about it. 

Starting with thankful, I am thankful for the time I have with the people I surround myself with now.  My youngest daughter, my family, my friends…you know my people.  The ones that show up, the ones that love and support me.  I am also thankful for those that I have chosen to not surround myself with anymore, they have taught me a lesson.  I am thankful that I have a big voice, so I can continue the fight for those that can’t.  I often say that I am not talking this much to change people’s minds, I am talking so others know they are not alone.

Moving onto grateful, being grateful is a beautiful thing, not always an easy thing walking through these thorns.  Being grateful means, you also notice the roses on the branches of the thorns as they cut through your skin.  The gratefulness I have is for the time I did have with Brittany, and for the time I have with Bri.  The time I have when the wind blows just right and the smell of the sweet roses engulfs me.  When the love that surrounds me from my family and friends reminds me just how powerful the greatness of the world can be.  Grateful that the world again has color, even if it isn’t quite as bright.  I am also grateful to also start to heal myself and care on a new level for myself, the way I care for others.   

Touching on Blessed because I know I can never truly explain it all, feeling blessed even after living in the worst nightmare anyone will ever live seems impossible.  Choosing to count my blessings is a way I can continue to shine Brittany’s light in this world.  I am blessed to have a heart that still holds compassion and empathy.  My tears may have formed a type of armor on me for a battle but that battle is helping to make changes for others.  Being blessed is so much more than I can explain here, my heart could explode ten times over with the blessings I have, which is why I can only touch on it now.

A mess…this I can ramble on and on about for hours.  I fall apart at the store still when I turn around because I swear, I hear or see Brittany.  Thanksgiving is no different, I still expect her to fill her mouth with as many marshmallows as she can fit, or swing around the boys, tell us some crazy jokes, ask us about the 365 time on the oven, and make us all laugh until our bellies hurt. I still pick up her favorite foods at the store, I still think about what I will get her for her Birthday or Christmas and I hope this never stops.  I am good with being a mess some times for moments, some times for hours, and quite frankly some times for days. 

This year I am learning better than others to give myself the care and the grace to be a thankful, grateful, blessed mess because no matter what holiday it is or what day it is, I deserve it all and being another day into this life sentence without one of my girls here on earth is punishment enough. 

Happy Birthday to My Girl

Twenty-two years ago I became a mother for the first time. I was given a beautiful baby with no instruction manual, but all the hope to guide her through this world.

This beautiful girl was placed in my arms and my heart filled with joy. My only focus was to be a great mother, but questioning everything along the way. I spent hours just holding her, singing songs to her, reading books, and pacing the floors for hours at a time to comfort her.

Brittany grew before my eyes and found her personality, as I watched her in awe. I traded in the baby snuggles for toddler time. We danced, sang, read more books, and watched what seemed like an eternity of Teletubbies shows. I spent time just watching her, seeing her discover new things, and being amazed by her light shining everyday.

Seeing the pride in her eyes as she became a big sister filled my heart and completed my world. Watching my girls grow together and become the very best of friends made my heart full.

Each time a new stage was reached, I celebrated her while still taking time to watch her turn into a young lady, which seemed like just moments. I would stop by her door some nights and watch her sleep, seeing her as the baby I once held in my arms.

Being the best mother I could through difficult times, was not easy but knowing everything I was doing was for my girls made me take deep breaths and make the best decisions I could with the information I had at the time. Holding onto hope through it all.

The day that Brittany moved to heaven was the hardest day of my life and one I wish no mother would have to feel. Yet there was still hope.

Today Brittany would be 22. I remember her laugh, her strength and bravery she had to fight through her illness, and the hope and light she gave this world. As I close my eyes for just a moment I see that little baby that God gave me and I continue to love her with every breath I take.

Happy Birthday to my Brittany, may you continue to give us all the hope we need to continue in this world without you. I love and miss you every moment of everyday!

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

There is never enough time….Until time is too much

I have reached the 4^th year of loss after my daughter died by suicide.  As if my mind wasn’t racing enough, as if the world wasn’t strange enough we are living in a time of social distancing.  This is the day I need most to escape into an adventure, to have my people by my side, yet with social distancing we can not.

Grief is isolating enough in itself, I have reclaimed this day for a new adventure, spending time with those we love to make the time easier and more commemorative.  The beautiful trip I had planned was cancelled the adventure planned completely changed.  Those who mean the most are not physically close, no arms around me to comfort and no venturing into the world to find something new, leaves me with too much time. 

