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Russian Roulette

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After a last minute decision to hit up a bar that was recommended by a local in Madison that’s known for it’s great vibe and even better drink concoctions, we decided to give it a try. As we were standing at the bar discussing what sounded good, a guy to my right said “Russian Roulette – let the bartender choose.” As much as I loved the idea and the random comment, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. I mean I’d sure hate to waste money on a drink that I might not like! 😉 So, as I tend to do, I had to know what I’d be handed and ordered my go-to vodka water with a splash of cranberry – which just so happened to taste like shit! Ha But, my cousin, Liz, told the bartender “Russian roulette” and landed a killer drink that turned into our drink of the night.

This got me to thinking, how could I apply those 2 words to my life? Maybe they need to be a little more prevalent, maybe it’s something, in certain areas of my life I need to learn to gamble with. As with any of us, I think it’s fair to say, we are laid back in certain areas of our lives while uptight in others. Certain aspects are triggers for us, forcing us to feel as though we need to be either proactive &/or reactive/responsive, while other areas we are just fine ‘going with the flow’. While I’ve tried really hard to loosen up in all areas of my life, the more I start to let go in some, the more I find myself clinging to control in other areas. Whether it’s a certain circumstance playing out in my head, thinking it has to be a certain way in order for it to work or finding myself fighting certain things that are happening around or within me, not wanting to accept them as they are, it seems I still feel as if I have to have some power or control.

When I look back, I’m well aware of what a control freak I was and to some degree, still am. I was especially bad in my home life, even though to the outside eye I seemed fun and easy going. When I think back to my past relationships it’s been me having to be the caretaker or the one that ‘holds it together’, but I’ve also always had a hard time receiving or allowing myself to be open to good things or gestures. I wanted them to change and change in the way I thought was best. I think a majority of it stemmed back to not having control in major areas of the relationship, such as the need to compete with other things/people, so I took control in other aspects that I knew I had some say. I was wanting them to change for me, when really it’s just who they were and I needed to be OK with letting them go, instead of trying to force them to fit this mold that I had inside of my head. And there were also some that just plain treated me shitty and I needed to accept that as a good “no” as well! Instead of insisting on trying to force different pieces into fitting, I needed to see that they weren’t fitting for a reason and we’d both be happier being who we wanted to be instead of expecting each other to be something we weren’t.

When it came to friends and party planning – that was totally my gig! I planned everything and I loved it! Whether it was in high school – when people needed to know where the next party was, or how I was going to pull off hosting it if there wasn’t one lined up;) or who was driving (take a wild guess, yep – almost always ME, again, then I had control as to when we left, or what the outcome would be) or where we were staying. When we got older  I hosted a majority of events from wedding and baby showers to grill outs or dates with my friends and their kids, and if I didn’t, I planned or helped planned them. The time, the place, the date (that almost always revolved when would work best for me), who was bringing what food or what booze, if kids were invited, if they weren’t – the whole 9 yards. Again, looking back, I’d say it was a control aspect, and also something I felt I could take pride in, one of the few things I thought I was good at, considering I didn’t have a college degree or a home that I owned or spouses like my friends did, it’s as if I needed to compensate in other ways.

Prior to Josie, finances were a big thing for me, I always had control because he was wreckless with money and I was fearful of getting behind. It’s not to say that wasn’t the case, he was a poor money manager, never looking to feel secure or really get ahead, but I’ve also always had a fear of not being able to pay my bills or provide. This is most likely due to the fact that I watched my parents and grandparents endure many struggles related to that same thing and something that was ingrained me to always be prepared.

My house always needed to be cleaned and in tip top shape and if that didn’t happen, I wasn’t a very nice person either! I was always fearful of people coming over and it being messy and even if it wasn’t really, truly a disaster, I felt obligated to apologize or comment on it!

I find it in my parenting – that I’m trying to control or avoid her being hurt or her allowing others to be. That I want her to eat well and be healthy inside and out so I’m pushing the importance of not eating processed, crap food or drinking sugary drinks because I don’t want her to have health issues or be made of fun because she’s overweight. I’m trying to “fix or control” her as well in certain areas because of my own fear, because of things I’ve had to endure and I’m so worried she may have to face similar struggles. When  really, I need to accept that all I can do is try and guide her and allow her to make her own mistakes and fumble along the way, even if some of that does turn into heart break or poor decision making that she’ll learn from in her own way, without me just preaching about it.

