Some People
Some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never ever the same.
Some people come into our lives and quickly go... Some stay for awhile and embrace our silent dreams.
They help us become aware of the delicate winds of hope... and we discover within every human spirit there are wings yearning to fly.
They help our hearts to see that the only stairway to the stars is woven with dreams... and we find ourselves unafraid to reach high.
They celebrate the true essence of who we are and have faith in all that we may become.
Some people awaken us to new and deeper realizations... for we gain insight from the passing whisper of their wisdom.
Throughout our lives we are sent precious souls... meant to share our journey however brief or lasting their stay they remind us why we are here.
To learn... to teach... to nurture... to love
Some people come into our lives to cast a steady light upon our path and guide our every step their shining belief in us helps us to believe in ourselves.
Let us reach out to others and feel the bliss of giving, for love is far richer in action that it ever is in words.
Some people come into our lives and they move our souls to sing and make our spirits dance.
They help us to see that everything on earth is part of the incredibility of life... and that it is always there for us to take of its joy.
Some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never ever the same.
~by Flavia Weedn~
Are there any more powerful words than 'Thank You'?
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Anniversary
The dictionary defines the word "anniversary" as “the yearly recurrence of the date of a past event” or “the celebration or commemoration of such a date.”
9.5 times out of 10, when I’ve heard the word "anniversary", there’s a "Happy" attached to the beginning of it. Today is the 1st anniversary, the angelversary, if you will, of when our son died, and there is nothing to me that’s happy about this day, what it meant a year ago, what it means this year, what it will always mean and represent. I will always miss our son. I will always wish he was still here with us, and I will never be able to celebrate the anniversary of the day he died.
Now that that’s out of the way...
I really do seem to find inspiration out of the most random sources. Or, maybe not so random, depending on your outlook. Trying to be as vague as possible, there’s a person I know who’s facing some incredibly big, major, scary stuff coming up really, really soon. I spoke with this person on Thursday, and I told them how much I admired the way they’d handled incredibly hard times they’ve been faced with, how they’d handled everything with such courage, faith, dignity & grace. This person responded by saying that this was the only way they knew how to face things, to be able to handle it right the first time of going through it. They said that handling this particular situation with courage, faith, dignity & grace was the only real way to handle it. I assured them that not a lot of people would be able to say that, and to be able to say it and mean it was something special. This person went on to say that it’s like baseball, and as cliche as it sounds, “It’s not if you win or lose, it’s how you play the game. Like life, it’s all about how you handle what life throws at you.”
There is so most definitely a reason why we meet people when and where we meet them...
Yesterday, we stopped in High Springs, FL, to pick up James’ dream guitar...a reissued ’59 Les Paul. The man we purchased it from was selling it for a close friend of his who had died from cancer recently, and the purchase of the instruments in his possession is going to help pay for his friend’s hospital bills. While we were there, (and after the payment for the transaction had gone through), James told our story...how we were headed to Valdosta afterwards for the anniversary of our son’s death the next day, and how this guitar was going to be dedicated in memory of Wilco for our future children to learn how to play guitar. This man came over, and with tears in his eyes, hugged both of us, and told us that his hopes for this guitar were to be able to carry his friend’s musical spirit so it could live on in other people and their lives. He also told us that tomorrow is another day, and to keep on pushing forward and look forward to the future and not live in the past. When we went to leave, his wife brought out 2 gorgeous white roses for us along with their well wishes.
Did I mention there is most definitely a reason why we meet people when and where we meet them?
On the way to the ATL, we were listening to James’ Pandora, and on the Sheryl Crow station, “A Long December” came on. I’m sure we all have those songs from high school that, no matter how hard we may have tried to escape them, they still have a way of finding us and tugging hard at our heartstrings. This one is most definitely on my list.
When this song was released, I was still reeling from my first big, real heartbreak. I remember coming through that year (& part of the next one) after it happened, wishing to never have another year like it ever again in my somewhat innocent, naive high school life. However, I think it was about midway through college and beyond, I started thinking back on that painful time. When I started thinking back on it, it wasn’t with the wish to never experience anything like that ever again. Don’t get me wrong, there isn’t enough money that would make me want to go back and experience it all over. But, once I started looking back at that time, I realized how much I felt like I had grown as a person. Because, let’s be honest, coming through that time of having that first love and subsequently, losing that first love, it stings...it hurts like a bitch. But, coming through it, getting over it, moving on from it, surviving it...there’s a certain sense of pride and strength that comes with that.
Not that I’m trying to compare the feeling of losing a first love to losing a child...
But, here we are, a year later from losing our son, and as much as I would never want to experience my first heartbreak again, losing a child again just isn’t an option...