The uncertainty of the world today pales in comparison to the uncertainty I felt 4 years ago.  I stood still alone while the world continued on.  Now the world stands still in uncertainty together.  

We need to remember, life is precious and experiences we share are too, we can hide from happiness because terrible things happen or we can find the joy in the little things.  Choosing to find joy or happiness doesn’t mean we have forgotten the tragedy, it shows we honor it.

So as I grieve in the time of social distancing, I know that each message and call is really a hug, a friend sitting here with me, a shoulder to cry on, a shared story to laugh about, a memory of my girl that shines in this world. 

4 years have gone by and the pain is no less, my heart is still not healed, the 17 years, 11 months, and 24 days we had are still not enough, and the 4 years with out her is too much.

Thanksgiving

As my family gathers together for the holidays there are so many wonderful things going on. 

My parents are hosting us for Thanksgiving.

Dad will tell us some jokes and try to get us to look down at the non-existent spot on our shirt, so he can catch our noses.  Mom will make her special treats and make us all laugh with something that she leaves in the microwave, only to find It after we are all stuffed full. 

My brothers will play a game and toss back a few beers while we are all getting the dinner buffet set up.  They will keep the kids occupied and encourage them to come steal the black olives from the tray, even though it’s not time to eat quite yet. 

My sister-in-laws will help to get the food ready and placed on the counter for everyone to pick and choose over.  We will chat about what the kids have been doing and what they have coming up.  We will tell stories about some of the fun and goofy things that have happened. 

The big kids will be sitting comfortably on the sofas playing with their phones, the little kids will bounce back and forth from my bothers to the big kids, wanting to see what game they are playing and when it can be their turn to play.

We will all fill our plates and sit around the table to share the meal and time together.  Mom will bring us all together with a prayer and remind us how blessed we all are.  Then we will join in the meal and joke and laugh about the fun we have together.  The kids will push some food around their plates and accept some bribes to try something new, only to have this Aunchie let them have their desert anyway.

After the meal we will work together to clear the table, do the dishes, and put the leftovers away.  We will join together again to play a game and enjoy each other’s company, with a glass of wine or two.

This may sound like the very perfect picture of a holiday.  I know how truly blessed I am to have it, yet the most noticeable thing to me will be the empty chair where my daughter should be.  

This is not the first year for the empty chair, yet it hasn’t become any easier.  I love the time my family is together, but it also serves as a heartbreaking reminder of that empty chair.

Strong......

Being strong….this is something I wrestle with every day.  People tell me all the time, “You are so strong!”  I cannot accept that.  Wading through grief is not strength, it is painful!  Each day is like walking through thorns and feeling them cut deeper the more you try to escape them.

In reality what you see as my strength is not.  It is a brave face, it is a determined Mama, it is crying alone, it is screaming at the top of my lungs when no one is around and it is wanting so desperately to not to have to be “strong”! 

Being handed this life sentence without my oldest daughter seems so wrong, then I look to my youngest daughter and I feel the pain she has inside of her and it cuts my heart even deeper.  This is not something I can stop or change for her, not something I can shelter her from.  Her life sentence without her sister is greater than I can imagine.  Greater than anything she should ever have to know. 

I want to see my girl living her life and her sister not afraid to live hers. 

I know when we have children, we aren’t handed a checklist, and I love a good checklist.  Even more unreal is when we lose our child there is no checklist for that either.  How am I supposed to keep going, how can I help my youngest child though this uncharted territory when I have no damn clue where we even are anymore?  How can I encourage her to fight, when I am not sure I can! 

I don’t want to die, but I sure as hell want to be with my girl….BOTH of my girls.  How can I keep one foot in this world and one foot in another?  This limbo is something I will never wrap my head around, yet I keep going in this world.

I bask in all the glory my youngest daughter’s achievements with her and encourage her to be proud of what she is doing, she deserves everything she has worked so hard for and I am proud of her!  She deserves to see that she is the kindest soul with the most amazing heart.  To hear her say she is scared to continue her life without her big sissy showing her the way is heartbreaking and true.  The truth in what she is feeling is not wrong.  I am always honored when she can express this to me.

The pain my youngest daughter wades though is like those thorns, but I know they cut her even deeper.  The day the feelings to be with her sister outweighed her desire to live her own I was there, understanding where she was at.    Screaming and begging her to stay here. 

The pain she was in built up higher than any mountain you can see or imagine.  I understood how she got to that place, but she nor I were ready for her to take her foot out of this world.  She fought like hell to stay in this world, even if she wasn’t sure she wanted to.  She doesn’t need to be strong; she needs to know it’s OK    

to be whatever she is.

