For several months following Eddie's death, I did everything I could to help myself through that difficult time. As I've said before, I met regularly with a pastor, attended counseling sessions every week, read practically every book I could find on grief, and finally started seeing a psychiatrist. I also read daily devotions from several different books, made notes of uplifting sayings and bible verses, and wrote fairly regularly in a journal. I was still going to the cemetery almost every week, even after six months. Then one day it hit me - I needed a break. I realized there was actually such a thing as going overboard with the grieving/healing process. I had to stop trying so hard and let myself just "be" for a little while.
I ended the meetings with the pastor (he agreed we had covered everything anyway). I talked to my counselor, and we decided I would see her on an "as needed" basis. I put away all of the books on grief, even if I hadn't finished reading them. I chose one book to read devotions from each day. I stopped making notes of sayings and verses. Instead I put what I had already written in my purse so I would always have it with me if I felt the need for something uplifting. I quit making myself write in my journal every day and started writing only when I really had something I wanted to talk about. I stopped going to the cemetery except on special occasions.
Over time I've managed to find a balance between doing too much and doing too little. I went back for counseling a few more times, mostly to help me get through the holidays and the first one-year anniversaries. I sometimes refer to one of the books on grief when I start having certain feelings or questions again. I still carry the notebook of sayings and verses in my purse "just in case". I've switched from keeping a journal to writing a blog. Now I go to the cemetery if I want to - not because it's a special day or because I feel like I should.
The road to recovery is a winding, up and down one. It's full of potholes, but you'll also encounter smooth patches as you go. You will make wrong turns and get lost sometimes, but you'll eventually find your way again. As with any trip, it will probably take longer than you want. Just as I did when I was a child, I find myself now wanting to ask someone "Are we there yet?" I'm not sure if the journey we take after losing a loved one ever actually ends, but I do know it helps to stop and ask for directions along the way.
"Words to Live By"
We all need words to live by,
To inspire us and guide us,
Words to give us courage
When the trials of life betide us.
And the words that never fail us
Are the words of God above,
Words of comfort and of courage
Filled with wisdom and with love.
-Helen Steiner Rice
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
It's OK to Laugh
I'm sure I smiled or maybe even laughed sometime during the first six months following Eddie's death. It wasn't until September of that year that I was actually aware of it though. I had attended a birthday get-together with a group of my friends. We talked, ate, and watched the birthday people open their gifts. I was glad to be sharing time with my friends, but what I was going through was always in the back of my mind. A few days later I received a thank you card from one of the ladies whose birthday we had celebrated. She said she appreciated the gift I had given her, but that more than anything she was glad to hear me laugh again. That took me completely by surprise. Although I had enjoyed the evening, I didn't even realize that I had been laughing.
At first I felt guilty. How could I laugh when Eddie had only been gone for six months? Wasn't it too soon for me to be laughing and having fun? Then along with the guilt I also started to feel scared. If I could laugh, did that mean I was forgetting about Eddie? How could I possibly forget that quickly? As usual, I looked through the books I had been reading for any information on laughing while grieving. I found that almost every book addressed the issue (which told me my feelings weren't any different from everyone else's), and they all said the same thing ... it's OK to laugh. God gave us the ability to laugh as well as to cry because laughter is as healing as tears, both emotionally and physically. It relieves stress, stimulates healing, and gives us hope.
I gradually started to accept that laughter and grief can exist together. Just because you have one doesn't mean you can't also have the other. It wasn't too soon for me to have fun, and I hadn't forgotten Eddie. I learned that it's not wrong to feel good sometimes, even after a tragic event in your life. Feeling good didn't mean that the grief had ended, but it did give me hope that I could enjoy life again. I wasn't being disloyal to Eddie by going on with my life. I found that the good days would come and go, just as the bad days still did. The grief went on, but I learned to enjoy the relief that came with being able to laugh again.
"A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." -Proverbs 17:22
"He will once again fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy." -Job 8:21
"Laughter can conceal a heavy heart, but when the laughter ends, the grief remains." -Proverbs 14:13
At first I felt guilty. How could I laugh when Eddie had only been gone for six months? Wasn't it too soon for me to be laughing and having fun? Then along with the guilt I also started to feel scared. If I could laugh, did that mean I was forgetting about Eddie? How could I possibly forget that quickly? As usual, I looked through the books I had been reading for any information on laughing while grieving. I found that almost every book addressed the issue (which told me my feelings weren't any different from everyone else's), and they all said the same thing ... it's OK to laugh. God gave us the ability to laugh as well as to cry because laughter is as healing as tears, both emotionally and physically. It relieves stress, stimulates healing, and gives us hope.