In this year, though, I feel like I’ve grown emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually. I feel like we’ve grown. I feel like the people who’ve surrounded me with so much love have grown with me as I have with them. I feel like I have tried my absolute best to face this past year with courage, faith, dignity & grace, even when I felt so much less than all those things. And there’s a certain sense of pride and strength that comes with that.
And, I will never truly be over it. There will always be a part of me that’s missing. And I think that’s understandable.
But, maybe the future anniversaries of the day he died don’t have to completely be about that. Maybe it can also be about looking back at how far I’ve come, how far we’ve come, in that amount of time.
In a moment of curiosity, I decided to look up “A Long December” on Wikipedia, and Adam Duritz was quoted as saying this as part of VH1 Storytellers:
“...It’s a song about looking back on your life and seeing changes happening, and for once for me, looking forward and thinking, ya know, things are gonna change for the better - ‘maybe this year will be better than the last’ - and so, like a lot of the songs on the end of an album, it’s not about everything turning out great, but it at least is about hope...and the possibilities...”
Thank you for the inspiration...
9.5 times out of 10, when I’ve heard the word "anniversary", there’s a "Happy" attached to the beginning of it. Today is the 1st anniversary, the angelversary, if you will, of when our son died, and there is nothing to me that’s happy about this day, what it meant a year ago, what it means this year, what it will always mean and represent. I will always miss our son. I will always wish he was still here with us, and I will never be able to celebrate the anniversary of the day he died.
Now that that’s out of the way...
I really do seem to find inspiration out of the most random sources. Or, maybe not so random, depending on your outlook. Trying to be as vague as possible, there’s a person I know who’s facing some incredibly big, major, scary stuff coming up really, really soon. I spoke with this person on Thursday, and I told them how much I admired the way they’d handled incredibly hard times they’ve been faced with, how they’d handled everything with such courage, faith, dignity & grace. This person responded by saying that this was the only way they knew how to face things, to be able to handle it right the first time of going through it. They said that handling this particular situation with courage, faith, dignity & grace was the only real way to handle it. I assured them that not a lot of people would be able to say that, and to be able to say it and mean it was something special. This person went on to say that it’s like baseball, and as cliche as it sounds, “It’s not if you win or lose, it’s how you play the game. Like life, it’s all about how you handle what life throws at you.”
There is so most definitely a reason why we meet people when and where we meet them...
Yesterday, we stopped in High Springs, FL, to pick up James’ dream guitar...a reissued ’59 Les Paul. The man we purchased it from was selling it for a close friend of his who had died from cancer recently, and the purchase of the instruments in his possession is going to help pay for his friend’s hospital bills. While we were there, (and after the payment for the transaction had gone through), James told our story...how we were headed to Valdosta afterwards for the anniversary of our son’s death the next day, and how this guitar was going to be dedicated in memory of Wilco for our future children to learn how to play guitar. This man came over, and with tears in his eyes, hugged both of us, and told us that his hopes for this guitar were to be able to carry his friend’s musical spirit so it could live on in other people and their lives. He also told us that tomorrow is another day, and to keep on pushing forward and look forward to the future and not live in the past. When we went to leave, his wife brought out 2 gorgeous white roses for us along with their well wishes.
Did I mention there is most definitely a reason why we meet people when and where we meet them?
On the way to the ATL, we were listening to James’ Pandora, and on the Sheryl Crow station, “A Long December” came on. I’m sure we all have those songs from high school that, no matter how hard we may have tried to escape them, they still have a way of finding us and tugging hard at our heartstrings. This one is most definitely on my list.
When this song was released, I was still reeling from my first big, real heartbreak. I remember coming through that year (& part of the next one) after it happened, wishing to never have another year like it ever again in my somewhat innocent, naive high school life. However, I think it was about midway through college and beyond, I started thinking back on that painful time. When I started thinking back on it, it wasn’t with the wish to never experience anything like that ever again. Don’t get me wrong, there isn’t enough money that would make me want to go back and experience it all over. But, once I started looking back at that time, I realized how much I felt like I had grown as a person. Because, let’s be honest, coming through that time of having that first love and subsequently, losing that first love, it stings...it hurts like a bitch. But, coming through it, getting over it, moving on from it, surviving it...there’s a certain sense of pride and strength that comes with that.
Not that I’m trying to compare the feeling of losing a first love to losing a child...
But, here we are, a year later from losing our son, and as much as I would never want to experience my first heartbreak again, losing a child again just isn’t an option...
In this year, though, I feel like I’ve grown emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually. I feel like we’ve grown. I feel like the people who’ve surrounded me with so much love have grown with me as I have with them. I feel like I have tried my absolute best to face this past year with courage, faith, dignity & grace, even when I felt so much less than all those things. And there’s a certain sense of pride and strength that comes with that.
