Behind the Badge

May 28, 2024May 28, 2024 / Revolution.07 / 1 Comment

Who are you without the badge?

If I’m being honest, I am tougher with the badge then I am without it. I try not to rely on the system in order to survive and I rarely go along with mainstream narratives as I believe that thinking for yourself is important. I believe in making a contribution to the planet and taking care of it.

I am a crunchy mom who believes in living off the land. We raise animals, hunt and fish and even have honey! I’m trying to raise human beings that critically think. I hope my children do not become the criminals we deal with while on the job. In our home we have rules with an understanding that respect, support and love is to be equally given and received.

What lies beneath what people see on the surface?

What lies beneath the labels is deep seated grief, sadness and sometimes anger for the two miscarriages that I had. I lost two babies within two years. Western medicine makes miscarriages sound so common and normal, therefore I didn’t grieve over it. There was a feeling of “oh well, I need to move on.”

I wish I would’ve dealt with it earlier because now I have no choice but to deal with it. It’s harder to work through it when you’re forced to. It’s been two years and I’m still working through it with a therapist because there’s an overwhelming amount of grief. The grief arises out of nowhere and shows up in all forms. It’s easier to ignore and try to push past it but it isn’t that easy when something triggers it. The layers feel never ending and the emotions are so intense. These have been struggles that I didn’t know were going to be struggles and now they are mine to deal with it.

Do you think there were defining factors that contributed to the miscarriages?

The role stress plays in our health is vastly underestimated. It has societally become a badge of honor to fit more in and constantly be working, running or doing. For two years I was a crash reconstructionist. It was eye opening to realize the amount of stress this job carried, which I couldn’t see until I was no longer in that environment.

After my first miscarriage I was asked how much stress I was under, I said none. After my 2nd one I quit that position and realized how much lighter I felt. I had learned how to adapt in that environment and didn’t have a clue as to the toll it was taking on my body.

After the second miscarriage I realized something was wrong. All the tests showed normal and yet, intuitively I knew something wasn’t. I started working with an acupuncturist who confirmed I had more going on, which was later verified through a scan. Alternative practices started making the most sense in terms of how our bodies operate and finding the root cause. I learned that we are unknowingly consuming so much poison. This excessive intake is contributing to so many health ailments and people don’t realize that many of these issues stem from how we treat our body and what we put in it. However, insurance doesn’t cover a lot of alternative modalities so I stopped seeing some of these practitioners due to cost. Invitro was an option but it was a lot of money for no guarantee. I felt as though I’d done everything and yet it felt like dead end after dead end.

What is grief to you and what stages have you gone through?

It’s not a learned process that is talked about or deemed as “normal.” Many just expect a person to move on after a miscarriage or loss. I just want to be able to talk about it without crying. It’s so hard. It feels as though I will never get to that point. There’s still people consuming drugs that are getting pregnant. It’s hard not to question why things are the way they are or why we get dealt the hands we do.

Do you and your husband grieve differently?

Completely. I watch him and wonder what I’m doing wrong. I feel as though I’m constantly comparing myself to him and everyone else. I don’t know if it’s the way society has trained men to cope with emotions or if it isn’t innately a part of them to express but it can feel as though we’re in two different universes when it comes to grief. It makes me feel like I should be further along in the journey then I am.

How has your faith played a role in coping?

I have always relied on the church and spiritual practice to get me through tough times. I made a bargain with God after my last miscarriage that “If I can’t carry a baby full term then I don’t want to get pregnant” and I haven’t been pregnant since I said that. Be careful what you wish for because sometimes it can come true in a way you didn’t intend.

It feels impossible not to ask questions like WHY or HOW?! Miscarriages happen to people everyday. How can I get pregnant and deliver one child and then not be able to carry full term after that? I don’t understand it. God made our bodies to have babies and yet mine feels defective. What am I doing wrong? What have I done to deserve this? Why is this happening to me? Why our babies? Why are people who don’t want children able to conceive when they won’t care for them? Then, I’ll read a bible verse that often provides a sense of peace. It’s a tug of war with my faith. I think many that have faced adversity can relate. It doesn’t fix the situation that’s happening, but it can provide some insight and internal peace knowing that this is all for a larger cause, whether I can see it or not.

What is something you want others to know about miscarriages?

Grieving is hard but it’s important. Get whatever help you need, whether that’s therapy, a support group or seeking out alternative practices. I have sought out different modalities on my journey and learned something from each of them. Recently, I wrote letters to the babies and got a tattoo in their memory. I was surprised at the weight that was lifted after getting the tattoo, it was the relief I very much needed.

Despite what societal norms say, it is a loss and it’s taxing on your body. Allow yourself time to recover physically, mentally and emotionally and know that each person’s journey is specific to them. Most importantly, remember that you are not alone and you deserve the support!

** Don’t forget to read “Part 1” of Kara’s story, “Chasing Tailights.“**

The Beginning

November 14, 2018November 14, 2018 / Revolution.07 / Leave a comment

Jos sr pic hammock

Jos sr pic bench

She is the face behind the face of the company, Crisis Averted. The real story. The reason it launched and exists. Most companies begin with credentials that include a 4-year bachelors degree with a major and a minor in specific fields of study. I’m often asked if I have a Psychology degree, if I’m a licensed counselor or if I’m paid by the public school systems. The answer is “no” to all. Which usually follows by a puzzled look of what exactly Life Coaching is or what these public speaking engagements could possibly include!

This companies credentials begin with the face in the picture. Her name is Josie. It began with a death by suicide. Then a phone call. The one that changes everything. The one where you realize never again would you be who you once were. It began with the cold hard truth of what that really looks like and how absolutely terrible it is to feel so helpless, not being able to save another human being from the depths of their own hell. Even worse, was not knowing it was anywhere near that bad. It followed with unending guilt, depression and sadness that words can’t describe. The heaviness of her pain was instantaneously transferred to those left behind.

Then, it was being forced to walk the same path she did. One I simply could never understand prior. It was being buried in a pillow that I never wanted to leave. Followed by the bottle. The bottle of booze, the bottle of meds, (never ending medications to “fix” me), a pack of marlboros and even more external toxicity at every corner. After learning how to overcome those, it was learning to feel again without constant numbing. And I am not going to lie when I say that was more painful then any hang over! From there was acceptance. Which, on days like today, can feel light years away. Then there was forgiveness of self. Shit, that one my friends, is the toughest mountain to climb!

11 years ago, I wouldn’t have guessed this is what would’ve stemmed from something so atrocious. There was this silent pull to keep moving, even in the depths of chaos. Blindly putting one foot in front of the other. Stumbling backwards, falling, getting back up. Doors slammed shut, while others opened. This company, this mission, me, as a person – stems from her, her life and even more so, her death and the lessons that followed. They are my credentials, they are more then any text book or shiny degree could offer. Its debt comes with one that no number can justify. It began with the worst outcome imaginable and has turned into what I can only hope, will be the best thing possible. I can’t save her, perhaps she was never ours to save. I can’t go back and redo one single second of it. But I can change it from here on out.

You see, it isn’t about mental illness, it’s about mental health. It isn’t about fixing, it’s about growing. It isn’t about numbing, it’s about feeling. It isn’t about resistance, it’s about acceptance. It isn’t about them, it’s about us. It isn’t about external blame, it’s about internal peace. It’s about learning all of these, and then continually relearning them over and over again. It’s about what we’re here for. The life we want to live, one with passion, purpose and fulfillment. And most of all, it’s about healing.

http://www.crisisaverted.org

You aren’t alone and your story isn’t for nothing.

Jos and I senior pic

Jos & I country fest 06

Santa Monica

November 13, 2016November 13, 2016 / Revolution.07 / Leave a comment

“Her mind’s made up
The girl is gone
And now I’m forced to see
I think I’m on my way
Oh, it hurts to live today
Oh and she says “Don’t you wish you were dead like me?”

