freedom from the inside out

Beneath the Surface

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Clouds Thailand 2017Have you ever stood in the mirror and wondered who you’re looking back at? Have you ever had moments of wondering how exactly you ended up here? Have you ever had times when a story is told and you can either replay it verbatim in your mind or barely remember being present? Are there times you’ve spent grasping for that moment in time to stand still? Or days you wish you would’ve held tighter too? Have you ever stopped and looked at your life like takes of a movie or book series – watching the chapters or sequels unfold? Have you ever been able to unidentify yourself with an old version of You – unable to connect with that part of your life anymore? Or perhaps find yourself grasping so tightly onto other parts – allowing them to hold more truth then they’re worthy of? Are there parts of your story you want to change, but unsure how? Of the thousands of shattered peices that make up you and your story, are there any you’d trade? Of the jigsaw puzzle what is are missing puzzle peices you’re still looking for? What peices are worn and tattered – ready to be recycled?

Do you look around wondering how it’s possible to raise children in a world so broken? Do you wonder how to support them in an age where media and electronics rule all? Do you wonder if their emotional needs are being met on a level that can best serve them? Are we failing as adults, parents, children and citizen? Even if we were – how would we make it better?

Craving connection on a level deeper then the surface? Feeling like you’re going through the motions of life without being able to stop and smell the roses? Wondering what your “theme” for this lifetime is? Ever wonder if there’s more beyond the everyday routine or what else this life could hold for you? Or better yet – have you taken the time out of the craziness of this life to ask or ponder? Because there is more to this rat race then we realize. There is still room for dreams beyond the ordinary. There is still room for healing, for revolutions beyond the everyday chaos. Do you believe it?

Autopilot

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skyraysoflight9-16We’ve all experienced those moments of life altering, earth shattering pain. The one that forces you into your body, to awaken you from a state of cruise control. It comes in many different forms, at different points in our lives, all on a different scale, having a different effect but it is one that refuses to be anything but felt. At 16, it’s the break up with your first boyfriend, perhaps later a divorce. For a firefighter it’s going to a call only to be forced to watch a family watch their home be devoured by flames, to the EMT it’s responding to a fatal accident. To a soldier it’s pulling the trigger for the first time on another life, or perhaps watching one of his own men being taken by another. It’s the phone call of an unexpected death, the diagnosis of a disease, watching another’s life end before your eyes. It’s watching a child go hungry, die from lack of vaccinations or a fatal disease. It’s losing a job, the function of a body part, or the aftermath of a natural disaster. All of which demand the attention of the human emotions, as if jolted into the current reality, one where time literally seems to stop. The cruise control has been halted, from 60 to 0.

It is that slow drip of water in a pond, watching the ripples flow outward, affecting the mass, but the intensity remains within that first initial drop. A whirlwind of grief and questions, standing there looking at your life from a floor of shattered glass, unsure if it’s even your life you’re viewing. This ‘autopilot’ phase is one that jolts many, but often doesn’t truly affect, on a grander scale, those outward ripples. But, for those moments that the ripple does affect the mass, we reevaluate where we stand in life, how very small we are compared to the rest of this vast universe. We think about our days and how they’ve been spent, acknowledging that we’re truly blessed and fortunate to not have been directly effected by such tragedy. Instead, we make promises to rid our lives of excess baggage that doesn’t serve our evolution, and thank God for all he’s generously provided.
Often times, when we stand in this space, we realize how much of our life has been run on autopilot. How much we missed while going through the motions, only to realize it’s no longer an option to fix or mend, but to let flow through you, realizing the grip you have on this moment is nothing at all. The vulnerability of feeling on a deeper level, tears that won’t stop, anger that fuels, questions that may remain unanswered. It’s a space that for anyone that has ever felt it, never wants to be forced to feel it again, it instills a fear that we want to distance ourselves from as fast as possible. It’s one that never leaves, instead, only lies dormant. Only to return at the time of another reminder that autopilot is the exact place we aren’t meant to be. It’s during these times that we’re forced to reevaluate and question our very existence. Watching another endure such pain, knowing there’s no amount of words, cards or gifts that will replace what they have been or will be forced to feel and endure. It is in these moments, we make temporary promises as we mourn and truly do feel for those directly effected. We swear this is our eye opener, that we’ll become more focused on the things that make us truly happy, instead of the stress of daily life we’ve allowed to weigh us down. Instead of complaining, we’ll be more grateful, instead of fighting, we’ll be more compassionate, instead of blaming, we’ll be more empathetic of another’s viewpoint, instead of being devoured by guilt, we’ll let go of those we’ve allowed to pull us down. Because in these moments we see from a very different perspective, we see how precious and short our time here is, whether that’s 20 years or 80, it goes in a flash nonetheless. But just as quickly as it came, it often leaves. Because for those that aren’t directly affected, life goes on, and autopilot is what we so effortlessly fall back into. Getting wrapped up in our everyday lives of seemingly trials and tribulations, forgetting to pay attention, to feel or wake up from this deep sleep. Until the next ripple hits, reminding us once again that we’re human. These are the moments that are meant to break us, shake us and make us realize that this is our focus, this is a glimpse of what we’re here for, this is when autopilot is off, when we’re planted in our own bodies, grounded and reminded our days are far too short to be spent doing absolutely anything except what brings us joy. And the falsehood that we’ve been fed while on autopilot that this isn’t our truth, is the reason we’re forced to be redirected into what is.

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Rock Bottom

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Have you ever been there – that dark and deserted place, where only one person resides? It’s as if it’s covered with mirrors and despite which direction you turn, the only one you see is yourself – because you’re the only lucky SOB that gets to occupy it. First name Rock, last name Bottom – turns out she’s one deep ass hole! It doesn’t matter how you snowballed your way there, whether by choice, mistake or an outside circumstance that pushed you, the point is – you’re there. Many people have occupied this space, sometimes you’re aware of it, sometimes you’re not. the odd thing for me was, I didn’t see anyone there while I was on my trip! Perhaps because I was lucky enough to hit it at Mock 90 and had crashed and burned without even realizing it.

