Time and letters

Twenty months ago tonight my son wrote five suicide notes, one to each of his sisters, one to his wife, one to his daughter and one to his Dad and me.  They are long, some filled with nothing but love, some with more anger, but none with fear.  In his letter to us he said that although he didn't want to die, he was okay with his decision and had found some peace in making this decision.  I found the letters on the table the morning of the 21st.  I picked them up and I put them away.  I can't remember what I said to him. I wish I could and I hope I sat down and talked to him about them, but I'm afraid that maybe I didn't.  I was so scared. 

Five days after writing those letters he took himself away from his pain and from us and I find myself wondering what he was thinking during those five days.  Was he maybe holding onto a fragile thread of hope that he wouldn't have to go?  These are the thoughts that can never be answered and ultimately the answer would make no difference, but they are the thoughts which can't be controlled and keep me on the edge of losing control myself, much of the time. 

I've just received two books I've not yet read:  Finding Your Way after the Suicide of Someone You Love by David . Bieel, DMin and Suzanne L Foster, MA and A Mother's Story, by Gloria Vanderbilt.  Her son, Carter, brother to Anderson Cooper committted suicide at age 23 in 1988.

Today I spent the day at home with Michael.  I'm comfortable here with his candle burning and his urn on the mantle.  I talk to him throughout the day and comfort myself believing that he hears me.  If you are someone whose opinion differs from mine please don't share that with me...my thoughts, my beliefs get me through my days.

The time is coming for us to pick out a headstone for him.  He has friends who need a place to visit him.  I want to keep him here with us, but there should be a marker to say he was here.  Add this to the list of things no parent should ever have to do. 

Anyway...that's it for today.  Rememering 20 months ago......love you so much Michael.  I miss you.

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. 

Strengths and weaknesses

A long time between posts.  There have been many times when I wanted to sit and write but didn't.  I worked so hard this summer at "getting better".  I don't think one "gets better" from the loss of a loved one to suicide.  That is the only perspective I can speak from. We may learn coping skills, we make medicate, meditate, drink, pray, run away; I've done all but the drink and that is only because I do medicate.  We read and we write and we weep.  We reach out to friends when we are frightened or feeling alone or just looking for some validation for the despair we feel.  This summer I've done all these things and because I have such wonderful friends and family I understand on the blackest days, the days when I don't think I can go, that I have to, and more than that, that I want to.  I just don't want to want to.  Does that make any sense? 

I've realized that I am a very strong woman.  But to my way of thinking, strength shouldn't be compared to emotion.  Yes, I weep every day.  That doesn't mean I'm weak.  It means, well, it means I am very sad and I miss my son and I am so sorry he had to suffer so before he chose to leave. 

One the other hand, I saw my son as a strong man who fought long and hard to stay healthy but was eventually betrayed by the chemicals in his brain causing his mood dysregulation, by the medical system who cannot help so many, by Health Canada for ignoring his diagnosis and refusing him the help he needed to successfully return to work. I do not see his act as one of weakness, but as one of despair and strength to end is pain  before his illness took him to places and decisions he did not want to go to or make.    Healthy people do not do this.  Desperate, frightened, pained people do, people whose ability to cope with the pain in their life has been surpassed.  We are not the ones to judge what causes pain to another.  God know this.  God doesn't judge those who commit suicide.  He understands.  He is a compassionate God who sees the suffering I believe honestly that He gave my boy the emotional strength to take his own life.  Michael was terrified of dying but more terrified of living.  He prayed to God that he had known as a child, believed in but only really went to in times of trouble. 

My worst times are when I rememer our last two years and recall how frightened and lonely his was after his marriage ended, how he grieved for times he couldn't spend with his child.  I think those memories are harder than his death.  Because the night he committed suicide I knew his pain had ended. 

I have poems he wrote about what was going on in his soul as he was deciding to stay or leave.  They are heart breaking because I feel so strongly there should be choices other than living or dying.  There should be help.  And there is so very little. 

I have a friend who has a son going through what my son went through.  He no longer wants to live.  His mother is dying of cancer.  He has other issues but talks suicide.  He can't get help..please God don't let us lose him too because we don't really know what to do to help these people.

I would like to hear from anyone who is in a similar situation.  Here in our little town we are starting a suicide survivor group.  I think there are 7 or 8 families who have lost children to suicide.  Way too many...any is too many.

I'm a bit sleepy now..it was an emotional day..but I needed to check back in...this is my place of safety and support.  I'm going to go and write to my son now.

Sunday after the fair.

My apologies to all you summer lovers but I am welcoming the coming of fall.  I've never really enjoyed summer..even when I was young.  Not being a bikini person I always felt summer was more for the "California" girl.  Funny the luggage we tote through our lives isn't it?  However, I always loved it when my children were out of school so during my child rearing years summer and I got along just fine. 

Recently I read an article which said that there are some things which are vital to healing: hope and purpose.  So I decided this fall I will concentrate on just those two things.  I have hope.  But do I have purpose?  My husband, my children and grandchildren...it's just not that simple.  Can my purpose just be to focus on getting stronger, becoming more stable? 

Or....?

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. 

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. 

epiphanies

I am very tired.  Just so tired.  I don't see the point in very much these days.  My beautiful grandchildren.  The rest is just...I dont' know...too much.  Tired of crying and hurting and being lonely.  Don't want to watch certain parts of my life move one.  I'm lost.  My saving grace is that I know I'm lost.   There haven't been a lot of times in my life when I've wanted to go away and be by myself...a few...and I didn't...but that's what I want now.  I think I will plan to take a week by myself at the end of the month.  If I feel different by then I can cancel but right now I just need some peace.  I want to feel okay about however I happen to feel.   Today I realized (again) something about my life that I knew a long time ago, and it made me sad because I realized that some things never do change.  We just adapt our living around them and that's now always the healthiest or best option. 

I wish my grandmother was still alive.  Or maybe my mother.  My mom and I finally figured each other out two years before she passed away.  I'm so glad I had those two years.  They wiped out over fifty of misunderstanding.

I am so so so tired.