When I started to write this journal or blog about my life following my son's suicide I anticipated being able to look back at it a year or two down the line and see some change. Not so. The pain and sadness is the same, the guilt perhaps more than it was then but I blame that partly on the shock that sets in for the longest time. When I talk of guilt, it isn't only in my own failures but at that time I should have been advocating far more. Let me tell you a little story though of the consequence of one of my attempts. I may have told this in an earlier blog. Michael had requested a Health Canada assessment. He knew he was in trouble, and as a federal employee, had been assured that the government helps take care of their own. Total fabrication. The government will ensure you get seen by someone....however, the accuracy of that diagnosis can be (and in Michael's case) WAS wrong. I requested a review but naturally the review board felt all proper procedures has been followed. I hadn't questioned that. I had questioned how they could come up with an incorrect diagnosis, totally disregarding reports by his own doctor who had know him his whole life....and this after 2 one hour visit. At any rate...that isn't what I wanted to tell you. I felt I had to tell this doctor how far off the mark she had been and had she identified Michael's illness he might possibly have found some help and maybe, just maybe might be alive. And I think I probably crossed the line by suggesting I hoped she liked herself because I certainly didn't. She immediately phoned my doctor to find out if she was safe....perhaps she did recognize the possibility of moody dysregulation after all.
Perhaps I shouldn't say that I've not made progress. I will now advocate on behalf of all who suffer for depression and other mood dysregulations. I will talk about my own battle with the mood demons, with self harming attempts, with risky choice making. I can forgive my mother for things that happened in our lives that we didn't understand.
Yesterday I was able to take some of my sons things which have been pack in trunks in the garage and rent a nice storage unit and move them there. I will do the same with his books and this is in preparation for selling this place. This is the house Michael hung himself in. Every time I walk in the front door I see that picture in my mind. I don't think we (my husband and I) can start to move forward by staying here. Each time we hear a neighbour running up the stairs we imagine the Michael is going to walk into our bedroom, much as he did the last three months of his life.
But the tears and the loneliness and the grief remain. I loved my son. He was really not much more than a boy when he first moved out...just 20....he didn't move far...but for a young man with borderline with bipolar tendencies or vice versa he moved to an atmosphere ideal for fostering good healthy emotional problems. Although he moved home a couple of times over the next 11 years, each time he was less strong, more emotionally beaten, less confident, more afraid of abandonment.
Borderline, bipolar and many other illnesses creep up on you. You find your behaviour changing...your ability to cope with certain things less than ideal and your reaction to circumstances sometimes (often) inappropriate. It then takes a true friend, a true love to say...I will be here for you. I will not leave you. I will help you through this hell because I KNOW this is not you. This is a reaction in your brain. I still know the beauty of the soul within.
Some will say this is a fairy tale. Well maybe it is. Maybe we are too damned self involved...we care so much about us. Reach out to someone this week. My son took himself away on the 25th of February 2010. Please do something kind for someone in his memory or the memory of someone you care about. Thank you.
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Monday, November 7, 2011
Only Time
This past weekend was another tough weekend. Sunday in particular was a particularly emotional day. I take these days as they come. There no longer is the expectation that the pain will lessen. But today was a better day so I want to look back and see if I can find out what happened and when to cause that wave to come and knock my off balance. It might be because the other day I started to write about plans for Michael's birthday. All it took on Sunday was to have our minister ask us to name who we wished could be there with us at Church. My son was not a church goer but he is who I wanted. The tears started and kept up all day. This line is from "Finding Your Way After the Suicide of Someone you Love" and it seems to say what I feel perfectly.
"I felt like my cycle of pain...would continue year after year, and that was what I would call 'life' from now on"
These are the days I believe that I will never laugh with true happiness, rather than laughing out of politeness, and that I will never feel truly happy again. I want to find a way to be happy with my life without dishonouring or being disloyal to my son and this is what I can't figure out how to do.
In the book I'm reading the questions are posed," Will it always be this way? Will it ever be possible to do more than just barely survive each day?" Sometimes not. But, sometimes. And I hold onto that "Sometimes". Right now I have no idea what it will be like to be a suicide survivor because I'm still in the process of taking the baby steps necessary to move towards some place of peace, some place of being able to deal with the overwhelming guilt, the unbearable pain of losing my beautiful boy and the internal struggle to keep myself in that pit of despair.
I'm not there yet. Not by a long long way. Only time will let me know if when I'm there.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0NoHN1TU5I
"I felt like my cycle of pain...would continue year after year, and that was what I would call 'life' from now on"
These are the days I believe that I will never laugh with true happiness, rather than laughing out of politeness, and that I will never feel truly happy again. I want to find a way to be happy with my life without dishonouring or being disloyal to my son and this is what I can't figure out how to do.
In the book I'm reading the questions are posed," Will it always be this way? Will it ever be possible to do more than just barely survive each day?" Sometimes not. But, sometimes. And I hold onto that "Sometimes". Right now I have no idea what it will be like to be a suicide survivor because I'm still in the process of taking the baby steps necessary to move towards some place of peace, some place of being able to deal with the overwhelming guilt, the unbearable pain of losing my beautiful boy and the internal struggle to keep myself in that pit of despair.
I'm not there yet. Not by a long long way. Only time will let me know if when I'm there.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0NoHN1TU5I
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
20 months.
18: 46 At this time, twenty months ago, I had seen my son alive for the last time, but I didn't know it. I was out and he had made his decision and unknown to me or to hid Dad upstairs, was just finishing things up by making his last few phone calls. In the time that it will take me to write this, on that night, he will have taken himself away from the pain and desperate unhappiness with which he could no longer cope.
As I type I glance down in the right hand corner of my laptop and watch the time pass and am acutely aware that as each second passes I am that much closer to that time. I feel the panic starting to build as it always does as I allow myself to go to the sad place. It's almost like even now, all these months later, there is still time for me to do something to head off Michael's suicide. 18:49
Today I've been reading back through comments I've been sent and I realize that many I've not responded to. I think part of the reason for this is that writing about suicide, surviving suicide (not the attempt but the loss caused by), the loss of my son, mood disorders, leave me emotionally drained afterwards. Please understand that for me this is a good thing. But one of the comments I read today was one I had read before in response to something I had written about reducing the medication I take. Although the comment was anonymous I knew right away who had written it and I trust this person completely and value their opinion. The writer reminded me that having known me both on and off prescribed meds, their opinion was that I did much better on them than off.
I do. That doesn't mean I like to take them. Meds have side affects and for me when I'm starting to feel better that part of my brain that wants to be like everyone else says "you're doing okay..you don't need the meds"..it happens every time! Now, imagine someone with a more severe mood dysregulation and possibly stronger medication going through the same process. The results can be terrible. Normal emotional roller coaster rides are made far far far worse. Withdrawal, if unsupervised can have devastating physical side effects. I'm bringing this up right now only because today was a beautiful day and although it is the 20-month anniversary of Michael's death I actually thought earlier this morning...."Hey. I'm doing okay..maybe today is a good day to start to cut back on medication x"....I'm a pretty smart woman, so what part of me just doesn't get it, even now???
Mikey really fought the whole idea of meds and he took strong medication that left him, at some times, in a fog. He couldn't keep food down, his beautiful thick hair was falling out, he lost so much weight, his hands shook, and still he couldn't cope and couldn't get help and at the end he just quit taking everything. 19:09...slow deep breaths...I can feel it coming...in twenty minutes I will go and stand out on my patio where I found my boy.
I am grateful that I have a support network to remind me that I do better by staying on the regime my doctor has me on for now. Easier for me. I'm a woman..(people are for more accepting of women taking mood regulation meds, than they are of men) Does it come down to this??....I know of two men who will openly talk about the importance of them staying on their prescribed medication for mood dysregulation. Two! You guys are my heros! Coming out of the "medication closet". It shouldn't be an issue..but it is and it's part of the reason we lose people to suicide. That's not to say that everyone taking meds for depression, or bipolar, or borderline, or any number of illnesses would end up committing suicide but we would lose fewer if there wasn't a stigma attached to mental disorders. 19:18......watching pictures of Michael on the digital frame.
