Falling

It occurred to me the other day that you can tell a lot about people by the way they fall down. Now, most people try really hard not to fall down, but it happens to us all occasionally. Sometimes we stumble, sometimes we fall, sometimes we are gently nudged and then trip and sometimes we are shoved violently down the stairs when we were least expecting it. But how people react to the fall is where their true character shows through.

Some people lay at the bottom of the stairs broken and bloody and just wait to die.

Some people lay there screaming until someone comes to help them, needing someone to bear witness to their pain and suffering, incapable of pulling themselves up without the help of someone else, needing constant reassurance that they can get up and it will be okay.

Others get up on there own but take their time, all the while being patient and forgiving of themselves and others -usually these people have some good friends that they lean on for support and their inner strength shows through on a daily basis.

Some people jump right back up because they don't realize the gravity of what just happened to them. They just move on not realizing what just happened and never think too deeply about it.

And some people jump back up, look around and hope no one saw them fall. They tend to bruise deeply, needing time to understand and fully feel the pain.

It is the latter group in which I am most familiar with and since I can't resist a good analogy and am the writer of this blog, it is this group I will discuss.

These people fall down & jump back up. Not even sure how injured they are until they've walked around a bit. They walk tall when people are watching & limp when not observed.  They have internal bleeding that someone should fix, but they put a bandage on it so no one will see it. Sometimes they even get angry that no one notices how much they are in pain.  The gaping hole gets coverd with gauze & cosmetics and they gasp in pain when others look away. They smile good morning while clenching their teeth.  They do not allow others to see that they were hurt, that they are vulnerable. Especially if you were the one that pushed them down the stairs. They refuse to give you that satisfaction. Its a silly thing. Really. Now don't get me wrong, there are times we need to hold our guts in and carry on but usually we need to get somewhere where we can be sutured up.

My whole point to all of this is I have always resided in this group, which I'm sure you guessed. When my son died I could not contain it, I could not pretend I was okay. I could not move.  I relied heavily on these skills though when I was poked & prodded to find a "new normal." It was survival.  But I try really hard not to allow myself to revert to these ways as I realized the mistake in these ways. I realized I may have taught my son how to do this without meaning to. That it may have left him unable to reach out or know it was okay to be hurt and to show that hurt to others. That I taught him to hide it all but never how to process it. And I'm so injured. So devestated by his death and his loss of life. It feels like betrayal to not show that. Plus I do not want to miss opportunities ever again to tell people how much I love them or go out on a limb to tell people what they mean to me, or even to tell them they hurt me and affect me. That they do matter to me. That everything we do affects someone else. Never do I want to miss that opportunity again. I need to know I said what needed to be said and did not assume someone knew how I felt.

But sometimes old habits die hard.

Hopeful?

On the never ending search for my “purpose”, (insert funny “The Jerk” reference here) I have been praying. A lot. Trying to hear what it is that I am supposed to be doing. Trying to figure out what path I am supposed to take spiritually, emotionally and financially to get me to where I am supposed to be.

Let me start by saying I am not what you would call inspirable. I do not see other people doing something and think – I can do that too. That is not me. I do not want to run a 5K just to say I can, or climb Mt Everest because some other person did. I am intrigued by what inspires people, or what drives them to go on, even in the face of adversity, but I am not inspired by them. This is a new concept to me. I am a realist (often referred to as negative). Realists do not generally get inspired easily.

I tend to be a bit obsessive and sometimes drive myself crazy. Sometimes I have to just shelve ideas as I cannot think about them anymore without making myself crazy and annoying those around me. Just about the time I shelved the idea of a new path in order to save my sanity, or what is left of it at least, I had lunch with a friend. I met this remarkable person a couple years ago and we became friends. She presented me with an opportunity that spoke to me. It would not leave me. The possibilities of success and freedom from my 9-5 excited me in a way that I was afraid were gone for good. The possibility of movement from my current position to something new keeps the negativity at bay. Moving in a good direction, instead of just being miserable where I am whispered to me when I said no to the idea. Now, just moving in itself is not always good. I have analyzed, rationalized and thought thoroughly through this plan.