It’s like the morning after a tequila bender, waking up foggy, wondering where you are and who’s laying next to you and fuzzy on the details as to how they got there. Pfff – don’t act like you’ve never been there 😉

 It’s as if I was standing there seeing stars – not even realizing I was actually there. As I look up, I see all the amazing people in my life rooting for me – some cheering, some praying, some blowing kisses, some giving pep talks – but all there, patiently waiting for me to find my way out. And as I look up I want so badly to be where they are – but it seemed as if it was thousands of miles out of reach. Although I saw the light that they were standing in, the darkness that surrounded me didn’t come close to that speck. It was so fucking black – and even more scary – wandering around, stumbling over every thing possible, just to have made an exact circle right back where I started.

I dabbled in multiple medications, from cholesterol meds to antidepressants, narcotics to amphetamines – some worked great while others propelled me into insanity even faster! I loved vodka (ok, fine… I still do)  but I loved it to the point of oblivion every single night I didn’t have my daughter. I smoked more cigarettes in my 15 years of smoking then most do in 30, if it were cocaine, I would’ve been out of control. Give me an escape and I’d get lost in it – bury myself in it. I can’t imagine, if piled up and set in front of me the amount of cigarette butts, booze and medication bottles that would surround me! They served me, and they served me well for quite awhile. They were as close as I was going to come to a “fix” while in survival mode. And despite the people on the sidelines still cheering for me, I couldn’t clear my mind to see outside of the current circumstance I was in. There was an emptiness, a hollow hole that rested inside of me while I tangoed in the depths of rock bottom – one that could only be filled with temporary forms of satisfaction – anything and everything that sat outside of myself. Grasping – always grasping – for the next night out, the next guy, the next set of meds, the next cigarette – hoping eventually one of them was going to fill the void – fix meeee! Whether I was in a relationship or not, trashed or sober, feening for my next drag or inhaling a nice long one of a Marlboro – it was still there, perhaps to a less degree because I was preoccupied, but it hadn’t left – and it wouldn’t leave until I faced it.

To be honest, I had no idea what in the hell I was supposed to be facing! Perhaps I needed to modify my mannerisms, learn to be less insecure, maybe if I quit drinking, met “Mr. Right”, (which let’s be real, he could’ve been standing next to me the entire time and I wouldn’t have known), quit smoking, exercised more, had a flatter stomach, more toned arms, learned to be softer and less rough around the edges, learned how to do more ‘right’ things and less ‘wrong’ things  – maybe then, I would inch away from the bottom. Well, turns out I tried them all – and to a degree, it did inch away from me – but there was still this “dead space” within me that all these things couldn’t fill.

How many medications does one need to numb the sadness, hate and emptiness? How many bottles or nights out? How many cigarettes? How many men? How much masking? How much faking? How much does it take before you stop to reevaluate – just to realize the only thing still standing between me and that mirror, is – well…… you! It was me – all along – the one I was running from, blaming and hating, using the temporary forms of satisfaction, swearing the next thing was going to ‘fix’ me, ‘fix’ him, ‘fix’ them, ‘fix’ that, ‘fix’ it – and here I was. Right where I had always been – standing in a room full of mirrors, screaming for help – just to realize the only one that was capable of it was me. That was a bitch of a realization, one that – to be honest – I had little to no interest in ever facing!

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Waiting Game

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Blog Waiting Game 2

As I reflect on what this blog has brought forth thus far, discussing, writing, feeling and ultimately ending 2 major eras in my life, I try and envision which of those 28 drafts I’d like to proceed with next. 28 arrows, all pointing to different directions and I keep getting a ‘hold’ sign. So, welcome to draft #29! Some have nothing but a title, some are started, and some are a hodge podge – but none seem to be flowing or coming together. Some call it ‘writers block’ but I keep getting this ‘not yet’ feeling – on all 28 of em! here I sit in front of a blank piece paper to see where #29 will lead me!

We’re currently on summer break and it’s a toss up around our house as to who is generally more ready for this break, my daughter or myself! By May, I’m just as checked out, (if not more checked out) of the school jazz as she is. It’s as if since the dust of another school year has settled, I’m just an observer of life, my own as well as others – just reflecting on what has come and went. I look at my daughter has who has ‘graduated’ or ‘survived’ another year of middle school. And I think, did I enjoy it? So many of those days were mundane with repetition, of constantly reminding, (more like barking) “Come on, hurry up, get your math out” just to say “uh, you’ll have to wait until I can sit down and look at it with you” (as it turns out – I’m not smarter then a 5th grader, especially in Math!) “Hurry up and eat – you have basketball practice, did you get your reading done?” “Get in the shower – you need to get to bed!” Just so we can wake up and do this all over again, aren’t you so excited – because I sure know I am! 😉 All the while I’m secretly counting down the days until MEA, then Christmas break, then Easter break, then finallyyyyyy summer! I get this picture of waiting in a long check out line, while the cashier keeps yelling ‘NEXT!’ What’s ‘next’ on the list? Which subject, which meeting, which sporting event and where, which conference, which family get together?   NEEEEEXT PLEASE!

Now we’re able to just sit back and relax, and actually enjoy each other and life before we head into what I’m sure will be even busier years ahead! There’s this part of me that’s always trying to figure how to simplify it – putting it into action seems to be the struggle! Instead of literally checking the days off the calendar, always thinking (and sometimes telling her)’just make it till Friday or it’s OK, 2 weeks left till break, just get through it’. I attempt to just pause in the midst of the insanity to just look at her while she’s eating or sleeping – just to make a mental note. But there are times even when I do, that I feel as if I can’t totally enjoy it without another app in the back of my mind reminding me that the dishes need to be done. Then, we make it to summer break with a sigh of relief and I find myself reflecting, thinking next year, I’m not going to push as much, I’m not going to make a big deal out of that Math test or whether she meets standardized testing scores. I’m not going to hint that maybe trying another sport wouldn’t hurt, or that she needs to have her head in the game when she’s on the court. These are things we’ve all been engrained to think are important. That without tip top grades, an ‘above standards’ on testing or trophies while being in multiple sporting events, we’re no one. Without a tightly wound schedule, an electronic device within arms reach or a sleep over, we simply don’t fit in. How often do we say ‘no’ to the chaos just to teach them a new board game, veg out together or go for a hike or bike ride and have ‘those’ important conversations in the silence?