But I’m realizing how many of those things are my insecurities, things that I have tried, or am trying, to control. I think a large reason of that ‘need’ comes from not having control in various aspects of my life through the years, that I focused on what I could control and took it to the extreme, many times driving people away or making them feel inferior. The need for control is just a lack in another area of our life that we don’t want to face or acknowledge, or perhaps are unsure how to gain any type of control of the reigns. Or, maybe it’s learning we don’t always need the control, it’s like attempting to swim against the current of life, thinking my way is the correct way, when really the current is trying to drag us down river, although perhaps through the ringer, to something better. The longer we spend our time and energy trying to force something or someone into fitting or changing, the more time we’ve wasted getting to where we really need to be.

I think the swimming against the current becomes a comfort after awhile, even though we’re so exhausted in many areas of our life, it’s become what we know and wouldn’t know what to do if we weren’t fighting it! As hard as I’ve tried loosening my grips on alot of these realms of my life, I find myself still expecting a certain outcome and sequence of events when it comes to my career, always wanting to jump and just BE THERE already! I’ve also noticed this with relationships, thinking meeting someone has to happen a certain way, or in a certain manner, like they need to be local, or it would never happen at a mundane place, like work or the grocery store, or I’ll have to loose the 20+ pounds I’ve put on since I quit smoking, or this, that or the other thing – when really if I’d just loosen the reigns and quit holding on so tight to this illusion or need for some control, if I’d start playing a little more Russian Roulette and just see where things take me, even if there are a few misfired bullets along the way, maybe I’d get where I want to be a little faster! The bullets are just another learning curve, nothing permanent, just a redirection – maybe those would be easier then this constant need to keep climbing up that damn down escalator all the time (have you tried that before – that shit is exhausting! 😉

So, as hard as it can be to put into play, maybe those 2 words need to enter my mind a little more often, take the gamble of moving with the flow, in a different and new direction and allowing it to unfold as it needs too. To quit relying or expecting others to fit into my puzzle and just keep on with the hope that it’ll eventually come together without so much resistance and effort and those things and people that were meant to be apart of it, will still be there, and those that weren’t, that’s OK too!

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Missing Piece

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Aftermath

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Continue reading Missing Piece

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Blind Faith

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The first bible verse I memorized was Matthew 5:8 – “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” The only reason I know it is because it was on my letter from Josie. I was born and raised Catholic. Not strict Catholic, but we attended mass on a regular basis, I completed my sacraments through Confirmation and we prayed before meals and bedtime.  These were all things I knew and learned, but nothing I was ever able to really connect with. They were motions that I went through, because that was the ‘right’ thing to do, but I never had a true desire or connection to it. Although on occasion, I do enjoy a good sermon, and I’ll be honest when I say I can’t imagine having a funeral outside of a church, I certainly didn’t feel ‘cleansed or glorified’ per se after leaving mass and a part of me hated that I didn’t “get it”. I was secretly jealous that my grandma, mom and sister did. What was wrong with me? After I had my daughter, I found myself repeating the same cycles, feeling as though she might be damned if she wasn’t baptized or enrolled in religion classes. Finding it necessary that we make as many masses as possible and that she grow up knowing how to ‘properly’ act in the church. I remember gloating about being Catholic when I was younger, honestly, I think for no other reason then feeling as if I were superior to others because of it. Because it is the largest religion, the highest money making religious institution and Lord knows we must have the most morals! Right?!

Both of my parents came from strong faith based families, whether Lutheran or Catholic, they were both raised with the importance of having it in their lives. They didn’t sit in the front row for show and I don’t remember talk of one religion downing another or thinking another to be superior -I just remember it being a base to their households and something that was carried into ours. From my perspective, on my mom’s side, it wasn’t about the religion as much as it was the faith. The connection between them and God, and yes, the importance of the institution to practice that. It was something that was built from having nothing else to stand on, from enduring times when the weight of the world seemed to collapse on their shoulders. From my grandparents watching their 3 year old son go through the Ramsey Burn Unit due to 80% of his body being burned, to losing their home and livelihood, a house fire, struggles with addiction, 2 bouts of breast cancer and a many other shenanigans in between! To my parents having me at the age of 16, enduring a strenuous marriage, from being broke throughout their 20s and having to build financial security from the ground up,  to losing their daughter, depression to dealing with Melanoma – I think it’s fair to say between them, they’ve been through some shit! And never wavering – I got the same answer every time – “our faith is what got us through, without it, we wouldn’t have made it.” And no matter how many times I heard that – I would still think – but HOW?!