And, I will never truly be over it. There will always be a part of me that’s missing. And I think that’s understandable.
But, maybe the future anniversaries of the day he died don’t have to completely be about that. Maybe it can also be about looking back at how far I’ve come, how far we’ve come, in that amount of time.
In a moment of curiosity, I decided to look up “A Long December” on Wikipedia, and Adam Duritz was quoted as saying this as part of VH1 Storytellers:
“...It’s a song about looking back on your life and seeing changes happening, and for once for me, looking forward and thinking, ya know, things are gonna change for the better - ‘maybe this year will be better than the last’ - and so, like a lot of the songs on the end of an album, it’s not about everything turning out great, but it at least is about hope...and the possibilities...”
Thank you for the inspiration...
Sunday, March 27, 2011
A Mother's Birthday Letter
My sweet, baby boy...
At this time, 1 year ago, I was beginning to have what I would later find out were labor pains. In about 3 hours was when your daddy rushed me to the hospital, and a little over 6 hours after that, you entered our world and stole our hearts. You were a month early, and I guess you were just in such a hurry to see the world. I will forever remember the first time I looked into your eyes. When the other memories start to become hazy, that one still stands out vividly.
And tomorrow, you would've been a year old...I wonder if you would've been walking or talking yet. I wonder what would've made you smile...what would've made you cry. I wonder what you'd look like...if you would still have your daddy's eyes & forehead...or my lips. Regardless of what you look like, I know you'd still be beautiful. That's how you came into this world, and that's how you left it.
Even though you're no longer physically here with us, I hope your birthday tomorrow is wonderful. I wish you could still be here with us to celebrate, and I will probably forever wonder why you couldn't be. We love you, sweet Wilco, and we will always, ALWAYS miss you.
Happy Birthday, sweet boy!!
Love Always,
Mommy (and Daddy)
At this time, 1 year ago, I was beginning to have what I would later find out were labor pains. In about 3 hours was when your daddy rushed me to the hospital, and a little over 6 hours after that, you entered our world and stole our hearts. You were a month early, and I guess you were just in such a hurry to see the world. I will forever remember the first time I looked into your eyes. When the other memories start to become hazy, that one still stands out vividly.
And tomorrow, you would've been a year old...I wonder if you would've been walking or talking yet. I wonder what would've made you smile...what would've made you cry. I wonder what you'd look like...if you would still have your daddy's eyes & forehead...or my lips. Regardless of what you look like, I know you'd still be beautiful. That's how you came into this world, and that's how you left it.
Even though you're no longer physically here with us, I hope your birthday tomorrow is wonderful. I wish you could still be here with us to celebrate, and I will probably forever wonder why you couldn't be. We love you, sweet Wilco, and we will always, ALWAYS miss you.
Happy Birthday, sweet boy!!
Love Always,
Mommy (and Daddy)
Sunday, January 9, 2011
This week is over, right?
Wow...after finishing the worst year I've ever had, what followed was the worst week I've had in about...7 months...
All I can hope that means is that getting a really frickin' bad week out of the way at the beginning of the year means one less bad week as the year continues, as a good friend of mine put it.
Monday & Tuesday were emotional days, anyway (thank you, Mother Nature), and it really started Tuesday afternoon. With some friends who started talking about a gathering we were all at the night before Will died, then moved on to talking about adorable babies they saw over the holidays. And I'm not mad they were talking about either one...I said when all this initially happened that I didn't want people to feel like they had to walk on eggshells around me or censor what they would normally say, and I meant that...it was just bad memories on top of bad timing.
Then Wednesday morning, in my first group, towards the end, I had a patient look in my direction & say (although I don't know if it was actually to me or a delusion), "Remember when you and me were together, and we had that beautiful family with that precious baby boy? What was his name again? I think his name was William..." I froze, compartmentalized & saved my reaction for later. Then dealt with another patient in the 2nd hour with lingering grief over the loss of their mother from when they were young.
Had a little mini-breakdown at lunchtime, then finished out my day...
Then Wednesday night, our Netflix movie for that day was Sicko, a Michael Moore film about the sad state of healthcare in America. After watching that & Capitalism: A Love Story, I'm pretty much completely disgusted with our government as a whole, but that's another blog entry. During Sicko, there was a woman who was interviewed. Several years back, her daughter had been born with some kind of health defect, and when her daughter was 18 months old, she stopped breathing. The mother called 911, and they rushed her daughter to the nearest hospital. The hospital called her insurance, and her insurance said they would not cover emergency room or ambulance costs since that hospital wasn't an "in network" hospital. The hospital wouldn't treat the woman's daughter, and she begged and pleaded with them until they finally arranged transportation for her daughter to the "in network" hospital. They arrived just in time for her daughter to go into cardiac arrest. She goes on to say that the EMT's worked on her daughter for 30 minutes before taking her into the back room and telling her that they were unable to revive her. She talks of how she went in the room where her daughter was and just held her and told her how sorry she was that she couldn't save her...and all of a sudden, I'm back in the emergency room at Frye Hospital, pacing and praying and begging and pleading with whatever Higher Power will listen, and I'm in the back room where they take the families and the loved ones who aren't so lucky, and I'm in the room where they worked on him, holding him and marveling at how cold & stiff his skin is...I probably should've turned the movie off, but it was like watching a car wreck happen...you just can't look away.