Instead we wait – we wait for another break, for a different weekend that maybe there won’t be 100 things going on, or they won’t want friends over. We wait until they’re a little bigger to do this activity, until they’re a little older to have this conversation. And all this waiting leads to another season passed, another week that we ‘survived’, another school year gone. Always waiting for another time, a better day, when life ‘slows’ down. And yet we never allow it, or force it to slow down, perhaps because we don’t want it too? Perhaps when it slows, things come into focus and what if those ‘things’ aren’t all that pretty when in focus? What if when we slow down we’re forced to come to terms with the fact that we’ve aged, our kids are growing too quickly, our parents aren’t as mobile as they were before, our marriage isn’t what it used to be – then what?

I spent so much time engulfed in hurt, anger and drama. I look back at those years and think – God did I enjoy any of it? Did I appreciate it, was I grateful? Did I stop to pay attention to the simple things? Did I ever stop to watch the sunset in complete silence, without getting out my phone to take a picture of it? Did I say ‘thank you for this moment and view?’ Did I allow my mind to shut off or declutter a little every day? Did I stop and look around – really look around? That’s one thing I’ve noticed more then anything this spring – I swear the grass has never been as green as it has this year! I swear the fields never looked so nice and the contrast of the brown and the green wasn’t as prevalent. I swear the sky has never been so blue or the clouds so white and fluffy. I swear I’ve never seen a storm come in with such darkness against the blue like that! I swear I’ve never pointed out as many sunrises and sunsets to my daughter as I have in the past year, to the point there are days she notices them before I do. And then I think – I’m sure the grass has always been that green, the sky always that blue, the fields always so nicely planted –    I’ve just never taken the time to notice.

We’re all so caught up in the noise and the static of the daily hustle and bustle, consumed in it, really – rarely pausing, let alone stopping to look around. Meeting the demands of work, school, parents, spouses, children, deadlines, a schedule, always running – never stopping to just take it all in. Not showing our kids what that looks like – to breathe – to look up – to just sit in the silence – to learn contentment in the basics of everyday life. It’s a disappointment that it takes a ‘vacation’ to sit in these simple reminders. I get frustrated that it takes these moments of reflection, or slowing down of ‘we made it, because we had to wish it away’ to be reminded of how often I don’t exercise it in my daily life, during the hustle and bustle. After Josie I swore that was all going to change – I swore it was going to slow down and I was going to learn to do it differently, because I was never going to live with regret like that again. Not towards another, nor towards my own life. And here I sit – trying to figure out how to mesh it all together – slow it down – appreciate it – be it – love it – balance it. So it doesn’t take a vacation , diagnosis or tragedy to have to reflect on another year gone. When I find it I’ll let you know, for I know that I will with time – and for anyone who already has – I’m open to pointers for a faster route to get there 😉

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Closing Another Chapter

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The day shit went down was exactly 20 months to the day of Josie’s death. There’s been no doubt she helped orchestrate such a perfect storm – one that ensured no turning back – damage that was so concrete there would be no way to make it right, no question beyond a shadow of a doubt – and that it was!

As many more details there are to this chapter of my life, surprisingly enough, I don’t feel the need to divulge in them like I used too. Although impossible to realize at the time – all traumas and tragedies are in some way a blessing – to teach us an underlying lesson, assuming we’re willing and open to truly learn from it. And to some degree, these were also consequences of my choices, the choice to stay long after I should’ve, the choice to listen to my head and not my gut, the choice to not set boundaries out of fear, the choice to allow fear to consume me, the choice of routine and safety over following what, deep down I new was best, the choice of being selfish and thinking I was doing my daughter a favor by staying, the choice to feed into and play the game that I hated him for – but learned to love in some sick way.

Everyone has their own definition of closure to each circumstance, and to some degree, that closure comes when our minds and hearts are willing to truly hear it, no matter how harsh. As I said, I literally went insane with questions I would run through my head, wanting to know the details of how, when, where and WHY?! About a year and a half later, I broke. Aside from the fact that I was maxed out on my meds and needed to find something different – the ones I did switch too didn’t work. I was a fast rolling snowball that turned into an avalanche in a fairly short amount of time! I called him screaming and bawling, letters written, wanting out of this life, and for real this time – checked right the eff out. Done, over it, adios, peace out, sianara! I was exhausted, I was sick of putting on the front – as if I really had my shit together! I was sick of hearing aaaaaaall of the stories, sick of trying to cover his ass with my daughter, coming up with more excuses then he came up for himself, sick of not knowing the details, sick of wondering what in the eff I was going to do next, sick of getting up everyday to put on a show, sick of the torment – every aspect. I told him ‘when I ask you a question – you answer it – I don’t care what it is – answer me. You’ve done nothing but lie since day 1, acting as if I was delusional – I don’t care how bad it is, for once in your life tell me the truth – you owe me this!’ He told me how it wasn’t going to help, if anything it’d add more damage – but I didn’t care. So, we played a nice long game of Q & A! He was right, knowing the nitty gritty of it all did make it worse in the short term- but within days it lifted. That’s all it took – I just wanted the fucking truth – for once! Even though the answer to every ‘why’ question was followed with an “I honestly don’t know”, it was enough for me to finally put my mind at ease. To just know the facts without the guessing game, without others side or speculation. It didn’t clear the anger by any means, but it cleared my mind and that was good enough at the time.

Although I never thought I’d say it – I’m grateful for it many ways, it was a door that needed to be slammed shut for good. And the things it’s taught me since, although painful to endure – were truly needed. It taught me more about myself, how much my gut instinct never lies, more about those around me, those that stuck with me and were my sounding boards over and oveeeer! How blessed I am to be surrounded by such loving souls who stood by my side and showed up on days I’m sure they had far better things to do. It taught me my true, inner strength – that I really, truly didn’t know I had. It taught me to have more empathy for those going through hard times and to see each side of the spectrum (yes, that took me a long time to see beyond my side, I’m well aware! 😉 . It taught me that a loss comes in different forms and although it isn’t remotely fair to compare a death to a divorce, it is still a loss. It had different driving forces, but I would say to some degree, still follows the stages of grief – you’re still forced to feel it.