So...will go and place a pill under my tongue and go out onto the patio and light a candle for my boy.
Michael, I love you. I wish you could have stayed here with us. We miss you so.
19:22. Good night.
As I type I glance down in the right hand corner of my laptop and watch the time pass and am acutely aware that as each second passes I am that much closer to that time. I feel the panic starting to build as it always does as I allow myself to go to the sad place. It's almost like even now, all these months later, there is still time for me to do something to head off Michael's suicide. 18:49
Today I've been reading back through comments I've been sent and I realize that many I've not responded to. I think part of the reason for this is that writing about suicide, surviving suicide (not the attempt but the loss caused by), the loss of my son, mood disorders, leave me emotionally drained afterwards. Please understand that for me this is a good thing. But one of the comments I read today was one I had read before in response to something I had written about reducing the medication I take. Although the comment was anonymous I knew right away who had written it and I trust this person completely and value their opinion. The writer reminded me that having known me both on and off prescribed meds, their opinion was that I did much better on them than off.
I do. That doesn't mean I like to take them. Meds have side affects and for me when I'm starting to feel better that part of my brain that wants to be like everyone else says "you're doing okay..you don't need the meds"..it happens every time! Now, imagine someone with a more severe mood dysregulation and possibly stronger medication going through the same process. The results can be terrible. Normal emotional roller coaster rides are made far far far worse. Withdrawal, if unsupervised can have devastating physical side effects. I'm bringing this up right now only because today was a beautiful day and although it is the 20-month anniversary of Michael's death I actually thought earlier this morning...."Hey. I'm doing okay..maybe today is a good day to start to cut back on medication x"....I'm a pretty smart woman, so what part of me just doesn't get it, even now???
Mikey really fought the whole idea of meds and he took strong medication that left him, at some times, in a fog. He couldn't keep food down, his beautiful thick hair was falling out, he lost so much weight, his hands shook, and still he couldn't cope and couldn't get help and at the end he just quit taking everything. 19:09...slow deep breaths...I can feel it coming...in twenty minutes I will go and stand out on my patio where I found my boy.
I am grateful that I have a support network to remind me that I do better by staying on the regime my doctor has me on for now. Easier for me. I'm a woman..(people are for more accepting of women taking mood regulation meds, than they are of men) Does it come down to this??....I know of two men who will openly talk about the importance of them staying on their prescribed medication for mood dysregulation. Two! You guys are my heros! Coming out of the "medication closet". It shouldn't be an issue..but it is and it's part of the reason we lose people to suicide. That's not to say that everyone taking meds for depression, or bipolar, or borderline, or any number of illnesses would end up committing suicide but we would lose fewer if there wasn't a stigma attached to mental disorders. 19:18......watching pictures of Michael on the digital frame.
So...will go and place a pill under my tongue and go out onto the patio and light a candle for my boy.
Michael, I love you. I wish you could have stayed here with us. We miss you so.
19:22. Good night.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
What it is
This morning I got to take my granddaughter to kindergarten. Twenty-eight years ago I took her daddy to the same classroom. I had no idea that it would upset me it did, once I was out in the car and headed home. How can time have passed so quickly and how can it all have ended up this way? I understand the time thing..as we get older we all notice how quickly time passes don't we?
The past two days I've kept myself busy getting organized for fall and winter. There are still issues concerning Michael's estate needing to be tidied up. Going through paperwork I found nine pages of emails he wrote me 17 days before he left us. One page is poetry. It's beautiful, sad, scared. It broke my heart again. I told my husband about it when he got home and he said I should throw all that out. Never. I will never throw away those precious last words from my son.
Once before in my life, years ago, my mother convinced me that the only way to recover from grief was to put that part of life behind oneself, so I burned 18 years of my life, pictures, letters, school year books, all in her fireplace. It didn't work. Well of course it didn't you're probably thinking but back then I was willing to try anything. Since then I've come to realize that all our life's experiences go into making us the people we are and although I'm not quite a subscriber to "all things happen for a reason", I am one to "it is what it is".
Today is visiting day with our granddaughter and this will get me through the day. I've probably said before that she is the only reason we stay living where we do. There will come a day when we won't need to be here, but for now we feel she has lost enough and so have we. Today is Happy UnBirthday day..cupcakes, candles and a game of Cold Cold Hot to find her little gift. For her, it's all about icing the cupcakes and putting in the candles. Everything else is just...fun.
Today too, the time came to start to repaint the bedroom my son lived in for the last three months of his life: the Winnie-the-Pooh room (old nursery). He came to live with us to feel "safe" while he continued to look for a new home and a place to live. Perhaps it kept him alive for a bit longer, perhaps it drove him to the end. Even though his closet remains untouched I am going to change everything about the room. Oddly this isn't turning out to be the big deal I thought it was going to be. Scraping off the old wallpaper this morning was therapeutic.
So, that's about it for today. Mikey's candle is about to be re-lit. This is the time of day when I start to feel like I've been punched in the abdomen...the pain is very physical...and this is the time of day when I either give up and let the waves come, medicate, or practice breathing knowing I just have to do it for six hours.
It is what it is.
The past two days I've kept myself busy getting organized for fall and winter. There are still issues concerning Michael's estate needing to be tidied up. Going through paperwork I found nine pages of emails he wrote me 17 days before he left us. One page is poetry. It's beautiful, sad, scared. It broke my heart again. I told my husband about it when he got home and he said I should throw all that out. Never. I will never throw away those precious last words from my son.
Once before in my life, years ago, my mother convinced me that the only way to recover from grief was to put that part of life behind oneself, so I burned 18 years of my life, pictures, letters, school year books, all in her fireplace. It didn't work. Well of course it didn't you're probably thinking but back then I was willing to try anything. Since then I've come to realize that all our life's experiences go into making us the people we are and although I'm not quite a subscriber to "all things happen for a reason", I am one to "it is what it is".
Today is visiting day with our granddaughter and this will get me through the day. I've probably said before that she is the only reason we stay living where we do. There will come a day when we won't need to be here, but for now we feel she has lost enough and so have we. Today is Happy UnBirthday day..cupcakes, candles and a game of Cold Cold Hot to find her little gift. For her, it's all about icing the cupcakes and putting in the candles. Everything else is just...fun.
Today too, the time came to start to repaint the bedroom my son lived in for the last three months of his life: the Winnie-the-Pooh room (old nursery). He came to live with us to feel "safe" while he continued to look for a new home and a place to live. Perhaps it kept him alive for a bit longer, perhaps it drove him to the end. Even though his closet remains untouched I am going to change everything about the room. Oddly this isn't turning out to be the big deal I thought it was going to be. Scraping off the old wallpaper this morning was therapeutic.
So, that's about it for today. Mikey's candle is about to be re-lit. This is the time of day when I start to feel like I've been punched in the abdomen...the pain is very physical...and this is the time of day when I either give up and let the waves come, medicate, or practice breathing knowing I just have to do it for six hours.
It is what it is.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Nap time
I don't usually write when my head is less than clear, but today
I will take a chance that it will be okay.
Yesterday was a dark day for me. I couldn't chase away the demons and I admit
that I was afraid I might not get through the day safely. I'm lucky because I'm able to recognize that these thoughts aren't healthy and I have talked to my psychologist about having a life line for times when they get tough. I reached out to someone I knew was safe, someone who would understand and just listen for a moment or two. That's all it took and I was able to get myself home and take some medication to calm down and I managed to fall asleep.
I know this isn't what Michael wants for us, but there are days when we don't have the control over our grief that allows us to move on.