So, as I stand in this world and people call me strong…I want to laugh in their face.  I am far from strong, I am a grieving mother, fighting to keep myself and my youngest daughter in this world.  This doesn’t make us strong, this makes us the keeper of the thorns…..taking moments we can to smell the roses. 

Three years Into A Life Sentence

Three years into my life sentence as a bereaved mother.  That sounds so strange……still.  The pain and the tears are not gone, nor will they ever be.  The time has stood still around me while so much has kept moving since my daughter took her life. 

In the three years, I have seen joy again, the world does have color again, and so much has changed.  I feel guilty that life continues to go on without Brittany, yet proud of all the things Brianna is doing and accomplishing.  I have never experienced so many ends of emotions all at the same time. 

There is no “moving on” after this loss, I will never let go of this part of my heart.  My brain is split in two it seems, just as my heart is.  The grief changes and morphs into so many different things, often it changes minute by minute.  Many times, I want to go numb and just run away into a hole, but I can’t.  There is still so much to enjoy with those that I love. 

I keep going for both of my girls. For Brittany I keep going to share the love and hope she had for this world.  For Brianna I keep going because I am so proud of the strong woman she is becoming and I’m so proud to be her mother. 

My biggest fear is that in this world, Brittany will be forgotten.  That people will forget who she was and all the wonderful things she gave this world.  I am grateful that family and friends still reach out and talk to me about her, so the fear seems irrational I know, but it is still there.

There is little in this world to compare the grief to.  Thinking of the rest of my life like this doesn’t seem to be easier today than it was three years ago.  This doesn’t seem to be fair, right, or just.  

I have little concern anymore for what people think or what is acceptable, instead I do what is best for us, what we need to do to just survive somedays.   Survival mode it seems is the only normal I have anymore.  

So, I simply put one foot in front of the other and soak in the pieces of color that the world still has to offer us. 

Why I Speak About Suicide

There are always people that ask me when I speak about losing my daughter to suicide, “How can you do it?”  It is simple to me, I have a big voice and little fear of crowds, so I can do a small part to help spread hope to those affected by suicide.

In the two years since we lost my daughter, I have spoke several times.  Some telling our story, others sharing education and prevention to schools and communities.  There hasn’t been one time that I wasn’t nervous, because I want to be sure I am conveying all the hope I have to share with this world.  The hope I have is for others to understand that suicide and mental health needs to be treated just as physical health is. 

We as a community and a culture need to do better, we need to invest in more research, more advocacy, more education just as we have with other medical conditions.  Through the years we have all witnessed other medical conditions gaining the research and education and have seen huge strides in survival from those conditions.

While I stand before a crowd to talk about our story, I know much of our story is not unique, there are so many families that are experiencing the pain mine is.  This makes it even more important to continue to share.  Those families all need to know they are not alone, and that there is hope. 

As with any disease, we can’t save everyone, but we can do better!  This is why I choose to volunteer with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP).  The funds we raise in our communities help to fund research, advocacy, education, and survivor support.  Working with AFSP, I feel like in some small way I can help others and be a part of the changes that need to happen in our world. 

So, simply put I stand before people to talk about suicide because hope guides us through many paths in life and shows us the way.  Being the “Purple Ninja Mom” is something I have and always will be proud of.  My daughter’s battle with depression was long, she fought it hard every day, and we did right beside her.  When her battle ended, her hope didn’t.  I will carry on her hope and her mission to help anyone battling this disease with the hope in my heart that other families won’t have to fight this battle in silence.

Live life to the fullest and always “Fight Like a Ninja”!

Two years have now passed since my daughter took her life.  I stand still in the world changed, broken down, lost, scared, and far from who I was before.

I still have days that cut right through my heart and bring me to my knees with grief.  I hope I always will, as that grief is that place in my heart that she holds.  However, now I can look back on days and remember her life and the beauty that she brought into this world. 

The enjoyable days I have grown to appreciate.  Butchie makes me laugh and makes me so proud of the things she is accomplishing.  How I wish Brittany was still here to share in all of her successes and see the lovely young woman she is becoming before my eyes.  It is still so hard to see her struggle with her grief and missing her sister. She is so damn strong, probably stronger than she ever should have to be.

There have been days I have wished over and over to join my daughter, not wanting to die but wanting nothing more than to be with her.  The dark days have me wishing for anything that would end this pain of the life sentence without my daughter.

