Three years

It is the eve of the third anniversary of Michael's suicide.  I need to talk to my boy.

Dearest Michael
I have apologized a hundred times but as I sit here thinking about your last couple of months the guilt overwhelms me.  I wanted so much for you to feel safe and loved here with us as you tried to work through your pain and lost.  Everything worked against you: your employer, Health Canada, your lawyer.  I don't believe any of them did this out of malice but rather out of sheer ignorance.  We should have been the one safe haven for you, but we failed you.

One of the things I know to be true is that  I will always carry this guilt.  I don't want to let it go and I don't think I can explain or understand the reason for that.  It's just the way it has to be for me.  It's the only way I can carry on.

Nothing has really changed in all this time.    You are still not with us.

I miss you so much Michael, and I am so very sorry for not saving you.

I will love you always and forever.
Mom.

Easter in Heaven

I am sitting at the table on Easter Saturday, looking out to the little back yard we have and as always the cherub with the broken leg in the wee garden I plant for Michael looks back at me and reminds me that Michael in a place of peace now.

Please God, let this be true. 

I have been hoping I would dream of my boy because he talks to me in my dreams I hear his voice and it comforts me.  Lately I've needed to hear his voice.  This weekend I am going to listen to it.  We have a video of him taken a few years ago and I've not been able to listen to it yet, although I've tried to watch it.  Today I need to hear his voice.  Sometimes I am afraid that I will forget the sound of him speaking and laughing.  When he was a little boy Mikey had a high voice. But as a man he had a beautiful deep tenor speaking voice and I miss it. I miss everything about my son, except his pain. 

Just checking in.  It has been a tough few months.  With the sun and spring I feel strong enough to start to write again.  We are working on a Defeat Depression Campaign and in the next week I will post information pertaining to that.

Michael, I love you.  This is your third Easter in Heaven.  What a wonderful place to be....but I would rather you were here with me. 

Always.  Forever.
Mom.

To My Boy in Heaven

Dearest Michael,

I tried to post the picture of you we put in the paper to mark the second anniversary of your death but for some reason it didn't work.  And now, the anniversary has passed; it was yesterday.  Despite having been close to panic the couple of days before the 25th, I awoke yesterday feeling nothing but calm.  Because we had planned to visit your workplace and place a rose in the garden we had a purpose for the morning.  As always, I watched for the bald eagle that often sits right at the entrance to highway but he wasn't there. It saddened me.  Then on our drive we counted 13 and I knew it was going to be okay.  The sun came out for about 7 seconds as we were at the garden and then we saw another eagle.  However, that was the end of our strength for a little while and we gave in to our tears.  Seeing your beautiful strong co workers and seeing the emotion on their faces we knew how much you were and are still loved.  Did you know honey how much everyone cared about you?  Part of the evil of mental illness, I think, is that we don't get to see what others see.  Our illness consumes the soul.  I remember how very alone you felt, how you wished someone would just call you and ask if you wanted to get together for coffee.  Mikey, I don't think most people had any idea you were in such turmoil.  Oh, some did, but you know, lots of people just aren't equipped to be able to deal with a friend's pain.  It hurts so much to see it and all they want to do is fix it and they can't so they stay away.  That backfires of course, but we learn things too late don't we?  You and Dad and I know that.  We learn things too damned late. 

Looking at your picture yesterday, listening to your music, remembering funny things about you brought you so close.  I felt that if just reached a little further through the veil I would feel you there.  But you of course, are in a far better place, beyond where any of us can reach you. 

So honey, on your second anniversary plus on day, in Heaven, I send you all my love.  We will be together again someday.  God sent you to me...I know He won't keep us apart forever.

In Memory of our son,

brother, uncle & Daddy

Michael John McRae

If our love could have saved you,

you would have lived forever.

Two years ago our love wasn’t enough

to keep you here with us.

You took yourself away from your pain & us...

yet our love continues because

we carry your memory in our hearts.

We remember the special things

that made you Michael.

Your ability to love was boundless. It was your gift.

Those of us who were blessed to have been loved by you

can never have that taken away from us.

We believe that you found the peace you needed

& we know we will be together again.

We promise you we will continue to advocate

for those who suffer from depression & we promise

we will never turn away from someone asking for help.

We make these promises in honour of you, Mikey.

We love & miss you.

Always & forever

Your family.

Hey Beautiful Boy

Monday of my week

Well, day two of what is a difficult week.  But I received an email this morning saying the awareness bracelets I ordered just last week have been shipped already!  The keepsake urns I ordered were in stock so I will have them by the 25th.  Positive things in a sad week. 