Looking back, the real game changer for me in regards to the church setting, was after she died. I don’t know if it was as much of a hatred towards God or the church, but more of an absent feeling and even more so, was replaying the funeral everytime I entered the building. Every time I walked down that aisle for communion I had all I could do not to lose it. The only thing I saw was a packed church while we followed the casket down. While I lost interest in the church, I was immediately compelled towards a different form of faith – one that I’ve been drawn too ever since. 

I began reading so many books in regards to life after death and what happens to the soul once it leaves this ‘shell’. She died in my parents home, the kitchen to be exact. For many people, losing someone in the home is ‘creepy’, but for us it was a comfort, feeling as if she were still present and there with us. I began relying on that comfort, constantly talking to her and asking for guidance and support, while trying to be aware of the signs she put in front of me. And she more then delivered them! From my ex being freaked out because he overheard our daughter saying “good night Josie” at the age of 3, to her walking into my parents house and saying “hi Josie!” while looking over my mom’s shoulder, and then “I’m swinging up to heaven with Josie”. While reading her a book and watching the door start swaying just to have my ex run around trying to figure out if there was a window open while I sat and smiled and said “thanks Jos.” These were comforting, not creepy. they were and still are vital to us, that wave of relief hearing her name or the song Santa Monica. This was the start of this faith, which had less to do with Sunday morning sermons and memorized prayers and more to do with me and a direct relationship with God. Learning that although they’ve left the physical plane, it doesn’t mean they still don’t play vital roles in our evolution. 

I’ve realized I don’t have to sit in an institution every week to feel as though I’m being judged, shunned or approved of by others as to whether I’ll see the Pearly Gates when my “time comes”. That God is in every single living thing that surrounds us, and maybe if we paid more attention to the sunrises and sunsets, the green grass, snow covered trees or sitting and playing a game or coloring with my daughter, we’d see more of him. Maybe instead of bitching about how we’re entitled because we have jobs, while others are trash because they don’t, instead of judging on account of race or the home in which they live, instead of debating over politics and religion and which one is better and why – maybe we’d be putting more ‘God’ in our lives in a more useful way – each day, and not just for an hour a week. Maybe if we did more “I’m grateful for…” and less blaming the next guy, maybe if we paid less attention to social media and more to the ones in front of us, or read more Upworthy articles instead of listening to CNN, maybe if we smiled or complimented strangers more instead of instantly pointing out their outfit or weight gain or loss – then maybe we’d be a little more in alignment with that sermon? Am I saying I’m perfect in all these areas – ummm, NO – I’m still a work in progress too! 

But I feel like I’ve found a faith that is more concrete then I’ve ever had before, based on beliefs such as these. To realize we’re all souls just having a physical experience, this is just our ‘shell’ for awhile, but in the grand scheme of things we/they are still here to help guide us. That we’re meant to keep moving forward, always bettering ourselves and seeing things in a larger light.

I’m starting to see that we’re all bits and pieces of this Universe and each other and I don’t need a priest to absolve my sins, nor to bless me. I remember my cousin telling me after seeing the Dalai Lama, that people in the audience asked him to bless them and he said no, they didn’t need him, nor anyone else to do that for them. We’re all equal, we’re all of something bigger and higher, we don’t need someone at the pulpit to make us ‘right’, ‘better’ or ‘saved’ – we’re here to save ourselves – do we need God to do it? Yes. But since Josie has left, I’ve found a faith I didn’t know I had – one stronger then I could’ve imagined, and although this faith may seem unorthodox to many, it’s one that I’m finally able to connect and be comfortable with.

Continue reading The Aftermath

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Detour with V

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Blog - wake up V entryFor 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/

Apples to oranges

/ Revolution.07 / 1 Comment

blog apples2oranges pic

APPLE TO ORANGES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Continue reading Blind Faith

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Rear view mirror

/ Revolution.07 / 1 Comment

rearviewmirror

That rear view mirror, I’m realizing – is where I’ve spent a majority of my life. Always staring back at another door closed. Whether it was slammed shut, nicely closed, left half open for torment (by no ones fault but my own) or I was forced through it…that mirror is where I’ve spent the last few years of my life. Trying to figure how to edit the picture because I’ve hated so many details of it.

