Just As I Am

You know those mental dialogs we have? Things we say to ourselves. Self-criticisms, inner nagging, or little put downs. Some are old tapes from growing up, from past relationships.   One I find myself saying often is it doesn't matter how I look. I kind of feel invisible. I'm thinking this may be an age thing, or a widow thing. Or both. People look at me, heck I look at me, but does anyone really see me? Have you ever felt that way?

Part of me says I look good enough, or it doesn't matter how I look. Or nobody cares how I look, sometimes myself included. Sometimes I take time to put on makeup, most times I don't. No one gasps at my stunning beauty if I do, or gags if I don't. In the end does it matter? 

Maybe not caring about that is a sign of self-acceptance. I don't have to please anyone but myself. That said I see the beauty in others, in their appearance, their make-up, clothes, personality, their heart. Somehow, it's hard to see that in myself. Why is that?

So many times, growing up, or as a grown up, it's all about looks. Look good, feel good, or so they say. Look like you've got it going. Look composed, look professional, look put together. Truth of the matter, none of us have it put together all of the time. We are works in progress. We are growing, whether we can see the progress or not. We drop the ball, we have human moments, we falter, we long to be seen, heard and loved. Sometimes we don't feel any of those things. I will own that first. I have days I fake it until I hopefully (prayerfully) make it. I struggle with feeling connected. I see other's value and beauty often before my own.

I could sign this entry from a messy person, who's had a messy life full of messy emotions and trauma. But instead, I'll sign it from a healing person, who makes mistakes and learns from them. Who accepts that all the pretty trappings don't necessarily make a person beautiful. Who gets that how I feel is more important than how I look. I feel strong (most days), I feel blessed (all days), I feel capable of using my words, and embracing life as it is today. Even if I wrestle with it first, perhaps more if I wrestle with it first. That said, I'm gonna slap a little make up on today and call it good enough. Tomorrow maybe I won't and that's okay too. Take it or leave it, just as I am.

Dear Sean Dietrich

Dear Sean Dietrich, we have some things in common.

We both are survivors of suicide loss, we have a thing for old dogs, we write. Granted you are a way more prolific a writer than I am. But then writing doesn't put food on my table or feed my dogs. Writing is a way to process my thoughts and feelings. Then I figure if I'm struggling with something, maybe someone else is too so why not share my thoughts. And words, words are tricky sometimes. Sometimes I have them, sometimes I don't. Most of my life using them has been a challenge. You see growing up it wasn't safe to have an opinion, to point out a wrong, set a boundary or say what you need. Guess you could say I come from a dysfunctional home. I'm thinking more of us have than not. 

Here is what I know, life does not take us where we think it should. Being divorced, a single Mom, a survivor of suicide loss, a widow were not life goals. In fact, I wanted to own horses, lots of horses. The big guy upstairs felt dogs were more do able. So, I do dogs, and I love them, especially the gnarly old dogs. I thought marriage would be for life until my ex-husband decided otherwise. So, then I was gifted with being a single Mother. You do the best you can, and you know what? They turned out good. They grew up, I grew up. It's all good. The dog thing started when I got divorced. Getting a dog was the smartest decision I ever made. We should all keep a list entitled "Smartest Decisions I've Ever Made". Write yourself a note to start that list. We all deserve a little more credit than we give ourselves.

Your journey with suicide loss is completely different than mine. You lost a parent. I lost a spouse. I feel for you even though I can't fathom how that impacted your life. Sometimes I can't fathom how suicide has impacted my own life. Or how the pain of life impacted our people who chose to end it all. It is just impossible to wrap our heads around. 

In times like these we just keeping moving forward as best we are able. Surround ourselves with what gives us comfort and joy. We grieve and we grow. We wait for the words to come and share them when they do. We laugh at the irony, we heal from the hurts, we share our gifts, we love our dogs. So can I say thank you for your words and thank you to the big guy upstairs. I think you have a different name for the big guy, but I know you believe. I know that because how else could your path and mine have crossed like this? Rhetorical question. No need to answer. Carry on, you're doing great.