Thursday was my completely emotionally exhausted day, where I spent the morning exhausted & pretty bitchy to anyone who crossed my path, and that afternoon was probably the best part of my week. Then, Friday was the day that lots of things went wrong with groups and work in general.
Altogether, a week I was more than happy to see end...
And the part that upsets me the most is that work was supposed to be my save haven. After everything happened, and after I went back to work, it was almost like an escape. I mean, yes, of course, it all still weighed very heavy on my heart & on my mind. But, at work, I had to focus on other people, and although I allowed myself the moments of tears & deep breaths, work was the one place I was safe. It was the one place the grief wasn't supposed to come and hit me in the face.
But, it did...and I don't know, maybe in the grand scheme of things, it was a good thing that it did. I've definitely had a tendency to throw myself, my heart, my soul, into work these past 7 months, and maybe this was life's way of making me take a step back...life's way of not allowing me to try and hide so completely in my escape.
Either way, the rest of the year is gonna be better...right?
All I can hope that means is that getting a really frickin' bad week out of the way at the beginning of the year means one less bad week as the year continues, as a good friend of mine put it.
Monday & Tuesday were emotional days, anyway (thank you, Mother Nature), and it really started Tuesday afternoon. With some friends who started talking about a gathering we were all at the night before Will died, then moved on to talking about adorable babies they saw over the holidays. And I'm not mad they were talking about either one...I said when all this initially happened that I didn't want people to feel like they had to walk on eggshells around me or censor what they would normally say, and I meant that...it was just bad memories on top of bad timing.
Then Wednesday morning, in my first group, towards the end, I had a patient look in my direction & say (although I don't know if it was actually to me or a delusion), "Remember when you and me were together, and we had that beautiful family with that precious baby boy? What was his name again? I think his name was William..." I froze, compartmentalized & saved my reaction for later. Then dealt with another patient in the 2nd hour with lingering grief over the loss of their mother from when they were young.
Had a little mini-breakdown at lunchtime, then finished out my day...
Then Wednesday night, our Netflix movie for that day was Sicko, a Michael Moore film about the sad state of healthcare in America. After watching that & Capitalism: A Love Story, I'm pretty much completely disgusted with our government as a whole, but that's another blog entry. During Sicko, there was a woman who was interviewed. Several years back, her daughter had been born with some kind of health defect, and when her daughter was 18 months old, she stopped breathing. The mother called 911, and they rushed her daughter to the nearest hospital. The hospital called her insurance, and her insurance said they would not cover emergency room or ambulance costs since that hospital wasn't an "in network" hospital. The hospital wouldn't treat the woman's daughter, and she begged and pleaded with them until they finally arranged transportation for her daughter to the "in network" hospital. They arrived just in time for her daughter to go into cardiac arrest. She goes on to say that the EMT's worked on her daughter for 30 minutes before taking her into the back room and telling her that they were unable to revive her. She talks of how she went in the room where her daughter was and just held her and told her how sorry she was that she couldn't save her...and all of a sudden, I'm back in the emergency room at Frye Hospital, pacing and praying and begging and pleading with whatever Higher Power will listen, and I'm in the back room where they take the families and the loved ones who aren't so lucky, and I'm in the room where they worked on him, holding him and marveling at how cold & stiff his skin is...I probably should've turned the movie off, but it was like watching a car wreck happen...you just can't look away.
Thursday was my completely emotionally exhausted day, where I spent the morning exhausted & pretty bitchy to anyone who crossed my path, and that afternoon was probably the best part of my week. Then, Friday was the day that lots of things went wrong with groups and work in general.
Altogether, a week I was more than happy to see end...
And the part that upsets me the most is that work was supposed to be my save haven. After everything happened, and after I went back to work, it was almost like an escape. I mean, yes, of course, it all still weighed very heavy on my heart & on my mind. But, at work, I had to focus on other people, and although I allowed myself the moments of tears & deep breaths, work was the one place I was safe. It was the one place the grief wasn't supposed to come and hit me in the face.