And I remember the day when you left for Santa Monica
You left me to remain with all your excuses for everything
And I remember the time when you left for Santa Monica
And I remember the day you told me it’s over”

This was the last song I listened too exactly 9 years to the day with you. Although those lyrics mean something different since then, the feeling that arises when hearing them is still there. I had just put Gabby – 2 1/2 and sick at the time – to bed, waiting for Nathan to get home, you and I were chatting about wedding stuff. I had mentioned perhaps meeting with Sarah to do wedding invites, I knew you wanted to do them, but she’s great at this stuff and thought maybe you could learn some things from her?! I remember feeling half guilty, half defensive by the look on your face that said “of course I wouldn’t do it good enough or the way you wanted”. It was that look, followed by a weak “sure”. I remember talking about all of these wedding things as you half ignored me, never looking at me – always facing the computer. I often wonder how you didn’t turn around and tell me to shut the fuck up – you didn’t care – because you weren’t going to there. I often wonder how you didn’t say many things to me – instead, always playing the part, keeping your mouth shut, trying to pretend to be happy for me – even though I knew you were pissed about the whole thing. Once I realized you were less then impressed with this choice of topic I said “oh Jos – you gotta listen to this song – you’re gonna love it – Santa Monica by Theory of a Deadman! I asked you what you thought and got a monotone “yeah – I like it.”

I’ve replayed in my head a million times us standing outside smoking – while freezing our asses off – we got laughing about I don’t even know what. I vividly remember thinking – but never actually saying “you look so good, you’ve lost weight – you seem happy Jos!” Maybe I just wanted to enjoy that contagious laugh a little longer, so I didn’t say it – just like you didn’t say anything to me, so we carried on. When we came back in the house I told you I was sorry, you could finish what you needed too, but I needed to go to bed. I needed sleep – pffff – fuck – let’s be real – I always needed sleep! You acted bummed, with a brief hesitation – I took note of it, but was defensive and proceeded to bed. As I laid there – I remember feeling bad, but more so as if something seemed off – but too tired to bother inquiring. Instead, I heard you shut down the computer and walk across the kitchen floor for what would be the last time. I heard the door close and I fell asleep. And that was it. That was the last time I would see your face, the last time I would hear your laugh, the last time I would smoke a Marlboro with you, the last time I would have a discussion with you – it was the last of so many things that would taint me for so long.

For months and months afterwards, I would talk to you on my way into work as if you were in the passenger seat beside me. I would try and alter the reality of it – as crazy as that sounds – I just always felt like I needed those one-way conversations – that were far from conversations because I couldn’t quit crying long enough to actually finish a sentence. To this day whenever I feel you, I feel you on my right side – steady, solid, always quiet and always on my right.

At some point in all of our lives we have a massive shifting point, it shows up in many different ways, but it shakes us to the core. For those that don’t know what this feels like, you will in time, for it’s inevitable in the human experience. It isn’t a week long ordeal either – it’s a forever long ordeal. For as much as this blog has done for me, in regards to healing at a much more rapid rate on many levels – the replay of that night – the feelings that arise with that song – the longing to hear that laugh or see that smile will forever be imprinted when this week arises – year after year – despite the time in between.

How can something feel like yesterday and eternity all at once? There are times I feel as though I’ve lost the details as time has passed. There are parts of me that are thankful for that, for it doesn’t consume me like before – proving I’ve been able to let go and move forward, but there are also days – like today – when I wish I could remember every detail of your face, of your words, of your every breath. Here’s to 9 years – 9 down – plenty to go – but still looking forward to the day I see that face again.

OUT of the darkness, means bringing LIGHT to it.

September 25, 2016August 23, 2018 / Revolution.07 / Leave a comment

If there’s one thing I hope this blog does for all who stumble across it is, to offer a sense of hope. To bring light to conversations, emotions, thoughts and struggles that so many of us face on a daily basis, but are often too fearful to bring up at the supper table. This is many people’s real life, whether it’s disease, finances, addiction, divorce, or death – these topics are too many people’s traumas and tragedies. While some have been able to triumph over these road blocks, there are still many stuck, unable to see outside of their current circumstances. These are conversations, that until we start having them – aren’t going to go away. Every change must first begin with awareness. I am hoping that this will shed some light and awareness on many different topics and emotions that I think more people will be able to resonate with, at some point in their life, then not. My hope is that this is the beginning of many more conversations to come within your life, ones with rawness, vulnerability, empathy and compassion. May this be the planting of new seeds of awareness, as well as hope in each persons life that comes across this, may you know you aren’t alone in your struggles and that the light always follows the darkness, so please – hold on.

I had the to opportunity to speak at our community walk this weekend, Out of the Darkness. This walk is to promote awareness and education, as well as support to the conversation of mental illness and suicide. This is something that no matter what – is just a heavy event, it’s really hard for it not to be, as these are heavy topics that come with heavy feelings and emotions surrounded by them. I really wanted this years talk to be different then I had done in years’ past, I wanted it to be general but specific, acknowledging all who were there and their stories, honoring whatever current stage they were in on their journey – but also bringing forth a lighter note as well.

This is something that I want to include as an entry because for most of us standing at this event, we already knew all too well what standing on the other side of this hell feels like, carrying the guilt of not seeing the signs or being more proactive, the heart wrenching fact that they felt so isolated, empty and sad to be able to continue on is something we know all too well and it’s something that brings us to tears every time we think of what they endured and what it took for them to follow through. But the point isn’t just for those of us that now fit under the category of ‘suicide survivor’, it’s something that people need to be aware BEFORE they hit that point. It’s something that needs to be talked about MORE in homes around the supper table, no matter how uncomfortable that can be. The words “suicide” and “depression” need to be used more often, so that they roll off the tongue as easily as “pizza” and “sunshine”.

I’d like to share my story, to hopefully shine some light on this subject, as well as promote more light on such a dark and heavy subject. And I hope you’re willing to share this, to bring forth light to others as well – for you never who many stumble across it that may be in need of it.

” I, like most of you here, am a survivor of suicide after losing my sister Josie to a losing battle of clinical depression in 2007. It wasn’t until after that day that I was forced to feel the depths of the valleys in which she, and many others have walked. Through those years of darkness and fog I endured the sobering truth of what standing on this side of not only mental illness feels like, but what carrying the heaviest burden of all feels like – guilt.

We all stand here in different parts of our journey, ranging from months to years, with different stories. From veterans unable to co-exist in a world that had become foreign to them upon returning from the damage that couldn’t be undone, to those who had side effects to medications that forced them in the opposite direction of the intent of that medication, to an impulsive decision with what may have seemed like the only last piece to the puzzle, to just being sick and tired of attempting to fight what seemed like a losing battle through the darkness.

The details that go along with our loved one’s story, the aftermath for all of us standing here, is one we wouldn’t wish upon anyone. The reverberation that suicide generates, despite your stage in the grieving process, is all too familiar. To feel as if there were no other way out aside from this, to be so enveloped and suffocated in a deep and dark place is something that no individual should ever have to endure.

There isn’t a prerequisite needed in order to fall under this hush hush category, as we have seen that money nor fame can buy happiness or make you invisible from this crippling disease. From famous people such as Kurt Cobain and Robin Williams, to the ever growing numbers, especially in teens, due to the pressures of the world around them, to adults due to financial, work, home and relationship stressors and lack of facilities and treatment options. Simply being unable to talk about it in public, even in our own homes because we have made it taboo and an uncomfortable topic, and some just honestly not knowing how to respond. It almost always comes back to the feeling of being isolated and alone.

A large contributing factor for this being the third leading cause of death is the sheer lack of hope in so many. The feeling that others can’t relate, or that you’re the only one enduring these thought processes. We are in a time where electronics have silenced us even more, tearing us away from human connection and compassion. We have entered into an era where the world around us seems to get crazier by the day, full of noise and static, opinions, debate and fog – it can be hard to find that light of hope to focus on.

It took me a long time to see beyond those first years of darkness, to gain a different perspective, but I honestly believe that it is up to those of us that have endured the pain of losing someone to this terrible cause of death because we are needed to be the beacon of light through the darkness.

When we begin to break down these barriers of fear and hopelessness, allowing light to stream in through the concrete walls that have barricaded us from each other, we can begin to see that healing can be possible. Perhaps it is then that our loved ones stories can begin to affect and shift the masses in a new way, letting others know that this isn’t the end, that they are supported and loved and that we’re here to help, educate and facilitate. Perhaps it is then that we can help them see through a new lens, one that brightens instead of dims, educates instead of criticizes and one that comforts instead of torments. Although this event is held with heavy hearts as a reminder to those who have taken their own lives, I hope today can also be about remembering to carry on their story, that despite our age, from young to old alike, reminding ourselves that we all have the ability to reach out in ways big and small to help others, to bring awareness to a conversation that has been silenced for far too long and to bring light to others around us, in whatever manner possible. May today be about more than just a reminder of the guilt and sadness that many carry inside, but may it be about reigniting hope and a light into a world that needs it more now than ever. “

**If this resonates with you, please feel free to share on social media in the hopes of helping any who may stumble across it.”