It made me realize how unable I was to be in a functional, non-confrontational relationship, because I had become dependent on the dysfunction. How I didn’t know how to allow something or someone to be good in my life and that a boring, drama free life – really is fabulous! lol It forced me to see how much I ran from things, whether perched on a bar stool or a social calendar so full and booked out, even I could barely keep it straight – I was occupying my time and energy on everything except what had happened. It has taught me, (perhaps more in the last year), what feeling feels like again. Not going to lie, I realized how much I didn’t miss it – but also how very much I needed it! How I’ve learned to mask and hide behind them, unable to show them, how important they are to release and how much we need to realize experiencing them is part of being human (still reminding myself of that on the daily). Because I cried so much and for so long after Josie and then next to never cried after the divorce, while operating strictly out of anger – I’ve been forced to face both extremes again and at a higher intensity. It’s taught me how numb I was to so many things around me, how blind and ignorant I became, how guarded and hardened I forced myself to be after the fact. It forced me to realize the masks I was wearing, and how we all seem to have them – applying a surface layer to throw out to the world to protect ourselves from really being seen. How fearful we are of another loss, in any form and how we cling even tighter when being threatened with it. How good the truth feels to not only know it, but to feel it – it was his truth, their truth, and my truth to an extent and it was one that needed to be set free. And for whatever reason – it did just that for me – and as I lay another chapter to rest, I’m grateful for every aspect of it. Without the darkness, I wouldn’t have known, nor appreciated the light.

Missing Piece

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We weren’t exactly orthodox both pertaining to a death surrounding suicide or in the manner of the grieving process. Once the initial shock of the realization that this was a suicide wore off, I’d say we were fairly accepting of her decision overall. Perhaps because it wasn’t an impulsive decision, or something done out of hate, revenge or to make a statement. I remember my dad saying ‘this is the only selfish decision she’s made, everything revolved around other people and trying to make them happy, it’s hard to be mad at that.”

I’d say the remainder of the stages, at least to me, are kind of one in the same. It boils down to a new reality and acceptance. And I don’t know if that word ever really fully makes sense in the aftermath of it all. To go back through the journal entries and read the repetitive words over and over again is so painful. It’s as if there were different ‘go-to’ thoughts that were the ‘theme’ depending on which stage I was in.

For awhile it was the word ‘never ever’. To say “never ever will I see her again, never ever will I be able to hear her laugh, never ever will she stand by my side at the altar, never ever will she watch my daughter grow up, never ever will I have nieces and nephews, never ever will I be able to make it right, never ever will I have be able to kiss and hug her again’. That one word – NEVER – was such a cold and harsh word to wrap my head around. And I remember breaking down every time the thought crossed my mind.

Not many are lucky enough to say they not only have a supportive family but to say I was able to grieve semi in sync with mine, seems to be a rarity. From what I remember, although very engrossed in my own life,  fog and daze – my parents and I were usually on the same page, or not far off from each other. I’m sure the experience for my parents was different as they were with each other more then I was with them, but I remember my mom saying when one was down, the other was up, so they were able to offset each other.

When it came to my personal household however, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I hated coming home, the only place I wanted to be was my parents, just because I knew they got it. They got it on my level – the deep seated agony, hurt and overwhelming sadness. My ex tried to be supportive, but it wasn’t the same – there was so much that he didn’t get – and so much, too much, that I expected to him understand. After awhile, always being with them became another driving force between him and I and in many ways that was my escape from dealing with things at home, things that were there before this, but far worse since this! He wanted our lives to get back on track with some routine and normality. To me, there was no such thing – there was NOTHING about my life that was going to go back to what it was, and he was insane for thinking it would! And there was alot of it, that I didn’t want to go back! There were many parts I swore were going to change from that point on, promises I made to myself and to her, that it’d be different from here on out. He didn’t believe in the ‘crazy shit’ I was reading, that she could still be here, or that the soul is still present – he believed she went to heaven and I needed to start remembering what I had sitting in front of me, which was him and my daughter. But I had no interest. He would say ‘you’re here physically, but mentally you’re nowhere to be found’. I couldn’t explain things to him and it be a 2 way conversation, he wasn’t open to it and many times, I didn’t know how to express it. My parents just got it – it was effortless and I expected him to just ‘get it’ too. But I see now that it doesn’t work like that. I was expecting him to understand something that was literally impossible to “get” unless you’ve actually felt it for yourself first hand , but at the time, I didn’t care – I didn’t have it in me to care – I was exhausted.

I suppressed alot of it, the replays and play by plays –  for about 6 months before I had my own breaking point, at which time I was put on meds and enrolled in the outpatient program to avoid going inpatient. From that point on, I pretty much stuck with the thought ‘if this is how she felt every day of her life without anything significant happening to her – I don’t blame her one bit for choosing to leave.” From then on it was a constant toying thought of doing the same, the constant thought of just wanting to be able to see her again. I think my parents and I were all in that same boat for quite awhile, it was just the thought of “I just can’t wait to see you again!” For me, it almost became more of a dream then a statement, like, really, I just want to come see you, I don’t want to live in this horrifying, heavy pain anymore!

In a large way, I think that was the beginning of my acceptance phase, and it really came quite early. ‘It’s ok Jos, I don’t blame you, you didn’t deserve to have to live like this, you didn’t do anything to deserve this terrible feeling flooding you on a daily basis and never having any idea why you felt that way.” To all of those that initially refer to suicide as ‘selfish’ or think ‘what kind of person does that to their family,’ ‘it’s never that bad’ or ‘they took the easy way out’ has simply never stood in those shoes. I’m sorry, and it’s not to say that isn’t sometimes the case, but alot of times, it really, honestly isn’t. I have tried to explain many of times to many different people that isn’t, or at least wasn’t the case with her, and it isn’t that easy to just “snap out of it.” I remember being told by a counselor at Mayo that ‘suicide is often the last missing piece to the puzzle – they’ve tried everything else, from meds (which only 50% of people actually benefit from a medication that will truly help), being more social, a different job, an exercise program, etc. It’s as if they’re trying to constantly force this piece of the puzzle, but nothing seems to fit, and it comes to the point that, after being so exhausted, this is the only one that seems to make sense, this is the final missing piece that will put an end to the suffering. I heard this within the 1st month after she left but for some reason, that has always stuck with me. And the more I began to feel the depths of that pain, the more I began to see how much it really made sense.