We Just Don't Know

I heard a dialog recently. The question was asked "why would they put up with that"? "Were they stupid"?  That whole thought process made me sad. We do the best we can with the information we have at the time. We do the best to honor our commitments, to trust the situation, to believe. We believe in those we love, we trust them, until reality teaches us otherwise. If a person has never had that experience, then God bless them. They have no idea how lucky they are. Others have lived with dysfunction, learning the hard way. 

The bottom line is we just don't know what another person is going through. Let me say that again. We just don't know what another person is going through.  Sometimes we are that person, holding on by a thread and trying to sort it out. Other times we look on and it's painfully obvious we can't learn life lessons for another person. It's hard all the way around. In reality most of us do attend the school of hard knocks at one time or another. When we hear those questions, comments, those judgements it may take us back to times we felt like failures. Were we failures? Nope. The writing was on the wall, but we weren't able to read it. We made choices that weren't the greatest but were what we needed to do at that particular moment. They were part of our growth and development. Therefore, they were important pieces of who we were and who we are. 

They are the very reasons to be gentle with ourselves and each other. We don't know what life is like for others. We just don't know what we don't know. And no, we're not stupid. We are humans having human moments. Growing from them in our own way according to the bigger plan.

Food For Thought

Do you ever feel like you've eaten everything a million times. Do you ever feel like there should be more food and beverage choices? Seriously, what else is there for breakfast? Lunch and dinner? Maybe it's the company I keep, but dang, it feels like deja vu. Fixed it before, packed it in my lunch before and had it for dinner before. Honestly, I love food, I love cooking, I like to eat. I'm surrounded my thousands of food options at work every day. But I'm kinda of done with it. Don't worry, I'm not about to stop eating. It is food for thought though. 

I should be as excited to eat as the dogs are, as a child with ice cream is, as someone diving into a deep-dish pizza after a famine is. There I go with "should", should gets me into trouble every time. It sets me up for disappointment when I need to extend myself grace as large as a bowl of gravy. Pass the gravy please.

I suspect, because I am smarter than your average bear, that part of it is that eating is a solitary experience. Owning it is the first step. Add in the tendency to be frugal, the waning motivation at the end of the day, or the morning rush in the beginning of the day. Somewhere along the way I lose the creativity and only lightly garnish with gratitude. Some folks may look on in envy and say you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. There is some truth to that. Funny how that's both a blessing and a curse.

How do we face those things that challenge us? The food choices, the life choices, the faith choices? How do we shift from stuck to unstuck. How do we find our gratitude. How do we spice it up so that we are fed spiritually, emotionally and physically? Good questions, no easy answers. Except for the gratitude part. That's the icing on the cake, the gravy on the taters, the whipped cream on the pie, the chocolate on the eclair.

One Year

A year ago, I had just put down a beloved dog. My heart had a hole in that had Gunther's name on it. That left me with one dog. That hadn't happened oh since 1999, give or take. I mean really? One dog is just never enough. One dog is just too quiet for my taste. So, in early February I added a new one to the fold. It was an obvious choice. Welcome to the good life Maxx. Maxx was in a foster home in TX. He was a sunbelt boy destined for life in the Midwest.

A year ago, two of my three kiddos lived in the same vicinity. Who knew life would present one with his dream job. He packed bags and moved within weeks. Exactly what a parent wants for their child, even when they prefer having them closer. We celebrate their opportunities and adventures. Even as we weep if life takes them further away from us

A year ago, I struggled with living a quiet solitary life. A year later, it's a norm that is more comfortable. My little world is cozy, safe and lovely. Blessed even. Okay, I'd like more hugs, I miss being someone's partner and more laughter couldn't hurt either. But I'm finding comfort in being present in the present. That's a good thing. 

I don't know what your year ago looked like. Or if the in between was gentle and kind, or grueling and hard. Perhaps some of both. I do know it's the little things that matter. Someone who checks on you daily, sometimes several times daily, or periodically just to make sure you're okay. It's simple pleasures that warm your heart. It's friends, new and old, including you in their life. It's a furry friend or two, or three. It's a Friday night tequila shot to celebrate getting through another week. Even if it's a one-person celebration. It's volunteering in a field you are passionate about. See also, it's better to give than to receive. For in giving, we do receive. It's working towards slowing down enough to be comfortable, just comfortable. It's the belief that we deserve good things, and the faith to know they are coming. It's trusting we are exactly where we are supposed to be. It's the ability to say my mental health matters and yours does to. It is the ability to be self-compassionate. 