I have to face the fact that my son is gone. He is never coming back. He will live on in my heart and the part of my soul that I share with him..but I'll never see his beautiful face and eyes again because he is on the mantlepiece in an urn.
You would think that after 18 months my coping skills would have improved. They haven't. I am still angry at certain people. I still dread seeing others. I'm thinking we need to make a move in our life now. We need to start to live for us, for the rest of our family as well. My daughter reminded me that Michael's daughter needs to see more than a sad, grieving Nana.
I need help with this.
It's all so difficult.
Time for some sleep.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Issues
Back home again after three weeks of grandchild therapy, clean sea air and just being away from here. By here I mean both the town and the house. While I was away I decided I would taper back on the medications I take for depression and mood swings. I had talked to my doctor (sort of) about the latter, earlier and he'd said as long as I felt stability in my moods to go ahead and give it a try. I'd been tapering..the correct way to do things. I'd almost stopped the SSRI while I was away with no side effects....until a couple of days ago when I realized I'd been crying for four days. I don't know much about the half life of the medications I take so am unsure how long it takes for everything to leave the system. Yesterday though was just bad. Physically bad. Brain shivers all day, nausea, walking felt like I was on a merry-go-round. So about 3:00 I called in and was advised to slowly start to re-introduce the meds and really, what was I thinking? The point in this paragraph is this: people with mood dysregulation need medication to keep everything in their brains firing normally. And, these meds aren't something to be treated flippantly. Obviously something strong enough to alter brain chemistry will cause physical symptoms when discontinued improperly. Is this withdrawal? I guess so yes..does that mean the meds are addicting. No. There is a difference between medications being necessary to keep feeling healthy and meds which are habit forming. But what is the general perception on mood altering meds? Do you think they are viewed in the same way meds for say, diabetes are viewed? My personal view is that too often anti depressant, anti anxiety and mood stabilizing drugs are seen as crutches used by people and this is where we fall short as a caring and supportive community. I don't think as a society we see mood disorders as a valid illness and consequently we don't support those who need our love and support in their struggle with emotional issues and all too often we lose them.
I started to follow the Rick Rypien story but found too many comments from people who have judged. Once statement was written by someone who "works in the mental health field". This person stated that the biggest issue with most people with mental illness is they won't accept their diagnosis and get help. The next comment said the writer was unable to "shed the same tear for this loss"..because he committed suicide ..."he gave up". This writer went on to say there are people in the world who have suffered and lost more but not given up...I want to scream!!!!! Until you've walked that road, don't you dare judge. I don't know this young man's story. I don't need to. I do know though, that at some point the day he chose to leave this earth, his suffering had overwhelmed him. It's not our place to try to figure out his suffering or to judge his decision to leave. And you know what? At this point there is no way to "make people healthy"...and this is where our energies need to go. We need to advocate more for those we've lost and are in danger of losing. Please help bring depression and other mental illnesses out of the closet. Please write a letter to an MLA, and MP, to anyone and everyone who will listen. Do not judge and do not let yourself or your loved one be judged.
I think that's all I want to say today. Talked myself in a circle...
I love you Michael.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Thursday thoughts
These past few weeks have been reminiscent of the months following Michael's death. I'm not able to "get a grip" on my emotions. Trying to figure out what's caused this and the only thing I can think of is: nothing. I'm guessing it's part of the path of grief. Maybe not, does anyone have any ideas? Even my garden isn't offering consolation because all the bits of empty space are full, nothing is really blooming because we don't have enough sun and my eyes are constantly drawn once again to the spot Michael chose to take himself away. I can't get that picture to leave my brain. Thankfully I don't dream that picture so I have respite from it when I'm sleeping but it haunts me during my daytime hours. It's like someone took a snapshot, animated it so it had arms and legs and could talk and whenever I am doing something or thinking something the snapshot jumps up and down in the background yelling..."Hey, look at me, look at me!!!" Is this part of the PTSD I'm diagnosed with? When will it take a quiet back corner and allow me to remember my beautiful son when he was happy?
My doctor has upped my antidepressant and my anti anxiety meds but I know that meds aren't the only answer. Prayer? Yes, I pray: for strength, for peace, but we don't always get what we pray for..we just hold onto the belief that one day we will. In the meantime what gets us through?
When I'm out and about I feel like such a fake because on the outside I smile and talk and on the inside I'm curled up in a ball saying "take me home".
I live for my visits with my granddaughter here and my family who aren't here. We only get my granddaughter here one afternoon a week unless there is a special occasion and we ask specifically for her. If we didn't ask for her I don't know if we would ever get her. Yet those times with her are so special. I would move from here tomorrow were it not for her. Too many memories in this small town jump out at every turn. I hate it. I really do. But our granddaughter needs to know her Daddy and her Daddy's family so we stay, at least for now.
I realize this blog serves as emotional purging but it's the reason I started it. What comes across as quiet typing is actually screaming inside my head. Seeing what I'm thinking come up on the screen as I type has a calming effect on me...it gives me a sense that I still do have some control. It means I haven't taken Michael's baseball bat to the walls, the windows, the dishes. I've gotten through another day without taking my grief out on someone else. As my oldest daughter would say, I've gotten through the day without making it worse. It would be such an easy thing to do, to make it worse. How easily I could cause damage and probably be excused because at times I feel a bit less that in control. But what purpose would that serve? I wouldn't hurt any less for having hurt someone else.
And I need my children and grand children to know that we can all be stronger that those around who are hurtful.
Mikey, can you hear my rants? I've talked myself in a circle today but I'm okay now. I love you. I'm angry at the things you were angry at, the unfairness and the cruelty shown you, the lack of understanding and the refusal to attempt to understand, the disposable attitude you were shown by some. But I will be strong for you because for as long as I live I will tell people the beautiful side of you as well.
Ativan and a cup of tea will get me through this day.
Thanks for being out there for me.
My doctor has upped my antidepressant and my anti anxiety meds but I know that meds aren't the only answer. Prayer? Yes, I pray: for strength, for peace, but we don't always get what we pray for..we just hold onto the belief that one day we will. In the meantime what gets us through?
When I'm out and about I feel like such a fake because on the outside I smile and talk and on the inside I'm curled up in a ball saying "take me home".
I live for my visits with my granddaughter here and my family who aren't here. We only get my granddaughter here one afternoon a week unless there is a special occasion and we ask specifically for her. If we didn't ask for her I don't know if we would ever get her. Yet those times with her are so special. I would move from here tomorrow were it not for her. Too many memories in this small town jump out at every turn. I hate it. I really do. But our granddaughter needs to know her Daddy and her Daddy's family so we stay, at least for now.
I realize this blog serves as emotional purging but it's the reason I started it. What comes across as quiet typing is actually screaming inside my head. Seeing what I'm thinking come up on the screen as I type has a calming effect on me...it gives me a sense that I still do have some control. It means I haven't taken Michael's baseball bat to the walls, the windows, the dishes. I've gotten through another day without taking my grief out on someone else. As my oldest daughter would say, I've gotten through the day without making it worse. It would be such an easy thing to do, to make it worse. How easily I could cause damage and probably be excused because at times I feel a bit less that in control. But what purpose would that serve? I wouldn't hurt any less for having hurt someone else.
And I need my children and grand children to know that we can all be stronger that those around who are hurtful.
Mikey, can you hear my rants? I've talked myself in a circle today but I'm okay now. I love you. I'm angry at the things you were angry at, the unfairness and the cruelty shown you, the lack of understanding and the refusal to attempt to understand, the disposable attitude you were shown by some. But I will be strong for you because for as long as I live I will tell people the beautiful side of you as well.
Ativan and a cup of tea will get me through this day.