Sometimes I wonder, are we all looking for that ‘missing piece’ of the puzzle in some area of our lives? It seems if we’re satisfied in one area of our life, we’re dissatisfied in another. It’s as if we get one piece that matches, just to lose another component. Home life is great, but I hate my job, finances are shit, but my kids are thriving. It’s hard not to feel as if we’ll never have all of the pieces, and maybe we won’t to some degree, but I wish she could’ve seen that in many areas, she wasn’t the only one feeling like that. I think that’s the importance of it all – is being aware that none of us are in any of it alone, that it can get better and be better, maybe some of the missing pieces were the absence of the conversation to begin with. Maybe if we weren’t made to think or feel as though our private lives were that different from the next persons, some of those gaps would be filled.

8 years into it, there are still plenty of days that when I actually stop and look, really look at her picture, it doesn’t seem real. There are times I’ve actually questioned ‘were you ever really here? or ‘are you really gone’? So, on many levels, I often wonder what the word ‘acceptance’ truly means, or is there such a thing of really being at peace with it all? To so many degrees I really thought I had accepted it, that it was her choice, and one we needed to accept. One choice that to many degrees, was perhaps the only selfish thing she ever did do. But there are times like these, when I go back and read the entries that acceptance is furthest from my truth. To read the letters and think ‘it didn’t have to be like this, or who would you be today?’ But despite how I replay it, how I accept it one week and deny it the next, it’s the truth and sobering reality of our life. So, I suppose I’ve ‘accepted’ it the best I know how, as much as the human brain can wrap their head around the thought ‘never ever.’ There isn’t an award or a checkered flag at the end of the stages saying good job, congrats – you survived it! I guess it’s just knowing some day we’ll meet again, and until then, I’ll trust that despite how many people call it ‘crazy’ I do believe she is still by our sides. I know she’ll be the first face I see when angels sing and for now, that’ll have to be my ‘acceptance’.

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The Aftermath

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In my head, the aftermath looked like a scene from a natural disaster. The people and place gets rocked by the chaos of the disaster, just to be left standing in the middle of what feels like a chaotic wilderness of nothing.

There are few things from that day and the days to follow that I can’t remember verbatim. From the time I got the email as I was shutting down my computer at work asking ‘have you heard from Jos today?’ To the phone calls made within that half hour waiting for my bus to go home, to me knowing that the next call coming through was going to bad. I knew it before I knew it, shit, I had already played it out in my head, I was getting off the bus to meet my mom at the hospital, because I assumed she was going to call back saying there was a message on the answering machine that she had been in an accident. The bus was pulling out as she called back and it’s as if the conversation played out in my head minutes prior, except she called frantic that she wasn’t breathing. I ran off the bus, planning to meet them, just to find out it wasn’t needed.

I was the last one to get there that night by the time I got a ride back. When I got there all of my family and then some were there, including her, as they hadn’t come to get her yet. I remember feeling a sigh of relief when my mom said she didn’t want me to go in because she didn’t want me to see her like that. And then there was the guilt the next day for not seeing her, for not laying with her, for not getting in more kisses and hugs when I had the chance. For being selfish, like I always was, for relying on someone to tell me what to do, for being afraid of what I’d see, afraid of it being real.

My dad was in Montana on his first mule hunting trip so we had to wait until he could get home. I can’t imagine what that day must’ve felt like for him, feeling a million miles away, unable to get a flight out sooner, walking around aimlessly feeling even more hopeless then we did actually being there, surrounded by everyone. I remember walking to the car to meet with the funeral home and saying to my fiance, “Is this really happening? We’re going to make funeral arrangements? Is this our life, is this for real?” And him responding, “yes, I’m so sorry”.

The funeral was on a Sunday, it was November – colder then hell, raining and sleeting. The family had visitation prior and I just wanted to hog her! There just wasn’t enough time to fit in every single I love you, I’m sorry, kiss and hug for all the times I chose not too. We were told due to the amount of people lined up, we needed to begin earlier and I remember being pissed. Pissed because I didn’t care who was standing in the freezing rain, this was all we had left with her, tomorrow she would gone forever, we needed this time – we deserved this time! The next 6+ hours consisted of hugging and talking to about 1100 people, one of the largest wakes they had hosted to date. It was overwhelming to see the amount of people that came through, from old to young alike. But I couldn’t help but think, do you see this Josie?! Did you have any idea how many people your choice has affected? I wish you knew, why did it have to be this way in order for you to see it? Those hours consisted of going through the motions, being introduced to people, hugging, and saying thank you for coming, but oddly enough, not all that much crying. As I would look out beyond the people’s shoulders that were standing in front of me, seeing no end in site to the line, there would be certain random faces that would just trigger a melt down. But all in all, as we stood on the other side, we held our shit together pretty well!

The funeral was worse for me, once again we weren’t able to get additional time with her like we’d planned due to the number of people packed in the church. And once again, I was pissed because I didn’t give a shit – this was it – this was the last time of any physical contact with her, even if it was in this form. As I bent over to kiss her and hold her hand and try and squeeze in the last of apologies and I love yous, I managed to lose a contact through the tears. This was less then ideal being that I was doing the eulogy! The closing of the casket was about enough to make all of us hit our knees as we knew this was it. The remainder of the service I concentrated on trying to hold it together so I could make it through the eulogy, I knew if one tear fell while I was up there, it’d be game over and I wouldn’t be able to finish it. I did – I delivered and I felt I owed her that. As we exited they played Eagles Wings, one of my favorite hymns and that’s when I lost it, following the casket out to the hearse, but it was worse watching them lower her in the ground. I remember being told the services are more for everyone else to come and mourn the loss and pay respects to the family, then it is for the family. It isn’t until after that, do you get a glimpse of what our new reality is about to look like. We learned how much truth was behind that statement.

