The Power of Compassion

Never underestimate the power of compassion. Everything else may weigh heavy, but compassion brings light to our hearts. 

It is people you never expect to recognize and share your pain doing just that. In the middle of 60+ other people at a Christmas gathering. That you were hesitant to go to, because the freaking stigma part of losing someone to suicide makes you shaky at best sometimes. It's your kids who encouraged you to go, knowing you'd be welcomed with open arms. It's the people who jump up and down when they see you. And, it's the satisfaction of pushing past the fear of showing up more than a little bit broken. Who of us isn't a little bit broken?

Compassion is looking back to honor our trials, growth and the grace that came with it. It's looking forward to the days ahead. Even if, especially if, the present day doesn't seem to hold either growth or grace. Compassion is digging deep. It is finding the good stuff and releasing the bad stuff. It is choosing to take leaps of faith. It is something we give others, and ourselves.

So may you, in your time of need, experience compassion. It manifests love in unexpected, but much needed ways.

The Time Of Year

So much anticipation in these days before Christmas. So much fullness in our days, so much of everything. Expectation, hope, dreams, desires. So much of just plain wanting, not just of things, but of the way things should be during the holidays.

While it's okay to want all of that, it's also fine to own that sometimes reality doesn't come near to matching our expectations. It may be the "happiest time of the year" but we struggle with grief, illness, loneliness, lost dreams, broken hearts.  I've struggled with getting into the spirit this year.  I love looking at Christmas tree's in other peoples windows, but couldn't bring myself to put up one of my own. Motivation to decorate, meh. Maybe next year.

Ever notice, in passing conversation, how often we ask are you ready for Christmas? Honestly, beyond the obvious yes or no. What would you really like to reply? Consider these options...I'm not ready and never will be. I'm on a hamster wheel of preparation and I can't get off. I haven't done enough. I wish I could do more. My heart is ready, but my house is not. I'm ready for it to be over. I'm ready for the proverbial silent night. 

I am ready to lavish my love even if it's not in tangible form. I am ready to own that the holidays remind me of painful losses, challenges and on going struggles. I'm ready to remember I may feel lonely, or lost, but I am neither lost or alone. Most honestly, I miss the innocence of past Christmas'. But, and there is always a but, I will move through the season as best I can. When there are tears, I'll embrace them. When there is joy I will cherish it. When I'm somewhere in between I'll lean on my faith. 

I wish you the magical season we all dream of, and I'll challenge you to find the gifts in the harder seasons in life. They are there, we just have to dig deeper to find them. 

Gifts

It is the season of gifts. I wish I had the ability to lavish those I love with gifts. Big gifts, little gifts, silly gifts, family treasure gifts. Homemade gifts, food gifts, gifts that make your eyes leak gifts.  I wish I had more to give.

But back up the bus. We can give things, but often we need less things and more love. I want to give more love in my life. Life is hard, we need more love. Sometimes I wonder if the gifts I gave in the past were enough. Sometimes they were more than enough and I didn't realize it.  

This time of year we are pushed/encouraged/expected to spend spend spend on those gifts gifts gifts. Honestly, my budget is stretched thin. Here is the deal, my budget is simply my income and what I do to keep the bills paid, dogs fed and get me from here to there. It only reflects my money, it does not measure my blessings. My blessings totally out weigh my finances.

So how to celebrate the season and share the blessings. Still trying to sort that one out. I can say whatever gift I give comes with way more love than the value of the item. I haven't got a lot, but I have everything that matters. I pray you do to.

I have a heart with love to give, even though life has been hard on it. I have the will to live and to love. I have ability to indulge in my passion for helping dogs, for sharing heartfelt words and the strength to do just that. I want to give you everything and all I have is me to give. Perhaps I am the gift. Perhaps you are the gift. We come messy and grieving, with humor and hope. We come growing and hurting, we come healing and learning. We come in a million different packages. With pieces of ourselves to give. Therein lies the gift.  

Head Games

It's December 1st and I've been writing my Christmas letter for a few days now. Mostly I've been fighting the head games that are blocking the words from flowing out.

We all have head games that keeps us from being and doing. I'll share some of mine relating to my letter. "What could you possibly have to say that merits a Christmas letter". "In your quiet, read - work, no social life, existence what would be worth sharing?" "How do you explain the grieving and growth that has happened this year and who cares?" Here's a really personal one...."your first husband left you and your second husband killed himself, you got nothing".  That thought is brutal and I fight with it daily.

