You Just Never Know

People are always willing to talk about suicide, just not intentionally to the people who have lost someone to it. Maybe it feels safer to talk to a stranger about it, I get that. It's safe because it's less personal. You are privy to something tragic, but it's not your tragedy. You can express your shock, your bewilderment, your knowledge about what happened, even if it's only pieces of the story. Most times it is only pieces of the story. 

Working in retail I've had this happen several times. People need help in selecting a gift to comfort someone grieving. First they just mention, for example, a friend lost her husband, or a neighbor lost a son. Then as the conversation continues they begin to throw out other details. It was a suicide. I can't believe it happened. They never saw it coming. You just never know do you? No, you don't. Can you imagine how horrible that is? Yes, I can. Even with affirmative answers like that they never consider they might be talking to someone who has suffered such a loss. They have a need to share because they are grateful it's not them and because it's catastrophic. But not their catastrophe. I get they are trying to make sense of what happened.

Perhaps I'm missing opportunities by not sharing my reality at that point. I find it more amusing than uncomfortable when discussions unfold this way. They wouldn't be so eager to talk about it if they knew my history. A few times I've shared my truth. Most times I hold back because it's not about me. Every time I grab a pen and paper and share the names of a couple books to recommend. They don't ask how I know, but are grateful to have something tangible they can do to help their friend. I hope they follow through and buy the books. I hope they give the books, find the words to talk, ways to listen, and are there for their friends. 

If they do that, in a way, I've helped another survivor. For that reason alone I give thanks for being in the right place at the right time. I find peace in those conversations rather than resentment. We just never know what another has gone through, do we? No we don't. 

Let There Be Light

How is it that the rain on the roof, which is a sound I love, sounds very lonely sometimes. How is it standing my ground, choosing my battles, and establishing boundaries sometimes feels like a loss instead of a win. How do I step out in faith only to wait, and then wait some more. How do I live my best life. Full stop.

Okay, I don't have answers to any of these questions. I trust the answers will come. But I will own it's uncomfortable to wonder when. I long for easy as I wrestle with the hard. I'd prefer not to have to be strong. Couldn't I just be soft, content and fully supported? Why do I struggle to have a strong decisive voice, when in fact I am slow to process so I miss the immediate opportunities to ask questions, to be clear and upfront. I do get around to the heart of the matter, but not right away. I wish I was faster, but I'm not. I do sometimes have a quick wit, but otherwise I take the long way around the thinking process.  I'm on the scenic route while others are on the fast track. Things like this make us who we are, and yet we struggle with being who we are.

I don't know about you, but I am just weary. I long for hugs. I miss what was normal and I'm not sure what normal will look like again. I wonder if I'm learning the lessons I am supposed to be learning with the journeys life has taken me on. We have lost a year they say, but have we gained a greater perspective? I am glad that the worst is over. Well, at least I hope the worst is over. I think I can safely say the worst of winter is over and seeing growth in the garden is such a sign of hope. We need more signs of hope. We need more light, more points of light, more lightness in our hearts.

When in doubt I dig deeper for gratitude. I could complain, bitch, gripe and moan. Okay, sometimes I do complain, bitch, gripe and moan. But it doesn't take me as quite as far as counting blessings does. But we long to be heard. We long to be heard in our frustrations, worries and our joys. So sometimes we have to do the bitching to find the release, which gives us space to find our gratitude. Which lets the light in. Letting the light in it gives us light to share with others. So...if you are the light, I thank you. If I am the light, may I share it with you. 

 

Juggling

 Do you ever wonder if life will get easier? Do you wonder if the worst is over, or is it yet to come. I know that sounds pessimistic and full of worry. Do you ever wonder how others juggle all the balls and keep them neatly in the air? I wonder, sometimes, where my motivation went, and will it ever return. Will there always be a hollow spot that joy never quite finds?

I pause and remember that life has been hard. I've been juggling for a long time, bobbling some, saving some, and completely dropping some of the balls. I bet I'm not alone. Honestly, I'm about all widowed out, all pandemic'd out, all grieved out. Except, some of those thing never go away. Hopefully, the pandemic will pass and life, sort of, as we knew it will return. 

However, we have been changed, so life has been changed. It will be different and yet one can hope some familiar things remain. It will be different and I hope we are molded into something kinder, wiser, smarter. 

I had this grand idea when I moved back here that my lonely days would be over. Sometimes we are beautifully naive. Or hopeful, or both. I also never envisioned I'd be divorced once, widowed once and in a world wide pandemic. I was just hoping to have fries with my burger, a milkshake for dessert and live happily ever after. Maybe it is a good thing I was naive and hopeful. 