But, I decided to listen. For once in my life, throw away the naysayers, the negativity, the “security” and just listen. To actually think I could just allow myself to be happy. To think positively. What’s the worst that could happen if I tried? I fail? I have failed at a lot of things I was sure of, why was this so bad? And failure isn’t so bad. I feel like at least I can say I tried then, that I would know it wasn’t right. But I have this feeling in my gut that this opportunity is going to take me far. Not necessarily that this is THE thing, but that it will take me on the right journey. That through this I will discover that thing, or it will at least open another door that will take me closer.  Maybe I need to listen with an open heart, and an open mind, and be less skeptical and I might make the right move. This is so very scary to me. I am based in security. I am a naysayer. I am too critical. And here I am saying to hell with it, throwing caution to the wind, not caring what someone might think and giving it a chance. It’s very liberating!

The one thing my friend said to me that stuck in my head and will until I die is “Who am I to say I can’t do something?” I don’t think she even realized the significance of what she said. But I did and it will not leave me. It makes me question why I think I know so much. Why I think that I am in control? Has it not been proved to me that I am not? Who am I to question what God has in store for me? Who am I to tell him I don’t think I can do something He has granted me the possibility of doing? I cannot even put into words what this statement says to me, but I can feel it. It inspires me in a way I have never been inspired before.  It feels good to feel confident that the path you are about to embark on is the one you are supposed to be on. Not necessarily that it will be easy or triumphant, but that you are one step closer.

Maybe it’s just the change of doing something new, something with potential that is fun and energizes me. Either way, it feels ok. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t scary though. I continuously wait for the other shoe to fall. And crush me. Not in the way of the little bumps in the road knock you down, but the huge life altering ones that gut you and leave you on the side of the road paralyzed, writhing in pain and fear. I don’t expect people to understand, at least most people. Not unless they have gone through life altering traumas. But I am excited about the possibility of a re-invented life! I just hope I can keep up some positivity. But for today, being hopeful and excited about the future is good enough for me. 

Lyrics

"For me, singing sad songs often has a way of healing a situation. It gets the hurt out in the open into the light, out of the darkness" ~ Reba McEntire




I love music. I can not carry a tune, but I know what I like. I have a very eclectic taste and while I love nonsense music, I really love the music that moves me. The kind that makes me cry, makes me listen over and over again, makes me think that it was written by me or for me, makes me appreciate all the artistic talents that culminated to express something I could not or have not been able to before. The music that touches me, is soulful and real. That's my favorite. It always amazes me how I will sing along with the lyrics of some random song and realize that I have never really listened to it. And I am ashamed because it is powerful and it should be heard! This occurred the other day while on my way home while listening to Nikki Sixx's "Accidents Can Happen." I was going to post the lyrics, but as I am not sure of the laws of copyright infringement and knowing he has a lot more money than me to fight that battle, I will not challenge him. You may look it up on your own. I think people should listen to it and hear these words.


I'm a big fan of Nikki Sixx. I loved him back in the day, when I was too young to love a rock star, and through the years my adoration has changed and morphed, sometimes wondering why I do not listen to more of his music, sometimes sickened by the rock star life and sometimes wondering why I do not listen to more of his music. After reading the Heroin Diaries I was in again. I identified with him in a way I wouldn't have thought possible. I think it made him more human. The pain and suffering when he seemingly had so much, made him real. I am sure many people feel this way, especially after reading his books. I, in no way suffer any delusions, I do not think we will meet and become friends, nor am I sure I would like him now. He is no longer my type as a romantic interest, no longer the idol of my youth. Don't get me wrong, I still think he is great, but its because I find him a fascinating, unique and intriguing individual and appreciate his music, talent and attitude. I have never been addicted to narcotics. I have never walked his walk. Or the walk of many like him, from all facets of life. But what I do identify with is the brokenness, the shame and the pain. 