Thanks for being out there for me.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Frustration
This will be a short note today. I've just watched another E Harmony ad on tv. I remember my counsellor telling me that she was not too worried about Michael being truly suicidal because he was making an effort to meet people online. That, apparently meant there was hope for life outside his suffering. My warning is: ALWAYS listen to your inner voice. Please. If you, in the deepest recesses of your heart and soul feel that someone you love is at risk, never ever give up looking for help. I didn't give up but I think others did. It's most likely that you know your loved one better than anyone else. Never, ever, ever stop doing everything you can to help. Write letters, make phone calls, beg, plead, cry..do whatever it takes to get someone to stop and listen. Currently there is very little help available unless someone has already self harmed and trust me when I tell you that admitting someone to the psych ward of some hospital does not keep them safe. Please write a letter to your MLA, MP, congress person, anyone and everyone you can think of because suicide is preventable.
PS. I thought I had created a link to this last time. I guess I don't know how to do that yet..so...please check on www.depressionhurts.ca. Also...the next time you go to buy Canadian stamps, please ask for the Support Mental Health stamps. They don't cost you one cent more..but a (very small) part of the money goes to support mental health in Canada and also, perhaps someone receiving a letter with one of these stamps will notice and thus, awareness is raised. It's a starting point. Thanks.
PS. I thought I had created a link to this last time. I guess I don't know how to do that yet..so...please check on www.depressionhurts.ca. Also...the next time you go to buy Canadian stamps, please ask for the Support Mental Health stamps. They don't cost you one cent more..but a (very small) part of the money goes to support mental health in Canada and also, perhaps someone receiving a letter with one of these stamps will notice and thus, awareness is raised. It's a starting point. Thanks.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Janis
Today I've been listening to music I listened to forty years (or more) ago. I'd forgotten what great artists we had..incredible music. Michael would have loved Janis. Maybe he did..we didn't talk about her music but in listening to some of the music he did love I know he would have been drawn to the gravelly soulfulness she shared with us.
Kind of an emotional day as it was check-in day about my return to work. More about that another time. But, I was forced to face some facts about myself that I prefer to keep neatly folded away in a drawer. So a door is closing and I'll just wait to see if another opens up.
It was too much Mikey. I couldn't do it. Having made the decision to quit pretending, I feel like I've taken a weight away from you. Was that part holding you back? The doctor asked me if I looked for signs that you are okay, that you are near me. The only thing I could come up with was a sense of peace. Because you and I were so connected emotionally I feel that I will know when you've been totally released from the things you felt you were betrayed by.
There are a couple of other things I have to do...you know what they are...difficult things...well..I guess since this writing is supposed to attempt to help anyone going through a similar situation, hints aren't enough.
I have a closet full of Michael's clothes..many of them I have no emotional attachment to because I rarely saw him in them...dress clothes...these should go to somewhere that they can be given to those who could use them. That leaves me with two tubs of sweaters and t-shirts...those I can't get rid of. Not yet. I wear some of his tshirts still. That's going to be the thing I'm to concentrate on next week. I will do this alone. My husband won't be able to and it's a spiritual step for me. My God will walk me through it, I know. It may be one of those 'bring me to my knees' moments but I won't be alone.
Signing out for tonight. I hope this brings peace to those reading.
Kind of an emotional day as it was check-in day about my return to work. More about that another time. But, I was forced to face some facts about myself that I prefer to keep neatly folded away in a drawer. So a door is closing and I'll just wait to see if another opens up.
It was too much Mikey. I couldn't do it. Having made the decision to quit pretending, I feel like I've taken a weight away from you. Was that part holding you back? The doctor asked me if I looked for signs that you are okay, that you are near me. The only thing I could come up with was a sense of peace. Because you and I were so connected emotionally I feel that I will know when you've been totally released from the things you felt you were betrayed by.
There are a couple of other things I have to do...you know what they are...difficult things...well..I guess since this writing is supposed to attempt to help anyone going through a similar situation, hints aren't enough.
I have a closet full of Michael's clothes..many of them I have no emotional attachment to because I rarely saw him in them...dress clothes...these should go to somewhere that they can be given to those who could use them. That leaves me with two tubs of sweaters and t-shirts...those I can't get rid of. Not yet. I wear some of his tshirts still. That's going to be the thing I'm to concentrate on next week. I will do this alone. My husband won't be able to and it's a spiritual step for me. My God will walk me through it, I know. It may be one of those 'bring me to my knees' moments but I won't be alone.
Signing out for tonight. I hope this brings peace to those reading.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
observations
Well, this is the third week back at work, and by third week I mean the fifth day, and by that I mean that I have just finished the 20th hour. That's about all I can say about that.
I am very aware these days of life and lives around us moving on. Our days pass but we remain in the same place. I feel very disconnected from the real world. That's just an observation, not a complaint.
The words don't come today for some reason, but I had to try.
Another couple of observations:
Time to go dig in the dirt.
I am very aware these days of life and lives around us moving on. Our days pass but we remain in the same place. I feel very disconnected from the real world. That's just an observation, not a complaint.
The words don't come today for some reason, but I had to try.
Another couple of observations:
- I can't deal with stress anymore
- I'm still angry, although not at my boy
- I will never have the opportunity to deal with a lot of my anger
- I like my grey hair
- I should not be working where I am working because I no longer believe in the system
Time to go dig in the dirt.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
On Getting on with things.
Because part of my reason for chronicling the journey I travel following my son's suicide, is to help others who find themselves in the same position, there are some things I want to say about suicide. Carla Fine, in her book No Time to Say Goodbye, says:
I have "friends" who no longer talk to me and I know it's because they are uncomfortable with the manner of Michael's death. They feel that suicide is a sin. Fundamentalists. In their book Suicide and It's Aftermath: Understanding and Counseling the Survivors, Charles Ruby and David Clark point out that the Christian view of suicide as sinful and forbidden evolved in the second half of the first millenium AD. Did we understand depression, mood disorders, psychiatric illness then? Hardly. Why do some churchs still judge? Is our God not a God of compassion and of understanding? That's my belief and I'm comforted by Rubey and Clark's theory that it's unlikely that God judges suicide as either moral or immoral because He understand that a person who takes his or her life is "experiencing the kind of pain that is the hallmark of illness or depression" When Michael died, a Catholic priest who Michael had talked to many times, came to our house and sprinkled Holy Water over the ground where Mikey lay. My minister has been here a number of times and we go out and stand and pray where Michael left us. So...here is my advice on this, if any of you are finding the same thing...or worry that your loved one's leaving damned them eternally. Please don't let yourself be taken down that road.
I question daily what Michael would want me to be doing. I've been told that he would want me to be living my life, to be carrying on. I do this every day just be waking up, breathing, getting through the day, going to bed, waking up, breathing....it's enough for me right now. These are still such early days. I understood my son, and he understood me. We were cut from the same cloth. I have struggled with debilitating depression most of mylife. The mood swings started in my late teens. I passed these genes on to my children. Michael will understand my struggle. The one thing I do know for certain is that Michael would not want me to take my life to follow him. He took himself away from us for a number of reasons and some of those reasons were very unselfish reasons. I do not believe suicide is selfish, that is is a coward's way out, that it is a sin. I believe a healthy person does not take his or her own life. I believe that despite all our wonderful achievements with medicine, we have not figured out how to cure things like depression, BiPolar, Boderline, Schizophrenia. I believe that not enough resources are put into these illness because there is still some kind of stigma attached to those things "mental".
Michael will not be saying, "C'mon Mom, get on with your life", because he will understand that sometimes you just can't. As I said before, maybe, hopefully, there will be a time when I want to make plans. Or maybe not..I don't know. But in the meantime I will advocate for my son, for other's like him....did you know that not so long ago the Cancer was whispered, much like suicide is now whispered? It's by shouting the words that we contribute to understanding and acceptance of things. So..SUICIDE IS A PERMANENT SOLUTION TO A TREATABLE ILLNESS. SUICIDE IS PREVENTABLE.
Michael, I love you.