I've probably said this hundreds of times in my blog. Owning it is the first step. I share because I know in my heart someone out there can relate. I pray someone out there will find comfort. That someone out there will find courage, and be uplifted. I trust that person will be me and I hope it is you.

So first I'm rewriting the messages in my head and then I'll carry on with my letter.  I'll find some humor, some truth, some way to share this year of my life. Some years aren't all glory and extravagance. Some are subtle steps towards healing, laced with gratitude and faith. That itself is worth sharing.

Not Yet

I think the hardest lesson to learn is....not yet. When will it happen? Not yet. When will that prayer be answered? Not yet. Is the pain ever going to subside. Not yet.

Not Yet is hard on the good days. Harder still on the holidays. Holidays are rough. I took food to a friend in need today and during the conversation I discovered I was the one in need. I was the weepy one, and she was the strong one. I wanted to give support and I felt like I needed it more. Because I will own that I am in a Not Yet time of life. She is too actually. Perhaps the combination of our Not Yets made it all more poignant.

The not knowing if I am where I need to be in life is a recurring Not Yet. The am I doing enough is another Not Yet. The worry over financial issues. The will I always be alone. Will I make it all work. Will I ever know the answers? ...maybe not, but definitely Not Yet.

Will the waves of grief soften and dissipate, no Not Yet. Those waves happen when you least expect it. There is no rhyme or reason. Bam, they just happen. So you wonder, will this ever stop....Not Yet.

Today I struggle with that. Face it, I want to fix it, and it's not mine to fix. So there I am. In between, praying for answers, stepping forward but with admitted uncertainty. My guess is that many of us travel that same path. Moving forward, waiting, struggling, wondering if it's time.  So I try to find some peace in the Not Yet. Or, at least, attempt to wrestle with it less. I'll set it down, and not pick it up, not yet.

Unexpected Graces

Last year this time I had to make a decision. I was a mess, life was shattered and there was a dog in need. Frankly, dogs in need trump most everything for me. I didn't feel like I had much of anything to offer, I was barely getting by. But this dog was living with even less than I had to give, so I said yes to him. Some of life's most brilliant decisions evolve in such a grace filled manner. 

 

Hobbs is one of those. Honestly he was the most emaciated foster to ever arrive at my door. It's helpful going into a new foster to have even a little bit of history on them. Are they house broken, crate trained, are they social with other animals.  All valid questions. Sometimes you know stuff on them, sometimes they are a package waiting to be unwrapped. Discovery can be a stressful trial and error process.

I've said before, and firmly believe, that rescue dogs are grateful dogs. Starving dogs even more so. He and I had a lot to give each other. We both needed some intensive nurturing, so day-by-day we did just that. I fed him kibble and love. He fed me love and comfort. We were both grateful. We still are.

As pointers go, he is not the most handsome of dogs.  Adorable in his own way with his bug eyes and under bite.  I've fostered some stunning pointers. I recently had a friend mention that I've always had amazing dogs here. Truly I have. Hobbs reaffirms that love brings out  beauty that may not be obvious from the outside. Don't tell the others, but he may be at the top of my list of favorite pointers. 

So as we enter Thanksgiving week, I have to give thanks for Hobbs. For the huge package of unexpected grace his carried into my life. I wish you the same, in whatever form works for you. May you all experience a Hobbs whenever you most need it. Trust me, it will be life changing.

Moving On

I like to think I am moving on, trekking through the grief, through the sorrows of losing a marriage and a husband to suicide. Some days the light is returning to life, and other days it's two steps back.

Many things factor in, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries all tug at my heart strings. The change in daylight savings time is a challenge. I need the sunlight. I dislike missing the sunset because it's gone down before I get off work. Having it dark when I get home saps my motivation.

I look at couples all the time and wonder how they do it. How do they manage to stay the course and keep the love. Now, I know I'm only looking from the outside in, so what I see may be only a partial truth.  It may not be what it appears, or it may be way more delightful than I can imagine.

The mystery is finding my way through the loss, and still trusting in the future. It's knowing I may be alone from here on out, and making peace with it. I'm not there yet. It's wishing I could have done more, and giving myself credit for all I did do. It's missing the happy man, but not the troubled mentally ill man. He is clearly in a better place, and those remaining have to create their new place in life.