But, it did...and I don't know, maybe in the grand scheme of things, it was a good thing that it did. I've definitely had a tendency to throw myself, my heart, my soul, into work these past 7 months, and maybe this was life's way of making me take a step back...life's way of not allowing me to try and hide so completely in my escape.
Either way, the rest of the year is gonna be better...right?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
1/1/11
So, January 1, 2011...
The shortest and longest year of my life thus far. I have never been happier to see a year pass into a new one as I was to see 2010 change to 2011.
Almost every year, I try & post the events of the past year & the things I've learned, and this year is certainly no exception. But, in wanting to keep this as positive as possible, first I have to get all the (mostly) negative things out of the way.
So, in 2010, I saw:
*The event of my grandmother falling & fracturing her pelvis & knee and having to be put in a nursing home to be cared for afterwards
*The event of my mother falling off the retaining wall at my parents' house and landing on her head, having to be rushed to the hospital & having area(s) of bleeding on her brain
*The birth of Wilco (there's one of the non-negative things)
(Oh, and that was all within the span of the same week)
*Being diagnosed with a bladder/almost kidney infection 3 weeks after Wilco was born
*My seizure & subsequently being diagnosed with Epilepsy, NOS & having to start taking anti-seizure meds
*The death of Wilco
And all of that was in the span of 3 months...
It goes without saying that this has been the darkest, most horrific year I've EVER seen, but even as awful as it was, it wasn't without its own hope & silver lining & bright spots amidst the darkness.
Which brings me to everything I've learned this past year...
I've learned...
1. I don't always have to be the strong one, and when I'm not feeling particularly strong, there are people who love me who will support me to stand when I feel unable to do it by myself.
2. Zumba/working out is one of the best forms of therapy there is, and it's not an exaggeration to say that it helped save me these past 6 months.
3. It's okay to find things that are humorous & make you smile & make you laugh during times of tragedy.
4. I will never look at butterflies the same way.
5. I have the most amazing true friends in the world.
6. True friend love=rerouting an international trip & being willing to stay up & skype from across the world when needed when you have to be up in 4-5 hours.
7. I would not still be here (almost) 7 months later without y'all (y'all know who you are)
8. Support & understanding can come from the most unlikely of places
9. Even when people don't know what to say, just knowing that they're willing to listen & give you a hug makes a world of difference
10. You can learn something from everyone
11. Sometimes, it's people you would never expect who have the most profound, sincere things to say at just the right moment you needed to hear it
12. (I am still learning) It's okay to cry, and it doesn't make you weak when you do
13. Knowing who someone is isn't a prerequisite for caring about them and offering them support
14. Focusing on the people who have been the bright spots in the darkness, instead of the darkness itself, makes the year seem a lot lighter
15. I am loved, and I am cared for, and there are people who are as loyal to me as I am to them
16. Saying goodbye will never be easy, and it's the people you care the most about in life who are taken from you too soon.
17. No matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while, and you must forgive them for that.
18. No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief, but there are people who will slow their lives down to help pick the pace of yours back up.
19. I am stronger than I ever dared to believe I could be.
20. This one is best told in the form of a story. A couple of weeks ago, I was having a conversation with one of the people I work with. We were talking, and this person said the following thing to me: "I don't think God caused me to have a mental illness, but I do think He allowed it to happen. I don't know why, and I don't understand why He would do this, but I have to hold on to the hope that there's a bigger reason for it...that there's a grand purpose to me having a mental illness & going through what I'm going through. Maybe I'm gonna go on to use what I've been through and my story to inspire someone else, or maybe there's someone here I was supposed to meet who I wouldn't have met otherwise. I know that in the Bible, God tested Job by taking away all the things and people who were important to him, and Job still continued to find joy & praise God's name. So, I figure, if he can do it, I can, too. I really just continue to have faith that one day, I'll know the reason and have the answer for why all this happened."
It's amazing what kind of perspective you can find in your own life from what other people have to say about their lives. If someone who is going through the toughest time in their life can still have hope & a positive outlook, I can, too
After this past year, making New Year's resolutions for 2011 almost seems kind of trite and maybe even a little bit meaningless. So, I guess I have to say that my main one is to focus on whatever is in my control to make 2011 a HELL of a lot better than 2010 was. If I can achieve that by the time 2012 rolls around, I'll consider the year a success.
Here's to a Happy 2011, and dear God, may it be at least 10,000,000 times better than 2010 was!!!
<3 <3 <3 Peace & Love <3 <3 <3
The shortest and longest year of my life thus far. I have never been happier to see a year pass into a new one as I was to see 2010 change to 2011.
Almost every year, I try & post the events of the past year & the things I've learned, and this year is certainly no exception. But, in wanting to keep this as positive as possible, first I have to get all the (mostly) negative things out of the way.