Fortunate is an understatement of what were when it came to family, friends and community support. I mean, besides the fact that the wake alone consisted of 1100 people, the amount of people that remembered long after that was still so impressive. People were stopping by a few months after, always calling and asking what they do or how they could help – the response was so humbling in so many ways. Looking back, it’s overwhelming to think how fortunate we were and are! The simple gestures of hand written cards with poems and nice letters, not even just then, but for birthdays and anniversaries to follow – that people remembered! Things that are so hard to appreciate at the time, but that speak volumes in so many ways, that we often forget as the time passes. Not many can say that and I feel fortunate that we can.

But despite the tremendous support surrounding us, there was still this calm after the storm – when the world around you starts going back to their hustle and bustle and you’re forced to have to sit with it and really swallow and digest it. It was in the quiet that it really started to settle, the pain began settling both physically and mentally and the sobering truth spoke volumes. It was learning how to recalibrate our days of going back to work and into society with this….heaviness. To know eyes are on you, not knowing what to say, and if they did say anything, it didn’t matter anyways, because nothing took away the pain. Nothing even put a dent in it. It was hard to appreciate those that expressed their condolences because I was so numb, that and it was the fear of breaking down. It was such a toss up at first, one day it’s as if I was offended if someone didn’t say anything and then other days I’d pray they wouldn’t because I wouldn’t be able to contain the tears! To attempt to focus on the task sitting in front of me was next to impossible because the only thing I could think about was her. Where I went wrong, how I didn’t see it, how the rest of the world gets to pick up and move forward and how I have no clue what or where in the hell to go from here. Who am I? What is my life? Is this real or am I still in a nightmare? When will I wake up? There were no amount of words or actions that were going to change the outcome or bring me any type of peace. It was nice and it was humbling, don’t get me wrong, but at the time, I couldn’t appreciate it.

The destruction that came afterwards, the kind that settled in with the stillness and quiet – this new ‘norm’ – this new ‘reality’ – this new what the fuuuuuuuck?! It’s as if you’re looking at your life through an outside lens saying “what’s happening, where are you, did the plot in the story change – get out of this!” ha And to think, on so many levels – it was only just the beginning.

Continue reading Missing Piece

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Winds of Change

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After watching the movie Divergent I was reminded of another reason for choosing the name Revolution – because I have every intent on starting one (in a non-violent way 😉 I want people to see and think outside of the box. To realize that a majority of what they do think is based on a belief system that isn’t theirs. It’s something that has trickled down from past generations, society, the government, media, religion, schools and everywhere else, everywhere except us.

How many decisions, words and choices a day do we make based on account of something that’s been filtered into us? Based on account of habit and comfort and because we were told at some point? Told we need to vote this way, told we need to have a degree to make us job ‘worthy’ in the work force, told in order to see heaven we need to attend a religious ceremony. In the media we’re told how many more murders have happened in a day, how shit the economy is, how many more are homeless, how many are on welfare, which politician is ‘right’ and why and then after we’re fed all of this, we find ourselves either depressed or needing to take a ‘side’ to argue over which is “correct or better”, to make sure we stand superior to the next guy in line that doesn’t deserve health care or how another country deserves to watch their children die in front of them due to lack of vaccinations and food – all because we know more, do more, and simply are “the best.” And it isn’t just that we’re told this, a majority of it is actions over words – we see it. We see it in others actions, even when their words say otherwise, we see it in the news even when we aren’t sitting down to watch it, it’s still being filtered into our background, we see it all around us in some form. We self justify everything, and when we can’t, we simply point the finger the opposite direction. But why?

Maybe because we all live in a state of fear. Maybe because having to face it, them -ultimately ourselves – is harder then coping in the comfortable ways we’ve trained ourselves to do. Maybe because we’re fearful of what a spouse, parent, co-worker or friend might say. That they may be disappointed because that just isn’t stuff we discuss at the dinner table. But what if it was? What if we quit relying on the news to filter their bullshit and we quit listening to it? Does it matter what side of the story is who’s? Why do we feel like we have to take a stance on one side of the fence or the other every time?! What if the rebellion and revolution had less to do with everything outside of us, and more to do with everything inside of us?

What if we were hooked up to a machine and our worst subconscious fears were played out in front of us? What would they be? And what if they came true? Why are we so consumed by it, why do we feel like we have to ‘fit’ into the ‘norm around us? Fuck the norm – there never was one – I mean really, everyone has their own definition of the word anyways! We weren’t put here to stay stuck, to be superior or inferior to the next guy, to be confined to our past, to be confined – at all! We are each here to pass a test that has nothing to do with society, with being a good law abiding citizen or anything outside of or around us, and everything to do with our souls purpose. It’s not a pass/fail course – it’s a keep making it better, keep growing, keep loving, keep redirecting the sails kinda journey. It’s learning to silence the mind and start listening to our own inner intuition, something that can’t be scientifically proven. It’s learning to quit relying on ‘concrete answers’ and start trusting in something bigger and experimenting with what that means to each of us. It’s learning to go back to our childhood and remembering who it was that we were before we conformed, before trauma overtook us, before we were buried alive on account of everything and everyone around us. It’s learning to break ourselves from the chains that bind us and that it’s possible.

I want people to wake up to the madness of this world and the bullshit that we’ve been fed to make us ‘believe’ something that really isn’t the truth anyways. I want people to learn that words are words – they’re man made and they only hold as much meaning as you give them. We think there’s no way out of our 8-5 jobs, that our kids have to excel in every sport and class, that without a college degree they may not survive, that they need things to make them better and happy and keep up with others. That they need constant access to electronics to keep them entertained and able to stay in the loop. What if we’re just brainwashing them even more? What if we did less promoting of that, and more promoting of how to teach our kids how to volunteer, to stick up for others, to have a voice of their own, to choose something they’re passionate about and truly enjoy, even if it takes them till they’re 30 to figure it out! (Yep – that’s me 😉 Does it mean they’re less of a human being because they don’t have it all figured out? Shit who does?! Does it mean they won’t get far in life because they don’t fall within the guidelines of standardized testing – or is it that they just won’t meet our or others expectations?

