Effects of the Sun

Last week, in a work meeting, someone tried to describe a tragedy that had befallen their family: "This is something that happens to other people. Not you." I nodded along. Yes. I understand that feeling very well. 

Like everyone else, I went through life reading books about people who committed suicide, watched TV shows or movies in which characters shot themselves in the head, saw news stories of tragic events or crime scenes. A person killing himself by shooting himself in the head is the kind of horrific thing you hear about, or read about, or know about and you just can't imagine it ever touching your life. It's a scene in a movie or the stuff nightmares are made of. 

It's removed from your life, because it is too terrible to ever happen to you.

And then it happened to me. My husband shot himself in the head. I came home to a suicide note and a crime scene. Suddenly, life was very, very different. I became those "other people" stuff like that happens to. 

I became a survivor, a widow, the bereaved, a woman in the back of an ambulance with a State Trooper's business card and the coroner's words ringing in my ears. 

Endless waiting. Mandatory autopsy. And the questions.

"What medications was he taking?"

"Where was the note?"

"Did you see ever see a gun?"

"What funeral home do you want to use?"

My neighbors lined the sidewalks like it was a show while police with shields went into my house. My dad, mom, and brother - all in separate cars - arrived at my side and tried to put me back together while I sat holding oxygen to my face and EMTs attempted to calm me down. They protected my view as Rick left the house in a body bag. 

I tried to feel the ground beneath my feet again. 

As May 18th nears again, these are the kinds of memories that flood my brain. It buzzes with the images and sounds of that earth-shattering day. The memories threaten to disturb the happiness I've built around myself. 

But when that happens, I do something important. I remember the effects of the sun. The sun on May 18th as I walked bravely back into my house after the police and EMTS left, to begin the evening and my new life. The sun coming strongly in through the window as Rick's brother and I taped old photos to poster boards on my living room floor in the days before the funeral. The sun outside as I left the funeral home to head to Hotel Bethlehem for a luncheon where a ton of people who love me gathered in one room together for the first time since my wedding. The sun just days after the funeral when my friend Daniele and I walked with her dog Tango at Paradise Valley. The sun pouring into Jennifer and Matthew's porch where we ate dinner just days after that. The sun in Branford, CT right on the beach with Libes. The sun on my long, thought-provoking runs. The sun...the sun...the sun... 

It nourishes the parts of the soul that are hurting the most, even in the times of greatest darkness. It always fills me back up with light again. 

The sun hits all the parts of me...from every angle. The sun illuminates the parts of my memories that hold the hope. The sun shows me what's right in front of me, so good and special, and lets the past lie where it was left. 

The sun is my spotlight in the best photographs, splashing life onto emotion onto body onto heart. 

The sun is what whispers, "You are alive." A soft caress of warmth, an oppressive heat, a dawning light - no matter how the sun presents itself, it makes itself known and just in case you forgot, whispers again, "You are alive." 

Once Upon a Dream

This morning, I was having a nightmare and I couldn't wake up. I knew I was dreaming, but I couldn't awaken myself. My limbs were heavy, my eyes wouldn't open, and I felt sluggish and unable to break away from my dreamworld.

Please make it stop, please make it stop, please make it stop was thundering in my head and I was willing myself to get out of there, to end the dream. To wake. To be free.

I eventually woke up thrashing in bed, panting, cats aside of me.

And as my heart began to slow and I steadied myself in the real world, sheets tangled around me, I breathed a sigh of relief, because there is a difference now.

Before, when I would wake up from a bad dream, it would be to the heavy realization that my life was still a nightmare. I would lie there, deadened, anxious for relief from the bad dream that had just ended... but no relief would come, because life was difficult. Waking up brought no immediate rush of solace. Remembering my lot in life would hit me like a ton of bricks. And the dreamworld nightmare would fade, but it wouldn't be replaced with better emotions.

Now, it's different.

I woke up from my nightmare, breathed that sigh of relief, and felt ease. Joy. Gratitude. Love. The sunlight hit me in bed and I smiled. Thank God it was all just a dream, I thought. Relief flooded my heart. Good things are here. And even better things are coming.

Resilience

So today was not the greatest day.

It was hectic. I felt unappreciated and misunderstood. I was cranky. I've already worked 4 extra hours for the week. I was stressing.

I pulled out of it. Plastered the usual smile on my face. Reminded myself of what's important and what's not.