So, in 2010, I saw:
*The event of my grandmother falling & fracturing her pelvis & knee and having to be put in a nursing home to be cared for afterwards
*The event of my mother falling off the retaining wall at my parents' house and landing on her head, having to be rushed to the hospital & having area(s) of bleeding on her brain
*The birth of Wilco (there's one of the non-negative things)
(Oh, and that was all within the span of the same week)
*Being diagnosed with a bladder/almost kidney infection 3 weeks after Wilco was born
*My seizure & subsequently being diagnosed with Epilepsy, NOS & having to start taking anti-seizure meds
*The death of Wilco
And all of that was in the span of 3 months...
It goes without saying that this has been the darkest, most horrific year I've EVER seen, but even as awful as it was, it wasn't without its own hope & silver lining & bright spots amidst the darkness.
Which brings me to everything I've learned this past year...
I've learned...
1. I don't always have to be the strong one, and when I'm not feeling particularly strong, there are people who love me who will support me to stand when I feel unable to do it by myself.
2. Zumba/working out is one of the best forms of therapy there is, and it's not an exaggeration to say that it helped save me these past 6 months.
3. It's okay to find things that are humorous & make you smile & make you laugh during times of tragedy.
4. I will never look at butterflies the same way.
5. I have the most amazing true friends in the world.
6. True friend love=rerouting an international trip & being willing to stay up & skype from across the world when needed when you have to be up in 4-5 hours.
7. I would not still be here (almost) 7 months later without y'all (y'all know who you are)
8. Support & understanding can come from the most unlikely of places
9. Even when people don't know what to say, just knowing that they're willing to listen & give you a hug makes a world of difference
10. You can learn something from everyone
11. Sometimes, it's people you would never expect who have the most profound, sincere things to say at just the right moment you needed to hear it
12. (I am still learning) It's okay to cry, and it doesn't make you weak when you do
13. Knowing who someone is isn't a prerequisite for caring about them and offering them support
14. Focusing on the people who have been the bright spots in the darkness, instead of the darkness itself, makes the year seem a lot lighter
15. I am loved, and I am cared for, and there are people who are as loyal to me as I am to them
16. Saying goodbye will never be easy, and it's the people you care the most about in life who are taken from you too soon.
17. No matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while, and you must forgive them for that.
18. No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief, but there are people who will slow their lives down to help pick the pace of yours back up.
19. I am stronger than I ever dared to believe I could be.
20. This one is best told in the form of a story. A couple of weeks ago, I was having a conversation with one of the people I work with. We were talking, and this person said the following thing to me: "I don't think God caused me to have a mental illness, but I do think He allowed it to happen. I don't know why, and I don't understand why He would do this, but I have to hold on to the hope that there's a bigger reason for it...that there's a grand purpose to me having a mental illness & going through what I'm going through. Maybe I'm gonna go on to use what I've been through and my story to inspire someone else, or maybe there's someone here I was supposed to meet who I wouldn't have met otherwise. I know that in the Bible, God tested Job by taking away all the things and people who were important to him, and Job still continued to find joy & praise God's name. So, I figure, if he can do it, I can, too. I really just continue to have faith that one day, I'll know the reason and have the answer for why all this happened."
It's amazing what kind of perspective you can find in your own life from what other people have to say about their lives. If someone who is going through the toughest time in their life can still have hope & a positive outlook, I can, too
After this past year, making New Year's resolutions for 2011 almost seems kind of trite and maybe even a little bit meaningless. So, I guess I have to say that my main one is to focus on whatever is in my control to make 2011 a HELL of a lot better than 2010 was. If I can achieve that by the time 2012 rolls around, I'll consider the year a success.
Here's to a Happy 2011, and dear God, may it be at least 10,000,000 times better than 2010 was!!!
<3 <3 <3 Peace & Love <3 <3 <3
Friday, December 3, 2010
6 months
In a few short hours, it will mark the 6 month date of when we lost Baby Will. My therapist told me a few visits ago that she had heard that it's something about the 6 month anniversary of a loss that seems to be the first hardest milestone to get through.
She wasn't lying...I've most definitely been bitchier this week, and it doesn't help that I'm PMSing, either.
One of mine & James' shows is Hell's Kitchen, comes on Wednesday nights. This past Wednesday night, it was at the end, and Chef Ramsay was getting ready to eliminate one of the final four. As it seemed he was getting ready to, he instead surprised the final four with family members and friends who were in town for a visit. The last family to come in was a husband with his infant son...maybe around 7-8 months or so...around the same age Will would be. I watched, and I just cried and cried and cried. Right now, thinking about all the women who had children within the same few months after Will was born is the hardest part. All the milestones they're getting to watch...rolling over, crawling, walking, first words...we never get to have those with him. We never get to have those with him, and it kills me to think about it.
