Definitions

We have so many things that define us. Names, titles, occupations, roles we've played over the years. Going way back...cheerleader (a hundred years ago), student, girlfriend, fiancee, secretary, wife, mother, florist, divorcee, florist, florist, florist, fiancee, wife, blogger, volunteer, crazy dog lady, still a florist. The one that gets me though is survivor of suicide loss. Because that is one I know gets said behind my back, and never to my face.

I wonder how often his choice is used to define me, to explain me, to reference who I am. Oh that's so and so, her husband killed himself. Now maybe it never happens, but I'd be willing to bet that it does because of the stigma associated with suicide. 

I have no control over who says what. I get that. But the isolation of what happened makes for a lonely journey. I also understand that by defining others we try to feel a little better about ourselves. It puts them in a separate place and makes us feel a little more secure in a scary world. I totally get my experience represents a scary world for many people. Because we want to believe all is well, we like to think those we love are safe and happy. We want "safe" titles for who and what we are.

What happened does not define me, as much as serve to refine me. It pushes me towards growth and gratitude. It has changed me. You can whisper, oh her husband killed himself. But that "her" no longer exists. You see both Gordon's life, and mine as I knew it ended that day. After floundering, weeping, praying and being sustained by friends and family, I go on. 

All of the people who have been part of my life have shaped me, blessed me, and challenged me. None more than Gordon has in his life and his death. All that said, be gentle with how we define ourselves and others. We are all doing the best we can on any given day. I am not the sum of another's choice. I am simply me, putting one foot in front of another by the grace of God.

Mine To Carry, Not Mine To Carry.

For 729 days (almost exactly two years) I've been trying understand Gordon's choice to end his life. I've gone every way around it, thinking what if? why didn't? how could I have? I've done the I should haves, the I could haves. I have known from the beginning it was not my fault, and yet I felt responsible for his actions. I have always been that person who struggled to get it right. Get what right you ask? Well all of it. As if by getting it right I could control things. Hint, hint...we really don't have control of what life brings us. We only have control of how we respond to it.

Here is what I've learned. I will never understand the illness that causes one to take their own life. I cannot fathom such darkness. I did as much as I could to prevent his decision, but ultimately he was responsible for his illness and his actions. None of us has that much control, has that much power over another. Most days we struggle with controlling our self.

So how does one find the forgiveness within to let go of the feeling we should have done more. Done less, done things different? How do you accept that you can do everything possible and still have a tragic outcome?

Visualize a person sitting on the floor and sorting life into several baskets. For a long time the person carried everything, every little thing, in their basket. All the worry, the responsibilities, the hurt, the struggles. Even burdens they had no capacity to handle. The weight of the basket is enormous. It is exhausting. Truth is the basket is only meant to hold one life journey. Visualize that same person taking the weight of someones else's choices out of their basket and giving it back. Visualize that over and over, giving back what is not mine to carry. Giving responsibility to who ever it belongs to. Bit by bit releasing the weight of the journey. Letting go what one had no responsibility for, or control over.

This letting go business sucks, in case you didn't know. Letting go of dreams, expectations, plans, desires of the heart. Then as a survivor of suicide loss, wrap all that up in grief, surround it with stigma and cover it with regret.

I don't know, and will never know why he could not see the light and love that was available to him. Intellectually the answer is mental illness. Emotionally it's not so easy to explain. 

So I struggle and I pray for direction. I let go of what is not mine to carry. I trust in the process even when the outcome is unbearably painful. I believe in the light, I lean into it and as I am able, I share the light. 

Speaking My Truth

I had the opportunity to speak my truth on a panel for Suicide Prevention Awareness Week at the company my son works for. Had anyone suggested two years ago that my journey would lead me here I'd have never believed it. Life takes you down unforeseen paths. Sometimes life rolls you into a huge ball of angst and then sorts you out into a workable, grace filled person with a story to tell.

I shared the stage with a young man who attempted to take his own life, a man who had just recently lost a dear friend to suicide, and a man who'd lost two members of his military unit to suicide. Loss, grief, and stigma brought us together to reach out to promote mental health. Together we spoke our truth, and dreamed of times where mental health is openly encouraged and seeking help is commonly accepted. 

I like to think we presented both information and comfort. That our stories may smooth the way for someone who struggles with depression and anxiety. We are simple people graced with life experience and an important message.

As the second anniversary of Gordon's death approaches, this opportunity to speak was especially poignant. That something so inspiring could come from something infinitely tragic does not cease to amaze me. We all have periods of great loss, personal strife and challenges. We also have seasons of growth. Sometimes all at the same time. 

I hope when life gifts you with the opportunity to share your story that you take it. Trust that the words will come as you need them. Embrace the tears that fall as you share, and know that your words are seeds of faith to those listening. 

Who would have thought these four people would end up sharing a stage together? Sharing with passion and purpose a profound message. It was a privilege, it was an honor. It was affirming life and sharing our pain. It is exactly what one would hope would evolve from the aftermath of tragedy.

I Get By With A Little Help...

You know the Beatles song. I bet just saying the name got your toes tapping. Lately, I've been feeling especially blessed by the help of my friends. This comes from someone who is not good at asking for help. Who does without, or makes due on a regular basis in the name of "I'm ok", "I've got this", "it can wait", "it's not a big deal". I'm that person. I'm the person who holds it all together and then it seeps out in tears on my drive home. You know that about me.

At times it's much easier to push away than it is to pull in. There is a time for both. I have a friend who encourages me daily. Sage advice she gives. Like drink the wine, rest is important. Good stuff like that. She reminds me that we are meant to ask for help. Our skill set is limited. Brilliant in some regards, but limited as we can't be good at everything. How's that for a lesson?

Let me also say it's hard to ask for help...because it's so humbling. It leaves you vulnerable, feeling insecure and there is a risk of rejection. Like somehow you failed because you couldn't do and be everything. Who could? Such a huge expectation of ourselves, to handle it all. An impossible expectation. Definitely one to release and leave to God. 

It's funny how we long to living independently, but can only do so comfortably within a community that loves us. A community that rallies around us, who shows up for the dirty work, who generously shares their time, talent and treasure. A group of people who explain their generosity simply by saying it's what friends do, it's what neighbors do, it's what family does, it's what I believe in doing. And they give you what you need. They fill in the holes of your skill set with gifts of love. For that, for you, for all you do for me...I am ever so grateful.