Siblings Tribute – Jamie and Kristy

May 23, 2016May 24, 2016 / Revolution.07 / Leave a comment

kristy collage 2

Brynn and Jamie both sent me their responses to the entry on the same night. It was quite astonishing how many similarities there were between their stories. Although the response has been overwhelming in regards to the tributes, it saddens me to know how many people can truly relate to this heartbreak. Either by enduring it themselves or watching someone close to them endure it. It’s painful in all realms, each in their own way. But at the end of the day, our hope is that those reading this have a greater sense of hope in knowing they aren’t alone in their grief, their support or their fight.

*Disclaimer: A box is tissues is recommended – you’ve been warned! 😉

You and your sister (names, background, ages)- who were you both pre-diagnosis?

My name is Jamie (Puetz) Groebner, I was 29 years old when my sister Kristy Puetz was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer at the age of 37, she fought a miraculous 9 years before passing away by my side on February 21^st, 2014 at 4:15 am at the age of 46.

Who were we?? Very stubborn red heads, always looking for a good time!! Growing up with 8 years between us, we fought about everything… she was in charge of me a lot since my parents both worked outside the home. When she was mad at me she would often pinch my cheeks together with her thumb and pointer finger. I hated it. I usually ran from her, down the street to John Deere where my dad worked as a parts manager, crying my eyes out with sore cheeks. I knew he would let me stay with him until he was off.

As we grew older, we found out fairly early on in our friendship that we did a lot of the same things regardless of the fact that we lived miles apart. We liked the same music, we sang with emotion in the car, we were passionate about our friends and their lives. We were social butterflies at heart – we loved to plan a party, loved to be the life of one, and couldn’t wait to hit a happy hour somewhere! And it wasn’t for the fact of getting drunk, it was because being with our friends and laughing was so uplifting and we loved that! We loved making memories with our family & friends.

What battles (disease, metastasis, how many times in remission/relapse) did she endure and for how long?

I worked in the Baldwin Building at Mayo Clinic Rochester at the time of her diagnosis. My supervisor at the time seemed so cold hearted by not allowing me to go to Kristy’s appointments. That day when my pager went off, I picked up my phone and instantly could hear the gasps in Kristy’s voice when she paged me, through crying gasps she breathed the words cancer; and I immediately went into panic mode, I left work and ran down to the second floor to the room she was in with our family physician. I told no one where I was going because at that time none of it mattered, I just needed to be with her. The search began the next day to find the primary tumor. It felt like time stopped after days of invasive tests and biopsies, she was diagnosed with Stage 4, Grade 3, Epithelial Ovarian Cancer. The tumor had grown the size of a cantaloupe on her ovary in her abdomen. Our family hit rock bottom once we were given the grim news. Surgery was planned for March 10^th, 2005.

I think back to the morning of surgery. At the time, my husband Ryan and I were living in Mazeppa. Kristy and I talked on the phone most of that evening, as she packed. I met my parents and her at the hospital the next morning, and immediately started taking pictures of her because at that time, her Oncologist told her she had maybe a year, if not less to live. I started documenting everything that day. The updates, the calls, the pacing, I remember that feeling of my stomach turning inside out, sort of the way it feels writing this, complete torture. The worst part – I had to attend a mandatory meeting with HR at work or I risked losing my job. In the middle of that meeting I started crying, I couldn’t believe I was sitting there and not with my family. I said something along the lines of ‘while all of you are worried about who’s doing what at work, my sister is in surgery’, (I may have said a few other not so appropriate words as well) but I was so upset. I walked out, ran back to Methodist hospital, thinking for sure I was going to lose my job.

I just made it back to her room when the resident surgeon came up to talk to us. They opened Kristy up from sternum to pelvic bone and searched through her entire cavity to make sure they got as much cancer as possible. My first reaction was to hug her, that’s when the tears fell. My parents and brothers were there, each of them walked away engulfed with their own emotion. We heard the elevator chime… I can still see her rolling down the hall at 6pm. She was so swollen, the largest I’ve ever seen her, all of it fluid. We were warned she would look like this, however it was so hard to see her look so different, (in the operating room they inverted the bed to help with the positioning of her intestine so they could work on detecting all of the cancer) little did we know this would be the new norm of her many hair and body changes.

I started talking to her right away, telling her I loved her, and that they got it all… I’ll never forget her eye opening just a little and tears fell… she heard me loud and clear. That night I slept in a chair, not a recliner although I wished for one, it was a wooden desk chair, but I kept telling myself, the pain I feel from getting a bad night’s sleep is nothing compared to what she is going through.

The next day I asked for a bigger room and by the third day we upgraded to a larger room, and I finally got a sofa sleeper. We watched so many movies, when it was nap time she always told me to put in Legal Eagles with Robert Redford in it…. that usually had us both sleeping in minutes! I never left the hospital during her stay. I helped her shower which may have been a true test of sisterhood. 😉 She had 3 drains coming out of her abdomen and it took her a while to be able to stand up without excruciating pain. Until she had the drains removed and enough strength to stand on her own I would get part way in the shower with her to wash her while she held on to her drains, shaking in pain, crying for me to hurry. My tears silently falling at the situation in front of us.

She even had me make a photo guest book of all her visitors, taking each person’s picture as they stopped by or as flowers and gifts were delivered. I had them sign a get well note on each page where their picture would be, and we put it together after she was dismissed and before she started chemo. Through it all, there were lots of tears, and lots of laughs too. She made the best of it, and never let people think it was as hard as it really was.

Kristy started chemo 6 weeks later, in April of 2005. From there it was recurrence in 2009 revealed through a liver biopsy, followed by a different regimen of chemo. In January of 2011 it was discovered that she had mets to liver and in the right lower quadrant. That round of chemo had to be discontinued due to severe dermatitis. Then it was hospitalization for a small bowel obstruction, which was the first of a few to follow. By November of 2011, the Ovarian cancer showed up again in the CT of her abdomen and pelvis. More chemo, more hospitalization, more operations, more nausea, more struggles, more tears, more heartache, more fighting. This roller coaster continues on and off with multiple hospital admissions until there were no more options.

Explain what impact this had on you personally and how it changed both of your lives/perspectives, good and bad.

I lost my best friend. The first half of our lives we argued and acted as if we hated one another…actually I drove her crazy, yet all I could think of was being just like her. When it changed, we had a connection like I’ve never had with any friend. Only sisters know what I mean when I say that, and I don’t mean to say it in a bad way because I have some truly great friends who I care about as if they were my sisters. But it does not compare to the bond I had with Kristy, one that was built long ago. The bond that holds our past, our childhood, our family trips, our countless phone calls, and an understanding of one another, our bond, was solid as any iron or stone. Unbreakable.

The treasures are the countless strangers, physicians and nurses who became our friends and the connections she made at the chemo, which is more like a gas station really. The countless beds and chairs stationed in one area where everyone checks in to get filled up on poison. Kristy though, she changed the tempo on Gonda 10… if you ever visited her there, you always had an idea of what room was hers. It was always the loudest! And she didn’t like to sit in the chairs much unless she was only going to be there for an hour or two. In and out she’d say, I want to hit happy hour at Jonnys! And if her cycles ran longer than that she usually asked for a room with a bed, because the pre-meds would make her tired. After her nap you would usually find her up walking the halls with her IV pole checking on others she had met the week before. Sharing a joke, there was always laughter or, her calling maintenance to come fix something she seen was wrong. Everyone loved her. She brought social hour to chemo and she made it better by just being there. She yearned for hope from others yet she gained so much more.

Genetics is a huge factor. After three tries we finally found out why she got it. The Gene mutation BRCA1. If my sister wasn’t so aggressive in her fight and in her curiosity of ‘why me’ … we wouldn’t know. And with that knowledge she has saved me by making me promise her I would get tested. To think all the while I was trying to save her, in the end she saves me. Wow – that is love!