Just some facts to throw out there.  A registered psychologist charges approximately $160.00/hr.  Unless one has extended medical benefits there is likely no chance of reimbursement.  Even those with extended benefits often can only claim $1000. worth of treatment (which may only be reimbursed at 80%.  When a person requires psychotherapy half dozen treatments will only start to scratch the surface of the issues needing to be addressed.    Now, there a many therapists who aren't psychologist (which means they have a PHD) however, most EAP and extended benefits won't cover anything less that a psychologist. 

Part of an issue here is that trying out a psychologist can be much like trying on a suit.  Not everyone is a fit for everyone else.  Coverage may be largely expended before a patient even starts to make any progress.  So what do we do?  I understand medical costs are already a huge problem.  There just is not enough money even to staff our hospitals to enable operating times....and mental health issues seem to come very low in priority when we have so many other life threatening physical ailments. 

I wish I had some kind of ideas....I just don't.   Right now...I buy mental health stamps...10 cents per stamp goes to mental health.....that does nothing....yet it's something...I guess.

Approaching the two year anniversary of the loss of our son

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.

We made it through another Christmas Eve and Day. It was the most peace-filled Christmas we've had in a number of years as Christmas was a difficult time for Michael his last few years. But we are all so aware of the missing face, the angels hanging on the tree in his memory. This year being our second without him was a little easier than last year's.

I was more aware this year of doing things Michael would have done. I am sponsoring a little boy in Ghana. I hope to be allowed to continue to do this until this child becomes the doctor he wants to be. Some of our gift giving was done through The Peanut Butter project. Those little things allowed me to concentrate a little more on the wonderful feeling we get from sharing a bit of what we have so much of. And that feeling helped offset my sadness.

I carried a picture of Michael in a Christmas ornament every day of my holiday and I felt he was close to me.


SO. We were fortunate this year. But last year I read a book dealing with grief and it reminded me that the day itself is just one day. If it looks like it is going to be too difficult, keep yourself out of harms way and get through the day in the way easiest for you. God will understand no tree, no presents....those are our rules..not His.

I wish my son had not taken his life. I wish he had been able to see hope in his life...but he couldn't do it. I accepted that the night he died here at home. I understood the depths of his despairs but was so afraid of losing him that I worked at convincing him that as long as he was alive....there was hope.

Tonight at this moment, I believe that to be true. I don't know what I will believe next week or next month.

I do know that in order to keep our loved ones from committing suicide we must help them find hope. Hope for medical help, hope for understanding, hope for tolerance and hope that all those who love them will continue to stand by them during their difficult times.

I love you Michael. I can feel strength from you tonite. thank you. Xxx

Christmas trees

It's been a long time between writings.  Too much going on in the lives of others for me to feel okay about writing but this evening as I'm taking a break in decorating the tree I feel like jotting down a few thoughts.  Today is the 17th of December.  It's the latest we've ever put a tree up. I always used to put my trees up on December 1st because I liked the house to be decorated for my students...this is going back a lot of years.  When we moved to the big house we put up two big trees, one all home made decorations: cookies, popcorn strings, that kind of thing, and one with decorations purchased since our first Christmas together.  Then when we sold the big house and moved into our little town house I gave away the two big artificial trees (they had to be artificial because they were up at least 6 weeks).  The first Christmas in this home we bought the saddest little tree I had ever seen.  It was so sad in fact that twice it through itself out of it's bucket in the middle of the night. That was the Christmas Michael had had to sell and move out of his house and he was staying here with us.  Tonight as I look at the pretty (again artificial) tree I've put up I wish this had been the tree he had seen his last Christmas on earth instead of that pathetic little one we had.  The last pictures I have of Michael and his little girl are taken in front of the poor relative of a Charlie Brown.

This is also the first year I have put out all the decorations.  I have all Michael's decorations, the ones we bought him over the years, hanging up.  I don't think I did that last year because although last year's tree was an improvement over the "little ugly", it was still very small and it was our first Christmas without our son and I just couldn't do it.  this year I can and it's taking me hours to decorate because each ornament has such special memories.  Christmas was Michael's favourite time of the year, even as an adult.

I won't write much more because as you can imagine, it's really a sad time of year for us as well...but today I felt that Mikey was watching me decorate our tree and was glad that I was hanging his decorations and hanging them on a pretty tree.  He knows he is missed and loved and we will keep Christmas the way we would if he were here with us.  And he is here with us..I feel so close to him lately as he spends his second Christmas in Heaven. 

I love you Mikey.  Such beautiful memories. 

