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.