The Past (p3) Motherhood...

When I turned 19 I made the realization I was going nowhere. I decided I needed direction; I needed to find a future worth living. I decided to join the military; they would provide me with training, a paycheck and a future. I joined on a delayed leave in November 1991. I had 6 months to tie up any loose ends, have that one last fling then off I go. I checked into the MEPS center at 5:30 on a brisk March morning. Going through all the final fazes to fly to boot camp later that morning. Duck walking across a cold linoleum floor, jumping up and down, doing squats…fun fun fun stuff. Then the pee test, all the female recruits standing there in our undergarments waiting to take our turn to pee in a cup, freezing our patookies off. I went in took care of business and waited to be told to get dressed. Once all that was done I should be good to go and on the plane, just another hour to go.  I learned then at 20 years old, that no one should ever say never about anything.

Just when I thought I had my future, MY LIFE figured out, everything changed again. I was told I couldn’t leave for boot camp. That my medical condition prevented it, I was pregnant. Pregnant!!! 

There I was being "forced" into a new "sanity", a new reality.

  

Becoming a mom, wow me a mom. How could I be a mom to anyone? I had no idea what a mom really was. Its not like I had the best example, no offense to my mom as she did have a few extenuating circumstances to deal with while raising me.

Nine months later, there was a beautiful baby. My water broke early on November 11, 1992, and next thing I knew there he was. Austin was born at 11:06 in the morning weighing in at 6 lbs 11 oz, he was perfect. Big expressive blue eyes, blond/brown hair. Born with 11 fingers and 10 toes. Yes I said eleven fingers, he had the cutest little extra thumb on his left hand. It even had its own little finger nail. Of course the minute my sister pointed it out to me I was freaked out beyond anyone’s imagination. But he was still perfect, he was mine and mine alone. His father freaked and in a way disappeared from us, but that was okay because we had each other.

As a baby and toddler, Austin had such a sweet spirit; full of life and full of smiles. Very much his own person from day one.  He looked like a wise little old man when he was born. Expressive eyes, prominent little nose, chin and mine. He loved to cuddle with lots of hugs and kisses every day. We used to play this game when he was little; back and forth over and over and over again: I’d say “I love you” he’d say “I love you too” then I’d say “Oh no no no I love you more” back and forth until it would drive us both nuts.

I remember being so busy back then. Being a full time single mom, working 32+ hours a week and going to college full time. There were some days I felt like I never saw him. Bath time and cuddling each night was my only real time with him. He loved his baths, he loved having as many toys as he could get into the tub with him and would play forever. His favorite game was to toss all the toys to the ground and yell “Dammit, mommy get it” Of course its always funny when kids swear even though you’re horrified at the same time because usually they’re learning it from you.  He was just so stinking cute and innocent. At bedtime we’d cuddle read books or watch his favorite movies together. His favorite: musicals and Disney. Anything he could sing and dance to.  Although it wasn’t all fun and cuddles I’d do it all over again just to hear his giggles.

Everywhere we went Austin would make “friends” with strangers and then be upset when they’d leave. He loved being around people in any and all situations. His favorite place was the grocery store as long as he could “meet and greet” everyone we passed. He was my little socialite.He was so intuitive from the beginning, always sensitive to how others were feeling, wanting to make others feel better. He loved everyone and they loved him...

The Past (part 2, the vomit continues...)

I've been told by many that by "getting" everything out I will begin the journey to healing. I know this to be true, so for anyone reading this sorry to bore you. I was told that by writing a journal I would be able to fully express how I feel about things etc etc etc... I thought about writing in a regular old journal by hand, but ugh... typing is so much easier :) Thus this blog.

(The past continues)

Now here I went from being the middle child to being the oldest caregiver to my younger sisters. We moved into a tiny 2 bedroom apartment 50 miles from everyone we knew. Everything continued to be a struggle for my mom, how to make the rent, put food on the table and still try and be some kind of family unit.

No one truly understands what life is like after a suicide. How does one survive that? How does a family survive that? No one knows what to say to you or how to react around you. It’s a miserable existence. School projects ask for you to write about your family and where you ‘are’ in your family. How does an 11 year old child write something down that even she doesn’t fully understand. I went from being the middle child of 5 to being the oldest of 3 in this new household, this new family dynamic.