What did this consist of for you personally – to recall being a cheerleader on the sidelines, observing, but being unable to save them? (Ultimately the trauma of being the survivor).

From day one, I researched, I did everything I could have done to save her. I called all over the world looking for the right clinical trial. Each one would get shot down by different doctors due to a certain chemo she had taken, or the numbness in her feet and hands, the length of her disease, the stage, where it had metastasized. Each time I thought I found one that might work I would send it to a team of doctors I worked with who were my backbone of soldiers with their medical education. They would compare her to the study and we would all determine what the outcome would be. I, of course would not take no for an answer so I would enroll her, only to find out later she wasn’t a match. I needed concrete information to prove me just what they had told me all along. Her cancer sucked the energy out of both of us. Watching someone I care so deeply get knocked back down after enduring so much. Time and time again she inspired people by keeping that smile on her face, even when deep down, she was miserable.

The illness itself is exhausting. Her only chance was the poison that was pumped into her body, and she had to find the strength and courage to stay alive through fatigue, vomiting, pain and sadness. She just did what any of us would do. Fight like hell to stay alive. Because that is all she wanted, was to live, love and be happy. The worst part, the suffering in the end… let’s be honest – it is what it is right….suffering? The cancer starved my sister. Suffering. It produced road blocks in her gut and her gut stopped working. Suffering. She could no longer eat or absorb nutrients. Suffering. She had a peg tube placed in her abdomen to help relieve the pressure so she didn’t continue to vomit multiple times a day. Suffering.

Do you feel you’re meant to do something differently with your life because of her death? And if so, what is your hope/goal? How do you want her to live on?

I was in nursing school prior to both my mom and sisters’ diagnosis. I was released on a compassion leave from the program when my mom was diagnosed with terminal small cell lung cancer on March 8^th, 2013. I returned in the spring after her death, however my return date was only a few days after my sister was discharged home on hospice. I wasn’t able to finish then either and was given my second check mark, meaning I wasn’t allowed to return. If I were to ever be a nurse I needed to start the program over. I felt as though I failed my family, my goals, and it was so stressful, but my heart was broken. School didn’t matter as much as my mom and sister – nothing does when you’re in that situation. Thankfully, I learned enough in school to know how to care for them and understand what was going on with their bodies, and to feel confident enough to be able to follow their wishes to die at home. For years my role was to help Kristy fight her cancer, then I was helping my mom too.

I’ve definitely changed. I was by her side to help her, guide her, and cheer her on, lift her up when she was at her worst, give her hope, and coach her through. When she died my caregiver role was over. I was lost… numb. The pain was like a dagger being shot into my heart and twisted a hundred times. Over time, when I thought that pain would subside… I would be forced to be reminded it hadn’t… it’s only gotten more bearable. She was such a good person, sister, daughter, and an amazing aunt to my kids, and nephews, and Godmother to my son. For months I felt like I was walking around in a fog. Then I had genetic testing done only to find I was BRCA1 positive too. One blow after another, the hits just kept on coming. Surgery, menopause, patches, depression, wow…

Each day I think about her, and I think about what little I have went through and how awful I feel one day and how great I feel the next. I can’t even fathom what Kristy went through but I will say, I have learned how she put on her mask each day and made the best of it. I return to the promises I made to her that I would stay involved in her fight. I want to continue to help spread awareness to others about this horrible disease. I hope as time goes on I can actually stand in front of an audience and not cry while I talk about her because I miss her so much. My goal is to continue to be an advocate for others by staying involved in the organizations that she was passionate about.

Kristy was my best friend, my sister, my rock. I thank God each day that he chose us to be sisters…

_______________________________________________________________

In closing I want to share a wonderful note sent to her from a physician friend of ours: it’s pretty powerful so be ready…

First of all, please accept my condolences for your loss. It has been a terrible year for the Puetz family. It just a year ago when Kristy’s mother was diagnosed with cancer and died within only a few months. Kristy had a different course, living 10 years with cancer but, in the end, it also took her from us. We are here today to mourn the death of Kristy but also to commemorate her life.

I met her through Jamie around the time of Kristy’s cancer diagnosis and over the years have had the privilege of being her friend. We talked about many things but more than any subject was about how cancer affected her life. She was treated initially with the hope of cure but when the cancer came back the first time she realized she would never be cured. Being told one has cancer is an enormous shock because it is our expectation that our bodies will keep on working. When young, we don’t even think about our health. We have injuries, infections, and so on but we always assume it will be ok and we will recover. Being told one has cancer changes this forever because the body failed us in a way it was never supposed to. Even when cancer is treated successfully, we are never the same.

Kristy handled her cancer better than anyone I have seen. She seemed to always look at the better side of life and, although she had her down days, she went on with the expectation she would be well. Some people put their life on hold thinking they will resume it when the cancer is cured. They forget to live when they should be celebrating every day they have. Kristy did this; she had an illness but she was well.

I ask my patients if they have a spiritual part of their lives. What gives their life meaning? For some it is their faith but for others it is family, work, health, hobbies, volunteerism, pets and so on. Each person has a different answer, but the basic question is “Why do I get out of bed each day?” Because we “have to” is not a good reason. We get out of bed to do something, see someone, accomplish something; we look forward to the day. When health and other life changes occur, what we have relied on to give us meaning may no longer be possible. This may be a crisis because these things serve as our energy supplies and are the reasons should want to get better. The ability to find new reasons when the old are no longer possible is resilience. Kristy was amazingly resilient and why she is an inspiration to many. She found new reasons to live as long as her body would allow.

Funerals are for the living. We honor the dead by coming together to mourn our loss but also to celebrate their lives, remember what they mean to us and to tell their stories. Funerals should also remind us that we too are mortal and someday people will gather to remember us. We all should live our lives with this in mind in all our dealings with others, in our coming and going, in how we behave, and determining what will our legacy will be? We need to live mindfully which means being mentally present each day. Some people spend much of their time thinking about the past with regret or anger. Some spend all their time thinking about the future worried about what will happen and our inability to control it. We don’t, however, spend much time thinking about the present, yet it is the only thing we have. I think this is best said by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 6 25-34.

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life ? 28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

We also need to live our life remembering it is not our own. Our life is a gift of God and we need to be ever mindful of Him. We should live our life seeking Him and his righteousness because some day we will answer to Him about what we did with our life.

I am sorry I cannot be there with you today but my thoughts and prayers are with you in this time of loss.

Larry Bergstrom

_______________________________________________________________

This is a speech that Kristy had written for the Corn on the Cob Day Pageant.

This is a shortened and modified version to bring out some of the humor that Kristy brought forth in her every day life. While highlighting some of her own strength and bravery – that she worked so hard to bring forth during her own trials and tribulations. I have no doubt it was God’s will to help her help others during their journey, along with her mindset and attitude – is what brought her far beyond that original grim diagnosis of less then a year to live. To be the light through the dark, the humor through the pain and the rock through the unsteady waves.

“I always thought when I lost my hair I would be devastated. Well that wasn’t so bad….the thing I missed most about losing my hair was losing my eye lashes. I just felt naked without them….the best part was I didn’t have to shave my legs and my skin was so soft! I know there really isn’t any “best” part about cancer but if I had to pick one that would be it!!

Cancer is scary, it’s a scary word to anyone and living with it isn’t easy, but I tell myself that I am not going to let this cancer change me or anything I liked to do. IT WAS NOT GOING TO CONTROL MY LIFE!

I was told that my life would be like riding on a roller coaster. The cancer would be active then dormant, I’ll go on a break and so on and so forth.

Cancer is devastating………………………..to everyone touched by it.

I have learned a lot throughout this journey. There have been a lot of tears but there has also been a lot of laughter. I’ve met so many people, and shared my story to others who get diagnosed so they know what to expect… or what to try that has worked for me – even though each case is different. And if you know me, or follow my caring bridge page, weird things tend to happen to me and all you can do……….. is just laugh! Because I try to live my life to the fullest each day, and I try not to let this disease or anything else bring me down.

The theme for you is “home of the brave’ … and each of us is brave in our own way, my bravery comes from deep inside myself knowing I’m not giving up…..knowing I have an enormous support system in my family and friends.

For the girls sitting up here tonight…. Courage and bravery are not just about facing risk, but also, afterward, about going back to the people you love, your community and sharing your experience, and encourage them to be strong.”