Coping with any death is traumatic; suicide compounds the anguish because we are forced to deal with two traumatic events at the same time....the level of stress resulting from the suicide of a loved one is ranked as catastrophic...the initial impact of discovery scars us forever..."I will never be the same person I was 15 months ago again. I feel guilty that I am alive and Michael is not. There is nothing that can or will ever change those feelings. But Michael lives on in my heart and will forever. Apparently, according to the "experts" in order to move on, I must begin to be able to separate Michael from his suicide. I'm not there yet and I don't feel guilty about not being there yet. One day, with luck that process might begin.
I have "friends" who no longer talk to me and I know it's because they are uncomfortable with the manner of Michael's death. They feel that suicide is a sin. Fundamentalists. In their book Suicide and It's Aftermath: Understanding and Counseling the Survivors, Charles Ruby and David Clark point out that the Christian view of suicide as sinful and forbidden evolved in the second half of the first millenium AD. Did we understand depression, mood disorders, psychiatric illness then? Hardly. Why do some churchs still judge? Is our God not a God of compassion and of understanding? That's my belief and I'm comforted by Rubey and Clark's theory that it's unlikely that God judges suicide as either moral or immoral because He understand that a person who takes his or her life is "experiencing the kind of pain that is the hallmark of illness or depression" When Michael died, a Catholic priest who Michael had talked to many times, came to our house and sprinkled Holy Water over the ground where Mikey lay. My minister has been here a number of times and we go out and stand and pray where Michael left us. So...here is my advice on this, if any of you are finding the same thing...or worry that your loved one's leaving damned them eternally. Please don't let yourself be taken down that road.
I question daily what Michael would want me to be doing. I've been told that he would want me to be living my life, to be carrying on. I do this every day just be waking up, breathing, getting through the day, going to bed, waking up, breathing....it's enough for me right now. These are still such early days. I understood my son, and he understood me. We were cut from the same cloth. I have struggled with debilitating depression most of mylife. The mood swings started in my late teens. I passed these genes on to my children. Michael will understand my struggle. The one thing I do know for certain is that Michael would not want me to take my life to follow him. He took himself away from us for a number of reasons and some of those reasons were very unselfish reasons. I do not believe suicide is selfish, that is is a coward's way out, that it is a sin. I believe a healthy person does not take his or her own life. I believe that despite all our wonderful achievements with medicine, we have not figured out how to cure things like depression, BiPolar, Boderline, Schizophrenia. I believe that not enough resources are put into these illness because there is still some kind of stigma attached to those things "mental".
Michael will not be saying, "C'mon Mom, get on with your life", because he will understand that sometimes you just can't. As I said before, maybe, hopefully, there will be a time when I want to make plans. Or maybe not..I don't know. But in the meantime I will advocate for my son, for other's like him....did you know that not so long ago the Cancer was whispered, much like suicide is now whispered? It's by shouting the words that we contribute to understanding and acceptance of things. So..SUICIDE IS A PERMANENT SOLUTION TO A TREATABLE ILLNESS. SUICIDE IS PREVENTABLE.
Michael, I love you.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
missing Michael
This morning brought us a little nice weather so I've been planting. I'm changing the colours in the little back yard we have to be more blues and whites. I have a nice look bluish-mauvish hydrangea sitting out where I want to plant it, a white azalea, white irises and three pink bleeding hearts, all on the west side of the yard. There is still lots of room over there for more. A friend in Ontario is sending me some white climbing hydrangea cuttings and I'm thinking of a rhodie for the corner. The other side is coming together slowly..in the meantime the pansies are so pretty. My oldest daughter sent a planter filled with whites...My "Michael's garden".
My husband has just uploaded (downloaded?) some Jim Croce music and it's playing while I sit here taking very slow deep breaths in, reminding myself how much Mikey loved music. So I'll listen because he, like his dad, found solace in it. I don't yet.
My last entry was about planning a fund raiser in Michael's memory. This week I'll be meeting with someone from the University Michael graduated from about having a commemorative scholarship made in his name, in the discipline he was in. Up until now all donations in his name have gone to support DBT (dialectical behavioural therapy) and Suicide Awareness and the Mood Disorders Association of BC, but we don't want Michael's life to be identified by only that part of his life. He was SO much more than that.
Monday morning I am making my second attempt at going back to work. The return will be very gradual and I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to it. The truth is I'm terrified. Part of me feels so strongly that I'm betraying my boy and the other part feels I am showing him "they" have not defeated our family. Please God, let some good come of this.
There's a line in the song I am listening to right now.."and sometimes at night I think I hear you calling my name. These dreams they keep me goin' these days."
Miss you Mikey.
My husband has just uploaded (downloaded?) some Jim Croce music and it's playing while I sit here taking very slow deep breaths in, reminding myself how much Mikey loved music. So I'll listen because he, like his dad, found solace in it. I don't yet.
My last entry was about planning a fund raiser in Michael's memory. This week I'll be meeting with someone from the University Michael graduated from about having a commemorative scholarship made in his name, in the discipline he was in. Up until now all donations in his name have gone to support DBT (dialectical behavioural therapy) and Suicide Awareness and the Mood Disorders Association of BC, but we don't want Michael's life to be identified by only that part of his life. He was SO much more than that.
Monday morning I am making my second attempt at going back to work. The return will be very gradual and I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to it. The truth is I'm terrified. Part of me feels so strongly that I'm betraying my boy and the other part feels I am showing him "they" have not defeated our family. Please God, let some good come of this.
There's a line in the song I am listening to right now.."and sometimes at night I think I hear you calling my name. These dreams they keep me goin' these days."
Miss you Mikey.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
14 months plus
I had one minute of insight into Michael's suicide today and I can remember it to re-tell it but the moment has passed and the questions have started again. This is how it went:
I had wanted to have a memory quilt made for Michael's daughter and I wanted something in his handwriting to her to photo copy. The only thing she has is his suicide letter to her and I asked her mother if it would be alright to photocopy a line of it to put in the quilt and in going through papers to file Michael's income tax I found it. The line reads "I will love you always and forever. Love, Daddy" and then the date he wrote the later. That date was 15 days before he killed himself and I realized that when my granddaughter is older she may ask why Daddy wrote a letter two weeks before he committed suicide.
I believe Michael had decided to take himself away from this earth, from his suffering, from the demons in his life unless one thing in his life changed and I believe he held out hope for that one thing until the late afternoon he died. I think something must happen inside a person's soul when that time comes because he made phone calls but certainly to those he knew would stop him he didn't let on it would be his last phone call. I do know he did let one person know what he was going to do and that person did nothing. He made that phone call about ten minutes before he hung himself. How I wish that person had called the police, the ambulance, us.....anyone...or said..."just wait five minutes, I will come over"...the phone call from Michael might have been one last call for help, or it may not have. It may have been a "please take care of my family" call, I really don't know because I can never ask. The pain would be too great. I do know what triggered his decision that day, that hour, that minute and there is no blame to be attached to that. But I wonder why the person he spoke to, the person he told he was going to kill himself, the person who knew he was unstable, didn't call anyone. If he had had another half hour I would have been home. I can't stop these thoughts. They drive me crazy, they give me nightmares. they keep me broken.
I know this kind of thinking is common to suicide survivors. Maybe the specifics vary a little but the unanswerable questions, by their nature, will never stop. It was fourteen months yesterday that Michael ended his life. Our pain is as great as it was the night he died. I still wait for the phone to ring and every now and then I send an email to his account(s). Please don't misunderstand me. I am NOT looking for peace. I am NOT looking for happiness. I am looking for my son..I want him back. I will miss him with every fibre of my heart and soul until I join him. But I will NEVER ever turn my back or ignore anyone asking for help. In memory of my beautiful son who never turned his back on someone in need I will try. Trying is better than not trying...I know I am rambling but my thinking is all over the place this afternoon.
Will talk again soon.
