Sometimes, in the middle of being mostly at peace with where I am in life, I lose my balance. It's gets a little shaky and being alone feels, well, lonely. The tears come and my eyes leak. The other day I was walking in to work with tears in my eyes and I said "God I feel so alone". I know those five words were a prayer that was heard. I know the prayer will be answered.
Someday, my well adjusted days will outnumber the shaky days. I'm getting closer to that. It always gets sketchy around the 19th of the month. My heart will not forget the date Gordon chose end his life. I have no doubt all of us have anniversaries of the heart that weigh heavy. Just as in other parts of life we have days and memories that make our heart sing.
I have two friends who chose to steady me on the 19th of each month. It doesn't take away the pain, but it gives light to the darkness. It's like a gentle hand that reaches out to say "I gotcha". Isn't that what friends do?
Some day, alone will simply be a comfortable thing, not a struggle. Someday, I will welcome both time alone and time with others. Sometimes, in this part of life, time with others makes me feel more alone. I long to get past that too. The stigma of Gordon's death stands in my way. It can't be seen, but is often felt. It's hard to explain and tough to navigate.
As I/we/you struggle, remember this. It's okay to be alone or feel alone, and it won't always be this way. It's okay to own the struggle. Sharing it divides the burden. I will continue to grow, and I trust you will to. Remember this today, or in the tomorrows of life, don't hesitate to steady someone. It is a gift we can all give.
Friday, January 18, 2019
Sunday, January 13, 2019
How Are You
How are you? Three little words. One easy question? Or, one loaded question.
Since my life was impacted by suicide, I'm never sure how to answer that question. Partially because some days I don't know the answer to that. Sometimes it's a superficial question to which we give a pat answer. I'm fine, how are you? Never expecting an honest answer to the question. Some days it's easier to just answer this way.
I don't know what people expect of those who are surviving a catastrophic loss. There is no way to anticipate or prepare for this. I know that no two days are the same. Growth comes in painful spurts, laughter is always welcome, the loneliness is heart wrenching, and Lordy, I need more hugs. I know there are people I feel comfortable with showing my brokenness. Who either walk the same path, or have sufficient empathy to partner with me. I know that others are a step to distant, or different to open up to. And, that is okay.
It's a daily battle to try to grasp why someone would choose death over life. Likewise a daily battle to build a new life after a loss like that. Enough of a challenge that the question, how are you, becomes quite complicated.
To that I say....self, how are you? Friend, how are you? Neighbor, how are you? And I pray you take a moment to answer that honestly in your heart. Answer it with faith that if it's a hard day they won't all be this way. Answer it with hope, because the best is yet to come. Answer it with gratitude. Answer it with your shattered self leaning into the love that is readily available.
Since my life was impacted by suicide, I'm never sure how to answer that question. Partially because some days I don't know the answer to that. Sometimes it's a superficial question to which we give a pat answer. I'm fine, how are you? Never expecting an honest answer to the question. Some days it's easier to just answer this way.
I don't know what people expect of those who are surviving a catastrophic loss. There is no way to anticipate or prepare for this. I know that no two days are the same. Growth comes in painful spurts, laughter is always welcome, the loneliness is heart wrenching, and Lordy, I need more hugs. I know there are people I feel comfortable with showing my brokenness. Who either walk the same path, or have sufficient empathy to partner with me. I know that others are a step to distant, or different to open up to. And, that is okay.
It's a daily battle to try to grasp why someone would choose death over life. Likewise a daily battle to build a new life after a loss like that. Enough of a challenge that the question, how are you, becomes quite complicated.
To that I say....self, how are you? Friend, how are you? Neighbor, how are you? And I pray you take a moment to answer that honestly in your heart. Answer it with faith that if it's a hard day they won't all be this way. Answer it with hope, because the best is yet to come. Answer it with gratitude. Answer it with your shattered self leaning into the love that is readily available.
Sunday, January 6, 2019
Your People
How do you define your people? Your friends, your family, your work team, etc. I define mine as my kids and family, friends, on-line family/friends, doggy friends, floral friends, farmers market people. Our people are the groups that sustain us, that we connect with.
Since Gordon's suicide, the grieving are my people. His death brought great pain, and continues to do so, but it brought a depth of compassion I never knew before. I can relate to the hurting now. I count this as one of the small graces of the loss. I'm less afraid to own my hurt, and to be open to the hurt of others. You know what, the hurting are all around us. They walk the same halls, sit around the same break room table. They cross paths with us at the bank, at the store, in our neighborhood. In a way, it's a relief to connect with others hurting.
I never wanted to belong in this way. Just like he never wanted to suffer as he did. Mental illness, depression, you name it. It takes a toll on the person suffering and those who love them. It was destroying our marriage and it took his life. It took him from the people he loved with all his heart. It gave us pain we never expected, would never have dreamed possible.
In the rubble we have to find the grace. It's there if we dig deep. Now, I admit owning it is sometimes hard, very hard. Pushing past the stigma, the fear of being judged, the feeling I should have done more. The hurdle of knowing people know your story in whatever version, accurate or not. It's showing up anyway. Which some days takes all you have.
Show up, no matter how strong you are that day, or how weak you feel. Your people will carry you when you need them. Other days you carry them. Take comfort that you can relate to both immense pain and simple joy, can share both tears and laughter. Thank you people, for being my people. For helping me carry my burdens, and allowing me to help you carry yours.
Since Gordon's suicide, the grieving are my people. His death brought great pain, and continues to do so, but it brought a depth of compassion I never knew before. I can relate to the hurting now. I count this as one of the small graces of the loss. I'm less afraid to own my hurt, and to be open to the hurt of others. You know what, the hurting are all around us. They walk the same halls, sit around the same break room table. They cross paths with us at the bank, at the store, in our neighborhood. In a way, it's a relief to connect with others hurting.
I never wanted to belong in this way. Just like he never wanted to suffer as he did. Mental illness, depression, you name it. It takes a toll on the person suffering and those who love them. It was destroying our marriage and it took his life. It took him from the people he loved with all his heart. It gave us pain we never expected, would never have dreamed possible.
In the rubble we have to find the grace. It's there if we dig deep. Now, I admit owning it is sometimes hard, very hard. Pushing past the stigma, the fear of being judged, the feeling I should have done more. The hurdle of knowing people know your story in whatever version, accurate or not. It's showing up anyway. Which some days takes all you have.
Show up, no matter how strong you are that day, or how weak you feel. Your people will carry you when you need them. Other days you carry them. Take comfort that you can relate to both immense pain and simple joy, can share both tears and laughter. Thank you people, for being my people. For helping me carry my burdens, and allowing me to help you carry yours.
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