Kristy

*If this resonated with you, feel free to share on Social Media – not only to raise awareness but to bring hope to any who may be struggling*

Final Sunset

May 20, 2016May 25, 2016 / Revolution.07 / Leave a comment

blog sunset collage 1

We placed that stone almost a year later, and I’ve hated it ever since. The coldness, harshness and permanence it brings every time just reiterates and reminds me of what we already hate to have to face. Another birthday is here, which means another year without a missing link sitting around the table to blow out 28 birthday candles. Another day spent with an especially heavy feeling in my heart while running through my mind all of the ‘who would you be today’ questions. From her occupation, to relationship status, her hair cut and color, to her current address or possible little ones running around – it’s impossible not to play out the endless possibilities of scenarios. As I sat staring at that stone last night, I noticed the perfect reflection of the sun set staring back at me. I thought of what the reflection of what her last sunset meant and what it has brought in the 8 years since.

This week has been a heavy one for many reasons beyond this – but the primary reoccurring theme has been the reminder that death surrounds us. Doing these tributes and reading the heartbreaking stories of others’ lives that were shattered on account of ugly diseases, forces me to ask myself the question “what do I want my last sunset to look like?” I keep reminding myself that all the things that I’m unsatisfied with in my life right now – aren’t anywhere near what I want that sunset to look like as I take my last breath on this earth. So as I run through these countless thoughts of what she’d be doing if we were all sitting around that table together, I look in that reflection on that stone and also see myself. And I think to myself – “self” 😉 you are still sitting here celebrating more birthdays, so – who and what are you doing that feeds and fills your soul? While there are some things – such as being a mom – that I am proud of – there are other things that consume large amounts of my time, that aren’t in alignment with what I actually love or am passionate about. While I’ve spent the past couple years trying to bridge these ideas and things together, unable to make a complete connection as to how or where I want to go next – I’m forced to be reminded that maybe in the end, none of the minor details matter. It’s just another push towards something more, something bigger, something outside the mundane. It’s as if we’re almost sitting and waiting for death to come knocking just so we can attempt to make it all right when that reality has become ours. Only then do we either live engulfed in regret and guilt, or try and make it all right when we know the end is near. Why do we do that? Why do we wait? Why do we work our entire lives just to hit a certain age to retire and actually ‘enjoy’ life and be stress free? Why do we wait until our kids are older or we have grandchildren to change the way we think about and interact with our kids? Why do we work our entire lives to pay off things we think we need, only to be surrounded by those things in the end to realize how completely unnecessary they are?

Although this day is a reminder of many things that will never come into fruition for Josie on another birthday that she isn’t able to celebrate – it’s also a reminder to ask ourselves what we want left – either etched permanently on that stone or painted on that final sunset of our lives. I want that sunset to be bright and beautiful, full of many vibrant colors that others remember for decades to come. I want it to consist of change, hope and healing from the inside out. And this is a reminder that we are still here, and we still have the opportunity to make it what we want, while we can.

I wanted to share this, as I thought it summed so many things up perfectly 🙂 This is part of an entry made by Chandra Nicole (her writing is amazing by the way, highly recommend following on FB, or reading the full entry on Elephant Journal at http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/05/a-lesson-about-true-love-where-to-find-it/ )

“But I think the lesson that’s most pressing here is the understanding that impending ‘death’ allows us to be present, which is where true love resides.

It allows us to live fully and to see what’s truly important… and also what’s total bullshit. When ‘the end’ is near, moments become intrinsically precious.

Parting ways with this man, has shown me that more clearly than anything before.

I wonder how differently we might live our lives if we were to really understand that everything dies at some point; that the only constant in this universe is change, and that within each change there is a mini-death.

In what ways are we resisting life by resisting death?

If we were to interact with everything, everyone, every relationship — with full awareness of the fact that it may soon die, how might we choose differently?
What might we say differently?
How would we show up differently?

What would matter?
And what wouldn’t?

What might LOVE actually look like in the space of total surrender and complete presence?”

-Chandra Nicole

Happy birthday Miss Josie – although we’d prefer you were here to cheers that drink with – thank you for all that you’ve taught and continue to teach us as we walk blindly through this thing called life.

Jos bday collage 2016

Siblings Tribute – Brynn & Jaime

April 29, 2016May 18, 2016 / Revolution.07 / Leave a comment

Blog-tributebrynnnjamie

There isn’t anyone that doesn’t know of someone that has battled a disease at some point in their life. Whether it be cancer, mental illness, eating disorders, cardiovascular disease, Alzheimer’s, alcoholism, or addiction – to some degree, disease is disease. Some have triumphed over their struggles, while others fought the battle until the end, only to lose the war.

Although we lost our siblings to different diseases, we still watched them endure hardships while fighting against something that, in the end, was stronger then them. We, as family, were forced to sit on the sidelines, unable to make their physical, emotional or mental pain cease. From various forms of chemo, radiation or surgical treatments to different anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications- they were forced to put their mind, body and soul through some excruciating pain just to be able to add another day to the calendar.

While we all know of these people, we don’t really, truly know these people. We’ve all heard of stories pertaining to disease and death, however, it’s rare that we hear or see what happens behind the scenes. The lasting impact it has on both the patient and the family and the roller coaster of emotions that take place along the way. From the fight to the triumphs and back to defeat, from what seems like never ending decision making, just to hope it was the ‘right’ one, just to doubt it and yet be forced to trust it all at once. From the overwhelming support of those around you, only to feel so alone in the crowd of supporters. From the distress on so many levels, only to hope it’s worth every ounce of energy put forth by everyone. From the tears to the triumphs, from overwhelming sadness to finding laughter in the little moments, the heartache to the joys of the smallest things you never noticed before, from the heaviest of guilt weighing on us down to trying to see the bigger picture through the diluted veil. From watching them in pain in every realm, to one day being forced to feel much of that same pain. This is a journey that so many – too many – experience, but one that often times doesn’t get brought up in the rawness in which is truth for many. And I want to bring forth that rawness, that truth and the awareness behind it.

I feel truly honored to be able to share this ‘Siblings Tribute’ with 3 other strong, brave, compassionate and determined souls to bring forth both their siblings stories, as well as their own. Our hope is that this can offer a sense of peace for those who are struggling in any way – to know that you aren’t alone on this journey, whether you’re the one who’s in the ring for another round to fight, or the cheerleader on the sidelines – your story matters! This is Part 1 of a few entries and I am truly so grateful they agreed to do this with me! Although these entries were excruciating to write – I’m excited to share both of their stories, as well as their sisters battle against a disease we’re all well aware and hear far too much about – cancer.

*Disclaimer: a box of tissues is recommended – you’ve been warned 😉

Jaime collage 2

“Sisters from the start, friends forever from the heart.”

You and your sister (names, background, ages)- who were you both pre-diagnosis?

My name is Brynn Ashley Soderlind. I was 31 when my sister Jaime Teresa Gartner was diagnosed with breast cancer on October 14, 2011. Jaime was only 32 years old. I was 8 months pregnant with my first child as I sat in the waiting room of the doctors office. My three year old nephew, Jaime’s son Jameson, sat on my lap on a blue upholstered bench. He was such a patient child. He held my hand and we sat there mostly in silence. It seemed like years. We waited and waited and waited. Finally, three hours later, Jaime came down the dark grey hallway. Her dark brown long hair framed her beautiful face like a picture. I remember her brief eye contact with me and then her eyes quickly fixed on her son. Tears were pouring down her face as she opened her arms to meet his little body. He fell into her with relief. She looked to me and smiled as she wiped her tears quickly from her cheeks and shook her head “no”. I knew right then that the massive lump in my sisters breast wasn’t a cyst or an enlarged lymph node. My throat felt tight as I swallowed hard. My sister had cancer.

We grew up with a strong sense of self. We lived out in the country on a hobby farm with our loving parents and grandparents, some goats, chickens, pigs, dogs, rabbits and a blind cow. We had great company each day with our siblings- Ericka, Ian and Seth- and the neighborhood kids our mom babysat. We loved to hike on the land and explore the 132 acre woods that we lived on and absorb all that nature provided to us. Jaime and I loved to take our Red Ryder BB guns out and shoot targets that Ian would set up for us. Life was easy. Life was so good. We loved to go to Whitewater State Park and as teens we would spend most of our summer hiking and swimming. We also loved to travel and took several road trips together and with friends. We did almost everything together. Where there was Jaime, there was likely Brynn.