I had wanted to have a memory quilt made for Michael's daughter and I wanted something in his handwriting to her to photo copy. The only thing she has is his suicide letter to her and I asked her mother if it would be alright to photocopy a line of it to put in the quilt and in going through papers to file Michael's income tax I found it. The line reads "I will love you always and forever. Love, Daddy" and then the date he wrote the later. That date was 15 days before he killed himself and I realized that when my granddaughter is older she may ask why Daddy wrote a letter two weeks before he committed suicide.
I believe Michael had decided to take himself away from this earth, from his suffering, from the demons in his life unless one thing in his life changed and I believe he held out hope for that one thing until the late afternoon he died. I think something must happen inside a person's soul when that time comes because he made phone calls but certainly to those he knew would stop him he didn't let on it would be his last phone call. I do know he did let one person know what he was going to do and that person did nothing. He made that phone call about ten minutes before he hung himself. How I wish that person had called the police, the ambulance, us.....anyone...or said..."just wait five minutes, I will come over"...the phone call from Michael might have been one last call for help, or it may not have. It may have been a "please take care of my family" call, I really don't know because I can never ask. The pain would be too great. I do know what triggered his decision that day, that hour, that minute and there is no blame to be attached to that. But I wonder why the person he spoke to, the person he told he was going to kill himself, the person who knew he was unstable, didn't call anyone. If he had had another half hour I would have been home. I can't stop these thoughts. They drive me crazy, they give me nightmares. they keep me broken.
I know this kind of thinking is common to suicide survivors. Maybe the specifics vary a little but the unanswerable questions, by their nature, will never stop. It was fourteen months yesterday that Michael ended his life. Our pain is as great as it was the night he died. I still wait for the phone to ring and every now and then I send an email to his account(s). Please don't misunderstand me. I am NOT looking for peace. I am NOT looking for happiness. I am looking for my son..I want him back. I will miss him with every fibre of my heart and soul until I join him. But I will NEVER ever turn my back or ignore anyone asking for help. In memory of my beautiful son who never turned his back on someone in need I will try. Trying is better than not trying...I know I am rambling but my thinking is all over the place this afternoon.
Will talk again soon.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
broken limbs among the flowers
Months and months ago..probably shortly after Michael died, our counsellor said to us that one day we would find that we hadn't cried that day. Then it might be that we hadn't cried for a couple of days. I didn't believe her. But then one day it happened. I realized that I hadn't cried the day before and I felt terrible, wondering how I could have not shed a tear for Michael, for our family, for myself. Let me say here that because there are moments, days even, when I don't cry, does not mean that there are moments or days when Michael isn't in my thoughts. It's difficult to explain, but if you can imagine viewing everything through a sheer curtain, that's what life is like now. I view everything through a curtain of memories of Michael.
This morning though is a morning of tears. Michael's candle is burning and our digital picture of frame of pictures of Michael is on and I look at those pictures and am still struck by the unreality of this. This cannot be. He can't be gone. Not forever!? Am I waiting for him to come back? Waiting for him to say God gave him another chance to come back if he wanted to, and he did want to? I would still make that bargain with my God. I will go and Michael can just come back to those who love and need him.
For now I will go outside and work on the little area I have as Michael's garden. His angel fell and it's leg broke off the other day. I had a moment of panic and then realized that there is something very special about broken angels so Michael's broken angel is sitting amidst the primulas with his leg propped up beside him. I love it.
This morning though is a morning of tears. Michael's candle is burning and our digital picture of frame of pictures of Michael is on and I look at those pictures and am still struck by the unreality of this. This cannot be. He can't be gone. Not forever!? Am I waiting for him to come back? Waiting for him to say God gave him another chance to come back if he wanted to, and he did want to? I would still make that bargain with my God. I will go and Michael can just come back to those who love and need him.
For now I will go outside and work on the little area I have as Michael's garden. His angel fell and it's leg broke off the other day. I had a moment of panic and then realized that there is something very special about broken angels so Michael's broken angel is sitting amidst the primulas with his leg propped up beside him. I love it.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Steps
5:30 a.m. I am lighting the first candle of my day. Early morning has always been my favourite time of day. I was looking back through my baby books the other day and saw in Michael's that some of the entries had started with comments like "Baby boy, you are still asleep as it's early morning...". Now, even though he is no longer here in body, I continue to write to him early in the morning.
About a month ago I was able to stop taking one of the meds I'd been taking for nearly three years. Although that is a good thing, one of the results is that I have distressing dreams. Sometimes Michael is in my dreams but not often. Someone who knows about dreams and their significance would probably have a hay day with them, but I'm not interested in trying to figure them out. Every night I fall asleep hoping he will visit me in my dreams. I'm tired this morning but after a dream much like Toad's Wild Ride last night I'm afraid to go back to bed.
One of the effects of Michael's suicide last year my fear of committing to anything. I have probably mentioned in earlier posts that I am a volunteer pianist at church. The night Michael died I had gone to choir practice, even though he had been telling me he was going to kill himself. What was I thinking at that point???? I don't understand how I could have left, but I think I must have believed that it was just another very bad night that he would get through. I would only be gone for an hour or so and then I would be home and we would work together at keeping him safe. But I never got the chance. He killed himself while I was out and while his dad was upstairs. Somehow God must have given me a bit of a warning because I remember opening the front door and looking directly at where he was. I'm digressing...what I started to say is that I find it very hard to go to choir practice (or anything else) in the evenings now because I am afraid something bad will happen while I am out. This is why I haven't been able to return to work. The thought of my workplace reminds me of those last six months with Michael and it brings on a real blanket of anxiety, almost a feeling of suffocation. I'm not explaining it very well but what I'm trying to say is that now, a year after his death, I'm starting to understand some of the feelings I'm having. It's almost like there are layers to grief and the top layer has peeled away exposing a different fresh layer. This layer is different but it's still raw and painful and frightening.
My minister commented the other day on the fact that I seemed to "be doing okay." She's right. I am doing okay. But I do okay by doing the things I need to do and avoiding the things I need to avoid. When the ability to do that is taken away from me I start to flounder. This is what happens when I feel I have to commit to something other than my family. I can't do it. I'm afraid. I need it to be okay for me to be afraid. The time will come, I believe, when my soul will have healed enough for me to do these things. That time just isn't yet. I'm sorry if I disappoint people but right now I'm the person walking in my shoes and I'm doing the best I can. The love and support of friends and family continue to give me strength to get through my days. But it's baby steps and I'm okay with baby steps.
About a month ago I was able to stop taking one of the meds I'd been taking for nearly three years. Although that is a good thing, one of the results is that I have distressing dreams. Sometimes Michael is in my dreams but not often. Someone who knows about dreams and their significance would probably have a hay day with them, but I'm not interested in trying to figure them out. Every night I fall asleep hoping he will visit me in my dreams. I'm tired this morning but after a dream much like Toad's Wild Ride last night I'm afraid to go back to bed.
One of the effects of Michael's suicide last year my fear of committing to anything. I have probably mentioned in earlier posts that I am a volunteer pianist at church. The night Michael died I had gone to choir practice, even though he had been telling me he was going to kill himself. What was I thinking at that point???? I don't understand how I could have left, but I think I must have believed that it was just another very bad night that he would get through. I would only be gone for an hour or so and then I would be home and we would work together at keeping him safe. But I never got the chance. He killed himself while I was out and while his dad was upstairs. Somehow God must have given me a bit of a warning because I remember opening the front door and looking directly at where he was. I'm digressing...what I started to say is that I find it very hard to go to choir practice (or anything else) in the evenings now because I am afraid something bad will happen while I am out. This is why I haven't been able to return to work. The thought of my workplace reminds me of those last six months with Michael and it brings on a real blanket of anxiety, almost a feeling of suffocation. I'm not explaining it very well but what I'm trying to say is that now, a year after his death, I'm starting to understand some of the feelings I'm having. It's almost like there are layers to grief and the top layer has peeled away exposing a different fresh layer. This layer is different but it's still raw and painful and frightening.