At one of my meetings today, we talked about Spirit Week and all the events and themes for that particular week coming up. What did we do last year? People were trying to recall. What should we do this year? And I remembered with a bit of a jolt that I was on the committee that planned last year's Spirit Week. And then... Spirit Week was when Rick died. So I never made it in to work that whole week. I missed the whole thing. I was transported back to remembering what I was doing then. Planning a funeral. Letting a disaster clean-up crew into my house. Holding on to Rick's brother from Florida and bawling my eyes out. Walking around like I was on a mission. Staying awake all night long every night. Picking out photos for boards for the funeral home. Calling all the companies to say: My husband died. My husband died. My husband died. Talking to the State Trooper. The coroner. Crying. Crying. Crying. Wow. What a different time.

It's the kind of memory you have to shake off. Like a chill.

The social worker I hired a year ago today posted the most adorable long post on Facebook about having grown so much as a social worker and thanking me for being an amazing and kind boss. It literally made me tear up and kind of redirect myself.

My day did not end on a good note, but as I left the building full of frustration, I ran into my old boss/executive director at a CVS on my way home. I hadn't seen her in a number of months. She came to Rick's funeral. I then had lunch with her and some former co-workers in the summer. We had exchanged a couple emails many months ago and I sent her a card when I learned her mother passed away. But I hadn't seen her in almost 9 months.

She hugged me and said how happy she was to see me. She told me I looked great and how glad she was that I was doing so well. We played catch up for about 20 minutes, filling each other in on things. She remarked again, in a fairly surprised manner, how great I looked and how glad she was I was doing so well.

I'm resilient, folks. Don't expect to see me crash and burn. I am full of life.

I walked out of CVS feeling 10 times better than when I'd walked in. It was so nice to be reminded that I am missed, that my "old life" still cares.

I drove home, took a hot shower to wash away all of the stress of the day, poured myself a glass of wine, and...breathed. I'm so ready for relief and love and happiness and comfort. I'm thankful for my resilience and hope.

I got this.

I Survived

Let me start by saying that today was a terrible day. Let me finish by saying that tomorrow will be better.

Today was a terrible day. It was actually worse than I anticipated it would be. Some things happened that kind of made me wonder how this could possibly be my life. I can't elaborate here, because it relates to work. But suffice it to say that there was a point in my day when I thought I was going to both throw up and pass out. And I didn't get home to Jennifer until hours after I should have.

The day started off okay enough. I pretended it was a normal work day like any other as I got ready to leave the house. I began receiving loving text messages from friends. Cheyenne offered to bring me lunch at work. Libes, Daniele, Stacy, Jennifer, Haley, Nancy, Alicia, and Brie told me they were thinking about me. Jolyn came to find me to give me a warm hug. Laura sneakily left a much needed coffee and some delicious donut munchkins on my desk.

I was busy, I was capable... and then things kind of fell apart. I let Jennifer know that I would not be arriving home at the time we planned. But when I was able to go home, she met me at my house. On my way home, I talked to my mom, Laura, and Daniele, because they had heard about the events of my day. I was not alone. I was upset, but I was not alone.

Jennifer bestowed upon me cards and gifts. I don't know how I deserve such a kind friend. The cats snuggled me, especially Tumbler. Jennifer and I had dinner and watched Gilmore Girls to take the edge off. There were some tears tonight, but the day ended on a good note.

I'll be happy once tomorrow is over. I'll be happy once this weekend as Manager on Duty is filed away and I've survived.

The good news, the positive, the silver lining...whatever you want to call it...is that tomorrow will definitely have to be better.

Forced to Re-Live It

6 months ago, on Saturday May 17th and Sunday May 18th, I was Manager on Duty at my job for the weekend. It was my first and only time being Manager on Duty. I woke up that Saturday and went to work. It was weird being there on a weekend without most of my co-workers. Rick asked me to pick up gyros on my way home. I did. We saved them and had them for dinner that night. Take-out gyros were my husband's last meal. The next morning - Sunday morning - I went to work as Manager on Duty again, not knowing that as soon as I left, Rick shot himself in the head.

I kissed him good bye and we said our last words, though at the time I did not know they would be our last to each other. 

As Manager on Duty, I busied myself at work that Sunday, not knowing that my husband was dead in my home the entire time. That haunts me. I came home to a suicide note.

Every time I think about being Manager on Duty, I picture myself that day, blissfully and horrifically unaware that Rick was already dead at home. Manager on Duty is forever associated with the day my husband died, because it is what I was doing when he wrote me a note, when he took his last breath, when he died. 

Perhaps if I had worked for my company longer...perhaps if I had been Manager on Duty several times already before Rick's death, the association would not be so strong. But as it happened, my first and only time being MOD was the day Rick died. Was the worst day of my life. So if I think about being MOD, the only other thing that correlates for me is Rick killing himself. 