I’d become resentful of the good just as much as the bad. The good was a reminder of where I wasn’t anymore. And a constant threat that I may never achieve “it” again. I hated how intense the bad parts were, and the overflow effects of them. Every part of my life suffered in some degree from the lack of control over the deeply ingrained sadness and anger. Every picture triggered a memory. A memory of when Josie was still here, what my weight was, what my dreams and aspirations at that time consisted of, a reminder of what I had lost. After my daughter was born was one of the few times I remember feeling fully content in every aspect of my life. But as different aspects of my life began to unravel that faded as well.

To look back at that blurred picture of my past there were 2 massive gashes that split my world in 2. The first driven by sadness and guilt, it’s as if they’re chapters labeled ‘pre-Josie and post-Josie’ and the second driven by anger and shame, or the ‘pre and post-divorce.’ It’s as if they were historic “Eras” in my life that set the stage for what was to come. From then on almost everything was replayed on a daily basis, constantly wondering where I went wrong in both places, both with her, and with him. Hating myself even more for not being able to help her and not being able to keep him. For never measuring up, for feeling lost, for being broken, for being everything I never thought it was possible to become, especially in such a short amount of time.

Stage 5 is Acceptance. 8 years later, I’m finding I’m still learning to ‘accept’ little aspects that perhaps I haven’t put to rest. Maybe acceptance is realizing that that mirror needs to be shattered. Because no matter how many times I go back and replay it, try to figure out exactly at which point I went wrong, was it how I said it or was it that I didn’t say it? Was it that I didn’t love hard enough, or too much? Was it the tone in which I said it or the manner in which I did it that sent off the wrong message? Or, was it that I did all of them, I just did the wrong ones with the wrong person? Maybe it was that I should’ve loved her more and him less, I should’ve said more to her instead of giving into the argument with him. 

You know what I’m learning to say to that – it’s all fucking bullshiiiiiiiiiiiit!! Every word of it. The truth is, it doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do, how I said it, or if I said it, how I looked, how I felt, what I thought – the point is – this is where I am now. There is no such thing as a ‘filter’, a ‘crop’ or an ‘edit’ button on life and there’s certainly no such thing as rewind! I’m sick of beating myself up for it, I’m sick of reliving it, I’m sick of wanting it to look and be different, I’m sick of the emotions that arise when I do relive it, I’m sick of the energy and time I put into things that will never make the outcome any different then what they are.

There are many days that I hate that this is my life and my story, because I feel like it could’ve and should’ve been different. But, what if, we could hit the rewind button and we did it according to the ‘textbook’ way and it still ended? Maybe with a different ending, but the same result nonetheless? What if she had been killed in a car accident instead of overdosing? What if he was honest and asked for a separation instead of lying and cheating? What if I would’ve just listened to my gut every time? Would it have made it a little less painful in some ways? Perhaps. But would it have changed the end result? Less then likely. Because sometimes it shakes out a certain way because it has too, because maybe that’s the only way that we’ll wake up and see things in a different light. Or, maybe that’s the only way we’ll finally walk away for good and know that going back is no longer an option. Maybe I put up with it for so long and just kept signing myself up for one more round in the ring after the other until I finally had to have the door slammed in my face so I’d get it…like for real! Maybe I wanted control of something I never had control of to begin with, maybe I wanted to fix something that wasn’t meant to be fixed, maybe I was being told and shown that I needed to be done trying to make something out of nothing. Maybe I have been far more lost and broken because of all of it. Maybe…hopefully…I’ll come out stronger and farther ahead because of it.

Whatever the case may be, however it plays it, peace out to the rear view mirror. Adios to the replays. And a good square kick in the ass to the self hate, blame and shame I’ve allowed myself to feel and endure since those ‘gashes’. What’s done is done, if I don’t want to relive it then I need to make sure I heal from it and move forward, leaving the shattered pieces where they may have fallen. I can’t keep trying to put things together that were meant to stay broken, I can’t keep trying to fix people and things that aren’t meant to be fixed, nor do I want to be. A majority of it will remain shattered and tainted, and that’s ok, it’s part of my story and what makes it mine. I don’t want it to own me, to hold me captive, or to be my only story. I want to be able to look ahead with appreciation and enthusiasm, I want the rest of the story to consist of more then that shitty, smeared and broken, ugly and torn past. And the only one that’s sitting in the drivers seat is me. I’ve spent the better part of 8 years with the loaded gun in one hand and the keys in the other. Am I going to pull the trigger over and over or am I going to break the chains that bind me and set myself free?