I’ve spent the time in grief wondering what I did wrong, what didn’t I do, and how I failed her.  There is something in my heart that makes me doubt so much although, my head keeps telling me that I did everything possible just as every parent questions choices we have to make.  Her illness created a battle inside of her that I can only imagine had to be far worse than this.

This world without her has changed me, everyday I try to hold on to hope.  Some days it seems to be a fine thread that is very frayed, and others a thick rope to carry me across rough paths.   All these tears I shed are making the armor I wear to take on the world stronger, but some days I wonder if I am just hiding behind it too.

I stand in this world a warrior, a very broken-hearted warrior with an armor of tears forging through the battle of living the rest of my life without my daughter.

MY GIRL LIVED!

When my daughter died by suicide in March of 2016, I never imagined that the colors would come back to life again, that I would never see or feel joy again, and that I would never be able to remember her without totally breaking down and crying.  I received a message from someone at my church after mass one day, she too had lost a child, she offered a statement that I didn’t realize would impact me so much at the time.  She told me, “There will come a day that you will remember your daughter LIVED and not just that she died.”  I thought to myself, this is not possible, I will always remember that my daughter died!

As I approach the 2^nd anniversary of my daughter’s passing, I can say that this wonderfully kind woman is right.  Not only can I see the colors of the world again, I can feel joy, and I do remember that my girl LIVED and not just that she is gone. 

So to this lovely woman from church, you were right…..and I thank you so much for giving me that sliver of HOPE, even when I couldn’t see it. 

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.

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.

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.

First Christmas Without My Girl

First Christmas without my girl.

Christmas has always been a tough time for me, this year is defiantly worse.  My daughter died by suicide in March this year, just days before her 18^th birthday.  So, how do I get through this Christmas?

I haven’t taken the tree out of the box, this is not usual for me as I typically don’t put it up until a few days before Christmas.  Even the thought of putting it up this year is heart wrenching.  How do we celebrate without her?

When someone says “Merry Christmas” to me I smile and wish them the same.  Inside I am screaming at them, “NO IT’S NOT MERRY!”

What is Christmas?  

It is a time of year we all celebrate Christ’s birth and share this joyous time with our family.  So how do I do this this year?  How do I do this without my daughter?

Everyday has been more and more difficult without my daughter.  Just surviving days has been such a battle.  All the world is happy and celebrating such a joyous time. I’m struggling to just get through the day.  I can see the beauty and the joy of the season, I just don’t want to.  I can feel the love and support from the people around us, I just want to hide and curl into a corner. 

The sleigh bells ring – I just cry

The lights are shining brightly – the tears roll down my face

The stockings are hung with care – I struggle to put my smile on

The tree is up in everyone’s homes – I can’t take mine out of the box

Presents are being wrapped with care –  Mine will be in Target bags

Families are traveling far and wide to be together for Christmas – my family will never be all together again

The snow is falling – this was her favorite time of year

First Thanksgiving Without You

The First Thanksgiving Without You

While I sit with my family tomorrow, I will remember what I have to be thankful for.  I am thankful for my beautiful daughters, my supportive family, my true friends, my career, and so much more.  Yet as I prepare to sit with the family tomorrow, there will be a huge hole not just at the table but also in my heart.

This is my first Thanksgiving without my oldest daughter, Brittany.  She ended her life just about 8 months ago now.  Nothing has seemed right since then.  The holidays are no different.

I will drive to be with my family with Butchie, trying to keep it all together because I am so thankful for her.  Watching Butchie go through losing her sister is even more painful than losing her myself.   We will talk about times we shared, and laugh about the road trips we took together. 

Surrounding ourselves with the people who truly care and support us seems like what we should do.  So why is it all that I want to do is cocoon away and cry?  I am so grateful for the life we all shared with Brittany, and just as grateful for the life that I get to continue with Butchie.  I feel terrible for not wanting to grasp onto all the happiness around me, I just am so overwhelmed with this grief.  I want to feel good sharing this precious time with everyone, but my heart is in so much pain. 

I will smile, laugh, joke, and give everything I have to stay in the moment and cherish the time with all the special people I will be with.  Hold back the tears as everyone asks, “How are you?”  Then see that look they give after I say, “Fine” knowing I’m not fine. 

We will gather around the table and give thanks for all we have, I will feel guilty as I think of what I should have….both my girls.  I will wish everyone a very Happy Thanksgiving, pass the potatoes, and maybe even hold the babies. 

On our drive home, I will cry….A LOT!