I don't have the magic words for how to do that. I believe faith wraps us up in possibility, and to move on we must surrender to the loss. Acknowledge it, own it, share the pain, cry the tears. To move on we must look forward. We need to honor the past and trust in the future. We have to move, to move on. So staying stuck is not an option. It's hard, it's daunting, and it is part of surviving loss. It's taking it a day at a time, a season at a time, an experience at a time. It's moving when we can, resting when we have to and beginning again. It's as simple and as difficult as that.

Reach Out

Those two words - Reach Out - can mean so many things.  They have been on my mind for a while. Lots of times we are comfortable, or don't want to rock the boat, or preoccupied, or busy. In that moment, day, week or period we don't reach out as much as we could have. Or should have, or wish we had.  Sometimes we need to reach out through the pain, or reach out to share the joy, or reach out to help carry the burden.  Sometimes we reach out to inquire about others, other times we reach out to share of ourselves.

One of the few graces that came from Gordon's choice to take his life is that he was able to be an organ donor. Another grace is that his choice opened the door for me to speak of suicide, and the multitude of impacts it has on the family and friends. I'll be honest, my knowledge of suicide and it's aftermath was blessedly non-existent. It's hard to fathom, and a topic few will embrace. Even those willing to tip toe carefully into the topic, are hoping for a quick way to exit the conversation. 

So on the topic of reaching out, I sat down this week and wrote to the two people who received Gordon's kidneys. I didn't reach out asking for anything, rather I was offering something. It's all done anonymously at this point. Somewhere down the road it may become more personal. I may, or may not, receive any response. But, and there is always a but, I reached out so that they could know of the man who gave them a great gift. 

So that they could know of his passions, his essence, his family, his hobbies. The lovely things that made Gordon, Gordon, before mental illness took him. It was good for my heart to remember the happy man, and let go for the time of the troubled man who gave up on living. And yes, I shared that he chose to end his life. Not to worry them or trouble them, but to know what a miracle it is that his kidneys and their bodies connected with each other. He did not know the gifts he still had to give when he gave up. I do, and now they do. In the communication, that reaching out, I opened more doors. Of communication about giving up, and receiving unexpected gifts. About sharing the truth of journey's we never wanted to take. 

Carry On

I am relearning. Relearning what I like in life, what I will not tolerate. I am relearning how to carry on. Frankly we should all do a self-check and some relearning. Rather like a breast exam, look for things that absolutely have to be excised, do it and move on.

For some to carry on means to pick up the yoke you are harnessed to and keep going. For others (raising hand and yelling me, me, me!) it a bumpy process of rediscovery.  

The one year mark of Gordon's suicide gave me pause to look back. In addition to the daily looking back and wondering, I looked back and evaluated. I noted things I achieved over the year, we can call that personal growth. I reached out to the good people at Nebraska Organ Recovery Service and got on an update of Gordon's kidneys. They are both working in their new "homes". They had rough starts for the recipients, but are doing well. They can carry on thanks to his donation. I also share about life after a suicide. Call it my small way to release some of the stigma. If that isn't a good way to carry on I don't know what is.

I carry on with some of our old traditions. Some weeks just require a Friday night celebratory shot to mark making it through the week. I carry on by being part of a survivors of suicide on-line group. I carry on by meeting monthly with a group of widows. Lord knows I never expected that to be a peer group of mine. Life takes you down roads you never thought you'd travel. By the way, what a terrific group of women.

I carry on by fostering dogs and being a crazy dog lady. I carry on my love of flowers/gardening, working as a florist. I carry on by blogging. I carry on with faith, sometimes a bit wobbly, sometimes strong; I carry on because I chose life. I carry on because of all the decisions and happenings that led me to the here and now. Is it easy? No one ever said that. Yet some days it's easier than one might expect. Some days it's all up hill into the wind, in mud up to your knees. 

In the end, let us carry on. You lead and I'll follow. I'll lead and you'll follow. Carry on my friends, life beckons and grace follows.

365

Three hundred sixty five days ago Gordon chose to end his life. That just begins to number the days we will try to make sense of his decision. To make sense of the incomprehensible. To accept the unacceptable, to attempt to wrap our heads around his choice.