Which leaves me with the challenge of finding my way again. Sorting out what feels good in my life, what makes my heart feel whole. What baggage to cast aside. Or at least unpack an item at a time, examine and release. In the midst of all this I strive to find peace in being alone. Not alone, alone...you know. Because I have deep connections that sustain me. Just alone to a degree every day. And I chuckle, because I know some people would love to have more alone time. They would love to have my baggage instead of their own. They'd be thrilled with the burger and fries and never wish for the milkshake. Life is funny that way.

So while I wonder if life will ever get easier, I need to count the thousands of ways it has. I need to gather my blessings in a gentle embrace. I need to give thanks, and I need to feed my faith. I need to be gentle with myself as I heal. Life is a mix of bitter and sweet. And...as we juggle we drop some balls along the way. That makes us human. In those most human moments we learn. We heal, we grow, and we move on. We find our way back, we create a new life.

Self...I love you.

Feeling love is one of the most important emotions in life. Now, I used to consider romantic love as the be all and end all. Until I became a parent, and then love took on a whole new meaning. I used to love animals in a generic manner, until I owned a dog, then another dog, and another....you get my drift. They deepened my love in a whole different way. Then there is love from my friends that has evolved over the years. The love of my faith and how it sustains me.

Learning to love is both simple and complex. Learning to love yourself is the same. I can think of a hundred things I love, my kids, dogs (put on your surprised face), flowers, home grown tomatoes, candles, adult beverages, pizza, campfires, watching thunder storms roll in. I love flannel sheets and cool breezes. I love cooking and entertaining. I love the gift of words that God puts in my heart and nudges me to share. I love how blessed I am. I love hugs.

Somewhere in the mix I have to love me. Not only love me, but tell me. Self? I love you. Self, you are a good person. Self, you made a mistake and you are still a good person and I still love you. Self, it's okay to dance in the kitchen to Love Shack. Self, we can do this. Self, it is okay to cry. Self, you are okay. Self, tequila in moderation. 

Now I know, because I'm a florist, that Valentines Day is a huge romantic push. I cherish the times I've enjoyed celebrating that way. But, and there is always a but, I'm learning to move past the romantic view of love, to a more realistic view of love. It is not limited, it is not only for some and not for others. It is not just for couples. It is a gift we give and receive. It comes in many shapes and sizes. It grows from small seeds scattered seemingly by the wind in places we would never expect. 

So I offer you this gift. Tell yourself. Self...I love you. Then spread that love everywhere. 

Light For Our Dark Places

Things we wonder, in our heads, but may never say out loud.

I'll never get it right. I failed at this.... I am not succeeding at that. I will always be alone. I'm dumb. I am unlovable. I could have done better, I should have done better. I'm not smart enough. I'm afraid. No one will love me. C'mon people. I can't be the only one who has mental tapes that play like this. Maybe your tape says you are too fat, or too tall, or not pretty enough. Maybe yours is a dialog of comparison, they are more, have more, their life is perfect. 

These are uncomfortable feelings. Feelings that we define ourselves by. Sometimes deliberately sometimes subconsciously. So remember, a feeling is not a fact. We get tripped up by that. I know by opening up this conversation that I'm going out on a limb. It's a vulnerable limb. I'm hanging in the balance here. Will I hold on to these fallacies. Will I be dismissed because I'm sharing them? Will I reduce the scope of my world by holding on to them? Will I be judged by them. Which leads me to this question, who is the harsher judge? Kinda thinking it is me. It is way easier to blame myself, berate myself. Okay, in simpler terms, I'm pretty hard on myself. Are you?

Funny, sad funny, not ha-ha funny how much easier it is to tally what we didn't get right instead of what we did. What we aren't instead of what we are. What we haven't got instead of what we have. Do I know an easy path to heal all of this? Ummm, no easy path, but not an impossible task. All I can figure is I've been gifted with these words so I can share them. Share the feelings, share the faith, share being open to shedding light on our inner struggles. Giving some light to our dark places. 

We all have some dark places, am I right? We are not singularly flawed. That's the good news. Opening up and peering into our "flaw" box is humbling, and healing. Scary as hell too, so we resist doing it. But, what if I'm not all wrong? What if I get it right some of the time, and because I'm human I get it wrong some of the time. Could that be okay? What if I'm not bad, or stupid, or worthless, but someone told me I was so I believed it. What if I have a voice, but was shamed into not using it. What if I breathed out instead of holding it all in. That would be a weight off my shoulders. What if I am enough just the way I am? Wise enough, capable enough, safe enough, strong enough. Could that be my truth? That friends, that is the seed to plant, to nurture, to bring into the light. Trusting we find new light for our dark places.