It’s hard to even begin tearing down these walls and start asking ourselves why we think the way we do about certain subjects, because it’s something we haven’t been trained to question, whether it be from subconscious thinking, manners or ‘respect’. Maybe we’re all divergents, maybe none of us are supposed to fit into one category in life and only excel at that. Maybe we can be good in all of them, selflessness, peace, honesty, bravery and knowledge and practice them in every area of our lives, not just under certain masks or around certain people. (And yes, again, still a work in progress – right here!). Instead of thinking because our neighbor doesn’t work 60+ hours a week, he’s lazy, or because they don’t have initials behind their name, they’re stupid or because I don’t own the things my friends have I must be the odd man out. Maybe we should be focusing more on the good we could do, like instead of worrying about what bragging rights we have on account of what we own, we not only donate money to an organization, but we go work for them as well. Maybe bravery doesn’t have to come with a bullet proof vest and an M-16 standing on foreign ground, fighting for shit we think we deserve and own, maybe it can mean sticking up for something that isn’t morally right, even when it isn’t the ‘cool’ thing to do. Maybe the problem is we don’t question enough, or we’re questioning the wrong things and the wrong people. Maybe by starting to step outside of the box and tearing down the box that we’ve all managed to do a fine job of fitting in to some degree, we take a step back and ask “why” like a 3 year old does! Why do I think that, why do I do that, why am I this way, is there a reason behind my way of thinking or doing? Most likely, yes – you’ve just never taken the time to sit down and question it. Instead we all just keep yelling at brick walls trying to get a point across that has been slammed into us and we don’t even know why or if we really truly believe that on every level! Maybe, we start having faith in ourselves, more love and forgiveness towards ourselves – which will eventually overflow into other aspects of our lives which will become a domino affect, little by little. Maybe we should stop seeing it as we have no options/it is what it is/that’s just life and start seeing that we have more options then we think! We are the people – we do have choices – we do have a voice – it’s a matter of learning to quiet it when it comes to arguing and speaking it when it comes to the real truth. Maybe we’re just giving into what has been embedded into us by thinking we have to take a side, be something or someone specific. Maybe it’s learning to send each other off with a blessing, even when they are still screaming and knowing we’re worth more then that type of treatment.

I hope this planted some seeds and I hope you continue to question and water them and make them grow – for noone but yourselves. I hope you learn that there are things, ways and people outside of the ‘norm’ that aren’t quite as batshit crazy as you’d think, if you took the time to break down your own walls. That outside of the ‘norm’ can be where the exciting shit happens, where conversation spreads beyond who did what last weekend, which team is going to win the next set of playoffs, what garbage came out of Kanye’s mouth now or who sways which way in what election. To remember that we are the gate keepers to what and where we want to go, in the limited time we have to be here – I hope your revolution has begun – one of another way of thinking! 🙂

 

 

Apples to oranges

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APPLE TO ORANGES

“Whatever happens to you, belongs to you. Make it yours. Feed it to yourself, even if it feels impossible to swallow. Let it nurture you, because it will. “ – Cheryl Strayed

There were many years I truly believed it was impossible to take any more blows. I was sure that there was no humanly way possible to survive them if I was forced to take another hit. I thought I was the only one that endured that kind of tragedy and pain to the extent I did and within the short amount of time that I did. In the same breath I’d find myself looking around and thinking ‘don’t complain, it can always be worse, you have so much to be grateful for.’ But I was wrong – about most of it.

Maybe by constantly feeling as if I had to bury it, that I wasn’t ‘allowed’ to complain, vent or cry about it – I was only making it worse. Maybe feeling like my circumstances were less then so many others or that I didn’t have the right to feel and think the way I did, only prolonged my healing further. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had alot of safe havens and wonderfully supportive people in my life (God only knows they listened to me like a broken record of the Titanic song replaying over and oveeeeer!!  Even though I had those outlets I was still always thinking I didn’t have the right to feel bad, sad or mad about certain parts of it. And more importantly I think the focus of those venting sessions were being placed on things and people that, at the time I thought were the issues. Primarily because I couldn’t say what I was actually thinking, or perhaps I just didn’t allow myself to go there mentally. It was as if the only emotion tied to her was sadness and the only one tied to him was anger. I couldn’t be mad at her or sad over him because it wasn’t her fault she felt that way and I couldn’t cry about someone who I was supposed to be happy I was rid of. It’s as if it’s ingrained in us to always remember ‘it could be worse’ or ‘at least you aren’t them!’ So, while I had outlets, I was always playing this game with myself that I needed to quit, needed to get over it, needed to stop thinking or feeling certain things as they arose. So, instead I’d go back to my default emotion and cry or rage depending on which one it pertain too 

There’s this constant comparison in our world that we always need to shut up and just be thankful. While gratitude is important, burning our stories and emotions surrounding them, only further suppresses what is already there. We have every right to endure them in whatever manner we need too in order to work through them. It’s as if we can better justify what’s going on in our life at the time by doing things such as self talk like ‘get over it’ or ‘just be grateful’. Maybe that’s why we endure those relationships for far longer then we ever should’ve allowed, wallow in guilt or pity towards others, staying bound to their ways, or stay in our own hellhole of a prison, induced by depression and self hate for years beyond what was needed. Maybe by just owning it and feeling every terrible aspect of it, we’d be able to move through it faster.

Now, 8 years after her death and 7 post separation, I’ve had to relive every dirty and sickening detail of both. And each time they’ve resurfaced, they’ve come back at a greater intensity because of it. So, maybe you should scream into your pillow when you need too, cry in the middle of the store because you thought for a split second you seen a glimpse of them, laugh because that song that just came on triggered a memory. Maybe there isn’t an answer for everything, maybe we need to feel it for what it is because it’s our story. Maybe the constant comparison is doing nothing but driving us all deeper into a state of hell and oblivion. Maybe instead of thinking we’re entitled to all the material things around us, we should realize we’re entitled to our emotions surrounding our circumstances. Maybe then there’d be less holes in the walls or terrible things said and done, maybe there’d be less depressive states, less cheating, less hate and anger. Maybe if we’d just allow ourselves to act or react at the time that the actual emotion occurs instead of telling ourselves how ridiculous we’ll look crying for no reason, or screaming in our car at a red light is taboo, the only ones we’re hurting is ourselves.