We would end up moving to Colorado together in 1999. We loved the mountains. We loved the experience but eventually we ended up back in Minnesota together.

Almost a year before her cancer diagnosis, Jaime and I were in Esthetician school together. Jaime and Jameson lived with my husband Adam and I in our condo. Jaime and I had a long history of sames. We had the same jobs, wore the same clothes, loved the same foods, had the same friends, lived in the same cities, read the same books, listened to the same music. Her and I shared a bedroom, secrets, underwear, makeup, cars, lunch money, dreams, aspirations, germs but mostly, we shared genetics. I was encouraged to have genetic testing done shortly after my 33 year old sister had a bilateral mastectomy. I knew that if my sister had breast cancer at 32 years old, I had a pretty good chance of getting it too. When I got the genetic counseling and testing, my daughter was a baby and still breastfeeding. I remember the fear surrounding a positive genetic mutation. What if I too shared the BRCA2 mutation? I knew for me, it would mean a mastectomy and possibly a hysterectomy. That meant no more children. I was ok with that as long as I had an upper hand on controlling the disease.

I had a strong feeling that I didn’t have the mutation. I soon learned that Jaime had the same feeling. Sure enough, I tested negative for the BRCA2 mutation. I cried so hard when I heard the positive news; half of me was relieved and half of me felt guilty. I know it may seem strange, but it was like we had always shared everything and now we didn’t. And I was happy and devastated all at the same time. You see that’s the tricky part about disease and being a caretaker to someone you love so much. The cancer may have taken over my sister’s body, but it also consumed me, differently, but still the same. It completely changed everything.

I thought about cancer all day long. I thought about ways to help heal. I threw myself into research and tried to educate myself as best as I could. I attended every appointment. I quit my job to care for her full time. Her cancer became my cancer. Her life sort of became my responsibility. I’d lie awake at night running through all of the “to do’s” Did she take all of her meds? Did she eat enough? Were all of her appointments scheduled? Did we write down all of our questions? I learned as much as I could about her tumors on my own time. When they told her that her tumors were ERPR positive, HER2 negative, I researched. When they told her that she needed radioactive Theraspheres implanted into her liver, I researched. When they said there was nothing left to try, I researched. I always wanted to find a way to save my sister’s life. I wanted her dream of becoming a grandmother to come to fruition. I wanted to see her pain-free and dancing in the woods at night like we used to do when we were young. I wanted to travel again, hike, shop, sing, learn to knit and play guitar with her. She always wanted us to take knitting classes and guitar classes together, but I guess we never made the time. I wish we would have figured out how to make it work. Especially guitar lessons. We both loved singing and music so much. I imagine how therapeutic it would have been to be able to play guitar and sing together during her 4.5 year fight against cancer. We both had our own guitar and knitting needles, but never learned. Now, I am ready to take guitar lessons. I will learn to knit this winter. The thing I’ve learned is that life doesn’t wait for us. We have to take advantage of the time we have- right now- today. If there is something you want to learn or experience, go for it. Set goals! Chase dreams! Jaime’s goal was to make it to Mother’s Day. My goal is to make sure that women aren’t dismissed when they find a lump in their breast, at any age. Jaime was dismissed by 3 different doctors before the fourth ordered a mammogram. 3 different doctors! None of them thought she had cancer because she was young and because they told her cancer didn’t hurt, so her lump must have been a cyst or something. It will take me a lifetime to get over the dismissal she received from those individuals. If a 31 year old woman complains of discomfort and has a sizable lump, it should be taken seriously. Mammograms save lives. Every lump should be examined thoroughly.

What battles (disease, metastasis, how many times in remission/relapse) did she endure and for how long? Explain what impact this had on you personally and how it changed both of your lives/perspectives, good and bad.

Jaime possessed a natural ability to find the positive in situations. She never complained about her circumstances. Not one time. She never had a pity party. I’m sure on her own time alone she often struggled, but she never divulged any of those feelings. She made light of the adverse reaction she had to steroids during her radiation treatments. She would joke about how the development of Cushing’s Syndrome was the worst part of the entire cancer experience because she had a 100 pound weight gain which was painful and left her almost unrecognizable. Her skin began to split in areas from the rapid weight gain. Her body ached all over. They learned that the steroids they were giving her for pain control caused her adrenal glands to fail and shut down. Jaime didn’t mind loosing her hair. She liked hats. She knew she could manage the mastectomy with future reconstruction surgery and prosthetics. But Jaime did not know how to be ok with the Cushing’s Syndrome and her physical immobility and intense pain. In my opinion, the most challenging piece through her cancer journey the rapid weight gain and pain that accompanied it like an orchestra.

Jaime was diagnosed in October of 2011. She started chemotherapy quickly. Her lump was so invasive and so aggressive that they feared removing it without hitting her with a cycle of chemotherapy prior to surgery. Jaime had 7 rounds of chemotherapy between October 2011 -April 2012. On May 11, 2012, Jaime underwent a bilateral mastectomy and sentinel lymph node dissection. They inserted tissue expanders inside the chest wall to reconstruct her breasts with implants. The expanders were placed behind the muscle of the chest wall. The idea was to slowly stretch the skin by filling the expanders with air overtime to accommodate an implant.

We moved into her apartment in May after her mastectomy to care for her and Jameson. She couldn’t be alone and certainly couldn’t care for her three year old son by herself. I spent my days with Jaime, Jameson and my 7 month old daughter Poppy. I took her to appointments, cared for her and the children and did all of the normal day to day tasks and errands. I had so much help from Adam at night and on the weekends. Following her discharge from her mastectomy, Jaime’s pain continued. She had so much pain. She was so weak and tired. Her surgery sites began to show signs of infection. I called the clinic with great concern. I was reassured several times that what I was describing was “normal healing”. When her pain became unbearable, I brought her into the ER at a different hospital. She was quickly admitted after examination. She went into surgery the next day to have the tissue expanders removed because she was septic. I felt so angry and so frustrated. I felt like I let her down. I had called several times with concern. I was always told that it was normal. Now she had a major setback in her recovery.

After that surgery to remove the expanders, Jaime never really felt good again. Ever. It was like the infection had gotten into the core of her being. She was so unsure. Her days and nights consisted of doctors appointments and pain management. After that surgery she went six months without seeing a doctor. She moved to Waseca and rented a house. She and Jameson lived right next door to our mom and stepdad. She just never felt good. Mom and Dad expressed concern about the lack of medical care and lack of follow up. Jaime was in a deep dark depression. She seemed to feel like they did everything they could do for her and this was what she would endure. We felt that she should be closely followed with scans and check ups. Nothing was scheduled. She had no desire to go to the doctor. Then in November of 2012, Jaime came to visit us in New Hope. She was in so much pain in her hips and low back that she could hardly walk. The pain was constant and ibuprofen wasn’t even coming close to touching it. Adam encouraged her to go to the ER. After some persuasion, she agreed. The ER dr in Plymouth MN listened to her history and decided that a pain injection of Tordol to her hip would suffice and he sent her home. No scans were ordered. Her blood work showed elevated white cells and all of her numbers were either a bit high or low in almost every category. They knew she had cancer earlier that year. Why wouldn’t they have investigated her complaints and concerns more thoroughly? She was a 33 year old single mother with a history of breast cancer. I will never understand the lack of care. Fast forward a month later, she has similar complaints of low back pain and hip pain. Adam takes her into the ER again, and she gets the exact same diagnosis and treatment. They say it’s likely menses pain and they encourage a hot bath and ibuprofen. That was in December 2012. A moth later, on January 21, 2013, she fell in the bathroom in the middle of the night while visiting us in Duluth at our new temporary home. Jaime managed to crawl into the living room where she was able to wake us with screams like I have never heard before. After helping her up, Adam got her into our SUV and drove to the ER at St Lukes. At 3am on January 22, Adam texted me that he and Jaime were meeting with a neurosurgeon and likely she needed spinal surgery to fix her broken lumbar. He also mentioned that they were quite confused how she managed to break her lumbar by falling in the bathroom since the lumbar is the strongest part of the spine. After laying flat for 4 days in a body brace, the biopsies revealed that Jaimes entire skeleton had been infiltrated with breast cancer. I remember the look on her face when they told her that her breast cancer was a stage 4 and terminal. She looked relieved. She looked frightened. She looked so young and so lovely. I was engulfed with sickness and anger. Terminal breast cancer?!! How did this happen?

