Are You Dying Alone?

 I was pondering life today. Actually, I was thinking about those who die due to illnesses, physical or mental. And...those who die alone. I think, in a way, the stress of the pandemic makes us all feel a little bit like we are dying alone. Which made me think of my husband's life and his suicide. 

I think he spent more days dying alone while he was living, than he did while he was trying to die. I know that's hard to wrap your head around. Believe me, I wrestle with it daily.

Here's the deal, we can actually live the life we are given, or we can try to shut it down all the days of our life. I won't pull any punches, it's hard, it doesn't work out how we imagined. Sometimes it's better than we dreamed, sometimes it's a nightmare we can't even begin to fathom. We have to push ourselves forward, hold ourselves back. We have to own our mistakes and learn from them. We have to celebrate our successes. We have to ask for help and accept that we need it. We have to learn to forgive. Often we have to forge a new path seemingly on our own. We have to acknowledge the fear and push through it. We have to invite in the joy and embrace it. We have to plant seeds of faith, tend and harvest them.

He lived with a deep ache inside him, and in the end he let go. In his case, in spite of trying to die alone, he died physically and emotionally surrounded by people who loved and cared for him. In that regard he got lucky. 

Here is the hard question. Are you living each day, or dying alone each day. Are you making mistakes and learning from them? Are you challenged by a messy life, and blessed by it? Every day we have the opportunity to begin again, to make new decisions, to change our path. 

I will never understand his choice, or the depth of his pain. He chose not to share it, own it, heal it. In taking his life he transferred his pain to us. We have to chose how to handle what we are given. Each of us has pain and opportunity. Are you living in yours, or dying in it. 

For Them We Speak

Three years ago life changed. A man let go of his tenuous hold on life, and we were left wondering how, wondering why. And....what could we have done differently. You know what? There are no answers to that. 

We weren't included in his decision, just changed by it. He struggled. We all struggle at some point in life. In the struggle we have the opportunity to grow. We face strife and mind boggling disappointment. We learn to adapt. We lose things we love, we certainly lose our way. Most of us find a new way. 

I know from struggling with depression what a slippery slope mental health can be. It can sneak up on you and you don't realize how sick you are. I know also that you have to own your struggle, own your truth. You have to dig deep to reach out for help. There is no shame in that, in fact, there is much to admire about that. 

Three years ago he made a choice and the horizon tilted for those who knew and loved him. Everyone's experience with him was different, so each loss is profoundly different. Some feel just the loss, some feel the loss and the stigma of his choice. Some have fond memories wrapped in sadness. Some feel torn by both good and bad memories. Some withdraw in sorrow and never speak of it again. Some unwrap it, examine it, and share it to make an easier path for others who follow.

My husband died by suicide. Even when you live that reality, day in and day out, it is hard to speak that truth. It is hard to speak the words to the world, because it is painful to do so, and because the world doesn't want to hear them.The world is willing to judge, question, and whisper about those who die by their own hand, and those who survive them. But the world also wants to think, wants to believe, it could never happen to them. It is a scary truth. Shhh, Don't talk about it openly. Instead talk in secret circles about it creating layers and layers of isolation. Because of his choice, I have never been more visible and invisible in all my life. Therein lies the grace. His choice changed me and I will speak of my experience. I will speak of the sorrows, the truths, the stigma, because in real life mental health issues and suicide are still taboo subjects.

No one chooses this path. No one chooses to struggle with mental health. No one would chose this kind of loss. Some fight the battle, some lose the war. For them we speak...

 

Merging....

Having become a country girl rather than a big city girl, I have to say driving in the big city makes me nervous. I've been told I drive like an old lady now, and that "you" country drivers are way too polite. Truth be told I probably do qualify as an old lady, and I am polite.  

I have to say, though, that merging stresses me out. I always pray, Dear Lord protect my merging.... In the country there wasn't much merging, and if it happened it was much slower and everyone waved. I miss the waving part.

Merging happens in so many realms. We merge onto the interstate, we merge our lives, we merge our attitudes. We merge on the job. We merge our faith base. All merging intending to get us safely from one place to another. It means we take turns, we make room, we adjust ourselves to allow for others.

No wonder it can be scary. Merging involves confidence, and trust. It requires diligence, observation and patience. Most things in life can be scary, require confidence, trust, diligence, observation and patience. Growth fits into this description, grief does as well. Some merging happens at 60 mph. Some merging, such as healing from trauma or loss, happens in small moments over long periods of time. Sometimes it is imperceptible. Still it happens. 

It's okay to be scared of merging. It's okay (more than okay!) to pray your way through the process. I will most likely still pray when I merge, Dear Lord protect me....from that other car. Protect that other car from me. Let me safely in, Lord. Let there be space, let there be light, let there be a place for me to move with the flow. 

Every Day A Choice

Just about three years ago my husband chose to end his life. So September is a hard month, a time of great reflection. This is what I have learned about life. Every day we have a choice. A choice that nurtures life, a choice to hold steady without growth or regression, a choice to let go of life in tiny increments or in singular acts of destruction. All of those options require enormous energy. So I have to ask, where am I putting my energy? Where are you putting yours? 

I know at the core of things, we have to be able to ask for help. Is it easy? Oh hell no. Not many of us are comfortable, and/or fluent in asking for help. That he was unwilling, or unable to ask for help is part of the tragedy. If we could love someone enough to keep them alive we would. We can only do so much and the rest is up to them. 

I have been vastly changed by his decision. It's taking time to find my way in life again, it's hard for me to be open with people I don't know. It's hard to trust that good things will come. I hold things closer and observe more deeply. Okay, let's just say I overthink things. I am always aware of the stigma and isolation that comes with being a survivor of suicide loss. I know my story often precedes me. I know it will always define my life. I've lost relationships because of his death. I've doubted, I've wondered, I've asked why. I will never know, nor will I have the capacity to understand, how profound the pain was that death was the option he chose.

I look back at journal entries from when he was struggling, when we were struggling. I see how many times I prayed for his safety, for my safety, for healing.  And....I know those prayers were heard. I know they were answered in the way they were meant to. Not how I asked, but according to a bigger plan. The loss of a loved one forces us to examine life, to sift through our regrets, to sort out what was mine and what wasn't. In their moment of despair, their moment of choice, they have no clue that when their pain ends, the family and friends pain begins.

So we deal with the fallout. Every single day. In a myriad of ways. Grueling baby steps, and down the road, easier strides fueled by faith and hope. And....God willing, we make choices that nurture life. We ask for help, we accept help, we find ways to help others. We never forget, but our story isn't over yet, so we press on. If you are pressing on, still writing your story, know you are not alone. Be not afraid, ask for help, know you are loved.