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.
Saturday, October 20, 2018
Friday, October 5, 2018
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
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.
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.
Monday, September 3, 2018
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.
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.
Thursday, August 16, 2018
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.
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.
Monday, August 6, 2018
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 18, 2018
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.
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.
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