After she broke her back, she realized that St Lukes hospital in Duluth Minnesota was where she was meant to be. She began her care and treatments of weeks of radiation, many surgeries, continuous chemotherapy, injections in her neck and back and pain management. The nurses and doctors were incredible at St Lukes. She felt cared for and loved and validated. Her pain was finally explained! She could finally trust medical staff. She became so close to her oncologist, Dr. Based Goueli and her nurse Terri. They gave her the greatest care and love. She trusted them. I trusted them. We were able to navigate through all of the bad news together and even in her final days, she felt comfort and trust when she talked to Dr Goueli or Terri specifically.

During her battle, she also had to have a hysterectomy. Pathology of her ovaries detected breast cancer. From there, Jaime’s cancer spread into to the liver. Her care team kept up on her treatments of chemotherapy and she was able to fight for another year and a half. Jaime ended up passing away on a beautiful sunny Thursday morning in the arms of me and our older sister and our parents. Jaime had been in hospice care at St. Luke’s hospital for less than a week. Jaime died from liver failure caused by metastatic breast cancer to bones and liver. She had so much trouble breathing in her final hours. I remember feeling like she was drowning and I couldn’t pull her up or give her air. She fought until the last breath. April 14, 2016 was the hardest day of my existence. I lost a big part of myself when she passed. She had been unable to communicate the last day, but moments before she died, she opened her eyes and made brief eye contact with me and began to cry. She quickly shifted her eyes to our sister Ericka as tears fell down her face. Her eyes fixed towards my parents with her last breath.

I remember my mom placed her delicate hand on Jaime’s sweet face as she gently ran her palm down over her eyes to assist them to close. I remember the sound of my dad pulling a bandaid off of Jaime’s arm and throwing it across the room as he wept. I continue to replay these moments over and over- just like the the day she was diagnosed. The connections. The similarities. The tears. The beauty and the tragedy of it all. The brief eye contact that cut like a knife, the tears that poured from our eyes like wine, and the fear and yet the calming sense of peace that embodied all of it.

What did this consist of for you personally – to recall being a cheerleader on the sidelines, observing, but being unable to save them? (Ultimately the trauma of being the survivor).

I am forever grateful that I was able to care for my sister during her fight with cancer. I was able to support her and fight right along side her. I made sure she knew that she wasn’t alone. It’s been a month since she passed. The sorrow and pain really does come in waves. Everyday I wonder if there was anything more or anything else I could have done to help her have more time. I guess there will always be a part of me that will lament over the possibilities of treatments and cures. She ultimately decided that she would fight until the very end and she did. She fought so hard. Now I sit with my sword down and my shield up. I am still at war but all of the enemies are gone. I am less now. I am forever less without her here beside me. I will never understand why my sister had to fight so hard and ultimately die fighting breast cancer.

How has this changed you and your life course?

Jaimes diagnosis absolutely changed me. I changed because I had to. I quit my job to care for her, we cancelled a move across the country to care for her, and I directed my focus and energy towards her health and healing.

Jaime and I were somewhat different from one another. Physically we were basically opposite. Our personalities, although different, meshed as we complemented each other well. We understood each others sense of humor. We had so many common threads and so much interest in one another. We had our own language and the ability to read one another with little effort. Sometimes we even felt one another’s pain or discomfort when apart. Jaime was 20 months older than me. We were only a grade apart in school. She always joked that I was the “big sister” and she was the “little sister”. I was taller, so that was ok with me. I will remember Jaime as an intelligent, loving, generous, carefree, slightly unpredictable, esthetically well maintained, stylish woman. She always had a big beautiful bright smile and she was always late for everything.

Since her passing, I have had a strong pull towards becoming more carefree and less concerned about details that don’t matter. I’m trying to learn to live in the moments that we are given each day.

I am contemplating my next steps and trying to discover what is best for me and what is next for me now that she is gone.

Do you feel you’re meant to do something differently with your life because of her death? And if so, what is your hope/goal? How do you want her to live on?

Jaime left me with three quotes:

“Be a rainbow in the cloud”

“Something will grow from all you are going through, and it will be you.”

“Don’t worry, No one likes a know-it-all”

I am doing a lot of soul searching and digging deep to find my balance and my purpose in life. I believe that Jaime’s spirit will help to guide me down the best path.

I do feel that I have great compassion and empathy and love and concern for others. Jaime has always encouraged me to become a nurse… but she also wanted me to pursue an acting career and become a professional photographer so I’m a bit confused about her impression of my actual talents or calling. I guess I may be confused as well? I feel like I need to find a vessel that allows me to help advocate for people struggling to find the medical care that they need and deserve. I don’t want one more woman with a lump in her breast to have to go to four doctors just to get a mammogram. I want to bring awareness to breast cancer affecting young women. Breast cancer isn’t only killing post-menopausal women. Breast cancer doesn’t discriminate. Men, women, young and old are all candidates for breast cancer. Screening is key! Early detection saves lives. Genetic counseling helps us to make informed preventative decisions about our health. Who knows, maybe my sister would still be here today if the first doctor who saw Jaime would have ordered a simple mammogram.

Jaime will live on in the masterpiece she created. Her strong loving intelligent boy Jameson carries her beauty, strength and perseverance. He has her personality and her heart of gold. Jameson is the greatest legacy and a beautiful reminder that my sister still remains.

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Missing Piece

March 7, 2016April 5, 2016 / Revolution.07 / 1 Comment

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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Detour with V

February 8, 2016February 8, 2016 / Revolution.07 / 1 Comment

For all of you who are feeling stuck, shit outta luck, sick and tired of being sick of tired, unsure of why you’re at a stand still in life, in a war with yourself in your head, staring at the other side of the road but completely unsure as to how to get over there – I encourage you to read further.

I’ve been at a stand still with the blog – 11 entries started, none completed! ha For any that follow or have asked how I’ve learned to heal or move forward, although I will be talking about more in detail about that as the entries move forward, I’d like to share this part with you.

My name is Amanda. I will describe myself as pre-Vanessa, and post-Vanessa.

Prior to starting this more intense part of my journey on my ‘path to purpose’, I would have best described myself as a single mother, who endured a very intense amount of hurt in a short amount of time about 8 years ago. Although I never doubted the fact that I was meant to do more in this life, I was stuck in a dark place of mental, physical and emotional pain. I held an insane amount of anger and sadness within me – more than I ever realized.

I became ‘stuck’ in this repetitive pattern of self-hatred and self-destructive behavior, relying on outside crutches to temporarily ‘fix’ me. I was always standing at point A staring at a foggy version of point C, but was never able to bridge them together. I just continued in what seemed like a never-ending game of cat and mouse.

That’s when I met Vanessa – she was my bridge, she was the start of a clearer vision to a brighter future.

Less then a year after having the pleasure of crossing paths with Vanessa and completing the Wake Up Package – I would say I have more than ‘woken up’ in so many more aspects of my life, more than I could’ve realized! As a person, my world and I have changed from the inside out.

Have you ever wondered how you can be so sure of something and yet never know why?

Have you ever noticed how the dots in life can be perfectly connected when you look backwards?

That was me with Vanessa–I had no idea who she was, but from a very generic, brief description from a friend of a friend, I somehow knew that she would be able to help me. Without thinking twice, I connected with her and the rest is history. Words cannot explain but I would call it something beyond a ‘soul connection’.

I was at a career crossroads, debating on changing careers. Debating on incurring more school debt and reducing the status of my full time job to do so. For whatever reason, I knew she was the intervention and guide I needed right then and there while I was on the brink of making this decision. However, I had no idea of the extent that she would be able to help in every area of my life, not just my career. I was oblivious to the depth in which I needed the help and the how very badly fogged my lens on life was!

THE NAME ‘THE WAKE UP PACKAGE’ COULDN’T HAVE A BETTER TITLE–BECAUSE THERE’S NO DENYING THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT DID, AND WILL DO FOR YOU AS WELL!