My mom would go to work each day then come home and disappear on the couch each day. On weekends she’d go out with friends to the bars. She tried doing everything she could to be involved and make things good for us in every way she knew how. But she floated in and out of truly being there for all of us. She was broken, her only boy, her first born was gone. When she could afford to she’d take us to the skating rink as often as possible, that became our escape. We didn’t go to therapy, we didn’t talk about what was happening in our lives, we just existed. Mom was devastated her only son was gone, she blamed everyone and herself. I think to some degree we all felt “survivor’s guilt”.

I struggled so much trying to figure out who I was. I never felt able to open up to anyone. I wasn’t able to express myself in any verbal way to anyone. Everyday was a new experience in my life.

The fall after I turned 12, my mom met someone new and quickly fell in love. They were soon married and we were moving again. Into this mans life we went. Our step-dad was a nice guy, and very over protective of all of us. He was very kind and gave us what we needed when we needed it and went out of his way that Christmas, trying to make the holiday what it should be. I think he felt it his duty to fix the holiday season for our broken lives. Sadly that didn’t last long either. My new stepfather, passed away just a few months later of a massive heart attack.

Really, how much can any person take? Let alone children. I can’t speak for my sisters but I can tell you it was not easy. It wasn’t long until my mom realized she couldn’t handle raising all of us. Until at one point she told me I had to leave and “asked” me to move back in with my dad and older sister. Now I wasn’t the oldest child anymore but the youngest…sheesh. Things went okay for a while living there. My sister took being the oldest to a whole new perspective in my mind. And I love her for it now. My dad was in and out traveling to make a living until he met and married his now wife. She moved into my childhood home with her 4 daughters and life again was a whole new normal that I never felt like I belonged in. I was 15 going on 16 and I still didn’t know what “normal” was at that point in my life. I didn’t get along with anyone in my new family, I didn’t know how. It wasn’t long before I was once again “asked” to leave. Move out? To where? My paternal grandmother was the only one who raised her hand out to me, and I am so grateful she did.

Grandma tried so hard to make me feel welcome, to make me feel loved. She went out of her way to do things for me like she had many of my cousins before me. She was the family rock and angel to all her misfit grandchildren; only by the time she got me she was tired. And I didn’t help much in that department, I think I found many, many more ways to tire the poor lady even more.

I floated through my existence while living there pushing every limit I knew how to make her realize I wasn’t worth the time. I mean hadn’t my parents given up already. 

Life was just a moment passing through time. With no clear direction, no major future plans. Just live in whatever moment I found myself in. I vowed then never to have children of my own. I didn't want anyone to feel like I did, unwanted, unsure and lost. I didn’t want to be a disappointment to anyone else or to find myself disappointed in them.

11 Months of Tuesdays...

My beautiful son left this earth 11 months ago today, not a day goes by without feeling a multitude of feelings, extreme highs and lows, each and every day. Being the survivor of someone who has dies by suicide is, in a word, horrible. It's not something you ever want someone else to ever have to experience. And yet every 14.2 minutes another family is thrust into this "existence". I think that one of the hardest things to handle this "time around" for me, is watching the changes happening to my kids. Seeing them have to go through all the emotions I had to when my brother passed. I mean how fair is that. My heart breaks each and every day as I watch their ups and downs, their highs and lows. It hurts so much to be unable to take their pain away, to sooth them and tell them everything will be alright. I know in time it will get better for them, I'm living proof that life goes on and things to get easier over time. And I know for myself the pain of his loss will lesson one day for me as well, it will never go away, it will never be the same, but all of us will survive and once again learn to live and be able to lean on each other and heal as a family.

One more month of Tuesdays and we will hit the one year mark since he's been gone....

Just need to remember to breathe in and out, one baby step at a time. ~sigh~

The Past

Almost thirty years ago, at the age of 10, I found myself floating through my happy, little kid existence when life, as I knew it, was shattered.

I grew up in a simple home with simple means. My parents were blue collar workers, dad was a traveling sales person and my mom worked in odd jobs helping to make ends meet. They weren’t the happiest couple and tended to show that every once in a while. Sadly, I don’t remember to much of my childhood, small snip-its here and there of little things. When I was 4 years old we moved to a great house in a wonderful little neighborhood and I remember walking down the sidewalk confiding in my most loyal friend and confidant, Barbie. She always listened to my fears, my dreams and my hopes. I am the middle child of 5 kids in my family. One older brother, Danny, one older sister and two younger sisters. We were normal siblings’, we played games together, rarely shared our own toys and fought like little demons. My parents always had their hands full with us. They loved us and disciplined us the only way they knew how. They were never truly happy with each other. It always seemed like there was some underlying ‘thing’ that kept them at each others throats for one reason or another.