I'm only beginning,to push through the stigma that comes with a death by suicide. I struggle with saying my husband died by suicide. I struggle with talking about him, even when I long to hear memories about him. The isolation, the head games, the feeling of being judged at worst, and knowing you're being gossiped about at best. The regret of wishing you could have done more, the shame of an outcome beyond your control. I am more than the consequences of his choices. Yet I know I walk with his choice preceding me and following me. And you know what? He was more than his final choice.

These days I struggle with going places and being the single one. Especially the single one who's spouse chose to die. I struggle with conversations in groups, it's harder now to share of myself and easier to merely listen. I wrestle with choosing solitude and resenting it.

Untreated depression, health issues, life frustrations, anger,job losses all played a role in his choice. In the end his pain was greater than his ability to cope.

At the very least I can write about it, advocate, and share what the journey is like. It is not something that I/we had control over. We were not included in his decision. Even those who reached out to him could do no more than that. It is not a neat and tidy act, and healing from it is the same. I am acutely aware of being a alone and painfully aware of why.

It seems ironic, in retrospect, that he died during Suicide Prevention Month. Ironic too that his decision was, no doubt, fed by regrets. Our journey forward is filled with the same. If I've learned one thing this year is that we need to reach past the awkwardness, ask the hard questions, breech the painful silences and subjects. We need to reach out. And we need to know, in our heart of hearts, we are never truly alone.

Even Keel

Sometimes our reality is just a hard place to be. August came and went, and as grieving goes it was a hard one. Grief knows no pattern, no schedule, it has a mind of it's own. I had a birthday, a significant one, and I really didn't want to celebrate it. Didn't want to even have it. It may have  been hard to celebrate even if life was on an even keel. I don't know. What I do know is life is not on an even keel. The reality that Gordon took his life is hitting hard. Owning it is the first step. Sadly I/we have been taking this first step for months and will be for years.

September is Suicide Prevention Month. There is so much stigma about suicide, so much isolation following a suicide, and so much soul searching for those who lose someone to suicide.  I do know looking back will not provide answers, as there will always be more questions than answers. The challenge is to look forward and step boldly, or timidly as the case may be, at best consistently in that direction. Sometimes that step feels crazy scary, sometimes they are wrought with tears. Sometimes they are the routine steps of our day-to-day life. It involves some of what we have always done, and some of what is new on our life journey. 

When we are on an even keel, we sometimes forget how grace filled life is. When we aren't, and many times we are not for a multitude of reasons, we still need to be open to the grace of the journey. 

This part of the journey is hard, is tearful. There is grace in that, and growth. Wherever you are in life, I wish you the same....grace and growth. 

Owning It

I'm pretty sure I should rename this blog..."Owning It Is The First Step", or "What's Your Reality" or "How To Get Through Life With No Easy Lessons".  

First I'll own it. I had one of those days. I looked at others and judged my life, my inside by their outside. "They" look carefree, they look put together, they look like they have it all. They look like life is perfect. And I wept. Because as blessed as I am this is not where I thought I'd be in life. 

Which leads me to "What Is Your Reality".  My reality is I carry the weight of grief on a journey that won't end, but that I will get through. My friends journey is one of breast cancer treatment. Another person's daughter disappeared while hiking 18 days ago and has yet to be found. Another friend is going back to college, with kids in grade school and high school...she's alternately excited and terrified. I have friends who never thought they'd be alone all their life, and yet they are. There are those with money struggles, health issues and those faltering in their faith. There are those who fight the battle of mental illness. Mother's who have miscarried, mother's estranged from their children. It goes on and on. And, sometimes we weep. It is an emotional necessity.

Then we get back to "How To Get Through Life With No Easy Lessons". We do that by looking at the reality other's face, and counting our blessings. I may not be where I thought I'd be, but I'm in less pain than others might be. I'm blessed more than I can count, I just need to stop and count.  Other's might gladly trade their struggles for my reality. I have to judge less, envy less, and love more. You never know from the outside what weight people carry on the inside. If you are invited in to their struggle, or if you reach out to share the struggle, you both will be blessed. Owning it, and helping others own it, is how we get through life. Help someone today, love yourself today. Begin with the blessings.

Waves

Grief, and joy, both come in waves.  Sometimes nonstop waves, sometimes intermittent waves. Sometimes big crashing waves.  Sometimes barely a ripple. It surprises me because there is little or no pattern.  With grief, it hits when it wishes.  I've been learning about the grief waves for almost a year now.  I am no expert, nor will I ever be.  I know at first tears were a daily visitor, sometimes several times a day. Then after a time they visited less frequently.  Certain days of the month were sure to bring them, and then suddenly they didn't.  Now I'm back to the daily waves.  Am I any closer to understanding....no.