I gradually started to accept that laughter and grief can exist together. Just because you have one doesn't mean you can't also have the other. It wasn't too soon for me to have fun, and I hadn't forgotten Eddie. I learned that it's not wrong to feel good sometimes, even after a tragic event in your life. Feeling good didn't mean that the grief had ended, but it did give me hope that I could enjoy life again. I wasn't being disloyal to Eddie by going on with my life. I found that the good days would come and go, just as the bad days still did. The grief went on, but I learned to enjoy the relief that came with being able to laugh again.
"A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." -Proverbs 17:22
"He will once again fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy." -Job 8:21
"Laughter can conceal a heavy heart, but when the laughter ends, the grief remains." -Proverbs 14:13
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Nothing Stays the Same
My granddaughter Emily started to school this past week. Wednesday was her first day of kindergarten. It doesn't seem possible that she's five years old. It seems like only yesterday that she was born, yet so much has changed during that time. Trey and Emily's mother are no longer together. She is married to someone else now and has a new baby. Trey is in a serious relationship with someone, and they just recently moved into a house together. My grandmother came here to live, fell and broke her hip and is now in North Carolina with my aunt. I've been back in college working on my specialist's degree for a full year now. One of my best friends at work retired from teaching, and I really miss seeing and talking to her every day. Other friends have married, gotten pregnant, and one has passed away. My mother has cancer and will soon begin chemotherapy treatments. Eddie died, and his family and I have started to gradually drift apart. Life goes on after the death of a loved one but in a very different direction.
I couldn't stop thinking about Eddie all day Wednesday, the day Emily started to school. I couldn't believe he wasn't here to be a part of it. This was just one more thing in a long list of events that he's missed out on because of the choice he made. I know how much he loved Emily, so I know how excited and proud he would have been. I couldn't help asking the why question again. Why did he choose to leave and miss out on Emily's entire life? She was only two when he died, so she didn't have long to get to know him. She recognizes him in pictures and occasionally says something about her "Papi". (Whenever she does I still feel a physical pain in my chest.) She remembers that he drove a truck, liked to hunt, played softball with her daddy, and took her for rides on the 4-wheeler. Whenever he rode her on the 4-wheeler she would sit in front of him with her legs propped up and tell him to "go faster". In time I'm sure she will forget what little she does remember though. I regret that he's not here to spend time with her because I know she would have enjoyed it. She loves to be outside just like he did. I can only imagine all of the things they would have done together if Eddie had lived.
There's no way to predict what the future holds, just as there's no way to go back and change what has happened in the past. We just to have to accept the hand life deals us and do the best we can with what we have. There are times when I feel like I've really moved forward and am going to be OK. But then there are others when I still feel tired, sad, lonely, and even a little scared. This past week has been one of those times. I guess this is what one of my books called a "grief spasm". I know it will pass, but I have to wonder if it will ever completely go away.
"You can never change the past. But by the grace of God, you can win the future. So remember those things that will help you forward, but forget those things that will only hold you back." -Robert C. Woodsome
I couldn't stop thinking about Eddie all day Wednesday, the day Emily started to school. I couldn't believe he wasn't here to be a part of it. This was just one more thing in a long list of events that he's missed out on because of the choice he made. I know how much he loved Emily, so I know how excited and proud he would have been. I couldn't help asking the why question again. Why did he choose to leave and miss out on Emily's entire life? She was only two when he died, so she didn't have long to get to know him. She recognizes him in pictures and occasionally says something about her "Papi". (Whenever she does I still feel a physical pain in my chest.) She remembers that he drove a truck, liked to hunt, played softball with her daddy, and took her for rides on the 4-wheeler. Whenever he rode her on the 4-wheeler she would sit in front of him with her legs propped up and tell him to "go faster". In time I'm sure she will forget what little she does remember though. I regret that he's not here to spend time with her because I know she would have enjoyed it. She loves to be outside just like he did. I can only imagine all of the things they would have done together if Eddie had lived.
