Don’t forget to dot the eyes

I remember many year ago, for most of my youth and into my 20’s, feeling a certain kind of apprehension and fear when anyone would look at me.

I suppose it came from the belief that any time ANYONE looked at me, they saw all of the shame-filled hurts that I tried so desperately to hide.

Of course I knew that people could see these things; from an angry and abusive Dad, to being bullied by my peers throughout school, how could I expect any other kind of treatment when the world COULD SEE how much I deserved it.

So, now, as I am often in the company of young adults who have come from (far worse than my own experience) abusive and traumatic homes, I find the memories coming back to me.

How I loathed the eyes. I longed for the world’s eyes to be covered when they turned toward me. I imagined people wearing blinders, at the least. That would provide some comfort, until their gaze was fully upon me. But there was never any real way of escaping the looks from those I encountered.

I pretended not to hear the searing words said about me. Words beginning before I was even old enough to leave my family, and attend school. At first school was a great change for me, as I learned the joys of escaping into books and music and art…

But once I became visible, or noticeable in some way, I became the target of other children’s derision and aggression.

So I kept my head down and did what I could to blend in to the background…

…

These days I’m not so concerned about how most people perceive me, and I am so, so very grateful for that. I encounter other people’s children who tell me that they have seen things that no child should see. They have heard and been victims of things no human ought.

So I make sure that I take the blinders off when I look at them. That way they can see the child in me, returning their gaze, through the older eyes of an adult who genuinely cares about them. I do whatever I am able, w/in my limited capabilities, to leave them better than I find them.

I need to remember to pray for them.

Won’t you help me pray for the children, and the hurting adults they grew up to become?

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From “A bed for my Heart”

This is the truth of being a bereaved parent: “People have asked me what’s it like to live life with a deceased child because they “just can’t fathom”… Well let me do my best to explain it in a way that can be understood.

It’s being dead but still being able to breathe, barely.

It’s like having your entire world thrown into a blender and mixed up to a liquid. Having your heart and lungs ripped out of your body so violently and never put back. Leaving a hole in your chest that will never heal and seeps pain, tears, anger, hate and regret.

It’s like living in a dream that you can never wake up from, except it’s a fucking nightmare. A life long fucking nightmare.

It’s like having a large glass jar filled with happiness and you drop it on the ground and all the happiness blows away in the wind to never return.

It’s like having a million people around hugging and loving you but you still feel completely alone. Going from having people to talk with to having not one person message or call anymore because they don’t know what to say to you … at all, about anything…

It’s standing in the kitchen cooking food for the ones still here and crying so hard you can’t see yourself burning the food.

Some days it’s falling to the floor, screaming so hard that no sound comes out and you run out of breath but don’t stop screaming until you are hyperventilating and dizzy.

It’s a million little demons battling one single tiny angel in your brain, testing to see if you’re strong enough or not to survive this.

It’s like always trying to convince yourself that people want you around even though you feel like you’re just a placement for convenience in this world and in people’s lives.

Honestly. It’s like knowing that you’re going to die eventually and embracing it with open arms like a long lost friend.

It’s like this picture below of you holding on with everything you have and feel it all melt away.

No it doesn’t get better. It doesn’t get easier. You just learn to live, to survive.” – Unknown Author

It takes a village. Join ours. @abedformyheart
#grief #loss #childloss #abedformyheart #moms #dads #parenting #grievingparents #loveneverdies #saytheirnames #holidays

Get the #1 best-selling book, “You Are the Mother of All Mothers.” A gorgeous gift book for #grieving moms. ABedForMyHeart.com/buy/

Grief Is As Individual As A Fingerprint — thelifeididntchoose

It’s a nearly universal human tendency to try to fit another’s experience into our own. Even though I try hard not to, I still often find myself saying things like, “I know just how you feel” or, “This worked for me, it ought to work for you”. Trouble is, grief is as individual as a […]

via Grief Is As Individual As A Fingerprint — thelifeididntchoose

So This Is What I Looked Like: It’s Hard Watching Another Heart Grieve — thelifeididntchoose

Watching my father grieve my mother is the second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Grieving my own son, watching my husband and children grieve him too, is the hardest. I observe Papa’s expression, hear the weariness in his voice, note the far off stare when conversation drifts to mundane and unimportant things and […]

via So This Is What I Looked Like: It’s Hard Watching Another Heart Grieve — thelifeididntchoose

This is Your Time!

Hey! It’s almost June!!

What are your plans for the summer?
Here are some thoughts…please SHARE if it speaks to you.

Don’t just exist…LIVE!!

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Own it (so it doesn’t own you),

Design it (so it’s not by default)
and
then LIVE IT (nothing worse than regret)-
this thing called life!

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If you find yourself holding yourself back because of what other people think, it’s time to STOP that shit! Somebody smarter than me said that “What other folks think of me is NONE of my business!

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TODAY – like right NOW – Start thinking about if you were told you only had three months to live –
AND
What would you want to do?
Where would you want to see?
and most importantly
who would you want to spend your time with?

🌟

Then…. Review this every three months

The harsh reality is – it’s only a matter of time and you’ll be right!
Nothing worse than regret!

YOU got this thing called life if you want it! You just have to decide!