What I found most touching to me on this day was the honesty and love that this song portrays. It speaks volumes, not only to addicts, but to anyone suffering. There is no one who has suffered through a problem, tragedy or addiction who hasn't needed to know they are not alone and they will continue to be loved. That they can start again tomorrow and do not have to throw everything they worked so hard for down the drain. That they have not failed, only stumbled. And that everyone, and I do mean everyone, stumbles. Everyone falls. But there are those who are there to help you up, to remind you that it will be ok again. To hug you when you need it, even if you don't want to ask for it, or even acknowledge that you need someone to tell you its ok. Especially from someone who has been in your shoes. I know I needed to hear it that day. And it reminded me to make sure I share that with the people I love and the lives I touch. Even after everything that has happened in the last few years, I still need reminders. 


We forget that the [insert disaster] will pass. This may be the most important thing for us to keep in front of us. I do not know what went through my son's mind in the moments before his death. I will forever agonize over this lack of knowledge. And I will forever be tormented by wondering if I had called at that moment and reminded him that stuff happens but it will be ok, that this too shall pass, would have meant he was here today. 


You just can't give up. I need to be reminded of this too, as you can see. 

Can you imagine?

Awhile ago I was involved in a conversation about texting while driving. This is a huge debate and not really what I want to write about. I really try not to look at my phone while I drive. I try even harder when my kids are with me knowing they are watching what I am doing every minute, even if neither of us realize it. The conversation was offensive to me though because of the thoughtlessness of someone who knows me well enough to know how much I suffer, but apparently doesn’t pay as much attention as I would to them. It was offensive because I never take people getting preachy with me well, especially when I am agreeing with them, but they aren’t really listening. So when I said “I try really hard not to text or do anything like that” it apparently meant “I text all the time without regard for anyone” and then even though I was trying to say I agreed with her, she kept talking and talking about it and every time I tried to explain myself it just ended up sounding as if I was backtracking, even though I really wasn’t. I really hate conversations like this. I end up overly frustrated and for no reason. But then she said to me, rather passively “I mean, really, could you imagine if you were the cause of your own children’s death?”  I just looked at her and ended the conversation. What I really wanted to do was punch her in the face and scream at her. A younger Laura would have. I wanted to scream “Really? You are asking me this? Yes, I can imagine what it would be like to feel responsible for your child’s death. I can imagine my heart being ripped from my chest, put in a blender and stuffed back in so that it can ache. I can imagine the feeling that you could have done something to prevent such a tragedy but didn’t.  I can imagine them laying there lifeless knowing there is nothing you can do to help them. No matter how much you love them, no matter how hard you want, you can’t do anything. I can imagine that. I can imagine the horror in which has become daily existence. I can imagine the self loathing one would feel. I can imagine a loss so great, you will never be the same again. The question is can you!?” This is the edited version of course, as in real life if I were to scream this there would be a lot more expletives. I don’t know how to make people not be stupid with what they say. If anyone has any advice on that one, please let me know. I know the answer is really that we cannot control what other people do, only our reaction to it. But sometimes that is not enough to quiet my mind. 