Healing comes from within, and it comes from no one but ourselves. Maybe when we just being a little truer to our emotions as they arise, truer to our journey and hardships as they cross our paths, maybe we can move forward – for real. It’s OK if you feel like your world is falling apart on account of a break-up, or that you won’t survive if you loose your parent to a disease, or that you can’t possibly face another soul in public after an embarrassing charade at the local saloon or that you’ll be a let down if you lose your job. It’s OK because I know what all of them feel like.

 When you look at the grand scheme of things – it’s terrible right then and there, but then again, it was terrible in 9th grade when the opposite sex turned you down. It was terrible when you rolled your car in your driveway (oh wait, maybe I’m the only one that’s ever done that ahahahaaa) It was terrible to get the rejection letter to your college of choice or first pick job. many have been terrible in your life, and at the time, they needed to be and were warranted for their own reasons, but you survived them too. Maybe the trick to surviving has more to do with being OK that things are shit right then, and less to do with comparing our story to the next persons. Maybe while saying our ‘gratefuls’ we can also curse and cry about the things that aren’t so great. Either way, it’s worth a try to allow yourself to feel every corner of grief, of loss, of the unknown, of being scared shitless, of anger, rage hate, fear, sadness and love all at once! (Yep, there are days it happens just like that – one big ball of ‘holy shit – I’m laughing through my tears while punching my pillow! As different and unique as all of our stories are in so many ways, maybe our reactions behind them aren’t as crazy as they may seem, or not to the extent that we feed ourselves anyways.

Continue reading Blind Faith

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Heaviest of Baggage

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They say there are 7 stages of grief, and I’ve lived this grief in more then just the loss of Josie – it just arose differently each time.

The entry ‘The Fog’ was my state of shock and denial – and one that still, on occasion, arises. Bringing with it questions such as – did that all really happen – is this really my life? So whether it be a break up, a divorce, an argument, a friendship, or in this case, a death – the guilt that follows can be intense when it does surface. It’s something that can eat a person alive while replaying each detail. When you’re standing there wondering ‘how did I get here?’ At what point did I go wrong – I must’ve missed the signs that were pointing to this moment – how could I have been so blind?!

For me, guilt has by far the heaviest of burdens to carry. It was something that sunk in, settled nice and deep and didn’t think of moving. It was a dark force that not only made me replay every last word, minute and scenario leading up to that phone call, but it imposed itself in every area of my life from there on out. The non-stop thought process of ‘I’m so sorry Josie, I’m just so sorry, will you ever forgive me? I should’ve known, I should’ve taken the time, I should’ve gone to the places you asked me to go instead of worrying about what it would cost, I should’ve asked more questions – real questions, not just the surface ones. I should’ve allowed you to speak, given her the opportunity to really open up without going into what was happening in my world. I should’ve claimed her more when we were younger instead of pawning her off. I should’ve let her sit on the bus with me, or sleep with me when she was scared. I should’ve listened to my mom – all the times she’d say ‘that’s all you have is  each other, be good to one another.’ I should’ve chosen you over him, instead of worrying about what fight would stem from it. I should’ve traveled with you instead of worrying about getting ahead on payments and making sure my credit score was tip top. I should’ve actually said what I was thinking when we were out smoking the night before ‘Jos, you seem so good, and you’ve lost weight!’ I shouldn’t have let it go when you hesitated after I brought up designing the wedding invites. I should’ve stayed up longer that night instead of being so concerned with getting to bed because I had just started a new job. I should’ve listened to my gut and gotten back up when I heard you shut down the computer and remember vividly hearing your footsteps walk across the floor, for what would be the last time. I should’ve acted, or perhaps reacted, when I had a fleeting thought while laying there listening to you put on your shoes, ‘I wonder what’s going on, something seems off’. I normally never thought that stuff, because alot of times, that was the norm, her moods were up and down and she would get irritated with me, like siblings do, and I’d brush it off and tell her to relax. My go-to response was telling  her to get over it and not to be so sensitive. But that night, I remember feeling like something was off as I laid there. 

I should’ve hugged and kissed her and said I love you, instead of worrying about pride or what that would look like. We were raised in a family of huggers, you didn’t get to walk in the door without being bombarded by hugs and kisses from everyone – no matter what the age. My mom’s side used to remind me of a big Italian family – kisses, hugs, everyone’s talking at once, loud laughter, wine, food – the whole works. (only thing missing was the minor detail that none of us were actually Italian ha!) We grew up with affection and yet we rarely were towards each other. Maybe I thought I was too ‘cool and tough’ for it.

Instead, I waited until she was in the casket, only then did I try and squeeze in every last kiss, apology and ‘I love you’ that I could before they forced us to close it. From then on out – I was constantly begging for forgiveness. We all were. Always asking her and God to forgive us for what we did or didn’t do correctly, forgive us for making you feel like that was your only way out. Forgive us for not saving you. Forgive us for not making you feel…whatever it was you felt you were lacking! Forgive us for every word never spoken and all the ones that shouldn’t have been. ‘Forgive us our sins’…for we felt there were plenty.

The fear that set in with the guilt was uncontrollable. Every decision from there on out became based on the thought of ‘I don’t want to live with this guilt if something were to happen.’ That was my life for years to follow – living in a constant  fear of guilt. Fear I’d do something to mess another thing up, fear I’d lose someone else and have to live with even more damage that I created. Whether I actually wanted to do something or not, came with the constant reminder of ‘what if you lost them too.’ It became this internal battle with myself, that eventually just flowed into a new found reality and habit of forcing myself to remember how bad the pain can be if I weren’t to do ‘the thing’, whatever that was. 

At that point, although I didn’t realize it at the time – I started a cycle of constantly living in the past, surrounded by depression. I made sure I never forgot all the fuck ups I made with her. And, let’s not forget the regret I forced myself to carry, while also making sure fear had the front seat to remind me I had no room to fuck up again. And just like that – I found myself hauling that ‘old fat guy’ up the hill -more like the mountain – that I had built, to make sure I suffered for all the wrongs I could no longer make right…

Continue reading Demons Within

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