My therapist told me at my last visit that she would identify the emotion that's at the forefront of my thinking to be jealousy. And, she's right...I would never ever wish this on anyone, but I am so beyond jealous about all the things that other mothers get to experience right now that I should be, and I'm not. And I hate it, and it's not fair, and there's nothing that can make it okay...and I think I hate that piece the most.
Did I mention that the PMS part REALLY doesn't help things?
I was sad earlier this evening because I tried earlier today to remember that feeling of holding him close and cuddling him while I sat on the couch after work, and I couldn't remember it. I couldn't recall that feeling. Now, as I sit here, that feeling almost suffocates me. And this certainly isn't how I'm doing most of the time, but tonight, it is. Tonight, my heart aches, and I miss my son.
Always & forever, baby boy...<3
She wasn't lying...I've most definitely been bitchier this week, and it doesn't help that I'm PMSing, either.
One of mine & James' shows is Hell's Kitchen, comes on Wednesday nights. This past Wednesday night, it was at the end, and Chef Ramsay was getting ready to eliminate one of the final four. As it seemed he was getting ready to, he instead surprised the final four with family members and friends who were in town for a visit. The last family to come in was a husband with his infant son...maybe around 7-8 months or so...around the same age Will would be. I watched, and I just cried and cried and cried. Right now, thinking about all the women who had children within the same few months after Will was born is the hardest part. All the milestones they're getting to watch...rolling over, crawling, walking, first words...we never get to have those with him. We never get to have those with him, and it kills me to think about it.
My therapist told me at my last visit that she would identify the emotion that's at the forefront of my thinking to be jealousy. And, she's right...I would never ever wish this on anyone, but I am so beyond jealous about all the things that other mothers get to experience right now that I should be, and I'm not. And I hate it, and it's not fair, and there's nothing that can make it okay...and I think I hate that piece the most.
Did I mention that the PMS part REALLY doesn't help things?
I was sad earlier this evening because I tried earlier today to remember that feeling of holding him close and cuddling him while I sat on the couch after work, and I couldn't remember it. I couldn't recall that feeling. Now, as I sit here, that feeling almost suffocates me. And this certainly isn't how I'm doing most of the time, but tonight, it is. Tonight, my heart aches, and I miss my son.
Always & forever, baby boy...<3
Monday, November 15, 2010
Beliefs & letting go
Wow...it's been a while, eh?
So, October was SIDS awareness month, and October 15th was specifically the national day of recognition for pregnancy & infant loss. We went to a couple of candle-lighting ceremonies, and while I can appreciate the thought and the meaning behind them, it just didn't feel like it did the moment or the recognition justice.
At one of them, I listened to a woman who'd had an abortion when she was younger talk to another woman who'd lost her infant son about finding peace and forgiveness and just remembering that Christ was there to take all of us in his arms and hold us close and love us and bring us comfort.
Really??
Are you kidding me??
Don't get me wrong, I do consider myself a Christian, as devout as I've ever been. I still believe in God the Creator...I'm just not really on speaking terms with Him right now. Since we lost Baby Will, I've heard 2 different takes on the situation. I've heard people say that it was part of God's will, and I've heard people say it was an accident. I feel there are good and bad things about both.
On the side of it being part of God's will, the pro is that there is/was a larger purpose for it. There's a reason why it happened, and it was meant to be. The con side is what kind of a loving God would have that in His great plan? What kind of a loving God would deem it meant to be for parents to lose their child?
On the side of it being an accident & not part of God's great plan, the pro side is that it wasn't part of some greater plan, and it wasn't the work of a loving God. Of course, the con side of that is that if it wasn't part of a greater plan, what's the meaning behind it? Why did it happen?
Obviously, I'm still dealing with some anger issues...
I spoke to a close friend of mine this past weekend who's been a little MIA through this whole thing. Not to the point of not being supportive, but just having his own thing going on. He admitted, during our conversation, that one of the main reasons he'd been MIA is because he'd had no idea of what to say, any advice to give or any words of comfort to offer. And it made me think...those people who I feel haven't been supportive of all of this, the ones who seem to shy away from talking about it or mentioning it at all...maybe it's not that they don't care. Maybe it's because they were so terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing, they just didn't say or do anything. And I get that, but getting that blurs the lines of where my anger is focused. It would be so much simpler to have been able to continue the separation in my mind of the people who were wonderful and supportive and the people who weren't. And without that, a place to focus my anger and feelings of betrayal kind of disappears. And I don't know that I'm ready for it to be gone yet.