If you feel like you are really stuck or not sure where to start, reach out! I’d love to help! I can recommend some of the books that have helped me climb out (of so many deep pits), or share links where I’ve found resources that help me to “get my head in the game”.

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You HAVE to do what makes YOUR spirit fly!
Do the best you can in the moment and be ok and proud of that! Celebrate the tiniest of victories, and build on them!

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Make today the START of the best of your life – WHAT ever that FEELS and LOOKS like to you, not what you think everyone or society thinks it should look like! 🌟

Also in case NO one has told you today…

The world NEEDS you, and what you’ve got. Not you trying to be someone else or something else you may feel you need to be or do.

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Be authentic -the YOU God made you to be, and do what makes you HAPPY! The world needs you! Confident, kind and uniquely YOU, your lessons, your scars, your compassion, your experience, your understanding, your SMILE (this is one of the most important), your courage, your strengths and your vulnerabilities…more than EVER! You are unique to ANYONE else and the world needs YOU, all of YOU!

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Memorial Day Ramblings

Recovery from addiction is about so much more than just not drinking or using. It’s about making a connection with the ONE Who has all power.

When you still act like a thug, or a whore, or a gangster, player…well, just keep coming back, work the steps, and stick close to your Sponsor. Some people say “everybody’s selling something”. What are you selling?

The “lifestyle” of addiction takes many people to their deaths, may e even more easily because they *THINK* they’re good.

The difference between being “sober” and being “dry” can be subtle, but deadly. I’ve been around long enough to see both. Usually people who *just don’t pick up* will turn to other things to take the place of their drug (or drink) of choice, things like food, sex (or non-stop, revolving relationships), shopping, or something else that’s not as obviously detrimental as what they used to do.

Sobriety is a physical, mental, emotional and spiritual thing. Not necessarily in that order.

There are so many hurting people, every where you turn.

Without the relief I found in drugs and alcohol, albeit temporary, I never would have lived long enough to find the Solution for Living. In order to find a long-term solution for alcoholism/addiction, I had to stop using AND then address the mental illness and Complex-PTSD that I’d acquired along the way. One day at a time.

Sound like a tall order? Maybe. But if it’s your only hope, and you make up your mind to hang around with people (aka “stick with the Winners”) who are DOING IT, then it’s absolutely doable.

This weekend, I’m grateful for the men and women who gave their lives fighting for our freedom.

I’m also thinking about the ones who made it back home and NEED their community to support them. Veterans have an unnecessarily high rate of addiction, and (because it’s what alkie/druggies often do) premature death, whether by overdose, alcohol poisoning, SBC, or something else…avoidable.

IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE THAT WAY.

I aim to continue making a difference. By the grace of God. It’s all I can do.

Mothers Day Minus One

Since last November, I’ve been living in the Year of Firsts, without my boy.

Benjamin was the reason that I had a lot of “1sts”, not only the 1st Mothers Day. He was also the “WHY” for my realising that I HAD to get clean and sober.

Because God allowed me to become a Mom, I got to experience my baby’s first…poopy diaper (tiny but legitimately icky)…the first time our eyes met…the times after that when we would share a smile, a snuggle, a laugh…

As a single parent for about half of his life, I was concerned with SURVIVING for much more of the time than I’d like to admit. It’s nearly impossible to “stay in the moment” and live all of the Hallmark card images that flood the social media streams when you don’t know how your MOST BASIC needs are going to be met. We never got to go on vacations or to amusement parks. Instead, we mostly went to the Children’s Hospital to see whether his heart was working as it should. I learned later that he had to live with his own kind of PTSD as a result. I just know that by the grace of God, I did my best. We had a lot of laughs together.

PLEASE don’t feel sorry for me/us.

I’m not sharing that for your pity. It’s my life, and the reality hasn’t been pretty a lot of the time. So, nobody (except social media) ever said it had to be. Or even that it SHOULD be. It’s just truth.

My boy taught me so many things. For example: when I thought I had taken as much pain as I could stand, he inspired me to endure a bit more. He gave me reason to dig deeper for the answers when there didn’t seem to be any. His smile and tender “I love you more, Mommy” gave me the courage to find a way out of dangerous situations and to leave relationships which were destined to leave lasting scars on both of us.

My 1st baby was the instrument used by God to teach me what unconditional love looked like, walked out.

My boy grew up into a kind, gentle, insightful and funny man. I will always be more than grateful that he was a man who chose to forgive me for sometimes reacting out of fear… and things I learned from my own less-than-perfect, yet perfectly human parents.

I hadn’t planned to write anything for this Mother’s Day. In this year of 1sts, I’d just as soon skip over it.

I am still a Mother. I have another boy, or rather, young man. He delights me, more than I have the ability to express. And, I have Ben to thank for him, as well.

When he was about 6, Benjamin began to say things about how he would like to have a brother. So we prayed together, if it was ok with God, could we have a baby brother for Ben? And God listened.

I have been blessed, doubly. My son’s both grew up to exceed my hopes and dreams for them. I can’t wait to see what my younger son will become. He’s already more than I imagined he would be.

Only God knows what the future holds for any of us. But I know this much:

The Creator is good, He loves us, and He delights in our seeking to know Him. I look for the day when I see my Dad and my boy again. Trusting God to guide the rest of us Home.