I will

The silence of  a falling star

Lights up the purple sky

And as I wonder where you are

I'm so lonesome I could cry

Today is a cold wet day.  I got caught in the living room this morning when my '40's station was playing Hank Williams singing "I'm so lonesome I could cry". That's when my mood changed; it was just that quick.  My husband was cooking happily in the kitchen and I didn't want him to know I was going to crash so I have come upstairs and started to put the two freshly painted bedrooms back in order.  One room is the room Michael had when he moved in with us a few months before he died and it's piled full of books and pictures.  Moving things around I again found the copy I have of the very end of my son's letter of goodbye to his daughter.  It is signed I will love you always and forever, Love Daddy  and then the date he wrote the letter.  Today what I noticed in this was the "I will"....the addition of those two words hit home.  It means that from that day until the end of time my granddaughter will know that her Daddy loves her.  She will never ever have to wonder "if" Daddy loved or loves her. 

But then I started to imagine what Michael was thinking as he wrote that letter to his daughter and trying to imagine myself writing a letter to my children  to say goodbye.  How terribly sad and frightening that must have been. I don't believe many of us want to die.   Michael didn't want to die.  I know that because he told me. He was afraid of dying and he didn't want to leave the child he loved more than his own life.  But he couldn't get past his depression and that terrible illness took away his capability to cope with living. 

So, I've come back to my sad place this afternoon and I'm allowing myself to grieve for my lost child. 

I've said this before but I want to say again that the grief of losing someone to suicide is different to other grief.  All grief is terrible, but as suicide survivors we carry extra baggage.  Please don't think I'm saying our grief is worse than other's grief because we can never know another person's grief.  What I am saying is that only suicide survivor's can understand suicide survivor's grief.  For me one of the hardest parts is knowing what my son went through the last year of his life.  Those memories don't go.  It's like a slideshow that plays over and over.  The pictures aren't always the same but they are always accurate.  I have a collection of sad and frightening slideshows stored in my memory and very little control over when the "start button" is going to be clicked.  What I need, what we all need I think, is an emotional seat-belt, something that will help us feel safe and keep us safe when the path we're travelling gets rough. 

Today there were three clicks, Hank Williams song, seeing my son's handwriting, and reading those two little extra words "I will" always....

I'm sitting on my bed with my laptop and when I raise my head just a little I can see Michael smiling down at me from his picture on the armoire.  As I look at him and rememer that look on his face it gets a little harder to breathe and I can feel my heart beat.  Dear God, I miss my son.  Please take care of him for me and tell him that I will love him always and forever.

Did you ever see a robin weep

When leaves begin to fall

That means he's lost the will to live

I'm so lonesome I could cry

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvW6_-TP5cs



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've been thinking my blog has about run its course because I am not accomplishing what I thought I would when I started.  I kind of thought my writing might be a bit of a road map for someone travelling this wretched road. If not a road map than perhaps something providing a few familiar markers, the kind of things I find in the books I read about suicide survival.  But my grief is the same as it was when I started.  My understanding of it is greater. Is that a help?  I don't think so.  Twenty months ago we were told "These are early days, give yourselves time".  Certainly, I knew that there would never come a time when I was okay again.  Well, "okay" is a relative term isn't it?  Do I mean there will never come a time when I will be completely happy again? I don't know what I mean. 

For me the reality is that I don't ever ever want to forget.  I don't want to not have the aching part of my soul because that's where Michael is.  The other side of that reality is the intense grief can make one ill, can and does make others uncomfortable, can become all-consuming.  Finding balance then is important to keeping some kind of sanity. 

Mikey's birthday is this month.  Always in our life November was kind of his birthday month...lots of anticipation of what we would do, what kind of cake, what special present...last year getting through his day was mostly about, well, getting through it.  This year I want to go back to doing something.  I'm thinking of buying Michael a goat or some rabbits or pigs through PlanCanada.ca/gifts of hope.  I think he will like this and it gives me something to think about and plan.  Michael really didn't like goats...I've always loved them.  I'm leaning toward the goats. 

I've said nothing tonight but I feel better for having said it.

Night Mikey.  xxx

Music

Dear Mikey

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3_85GXsKqk&feature=share

from your big sister.

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.

Asking for help

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EahM7ICGKg

http://loveforlilee.com/


This is Andrew and Andrew's daughter Lilee-Jean.  Andrew sang Michael's favourite song, 'Hallelujah' at Michael's funeral.  It was powerful and moving and I know Michael was watching from Heaven as Andrew sang for him.

Now Andrew and Chelsey's 10 and a half month old baby girl has been diagnosed with an aggressive form of  brain cancer, Glioblastoma.  Please pray for this young family and for Lilee-Jean.  We know the power of prayer.

Today this is all I want to say, to ask for. 

Michael, I love you. 

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.