I began to realize the perception I lived in, the chains that bound me to problems I thought I could never move beyond. Somehow those constant stop and yield signs began to dissipate once and for all. The cruise control was off, and I was finally awake while driving, enjoying the scenery as I passed by.

Now, I would be lying if I said this process was pain free or there was a direct flight! There were times when it was a very painful process; times when I was forced to rip the bandage off, forced to realize that in one hand, I held both the bullet to the gun and the keys to the shackles of my own life all at once. But the liberation that comes with it, I can’t quite explain. The weight that was lifted from me after completing this process. It’s something that I have never felt before. The best part is, after you complete the package, you’re ‘done’ per se, but on so many levels, you’ve only just begun.

You want to keep learning in the school of life and Vanessa is ALWAYS there as a constant resource for those ‘pick me up’ sessions to get you through as you need it. She’s not just a life stylist, she’s a phenomenal traffic director, because as she’s trying to help you clear those ‘road closed’ signs, she’s a resource to so many other healing modalities and people.

The amount of connections that I made just through her in a short amount of time was unreal! I honestly can’t thank her enough, for not only helping me to finally free myself, but to help my family as well. To help us to see what the ‘flipping of a lens’ can do. The services that Vanessa offers are truly priceless: these are things that you won’t learn from a textbook, from a therapist or on the job training–and the best part is–they can be used in EVERY aspect of your life for the REST of your life.

Thank you for showing me what liberation from myself feels like. It feels so good to finally be able to stand on the other side of the road and see how far I’ve come in a short amount time! Originally that was a road I couldn’t even see across. Thank You for the life-long connections and lessons you’ve taught me along the way. To know you are only a phone call, Skype session or a short drive away from wherever in the world I happen to be is such a comforting feeling.

THANK YOU VANESSA FOR HELPING ME CATCH MY BREATH, FOR REDIRECTING ME ONTO A PATH THAT’S BETTER THAN I COULD HAVE IMAGINED–AND TO KNOW IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!

Amanda Ellinghuysen

This is the testimonial I wrote for Vanessa and feel she deserves an entry of her own 🙂 And hey, it’s tax season people! Money to burn, money to burn! And this year – put it towards something that’ll get you farther then the same old mundane shit – live a little – live for yourself, be OK with taking a step in a new and right direction and quit allowing fear and excuses to keep you stuck. Unravel yourself – I PROMISE – you won’t be sorry! 🙂

http://www.vanessafeils.com http://www.vanessafeils.com/client-love/

4th stage, 4th letter – D.

January 4, 2016December 21, 2020 / Revolution.07 / 1 Comment

It’s funny that the mental picture many get in their heads when hearing ‘psychiatric or mental issues’ is a padded room. Because I swore I was standing in one for years, there were days that room sounded far better then being in my own head.

This stage was, and to some degree still is, a huge part of my life. It’s the forbidden word, the one that we as society tries to avoid at all costs. Who can blame them, the highlight reels of the outside world are far more exciting then a topic such as this!

So, depression, mental illness, psychiatric issues, a nut job, a lunatic – I don’t care what you want to refer to it as – it’s real. And it’s real in alot of other ways then that padded room.

Josie was diagnosed at the age of 11. My parents never hid the fact that this was a concern. Not only was she treated by medication, but my parents made sure she had also had a therapist to talk through things. Depression is a word that I was very aware of growing up, but nothing I could personally relate too. It honestly never made sense to me. My mentality on the whole subject was ‘pick yourself up by your bootstraps, get over it and just be happy already!’ Then one day, I found myself standing on the opposite side of a fence I never understood, nor cared to ever understand. Once I was there – I instantaneously understood the physical and mental heaviness that so heavily bogged her down, both physically and mentally.

I remember standing in the kitchen while Nathan told me ‘you’re here, but you aren’t here, we need you here mentally just as much as physically.’ I remember thinking, yeah, no shit, I wish that was an option, but it’s something I can’t conceptualize at this point. From a physical standpoint, I had gained 40 pounds within a year – food became my safe haven. Aside from that, getting out of bed was SO much work, and being active was no longer in my vocabulary. I didn’t want to have to see a soul, including myself. I’ve never known mascara stained cheeks to be a trend, and that’s all that would happen if and when I did leave the house. The few times we would go out, I would find myself just standing there looking around thinking, I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t deserve to laugh or have fun. I’d find myself watching others doing just that and think ‘I wish I could do that and it come so naturally again.” No matter how many times I tried, like really tried to laugh or be fully engaged in a conversation, I couldn’t be genuinely engaged, every part of my mental body was a million miles away. The laugh wasn’t genuine, the conversation was surface, probably for both parties, because I’m sure others were unsure of what to say or how to say it. The only thing I could think about was her, how my life would never be the same, how I hated the person I was before this, especially my selfish ways, and yet how I so badly, to some degree, wanted to remember and be my old self again. It was a time of total and complete darkness.

By May of 2008 after suicidal thoughts, that I really don’t think would’ve been that hard to follow through on – I was admitted into the Generose outpatient program. It was the only option I had next to inpatient treatment. I was taken off of work for 6 weeks in hopes of regaining some sanity. That’s when my adventure with medications started, which only added to the weight gain and excessive sleeping at first, but at least when I was awake, I was a little more coherent. I believe most medications are a temporary bridge, there is only so much they are going to do, but the root of the problem often lies far deeper then that. I was directed to a Godsend of a Psychologist, Don Williams, who drastically impacted and seriously saved my life. He gave me insight on everything from suicide, to depression to parenting, to coping, while reiterating I wasn’t as crazy as I felt! (Always a nice reassurance, even if he was lying 😉 I began to look forward to our sessions, even if they were nothing but chronic breakdowns to start. They were my weekly ‘pick me up’ to get me through the next week, it was like a small load would be lifted from me each time I left. After awhile the intense crying became a little less, but the topic was still repetitive. I remember telling him over and over, ‘I don’t know why I think these terrible things! I hate it, I know it isn’t right and I just want it to stop! It’s MY head, MY thoughts – I should be able to control them, I’M in charge of them! And, as always, his feedback was perfect. He would ask, ‘can a cancer patient make their tumor stop growing?’ Of course I looked at him like WTF does this have to do with anything!? He said ‘that’s the problem with society, everyone thinks it’s that easy, you just flip a switch and you can magically think differently. But this is a disease, just like cancer or heart disease. It’s the same as looking at that cancer patient and saying ‘it’s your body, make the tumor stop!’ It doesn’t work that way. I remember being awed, just like that, things made more sense. Isn’t it funny what we believe on account of what’s drilled into us? I was feeling so guilty for not being able to better control my mindset, but I was sick. Funny how things are viewed so differently isn’t it?

Don was my sounding board for years, he walked me through, step by step how to just survive by putting one foot in front of the other. That’s all it was for a long time, pure survival mode. It was like going back to the basics of teaching a child to eat, sleep and bathe on their own. I had to learn how important it was to shower and take 10 minute walks to try and clear my head, time to decompress, but not too much! I needed to start putting things back on my calendar, even if they didn’t sound the least bit enjoyable. Start wearing makeup and doing something with my hair before work. Things that used to come so easy to me, I was now having to be told to do. They worked – for awhile. But then I’d cycle back around again, needing another medication or dosage change. Fuck, when was I ever going to be normal again?! Better yet, was I even normal before? Did I even like the “me” before all of this? I had done such a good job hating that person, but I equally this one as well. Why can’t I just laugh, why is having fun so hard? Why can’t I be excited about things again? Why can’t I enjoy everything I have? Ready, set, walk…one .foot.in.front.of.the.other. They say slow and steady wins the race, and slow it was!

Continue reading Gluttony and Starvation

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	Chasing Taillights \|… on Behind the Badge
	Behind the Badge \| R… on Chasing Taillights
	duchesschimzy on 2019 The Year of Trust
	Peg Walch on 2019 The Year of Trust
	Inside Looking Out… on A Million Pieces

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THE NAME ‘THE WAKE UP PACKAGE’ COULDN’T HAVE A BETTER TITLE–BECAUSE THERE’S NO DENYING THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT DID, AND WILL DO FOR YOU AS WELL!

THANK YOU VANESSA FOR HELPING ME CATCH MY BREATH, FOR REDIRECTING ME ONTO A PATH THAT’S BETTER THAN I COULD HAVE IMAGINED–AND TO KNOW IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!

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