Callings

Life is a funny thing. Grief even more ridiculous. You will be driving along, singing a song, feeling like today might be good for something and enjoying the sunshine and then a memory flashes across your brain; sabotaging your momentary happiness. The image of cop cars surrounding your son’s fathers home, confirming what you refuse to believe. The lifeless body of your first born child drills through the sun and crushes you all over again in an instant. Images and past conversations run through your head at the sound of someone’s voice. There are constant attacks of brutal images and feelings on your soul. It is often the times you least expect that to occur that it hits you the hardest. We (my family) are trying. We are trying to dig ourselves out of the hole we are in. We are immersing ourselves in life and trying to live.
However, it exhausts me. I am exhausted. It has been a whirlwind 5 months already this year, with task after task needing to be completed. Work is absolutely crazy. There is so much piled on my plate right now, I am positive it will break. And it becomes more and more apparent that I am not the same. I cannot handle the same things, nor do I want to. It doesn’t matter But, I seem to be unable to step off the ride, make things simpler. My job is nuts. I know, in the way of someone who has lived through trauma, I am not where I am supposed to be. When things like this happen to you, you realize what is important. And if you were unhappy with something before the tragedy, you certainly will not be happy with it afterwards. This is not what I am supposed to be doing.
The question that I cannot answer is what is it that I am supposed to be doing? I feel this pull towards something, and the push from the other side. But I cannot identify where I am supposed to go so that I may work towards it. For the first time in my personal life I do not feel like running away, I know I am where I am supposed to be and with who I am supposed to be with. I do not long for something greater, because there is nothing greater than what I have. But my professional life is something different. So I sit and think for hours if I could be anything, what would it be? And I cannot answer it. Something creative and something I have a passion for is all I can come up with. And all of the things I think of sound not so bad, but it is not “it.” What would you do if you could do anything?

Happy Birthday

Today is my oldest son's birthday. He would have been 19 today. I am incredibly sentimental and nostalgic about birthdays on a good day. This is, to no body's surprise, not any easier now. I was trying to think how I could write about my plethora of memories, the flooding of glimpses of years of birthday parties, the idea of maybe expressing how I was only a child thinking I knew a lot more than I did, getting ready to be a parent for the first time, not having any idea what was ahead. But in all of the recollections and thoughts that came about in the past few days, the following article that I kept in a draft status kept creeping back in to my mind.

The idea came to me on the 9 month mark of my son's passing. It struck me to the core. I remember sitting there for over an hour in the realization of the simplicity of the idea.

God gives you 9 months to carry a child for a reason. Your body changes, your instincts change, your priorities change, your mind changes, your overall outlook changes.  Preparing for life to begin. You try to prepare, You read books, you talk to people who are parents, who are expecting also, you talk to health care professionals, you prepare yourself for all the ways your life is about to change. And then at that moment when you see your child for the first time, you realize how unprepared you are. How woefully unprepared. How very little you know. You knew your life was about to change, but you didn't know how much. You are no longer the person you were, and will never be again.
I realized at the 9 month anniversary of my son's death, that these 9 months were so similar. My body changed, my priorities changed, my instincts changed, my mind changed. I talked to health care professionals, I talked to people who had lost a child, I talked to friends and loved ones, I tried to prepare myself for how my life was forever changed. It took my body 9 months to realize the extent of the damage, if you will. And I am still woefully unprepared. But I think it was not a mistake that this struck me on this particular date. 9 months is the time it takes for your body and mind to connect and realize that life is going to be totally different for you, even if it doesn't understand how much. It is the beginning of a new era. Whether you wanted it to come or not.

Tested, Tried, Prevail.

Some days I feel especially vulnerable and fragile. This really has nothing to do with losing a son. Well, sometimes it does. I mean to say, I have always felt this way. Since losing Austin, it has been heightened, deeper and occurs more often. Waves of grief, sadness, despair, self hatred and all these other emotions wash over me and it is really hard to push through them. Crawling into my bed and staying there is what I feel like doing most. Last night, I had such an episode and my bed was not readily available. As I was waiting for my daughter’s class to get over, I came up with a mantra to keep these feelings at bay. To keep from crying in the hallway of a public place (which I do frequently now), I recited: “I am strong, I am powerful, I will fall and I will pick myself up, I will succeed, I will conquer, I will be tested and I will be tried, but I will prevail. I am beautiful, I am loved by the people who I love most, I am important, I have changed lives, I have lots left to do, I have strength and I have character. I am strong. I am powerful. I will prevail. I will succeed. I will prevail. I am funny and strong and beautiful. I have gifts from God. I am worthy.” Do I believe these words? Not really. Not yet. But I am trying.