Intellectually I get that many of those who chose suicide are in unbearable pain. Emotionally, I wish, and will always wish, there was some other outcome possible.  I can't fathom how bad it must have been, because I've never been in that position.  I do know, that with his death, his release, our pain began. 

You don't get over this loss. You do find your way through. Through the second guessing, through the wondering, through the multitude of questions with no answers.  You get through by the grace of God and the support of those who reach out to steady you. Often they don't know what to say, how to say it or when to say it. So it's isolating for those grieving and those wanting to offer solace.

I get that where there is a loss to suicide, there is plenty of talk about it, just not to those who experienced it. I will always be that person who's husband....shhhhh, they can talk about it, just not to me.  I used to be that person too. By grief I've been blessed with a greater knowledge about compassion. About extending grace, about finding the hard words, about reaching out when needed. 

It is as simple as, I know you are struggling. I'm here for you.  Open that door to understanding and the rest will follow.  So we ride the waves, and trust that in time waves of joy will return and the waves of grief will recede.  Until then we grow.

I'm Okay

If there is one thing I've learned on this journey is that it is okay, to not be okay. The second thing is a code word I want to share.  Listen carefully when people say they are "ok". I'm okay is code. Code for I'm struggling and I don't know if it's safe to share. Code for hurting but I don't like to complain. Code for  some days I'm barely getting by. Code for the reality of life is that it just hurts sometimes.

There have been many graces that have followed the loss in our family. Many involve the shedding of tears. That is part of healing. In the beginning I said I was okay, because I didn't have the words, the strength or the honesty to say I'm a mess. Maybe I couldn't evaluate how large the mess of myself was. It's probably just as well I couldn't. I'm still a mess. Quite honesty, I believe, those who have lost a loved one to suicide will always be a mess.  Somethings you never recover from, your challenge is to go through them.

The challenge is to reshape my mess into a life the looks forward, not back. A life that is open to beauty, joy, and honors both the good memories and the goodness life offers. It is one step forward and two steps back. It is small leaps of faith and huge doses of gentle self care. It is recognizing that growth is sometimes hard to gauge, but trusting it is always there.

So open your ears and heart when someone says they are just OK. It is a gift to recognize and respond to someone in need. It is sharing their mess and helping them through it.

Surrounded

Question of the day - what do you surround yourself with? And why?

My answers are easy and hard at the same time. I surround myself with dogs. As any crazy dog lady would. And flowers, faith and awe.  I've been surrounded by sorrow and while I embrace it, I look forward to a time it is not a constant shadow. "What if" questions trail me daily usually followed by "I had".  What if I had, or what if I hadn't? In time, I trust, there will be less looking back, less regret. More looking forward, more trusting forward.

I/we/you need to surround ourselves with more laughter, more acceptance, more time in the moment. When I slow down enough to be in this moment I hear the birds singing, the hum of the washing machine, see the corn blowing in the breeze, hear the sound of a dog snoring. I wrap myself in this moment and it is good.

Over the weekend I was wrapped in sorrow as the day of our wedding anniversary came and went. I knew it would be hard, and I knew I'd need to be gentle with myself. Sometimes we need to surround ourselves very gently with compassion. I also know the upcoming holiday will be hard, they all are in this chapter of my life. Again, I'll welcome the tears and the healing they provide.

What if we did that? What if we surrounded ourselves with compassion? What if we narrowed our focus to this moment, this day. And in that moment we find the good, the kindness, the joy...even if we are in a time of sorrow. Even if we are in transition, even if we are afraid. Even if. By narrowing our focus we can surround ourselves with the graces, large and small, that are there for us all.

Asking For Help

I discovered something about myself recently, and it ties directly into the sorrows in my life. I've realized how hard it is to ask for help.  Recent suicides of famous people have many talking about just reaching out for help. Of not being afraid to ask for help. Help is available, it is, of that I have no doubt.  Owning that you can't do something yourself is what holds us up.