My minister commented the other day on the fact that I seemed to "be doing okay." She's right. I am doing okay. But I do okay by doing the things I need to do and avoiding the things I need to avoid. When the ability to do that is taken away from me I start to flounder. This is what happens when I feel I have to commit to something other than my family. I can't do it. I'm afraid. I need it to be okay for me to be afraid. The time will come, I believe, when my soul will have healed enough for me to do these things. That time just isn't yet. I'm sorry if I disappoint people but right now I'm the person walking in my shoes and I'm doing the best I can. The love and support of friends and family continue to give me strength to get through my days. But it's baby steps and I'm okay with baby steps.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
More about memories
5:30 am. My husband has just gone to work and I've climbed back under the covers to keep my feet warm. It's the 15th of February, so 10 days until "the anniversary". Today I must write the memorial tribute for the newspaper. I've added writting a memorial to your child to my list of "things no one should have to do". What do I say in a memorial for my son?
I started to work on this last week but had to walk away because the words appearing on the screen in front of me were sad words, words asking God to grant us one wish, words telling Michael how empty our lives feel without him. These are facts, but these aren't things I want people to read because these seem to be about us. I want people to remember Michael, to remember his handsome face and beautiful smile, his incredible laughter. I would love them to close their eyes and see him pitching a ball, throwing one in from the fenceline of center field to homeplate, playing on the floor with his daughter, carousing with his dogs. There are so many faces of Michael I want people to remember.
We have chosen a picture to put with whatever words I can put together. The picture was taken at one of his best friend's wedding and he was so happy. It was a good day. Oh to go back to those days, pre-2008, such a short time ago. Is it possible life has changed so much in such a short time? Of course it is. Even though we ask ourselves this question almost daily, we know that in life every second of every day is important because no one knows what the next second will bring.
I have a close friend whose son took his own life five years ago. These boys grew up together in the same little town and left this earth for the same reason. We talked on the phone yesterday for a very long time about what the kids went through in their struggle to keep themselves alive and I realized that although their battle was with an illness of the mind, a battle with depression, a battle with messed up neuro-transmitters, it was a battle no different really to any with a physical illness. Ultimately, our boys suicides were the the end of their desperate attempts to live healthy, normal, happy lives.
Sunday, our minister's sermon had an analogy of a young man's death to cancer to the story of David and Goliath but in this case, Goliath (cancer) won. My belief is that there is no difference in dying of cancer ore heart disease or any other physical illness or dying of depression or mood disorders or mental health issues. A death is a death and no one is better for the loss of a life despite the individual circumstance.
When I write Michael's memorial tribute I want him remembered as Michael, who is gone from us forever, not Michael who took his own life: Michael who filled our lives with joy, not Michael who suffered so for the last couple of years of his life. I want Michael to look down and know that for the short time he was with us he changed our lives forever and that we will always honour his memory and remember him with nothing but love.
I started to work on this last week but had to walk away because the words appearing on the screen in front of me were sad words, words asking God to grant us one wish, words telling Michael how empty our lives feel without him. These are facts, but these aren't things I want people to read because these seem to be about us. I want people to remember Michael, to remember his handsome face and beautiful smile, his incredible laughter. I would love them to close their eyes and see him pitching a ball, throwing one in from the fenceline of center field to homeplate, playing on the floor with his daughter, carousing with his dogs. There are so many faces of Michael I want people to remember.
We have chosen a picture to put with whatever words I can put together. The picture was taken at one of his best friend's wedding and he was so happy. It was a good day. Oh to go back to those days, pre-2008, such a short time ago. Is it possible life has changed so much in such a short time? Of course it is. Even though we ask ourselves this question almost daily, we know that in life every second of every day is important because no one knows what the next second will bring.
I have a close friend whose son took his own life five years ago. These boys grew up together in the same little town and left this earth for the same reason. We talked on the phone yesterday for a very long time about what the kids went through in their struggle to keep themselves alive and I realized that although their battle was with an illness of the mind, a battle with depression, a battle with messed up neuro-transmitters, it was a battle no different really to any with a physical illness. Ultimately, our boys suicides were the the end of their desperate attempts to live healthy, normal, happy lives.
Sunday, our minister's sermon had an analogy of a young man's death to cancer to the story of David and Goliath but in this case, Goliath (cancer) won. My belief is that there is no difference in dying of cancer ore heart disease or any other physical illness or dying of depression or mood disorders or mental health issues. A death is a death and no one is better for the loss of a life despite the individual circumstance.
When I write Michael's memorial tribute I want him remembered as Michael, who is gone from us forever, not Michael who took his own life: Michael who filled our lives with joy, not Michael who suffered so for the last couple of years of his life. I want Michael to look down and know that for the short time he was with us he changed our lives forever and that we will always honour his memory and remember him with nothing but love.
Friday, December 17, 2010
42 plus 1
Today is December 17th, a day of no particular note, and I only mention it because it's been awhile since I wrote last. Boy, this is a tough month. I expected it to be, but wasn't sure what form the difficulties would take. As I sit writing this, Bravo is airing Music Hall and Brian Adams is singing. I'm going to have to switch the station. Music still remains one of the biggest triggers for sadness. Brian Adams music brings back memories of Michael as a boy. I can't remember how old he would have been, perhaps 12 or so, but he loved Adams music.
Two weeks ago I didn't leave the house during the week. I indulged myself and allowed a mental health day, staying in my pajamas most of the day, keeping the drapes closed, the fireplace lit, TCM on all day and Michael's candle burning. It all seems so unfair again. I thought I'd made it through that part. Looking up at his picture above the mantle, a picture taken on his wedding day six short years ago, I think "This can't possibly be real. He will be home any day." And I've said more than a few times the last few weeks, "What happened? Why OUR boy?" It is just so wrong.
I'm not aware of feeling separate from other people's Christmas enthusiasm, and I HAVE attended services and the carol festival, but there is no joy. There's just...well, nothing really. For our granddaughter's sake we decorated and baked. We chopped down a small tree and set it up in the corner. Tonight is our little Christmas with her. There can be no tears tonight. I have to give myself a talking to over the next two hours.
Last night we attended a service at our church, a service held each year to allow us to remember those we have lost. It was a beautiful service, but when it came time to hang a decoration on the memory tree I felt like I might pass out. I haven't felt like that since Michael's funeral. Through my mind I could see the words "if you run now he'll come home"...just like you see pictures of planes pulling banners...that type written banner ran through my thoughts. There were four ornaments hung for Michael last night, so I knew it was true. He is no longer here with us in the way I want him to be.
Today I went into the room Michael had here in his last months. I had been keeping the closet for gifts and after I moved them all into the car I stood for awhile running my hands over his shirt sleeves. Shirts, still clean and ironed, ties neatly hung, dress pants separated from jeans, and on the floor, the slippers. I thought for a second of getting into the closet and closing the door, just to be alone with my boy, but I knew I would start to cry and I need to make it through the day.
My cousin gave me beautiful glass angels for every member of the family, to hang on our trees. They are beautiful, but I don't want to have to HAVE an agnel hanging an angel on the tree for my boy. I want him back. I don't think I will ever EVER accept the loss of my son. And I know it's because of the manner of his death. I don't believe it will ever get easier. I wonder if I've said that before. Probably. Frustration? Anger? Maybe a little of each. Sadness, without a doubt. But regret, REGRET, regret.
I love my son today as much as I did the day he was born. We are so blessed as parents to have been given the capacity to love so completely. Parental love is so all-encompassing.
So here we are, one day closer to Christmas day. I just realized that last night marked 42 weeks since Michael's death. Only 10 weeks left until it has been a year. Where has the time gone. How have we made it this far? Some days it is hard to be strong.