Shortly after Rick's death, it was time for all of the managers at my job - including myself - to sign up for MOD weekends again. I stared at my computer and couldn't even fathom having to do such a triggering and terrible thing so soon. I sent out an email to my fellow managers explaining my concern about being MOD again so soon after such a traumatic event. They picked up the slack and all the weekends got covered without me having to choose one during the next quarter. I was so grateful. 

But now the time has come. I am MOD this weekend. All I can think about is that the last time I was MOD, Rick committed suicide. I am terribly anxious and definitely feeling PTSD-esque symptoms and worries. I know that I do not have to relive that day. I know that it will be okay. But it still feels awful right now. Tomorrow when I leave for work, I think it will be okay. I expect a looming sense of dread, but I am hopeful I can manage to get in my car and go. Tomorrow when I'm there, I think it will be okay. I expect to be busy and focused on other things. But tomorrow when I leave my MOD duties to come home, all my mind envisions is the suicide note that was on the table... the body in the basement... the frantic, horrible 911 call I made... the collapse outside my house... the hours I spent in the ambulance getting oxygen and crying hysterically... the neighbors watching everything like it was a news program... 

I know that this weekend doesn't have to be scary. I know that it will not all happen again. But the association is so strong and my heart feels very heavy tonight. 

I do have a plan. My friend Jennifer will be waiting for me at my house when I get home from being Manager on Duty tomorrow. And my mom will be waiting for me at my house when I get home from being Manager on Duty on Sunday. I won't have to walk into my house alone. And if I have flashbacks or remember awful things, someone will be with me.

I think right now it's unreasonable for me to hope I won't cry tomorrow. I cried just telling my mom how nervous I was tonight. I woke up with a throbbing headache today from grinding my teeth all night and clenching my jaw in my sleep. 

I'll end on a positive note. I am choosing to be thankful in advance that this weekend will be okay. As my blog tagline has said in the righthand corner from the very beginning:

"Tomorrow may bring pain, but it cannot steal my joy."

Right Back at Day One

So tonight when I found out that Robin Williams committed suicide, it felt like someone threw a really heavy brick at me and the brick hit me in the stomach. I just sat motionless like a statue, hurting so badly inside my gut... I could almost imagine my heart starting to bleed inside me. Then, with a delayed reaction, I started bawling.

My mind cannot conceive of a loss like this. It hits so close to home. It is too soon in my grieving process for something like this. I feel like I got catapulted back to May 18th when I read the statement Robin Williams' wife gave:

This morning, I lost my husband and my best friend, while the world lost one of its most beloved artists and beautiful human beings. I am utterly heartbroken.

From there on out, my brain has just been a mess of trauma and tragedy and re-living bad memories. I have been texting people all evening. I have called my mom. I am just a crying mess of a person. And I am so ANGRY. I was having a normal day, a normal night, and then BAM - I was slammed with this terrible news that just sent me into a spiral of reliving all my traumatizing feelings from the end of May. 

How can people be in so much pain that they take their own lives? It just hurts my heart so much to know that the pain is so real and unbearable for people like Robin Williams... like Rick...

I can't go back on Facebook where every post is about this suicide. It gives me PTSD type triggers. It really does... I can't watch the news. I am sad that suicide is something that is permanent. Real. Painful. 

I don't want this pain.

I want to remain the positive, smiling person everyone knows. And I don't want to remain that way just for them. I want to be positive for ME. I want to be okay, feel okay, and not be blindsided by all this tragedy so that I don't know whether I'm coming or going. I don't want hysterical tears and a heavy heart. I don't want traumatic responses. I don't want to have no control over my life and emotions. I don't want this. 

I don't know how to sleep tonight... I feel like someone has stabbed me 50 times and I'm stinging and bleeding in pain, all the while having flashbacks of the day Rick killed himself. What I was wearing. What I was saying. What I was feeling. What everything looked like. What I found. What I saw. Who I heard. I don't want this happening to me. I want peace. And I had some peace, quietly eating my dinner and watching TV... until I heard the news about Robin Williams. 

I hate ending on a negative note. But tonight it is all I can do to hold it together. So I will simply say this: Suicide is terrible, tragic, and irreversible. Please remember that suicide itself is not a disease. Depression is. Mood disorders are. Addictions. Eating disorders. Etc. Etc. Suicide cannot be reversed...but there is help for the leading causes. Life is beautiful, important, and meaningful. There will never be another you.