 

Ask For Help, Get The Ice Cream

I've realized grief comes in more shades than there are paint chips at Sherwin Williams. Grace does too. I had an emotional day recently, which triggered some grief. Each time through a wave of grief I am moved further down the road to a softer place. That doesn't negate the pain of getting through it.

I had some dental work done the other day. There was pain in the beginning of the procedure, but after that part there was no physical pain involved. I was taken back at how emotionally uncomfortable the process was. How anxiety filled. I knew I could get through it because I told myself in my head (at least a 100 times) I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. It did not occur to me to stop and ask for help "doing this" making the procedure less stressful. That's an important lesson. Ask for help when you need it. I didn't need to suffer through it and yet I did.  

So naturally following the procedure I was a bit emotional. Okay, so saying I'm "a bit emotional" is always a stretch of imagination. Here's your visual, emotionally charged woman, with half her face completely numb. Wanting ice cream to comfort the stress, but knowing she doesn't have enough lip control to manage consuming it. Again, I could have gotten some for later when my lips came back. Again, I went without when I didn't actually need to. Raising hand....slow learner here.

I pull up to a stop light and am sitting behind the vehicle of a company that does damage restoration, including trauma clean up. It takes me right back. This same company did the trauma clean up after my husband took his life. This time seeing the company name tapped into the loss and pain. Now I dealt with this company as they did restoration work in my home. I've seen their vehicles many times since then with no emotional response. But this day I had emotions that needed to be cried through. This day I was in a place I could do that. We can't process all of a loss at once, that's why grieving is a long process. As we are ready, life presents the situations that draw us through grief to the other side. These hurdles have to be crossed. They can however be shared, either during, or afterwards. While we may feel pain, discomfort, anxiety we don't have to suffer alone. We can ask for the help/comfort to get through it and we can have the ice cream afterwards. Be gentle with yourself, ask for help, get the ice cream. Heal.

Wishing you this.

Somehow, we have moved through another entire year. How well did we move? Was it with peace, with anxiety, with anger, with joy. Did we move with hope? Did we move forward or back, or some of each? Was it full of grief? Was it grueling and yet filled with grace? Was it scary? Did we dance, did we laugh, did we move faith forward? 

It was a year of so much change in my life. I never do things in a small way. Although my desire is to tip-toe gently in, often I find I jump in and then wade through the fallout. Finding our way is like that. Fallout is a necessary part of life. Living is necessary for fallout. You can't have one without the other. 

Accept a new job I thought, pull up roots I thought. I am ready for this I thought. Let go of all that is familiar and start again.  Discover all the changes you asked for are harder in more ways than you could ever have imagined. Grieve deeply for the past. Grieve deeply for a place that was a beloved home for many years. Grieve the life changes that made all of this come to fruition. Pack up and move twice in six months. That was a beast of an endeavor. But you know what feels like home and what doesn't. If you have to move more than once to find it do so. Then thank those who helped you repeatedly make it happen.

It's been a year of uncertainty, and of discovery. What would I do different? I'd reach out sooner for help when I needed it. Sometimes we are slow learners. I'd lean in closer to the love available. I'd let go of anxiety and breathe in certainty. I'd trust deeply that my needs will be met. After all, doesn't the big guy upstairs promise me that?  I don't have to do life by myself. I'd trust more, worry less. I'd understand mistakes are simply human moments  and stepping stones for growth. I'd be gentle with myself. I'd accept that other people don't have to like me, but I do. I'd cry a lot, maybe more, if possible. Crying is cleansing and healing. I'd anticipate good things.

I walked the dogs daily, beginning mid-March, and have only missed three days. Not going the count the number of poop bags I used, but can I just say Layla donates regularly on our walks. That's a personal record for consistent exercise for me. Granted we use the stop and sniff method. For the dogs stopping to use their nose is an important part of the process. I particularly like when this happens on big hills. I reached out to others who walk the path of survivors of suicide loss. I hope my experience and encouragement finds its way to those struggling.  I helped Hobbs gently cross the bridge when it was time. I helped Gunther through a couple of health issues.  And this, this is a big one...I didn't give up. Lord knows how much I wanted to give up.

So here I am at years end. Weary, grateful, stronger, wiser, softer. I have a much deeper understanding of our need for connection. So I wish you these same things...loving connections, strength, gratitude, growth. May the path be easy, and if not, may it be traveled with faith, family and good friends. That's who and what gets us through the hard parts. That's who laughs with us at the absurdities of life. That's who celebrate's the victories big and small. That's who wipes the tears and gives us courage to move forward again. Wishing you this, so much of this.