My needs are smaller, less catastrophic, and still they are a hurdle. I need help with getting my weed whacker started. I know, it's laughable in a way. I can't get the push mower to start, hence the burning desire to get the weed whacker started. I've asked my son, who gave me long distance directions, I've checked YouTube video's, and I'm still stuck. I need someone with a big tractor to mow the ditch on the north side of the lane. I'm not willing to test my ability to tow the riding mower out of the ditch if I get it stuck. And I'm not willing to risk tipping it over. My kids love that I have that built in sense of self preservation. I need to get past the mind set that when life gets difficult I'll just work harder and live with less. Working harder and going without closes the doors to blessings from an abundant God. Certainly the God of seek and you shall find, ask and you shall receive will do the happy dance as I find my voice to ask for help.

So I'm throwing it out there. I need help. I need help in connectivity, in reaching out and owning I can't do it all alone. I need help in owning that hard times also are opportunities to grow more, not just do with less. I need to share when life is hard instead of struggling alone. I need to lean in. I need to trust. Especially when the tendency is to back off and isolate. So there it is, I owned it. I hope you can too, where ever you are in life.

Before me....and, Behind Me

In all my dreams of life, of where it would take me, of what it would hold, losing someone to suicide never entered my mind.  Now that it is my reality it will never leave my mind. This, however, is what I have learned....

I have been gifted with others who have walked this path before me. They are like a life line of sorts. They get the reality, and I can say...did you feel...? does it ever...? How do I...? Why didn't I...? When does it...? How can I...?

No doubt those who have ventured down any crushing path in life can relate. Having kindred spirits ahead of you, and yes, behind you makes all the difference. The kindred spirits, become a unique part of your support system.

There are more of us out there than most people know.  So many experience the loss to suicide in some way, shape or form. So few share their experience.  Luckily I've connected with several who walk my walk, but started before me.
And luckily, I've connected with one so far, who walks behind me. I don't have  the answers to a loss that comes with a bazillion questions. I do have a little experience which is valuable to someone with no experience.

I don't know the name of the lady who walks behind me. I met her through work, I see her in the store. If I never know her name, it won't matter. All that matters is that we share pain. She knows she can lean on me whenever our paths cross.  I know I can lean on those ahead of me, and support those behind me. Others will join in as I connect in life and because of death. Therein lies the grace, and I'm counting that as a win.

Practicing The Pause

If nothing else, I feel like my life has been on pause for these last 8 months. Well, life as I knew it has. Those of us who have lost a loved one to suicide wake up from the shock, the fog, the pain and realize they have to reinvent themselves. The old you is no where to be found. Traces remain, but basically, if a person chooses to, they have to rebuild from the ground up.

How else to learn except by practicing. And, then pausing when necessary to get your balance.

I still struggle with isolation. It still hurts when no one says how was your weekend. And I never know when some one says "how are you" if they really mean "how are YOU?", or if they are merely making polite conversation.  Often I'll say fine, good...and know that that is not always  my reality. It's hard to talk about grief, no one feels comfortable with it. Some just will not try because it is uncomfortable. At this stage of life there is more uncomfortable, than comfortable. And, I know, it won't always be this way.  There in lies the grace.

I hate going to social events alone. I hate that people know why I'm going alone. There is that stigma raising it's ugly head. I push myself to go, and while it's not always easy, I do push through. I find I am more introverted.  I haven't lost my laugh, it's there somewhere. I have to feel safe to let it out.

I feel like I need to search the radar for others struggling with life. Just in case someone needs a life line, and by some grace of God, I can offer one. I am eternally grateful for those who are my constant life line.

So I practice the pause. I honor the semicolons in life. The times you have to pause as you find your footing again. I pray for those who lost their footing and chose to let go of life. I pray for those who heal from their decisions. It's not a place I ever thought I'd be. But it's life, so I embrace it.

Girl Friends

Raise your hand if your head is held above water by your girlfriends. See that person jumping up down waving their hands? Yup, that's me. Thankful ever so thankful for girlfriends.

Let me list some of them. There is the one who texts me multiple times a day, every day. There is the one who chats with me on Facebook literally every night. There are the coworker friends, past and present. There are friends who bring me leftovers. Friends who talk dogs to me. Pet therapy friends. A friend who I met because I loved consignment shopping, and she owned the store. She is also one who helped me store my sanity, among other things, when it was in danger for a while. I have friends who paint by my side. Who are always ready to share a bottle of wine. Who give me open invitations to holler if I need something. Friends who have walked my same journey and assure me I'll survive.