While we are together, I will hold onto my “strong” face and try to smile and laugh with everyone when all I want to do is fall apart.   

My Wish As A Mother who Lost her child to Suicide

My Wish as a Mother Who Lost her Child to Suicide

My wish is that the battle became real to people.  That they could see this illness for what it truly is, a true affliction that can be as debilitating as physical illnesses.  Mental illness isn’t something anyone can choose or wish away.  It affects the brain like a tumor taking over or an infection spreading.

This illness has so much stigma attached to it people are ashamed to reach for help, and many go undiagnosed and untreated.  The resources for mental health are limited and not accessible to many.

When a tragedy strikes someone we know or love, it makes us all question, why didn’t they say something, why didn’t they ask someone to help them, why didn’t they just do things to make them happy?  We need to look at this differently.  When you are in a battle with your thoughts and perceptions it is not something you can just turn off. 

Instead we need to look at this as what can we do to help.  Where are we as a society to help those fighting these battles?  Where do we stand when someone we know is going through terrible pain? 

If my daughter was battling her disease without hair, tubes coming out of her, or other medical devices helping her with her battle would you look at her disease differently?  Would it be acceptable then?  Would it not be a choice for her then?

Missing Taking Her to College

Missing Taking Her to College

I’m supposed to be getting my daughter ready for college, instead I have to go visit her at the mausoleum. 

I’m not buying new sheets, towels, and fun dorm room things, I’m buying flowers to place in her vase on the niche.

I’m not preparing to only see her on school breaks and holidays, I’m trying to figure out how to live without seeing her until I myself move to heaven.

I walk through the stores seeing everywhere the sales and the signs for back to school and remember how much fun we had last year picking up crayons, markers, cool pens, notebooks, and we stopped to look at some dorm room décor.  I remember getting tears in my eyes knowing that was her last year living at home.  Now I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that she moved to heaven.

I see her friends all posting about moving into their dorms, leaving home, and getting to start their new chapters in life.  I am so proud and so happy for all of them, but the sadness takes over for the unwritten chapter my girl was supposed to have.

Instead of talking myself into letting her out of my arms at the college dorms she left this world just 4 months ago.  My girl died my suicide, and I didn’t get to have that long lasting hug to say goodbye, that moment to embarrass her while meeting all her new roommates and friends, or the moment of tears as I drove home alone leaving her to start her college journey. 

I’ve had many drives home crying as I left the mausoleum alone, knowing that the next time I will see her is when I move to heaven too.

The Question I dread as a Parent whose child died by Suicide

How many children do I have?

As a mother who's lost a child, I stand in a crowd of strangers, time to meet new people.  A crowd of strangers that don't know my grief and I hope never do.  I have always been a pretty social person and now, 4 months after my daughter Brittany died by suicide, I am struggling to return to my life and my responsibilities.

I am waiting as I'm introduced for the questions.  First my name, I got this one it's easy.  Then what do you do for a living, that's easy too. 

Then the dreaded ones.......How many kids do you have? Seems easy, I have 2 girls.  I’ve had 2 girls for over 18 years now, so it just comes out.  Then how old are your kids, this is where I lose it, tears well up in my eyes and I can see the uncomfortable look on the face of the people I’m being introduced to.  I pause….

Do I say Brittany would be 18 and Butchie is 16 or do I ignore the fact that my oldest has went to live in heaven and just say 17 and 16,  What do I do when they are the same age?  Do I add the years on for my daughter that went to live in heaven just before her 18th birthday?  Or even more heartbreaking, do I say my Butchie is 16 and leave Brittany out of it completely?

I have always been open about my grief, yet this question is the hardest to answer.  How much do I explain?  I am typically a very strong woman, but this hits me like a ton of bricks every time.  If I do say I lost my Brittany just a 

few months ago, then comes the question, “What happened?” 

I am also not shy or ashamed about making sure the awareness is there for mental illness and suicide prevention, if she died from any other disease it wouldn’t be looked at the way suicide is.  This is why I need to choose to say she died by suicide, if I can show one person that mental health is the same as physical health then it is worth it.

Now I’m back to this battle in my head, what do I share?  I don’t share about Brittany for pity or sympathy.  I truly share about my daughter because I want things to be different for this terrible disease!   This disease needs change behind it, it needs awareness, it needs a voice!

So for now, I battle in my head for what seems like an eternity when someone asks me the simple question, “How many children do you have?” 

I will forever be a mother of TWO girls, one just lives in heaven now.