I am tired now. We survived the gift giving with my granddaughter tonight. She is such a beautiful, joy-filled child. She is our gift. Thank you Michael for your beautiful daughter. Please stay close to us. We miss you very much. Please remember that each and everything we do now, it done with your daughter's happiness and well-being in mind. I know you will understand.
Two weeks ago I didn't leave the house during the week. I indulged myself and allowed a mental health day, staying in my pajamas most of the day, keeping the drapes closed, the fireplace lit, TCM on all day and Michael's candle burning. It all seems so unfair again. I thought I'd made it through that part. Looking up at his picture above the mantle, a picture taken on his wedding day six short years ago, I think "This can't possibly be real. He will be home any day." And I've said more than a few times the last few weeks, "What happened? Why OUR boy?" It is just so wrong.
I'm not aware of feeling separate from other people's Christmas enthusiasm, and I HAVE attended services and the carol festival, but there is no joy. There's just...well, nothing really. For our granddaughter's sake we decorated and baked. We chopped down a small tree and set it up in the corner. Tonight is our little Christmas with her. There can be no tears tonight. I have to give myself a talking to over the next two hours.
Last night we attended a service at our church, a service held each year to allow us to remember those we have lost. It was a beautiful service, but when it came time to hang a decoration on the memory tree I felt like I might pass out. I haven't felt like that since Michael's funeral. Through my mind I could see the words "if you run now he'll come home"...just like you see pictures of planes pulling banners...that type written banner ran through my thoughts. There were four ornaments hung for Michael last night, so I knew it was true. He is no longer here with us in the way I want him to be.
Today I went into the room Michael had here in his last months. I had been keeping the closet for gifts and after I moved them all into the car I stood for awhile running my hands over his shirt sleeves. Shirts, still clean and ironed, ties neatly hung, dress pants separated from jeans, and on the floor, the slippers. I thought for a second of getting into the closet and closing the door, just to be alone with my boy, but I knew I would start to cry and I need to make it through the day.
My cousin gave me beautiful glass angels for every member of the family, to hang on our trees. They are beautiful, but I don't want to have to HAVE an agnel hanging an angel on the tree for my boy. I want him back. I don't think I will ever EVER accept the loss of my son. And I know it's because of the manner of his death. I don't believe it will ever get easier. I wonder if I've said that before. Probably. Frustration? Anger? Maybe a little of each. Sadness, without a doubt. But regret, REGRET, regret.
I love my son today as much as I did the day he was born. We are so blessed as parents to have been given the capacity to love so completely. Parental love is so all-encompassing.
So here we are, one day closer to Christmas day. I just realized that last night marked 42 weeks since Michael's death. Only 10 weeks left until it has been a year. Where has the time gone. How have we made it this far? Some days it is hard to be strong.
I am tired now. We survived the gift giving with my granddaughter tonight. She is such a beautiful, joy-filled child. She is our gift. Thank you Michael for your beautiful daughter. Please stay close to us. We miss you very much. Please remember that each and everything we do now, it done with your daughter's happiness and well-being in mind. I know you will understand.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Someone told me that God doesn't give us more than we can handle....
....But to some people, He does. I don't think He wants any of us to suffer, but we can't blame Him for everything that goes wrong in our lives. I prayed daily, nightly, many times a day for help and I may have received it. Maybe Michael lived longer than he would have without my prayers and those of others who cared about him. Don't you think God must really have his hands full if we hold Him responsible for every rotten thing that happens in our lives? This is the part of me which wonders if this means my faith is faltering. I don't think it is, but maybe someone else will.
Living, after the suicide of a family member, is so full of complications. Some people have asked, "How could he do this to you?"...Michael's suicide was not about ME. It was about his own incredible pain and deep deep sadness. I've also heard, "How could you not see it coming". Well, the sad answer to that is that I did see it coming. I watched it get closer and closer and closer..and the fear grew until it bordered on panic. The frustration of knowing there was absolutely NOTHING I/we could do to help him is indescribable. Had we been wealthy we might have found a facility in the USA where he might have found help. That kind of treatment can run upwards of $100K. We do not have those kind of resources.
Michael's suicide has generated self-blame, post traumatic stress disorder symptoms like panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares, inability to sleep and the inability to be around people very much. What it hasn't given us is any sense of shame or embarassment. And for those who do suffer with this I am sorry. Suicide is not about the survivors, it is about the inability of the person suffering, to cope with the depth of his/her pain.
We are told that there will be normalcy after Michael's suicide. I find that very difficult to believe. My hope though is that as we continue to learn about suicide that we will become stronger and by doing that, be able to help others
Living, after the suicide of a family member, is so full of complications. Some people have asked, "How could he do this to you?"...Michael's suicide was not about ME. It was about his own incredible pain and deep deep sadness. I've also heard, "How could you not see it coming". Well, the sad answer to that is that I did see it coming. I watched it get closer and closer and closer..and the fear grew until it bordered on panic. The frustration of knowing there was absolutely NOTHING I/we could do to help him is indescribable. Had we been wealthy we might have found a facility in the USA where he might have found help. That kind of treatment can run upwards of $100K. We do not have those kind of resources.
Michael's suicide has generated self-blame, post traumatic stress disorder symptoms like panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares, inability to sleep and the inability to be around people very much. What it hasn't given us is any sense of shame or embarassment. And for those who do suffer with this I am sorry. Suicide is not about the survivors, it is about the inability of the person suffering, to cope with the depth of his/her pain.
We are told that there will be normalcy after Michael's suicide. I find that very difficult to believe. My hope though is that as we continue to learn about suicide that we will become stronger and by doing that, be able to help others
Friday, October 29, 2010
The start of day 246 - not 176. Good grief.
I'm up, burning a candle for my boy and looking for music on YouTube to post to his page. Once I read something that said that anyone who didn't believe in God only needed to listen to music to become a believer. What, other than some higher power could give us the ability to create something so powerful..and so I feel that when my words might not reach Michael, the music will.
The past two days literally brought me to my knees; hence the title for yesterday's post. The pain wasn't just a pain of the soul; it was a physical thing, like having the wind knocked out of me and drowning at the same time. I've been trying to figure out what was different about Wednesday and Thursday. Wednesday was sunny, clear, quite cold, and there was fresh snow on Mt. Cheam. The day was very similar to days which followed Michael's death. Thursday was just a miserable day so reminiscent of the many days following the loss of our son.
Shock continues to wear off still and is replaced by memories which are painful. Moments frozen in pictures stored in my memory will suddenly flash into view. As yet, they aren't happy moments. They are snapshots of my son at very sad, lonely, frightened moments of the last two years of his life. And I am overcome by the need to protect him still, to take away his pain, even after death, and to make it all mean something.
Suicide leaves a wreckage of broken hearts and souls in its wake. So many questions which can never be answered hang on. All the "what ifs" and "if onlys" play back in my thinking. So, because I'm not an abstract thinker I make a list, two lists, actually. One says "What If", the other said "If only" and I start to write. The lists are long because they can go back until before Michael was born. I think I am just looking for someone to blame. We (my husband and I) blame ourselves. Michael was our child. God sent him to us to care for 31 years ago and he ended up taking his own life. How did we fail to protect our boy from the world?
However, I don't think it's the guilt which makes me want life to just stop moving forward. I think that's just grief. How can seasons change? Why do people still laugh and joke and have fun? Can't they see that Michael isn't here? Don't they understand that his life was so unbearable that he had to leave? I know logically this doesn't make sense, but there doesn't seem to be much logic in this kind of loss.
So, I work at pulling positive thoughts out of my emotional hat. It's all for effect but someone told me once that if you force yourself to smile every morning, even if you don't feel like it, it might become a habit. My positive thoughts focus on the ones I love. I will work at getting strong because they will see and will draw from that strength to help with their own journeys down this difficult road we are walking together.
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