Sometimes I feel alone in life. It's been rugged for quite some time. But then I stop to count my friends. I don't have to see them daily, most times I'm lucky to see them monthly. Sometimes it's months between visits, or longer. Still they are there beside me.

Take a look at those who sustain you, those you are safe to laugh and cry with, those who light up your world with friendship and laughter. Then give thanks. We couldn't do life without them. So, thank you dear friends, thank you.

All Around Us

Ever notice how you see things in multiples? You think about buying a red car, and you see red cars everywhere. You fall in love with a lab puppy, and you see lab puppies all over. It is about heightened awareness.  For someone who has lost a loved one to suicide, you become uber aware of others losses to suicide.  

I read somewhere this week that at least 6 peoples lives are completely changed from the loss of someone to suicide. Irrevocably changed, at least 6, sometimes more.  It's not something you get over, at best it's something you get through. Each day it's a different challenge. Some days you hold on by the thinnest thread, some days you step forward, sometimes you step back, some days you merely huddle until you can move again.

Thus far, I find the isolation so difficult. No one speaks of Gordon, or the choice that took his life. No one speaks of the good memories, although I hope sometime they will. It is like a whole section of life vanished as if it never existed. I myself struggle with talking about it so I take responsibility as well.

It's not something that happens only to some people, it is all around us. Like those red cars and lab puppies, but infinitely painful. I am being led by faith down this road. I will write about it, and as this type of loss is all around us, I hope to ease another's pain by owning and sharing the journey.  

Broken Open

Ever notice how when someone asks if you need anything, if you need help, that our first instinct is to say no.  At least, I'm this way. It's okay, I've got it. No, I don't need anything. I'll often go without, or do it myself later, and let the offer go. Not that I didn't appreciate the offer, I just have trouble accepting the offer. And yet, I love when I can help someone else. Why can't I love when someone wants to help me? Sometimes I'll go back and say, on second thought, I could really use this, or that. Thank God for second thoughts and second chances.

I read a fabulous line a a book recently. It said "You can be broken or broken open. That choice is yours." God bless Erica Bauermeister for that wisdom.  Last I checked all of us get broken at some point in our lives.  But it's the broken open part that provides the grace. 

It involves two parts. First we have to acknowledge the broken, and then we have to embrace being open. 

Think of a time someone said, let me know if I can ever help. That's a tough favor to call in if it's been forever ago. Even if it was yesterday, or last week or months ago. When we are really broken it's hard to be open.  We hide behind the broken, because it's discomfort is at least familiar.  Ahhh, to warm up to being broken open. To acknowledge growth need not be self isolating. Growth involves nurturing from our selves and others.  

Others nurture by virtue of helping. Which in turn heals the broken. Which are you right now? Are you in a broken season, or are you embracing being broken open? Or are you willing to help the broken? Twice recently I initially said no. One to a long standing offer for help, and one a recent offer for help.  Twice I've chosen to break open and say yes, be there for me.  

If we have to be broken, be broken open. I wish that for me, and for you. I wish that for all of us. 

Use Your Words

I've been pondering, struggling, wondering. And it all spins around words. I've never been very good about using my words.  Sure I can hold conversations, mostly say the right things. I've got words in blogs, I've a whole vocabulary of words in the shape of prayers.  But saying how I really feel, what I will and won't tolerate, that's a whole different thing.  That, my friends is my goal.  To push past the old ways and to build new ways.

I've been thinking about where I am in life, the grief of losing a loved one to suicide. People are not comfortable talking about that. Before this, neither was I.  We hit the safe topics, the easy conversations, but the one thing that has impacted every piece of my world is pushed away because it's scary, it's awkward, it's messy. 

I accept the scary, the awkward, the messy. I accept that I am not, and will not ever be the same.  The isolation sucks, the never ending questions in your mind are exhausting. It's bizarre to feel both completely invisible and totally visible all at the same time. I also get that I may not want to share everything with everyone.  That's never a good thing. 

But, and there is always a but, we need words, we need them for healing, for humor, to feel connected.  It's okay to reach out to me and to others, to talk about the losses we feel.  It's better to say I don't know what to say, than to say nothing at all. Start with a 'remember when' story, or a shared memory.  My challenge is to use my words to reach out when I need to, because, we all need to be heard. I am not the same, but as I discover the new me, and as you do the same in your life walk, let's use our words.