Continue reading Apples to oranges

*If this resonates with you, please share on social media to help others in their journey!**

Out with the old, in with the new!

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lakesunset

I don’t know about anyone else – but I’m more then happy to send 2015 off with a square kick in the a**! Man, this year has been intense! I walked into 2015 being advised that my actions needed to start meeting my words. That while I knew I wanted a change in my life, I was reminded that me, perched on a bar stool with a vodka water in hand, isn’t exactly the fastest way to get there! (Who knew?! 😉

What a whirlwind of a year…exhausting, painful and liberating all at once. It reminded me of my pregnancy, the days long, but the months short once I made it through and she arrived. I felt like I wasn’t making any progress, and when I did, I’d back step, stumble and trip myself 10 steps backwards, only to later be launched forward! Did I say whirlwind?

We, as a collective, have endured alot this past year! Things have amped up tremendously and it’s been intense and a bit scary to think of the direction that we could be headed. From ISIS to politics to Ferguson to climate change it seems things are in disarray every way we turn. It’s hard to feel like we have any type of control over our lives, let alone believing the things we do attempt to do will have any impact!

It was a year of change for me personally, on a very different scale. The advice given to me that stung the most, but also stuck with me was “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.” I thought I had done so much healing over the past few years, I had worked so hard to overcome obstacles and let go of anger and grief, only to feel as though I had barely touched the surface. The layers feel never ending and each time I thought I could finally close another door, something more would show up with even more intensity, reminding me that this is an ever changing process. Things are always evolving, as are our thought process and feelings around events, people and places as time passes.

It’s been a big year of letting go of SO many things outside of me. I quit coffee and smoking, and significantly decreased my drinking. These have been my physical go-to’s for well over 10 years, so they were big (and hard) accomplishments in themselves! I’ve had to let go of control and be OK with taking leaps on account of blind faith. I let go of people, important people, that although were comfort and routine, weren’t helping me evolve. I learned the importance of boundaries within relationships as well and was forced to speak up about them….all of them, with all relationships. I’ve learned to let go of old and toxic thought patterns, especially about myself. I’ve learned to start questioning more things, both in my life (unconscious behavior and beliefs) and the world at large, seeing things from a different vantage point. Learning to quiet my mind and mouth, and instead being a student of life, with more appreciation then complaining. Letting go of anger and grief, on a deeper level and from a different perspective. Letting go of the ‘norm’ that society seems to impose on us.  Letting go of the need for outside approval and learning to trust myself. There’s been alot more ‘bucking of the system’ (which, let’s be real – I’ve always been a natural at 😉 but trying to do it without fear and guilt, anger and rage. It’s been hard to become more aware of myself and my tendencies, falling back into ‘default mode’ and then not beating myself up for it, instead, course correcting when needed.

As much of a pain in the ass this year has been, I feel like it’s been the ground work for what’s to come! I hope it’s one of resolutions that are larger then just the same old ‘I’m going to loose 20 pounds’. I hope it’s one of true, authentic intention, a better outlining of where we really want to see change in our lives, and more importantly – within ourselves, not just outside of us. I hope it’s one of goals on a larger scale and seeing that it really does begin within us. One that is geared more towards giving and self assessing and less towards blaming. More towards healing our own inner demons and coping in a new way. Focusing more on our passions instead of getting lost in the victim mentality. Remembering that we’re here to move forward, not stay stuck. That we aren’t bound to anything or anyone unless we tell ourselves that’s our only option. Reminding ourselves that we are worth more then we give ourselves credit for, that our past doesn’t own us and it’s up to us to resolve and let go of any anger, guilt or fear that may be surrounding it. I hope it’s one of less social media and more of being present with those standing in front of us. I hope it involves more quiet time for us to think and reflect, with an abundance of gratitude. And although I still have a long road ahead of me, trying to implement this in all areas of my life, I’m really hoping 2016 is just plain BIGGER and BETTER!

I’d also like to give a BIG thanks to all of you who have taken the time to follow me and give me the positive feedback to keep me moving forward on this new endeavor! And a deserved shout out to Aimee, who gave me this advice last January which better put things into motion for me. For planting the seeds (and it actually resonating this time;) that in order to see the change, I have to be the change. Your help through the years has been a base of something that is finally coming into fruition – thank you for that 🙂 (check out her fantastic services at http://www.intuitiveaim.com/ )

SO, a big, fat PEACE OUT to 2015 – thanks for the lessons, but I’m ready for a more peaceful 2016, please and thank you! 😉