In the summer of 1982 they decided that they needed a break from each other so they separated for a time. As kids we each felt somewhat responsible for that, I mean don’t all kids take the weight of the world on their shoulders? Everything seemed more strained and we argued even more then usual that summer. After a few months my parents decided to try and work on their marriage for the sake of all of us. Personally I think they realized that neither one of them were able to raise all of us on their own. So once again we were all one big happy family by fall.

Never did any of us think that that would all change so dramatically in just a few short months.

Danny, being the only boy was Mr. Sportsman. He played every sport imaginable from baseball, basketball to football. He was the apple of my parent’s eye. From everything I remember and have been told he was a natural at everything he tried to do to.

However everything can change in an instant. On December 15, 1982 everything started out as any day did in our home, we went to school our parents went to work. After school my older sister stayed home to babysit our younger sisters, I disappeared to my friends house across the street and Danny had a game. From everything I’ve been told, my sister had found a note pinned to the wall addressed to my parents that day. After she read the note she became very concerned with what it meant. She made a bunch of calls and was really freaked out. I don’t know all the details, sometimes I’m glad I don’t, other times I wish I had all the answers. But that day changed everything, it distorted our normal.

Our lives were forever altered that day, My brother died, he had committed suicide. We buried him just days before Christmas that year. We were all in shock and saddened by his loss. We celebrated Christmas that year in tears and heartache. My parents each seems to disappear inside themselves. Going through the motions and doing everything possible to make the most of the holiday. We drifted through life after that point, my parents ignoring each other, blaming one another for Danny’s death. The fighting increased, everyone was miserable. It didn’t take long for my parents to separate once again, only this time for good. My mother could not be in our home anymore so she left and took me and my two younger sisters with her. My older sister chose to stay with our dad. Once again our lives changed.

(FYI-to those reading this, I am in no way shape or form looking or seeking for sympathy, I just feel a need to get this out and let people know the life goes on, that there is hope in all situations!)

Aug 26, 2012

As I sit here pondering my life and wondering what to do with it next, I have to look at and through my past to see who I am. Where do I go from here? Yes I am a mom, a wife, a daughter and a sister and yet what is all that. I sit here in my new home currently unemployed for the first time in 6 years and I have to think to myself “what’s next?”. Every moment of every day the same question runs through my mind. Never in my life did I think I would be subject to having to be a suicide survivor not once (my brother 1982) but twice (my son 2011). And I wonder to myself how do I make my next big escape for the day. What novel can take me away and let me disappear into the fictional life of someone else? I love reading and I have for as many years as I can count. Reading has helped me see life in a whole new light. The ability to sink into another life, picturing myself as the next amazing heroine of the adventure of a life time, that definitely what I need. And why not? What have I got to loose but myself in another world, someone else imagination. Or maybe I could find some senseless online game that takes my concentration away from reality. Forget my depression, toss away my thoughts, find a way to more forward and breath. 

I have one part of my "whats next" figured out and that is to get the word out ~ Suicide is preventable!!!  No matter how difficult you find life, no matter the situation, there is HOPE. September 9th-15th is National Suicide Prevention/Awareness week and many large cities are hosting Out of the Darkness Walks to help raise money to benefit their cause. I feel that we need to get the word out, the idea of Suicide is still, very much, a taboo subject in our society, yet it is one of the largest causes of death in our country. No one wants to talk about it, let alone think it could happen to them. Yet it does, every day, every 14.2 minutes someone in the United States dies by suicide. Nearly 1,000,000 people make a suicide attempt every year.

http://afsp.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.home

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ 

I mean really how is it possible to find myself in these shoes, in this life? I’m not complaining just really confused. I have an amazing husband who loves me unconditionally, children whom I adore and I would do anything for, yet I feel like I have failed. Failed them, failed motherhood, failed being a wife. And yet when the logical side of me wakes up from this miserable revelry of failure and I know life is good. Love is what gets me through this feeling of despair each and every day. 

I struggle most days with even getting out of bed. I don’t want to move, I don’t want to think, I don’t want to exist anymore. Wait… What? Why not.. remember: amazing husband, adorable children: why would I not want to get up and function and continue to make a home with my family?

I affectionately call it Forced Sanity (thanks Nicole)… There are so many different ways to describe what this phrase means. For me, right now, it means waking up every morning, putting a smile on my face and going about my day. Loving my husband, my children and most importantly my life.