I've started watching One Tree Hill lately, catching up from season 1. I'm a little bit in lust with Chad Michael Murray, and since his stint on Gilmore Girls was short-lived, I've moved on to his next show. At the end of season 2, there's a voiceover quote that says: "And Hansel said to Gretel: Let us drop these bread crumbs so that together we can find our way home. Because losing our way would be the most cruel of things. This year I lost my way. And losing your way on a journey is unfortunate. But losing your reason for the journey...is a fate more cruel. The journey lasted eight months. Sometimes I traveled alone. Sometimes there were others who took the wheel...and took my heart. But when the destination was reached, it wasn't me who'd arrived. It wasn't me at all. And once you lose yourself, you have two choices: Find the person you used to be or lose that person completely. Because sometimes you have to step outside of the person you’ve been and remember the person you were meant to be. The person you wanted to be. The person you are."
I've been trying and trying and reaching to hold on to the person I was before all this happened...to not lose myself. But the reality is that I will never be that person again. Too much has happened, and I can't go back. It took me 28 years to get to the point where I was anywhere close to being comfortable in my own skin, being comfortable with who I am. And, now I feel like I have to get to know that person all over again. I feel like I spend so much time trying to take care of myself and focusing on myself that I don't really have the energy to focus on others and what's going on with them...at least, not the way I did before. But maybe that's what it's going to take, at least for a while, to become comfortable in my own skin and to know myself again.
So, October was SIDS awareness month, and October 15th was specifically the national day of recognition for pregnancy & infant loss. We went to a couple of candle-lighting ceremonies, and while I can appreciate the thought and the meaning behind them, it just didn't feel like it did the moment or the recognition justice.
At one of them, I listened to a woman who'd had an abortion when she was younger talk to another woman who'd lost her infant son about finding peace and forgiveness and just remembering that Christ was there to take all of us in his arms and hold us close and love us and bring us comfort.
Really??
Are you kidding me??
Don't get me wrong, I do consider myself a Christian, as devout as I've ever been. I still believe in God the Creator...I'm just not really on speaking terms with Him right now. Since we lost Baby Will, I've heard 2 different takes on the situation. I've heard people say that it was part of God's will, and I've heard people say it was an accident. I feel there are good and bad things about both.
On the side of it being part of God's will, the pro is that there is/was a larger purpose for it. There's a reason why it happened, and it was meant to be. The con side is what kind of a loving God would have that in His great plan? What kind of a loving God would deem it meant to be for parents to lose their child?
On the side of it being an accident & not part of God's great plan, the pro side is that it wasn't part of some greater plan, and it wasn't the work of a loving God. Of course, the con side of that is that if it wasn't part of a greater plan, what's the meaning behind it? Why did it happen?
Obviously, I'm still dealing with some anger issues...
I spoke to a close friend of mine this past weekend who's been a little MIA through this whole thing. Not to the point of not being supportive, but just having his own thing going on. He admitted, during our conversation, that one of the main reasons he'd been MIA is because he'd had no idea of what to say, any advice to give or any words of comfort to offer. And it made me think...those people who I feel haven't been supportive of all of this, the ones who seem to shy away from talking about it or mentioning it at all...maybe it's not that they don't care. Maybe it's because they were so terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing, they just didn't say or do anything. And I get that, but getting that blurs the lines of where my anger is focused. It would be so much simpler to have been able to continue the separation in my mind of the people who were wonderful and supportive and the people who weren't. And without that, a place to focus my anger and feelings of betrayal kind of disappears. And I don't know that I'm ready for it to be gone yet.
I've started watching One Tree Hill lately, catching up from season 1. I'm a little bit in lust with Chad Michael Murray, and since his stint on Gilmore Girls was short-lived, I've moved on to his next show. At the end of season 2, there's a voiceover quote that says: "And Hansel said to Gretel: Let us drop these bread crumbs so that together we can find our way home. Because losing our way would be the most cruel of things. This year I lost my way. And losing your way on a journey is unfortunate. But losing your reason for the journey...is a fate more cruel. The journey lasted eight months. Sometimes I traveled alone. Sometimes there were others who took the wheel...and took my heart. But when the destination was reached, it wasn't me who'd arrived. It wasn't me at all. And once you lose yourself, you have two choices: Find the person you used to be or lose that person completely. Because sometimes you have to step outside of the person you’ve been and remember the person you were meant to be. The person you wanted to be. The person you are."
I've been trying and trying and reaching to hold on to the person I was before all this happened...to not lose myself. But the reality is that I will never be that person again. Too much has happened, and I can't go back. It took me 28 years to get to the point where I was anywhere close to being comfortable in my own skin, being comfortable with who I am. And, now I feel like I have to get to know that person all over again. I feel like I spend so much time trying to take care of myself and focusing on myself that I don't really have the energy to focus on others and what's going on with them...at least, not the way I did before. But maybe that's what it's going to take, at least for a while, to become comfortable in my own skin and to know myself again.
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