So, wherever you are this year, know that you've grown since last year. Also know, you're worth it (whatever it may be), that if one dog is good, two can be better. You have value. You are not alone. You matter. Stick with me, and we'll journey life together. One step at a time. one day at a time, one year at a time.

Stephen 'tWitch" Boss

There is so much media about the loss by suicide of another young celebrity who had it all. I get that. We assume those with golden lives have just that, golden lives. We are appalled it could happen to them. They had it all, the success, the glamor, the family, the career. We don't get it, and we're devastated. I can't speak for Steven 'tWitch" Boss and the choice he made. I can speak for survivors of suicide loss.

It is an unfathomable act with life ending and life changing outcomes. All the circumstances, things, prestige, and glory of their world will not change the damage that is done and the pain it causes the survivors. The loss is tragic. The loss does not end for his loved ones. In fact, it's just beginning. It begins with shock and numbness; it transitions to disbelief and anger. It is a question that racks our brains with no answers. The how could it, the why did it, the what could have changed it. The questions, the self-doubt, the disbelief.

Was it an impulsive moment of despair? Was it planned? Was it someone's fault? Was it a moment of weakness? The bottom line is we do not know what struggles a person faces every day. We don't know when their strength wanes and it all becomes too much. We know help is available, but we will never understand why some people are able to reach out for it and others are not. 

And most, thankfully never experience the stigma that comes with such a loss. It is easy to look from outside and judge, a little self-righteously, while thinking it could never happen to us. It can. Which is frightening in itself. 

It is typical to read the headlines, feel some grief and then go on with life as we know it. Until it is us, and life as we know it is gone. We pray for those who take their life. But we need to pray and support those who carry the weight of that loss. Not just in the days immediately following the death, but in all the days thereafter. We need to make it okay to talk about it, even though we'd prefer to brush it aside, pretend it never happened. That said, I understand that until you walk this path, it's hard to completely understand. Rest assured those walking it don't understand it either. We struggle to talk about it, and we know firsthand. 

I'd like to think it is as simple as checking in on your people, the strong ones and the ones struggling. By all means do that, check often, ask the hard questions. But know that we are often masters of disguise when our mental health is suffering. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. Normalize mental health, normalize mental awareness and selfcare. Normalize the elimination of stigma and enhance compassion in the aftermath of suicide loss.

Owning it is the first step. Take those steps for yourself, and your loved ones.

Pause, As Needed

This is the time of year when I'd normally sit down and write a Christmas letter. A time to share of my life over the course of the year and wish loved ones well during the holidays. This year I don't have it in me. I'm not sure why, but I can accept this feeling without fighting it.

I did sit down and read letters I wrote over the last several years. I write a good letter. Life has been full, and challenging. Life has taken me on bumpy roads and gravel roads. Through trials and into great blessings. From familiar homes with chosen family, to new homes with new friends and family. There were tales of graduations, job changes, job losses, weddings, moves, trips, sorrow, friendship and laughter. 

There have been constants in these letters. Love of family, faith in times of hardship, great friendships, the desire to foster dogs and help them find their forever home. Mostly because I can't own them all, but I can help a few on their path to a new life. There are stories of my kids. Who now look out for me, much as I looked out for them. There are too many blessings to count.

It's odd to write a Christmas card and not include a letter. Makes me question am I doing enough? Or was I doing too much and in the end, it doesn't matter? Maybe I was one of the few to do this. So many send a photo card, and I always long to know more about their lives. Maybe that's why I wrote, so that I could give them a way to paint a picture of my life. So often we just show a tiny part of our lives, not the whole picture, certainly not the messy parts. FYI, we all have messy parts. Owning them is the first step.

I've decided to go with the flow and give myself permission, in a time of honored traditions, to do something different. Maybe next year I'll share a letter again, time will tell. In this time of Christmas cards, carols, shiny ornaments and colorful lights do what feels right. If you have the energy to do what you always do, then do it. If you chose to scale back, scale back. You do you. I'm not losing a tradition, I'm pausing it. It's okay, we can all pause when we need to. And carry on when we're ready.