There's no way to predict what the future holds, just as there's no way to go back and change what has happened in the past. We just to have to accept the hand life deals us and do the best we can with what we have. There are times when I feel like I've really moved forward and am going to be OK. But then there are others when I still feel tired, sad, lonely, and even a little scared. This past week has been one of those times. I guess this is what one of my books called a "grief spasm". I know it will pass, but I have to wonder if it will ever completely go away.
"You can never change the past. But by the grace of God, you can win the future. So remember those things that will help you forward, but forget those things that will only hold you back." -Robert C. Woodsome
Saturday, July 30, 2011
The Beginning of Recovery
Once I started sleeping at night I found that I was better able to face what I had to go through each day. I was still sad, I still missed Eddie, I was still lonely and angry, and I still didn't understand why this had happened. But at least I now had the energy I needed to make an effort to move forward with my life. The shock and numbness had worn off, and I knew I had to allow myself to feel the pain of my loss in order to get through it, but I was ready to begin the recovery process. ("There is no way to the other side of this storm but through it." - Raymond Mitsch & Lynne Brookside, Grieving the Loss of Someone You Love). I wanted to do something constructive with my grief rather than letting it destroy me. I gradually began to feel a desire to live again, even though I knew it was going to take time and energy to rebuild my life. I had to realize and accept that I wouldn't get through this rebuilding all at once. It was going to be a step by step process, one in which I had to pick up the pieces of my life one at a time and move on.
I said earlier that taking a leave of absence from work for the remainder of the school year after Eddie's death was one of the hardest things I had ever done. It was the right decision because I needed that time to cope with what happened and get myself together. But I realized that summer that I didn't want any more time off. For the first time in my teaching career, I actually wanted the summer to end so the next school year could begin. I needed a schedule, a routine, something to keep me busy and my mind occupied. I started going to the school during the summer gradually getting my room ready. Thankfully I had to change rooms because our grade level was moving into the new wing of the school. It made it easier not having to go back to the same room I had been in for so many years. I remember thinking one day when I was putting up a bulletin board that this was one place I had absolutely no memory of Eddie because he had never been in that room. This was a welcome change amid so many unwelcome, unwanted ones in my new life.
When it was time for preplanning to begin, my room was completely ready and so was I. I was anxious to get out of the house and be around people again. I was even looking forward to spending seven hours a day with 20+ nine and ten year olds! They didn't know it, but this class was going to benefit from what had happened in my life. Once school started I went in at 7:30 every morning and stayed until 5:00 or 6:00 every evening. I took work home with me at night and over the weekends. I planned extra activities for my students and bought things for them whenever I could. I poured all of my energy into making that year the best I had ever had as a teacher. As much as I felt like I had let my previous year's class down, I intended to give this class everything they needed and more. I guess in some ways I was trying to make up for leaving my students the year before. Those two classes will always be the two I remember the most ... one for being with me at the worst point of my life and the other for helping me recover from that point.
"Think of a painful feeling as being like a bonfire in a field. At first it is hot, unapproachable. Later it may still smolder. Even later, you can walk on the ground without pain, but you know there is an essence of the fire that still remains. Take your own time, but be sure to walk over the ground again. You must do so because whatever you run away from runs you." - Gay Hendricks, Learning to Love Yourself
I said earlier that taking a leave of absence from work for the remainder of the school year after Eddie's death was one of the hardest things I had ever done. It was the right decision because I needed that time to cope with what happened and get myself together. But I realized that summer that I didn't want any more time off. For the first time in my teaching career, I actually wanted the summer to end so the next school year could begin. I needed a schedule, a routine, something to keep me busy and my mind occupied. I started going to the school during the summer gradually getting my room ready. Thankfully I had to change rooms because our grade level was moving into the new wing of the school. It made it easier not having to go back to the same room I had been in for so many years. I remember thinking one day when I was putting up a bulletin board that this was one place I had absolutely no memory of Eddie because he had never been in that room. This was a welcome change amid so many unwelcome, unwanted ones in my new life.
When it was time for preplanning to begin, my room was completely ready and so was I. I was anxious to get out of the house and be around people again. I was even looking forward to spending seven hours a day with 20+ nine and ten year olds! They didn't know it, but this class was going to benefit from what had happened in my life. Once school started I went in at 7:30 every morning and stayed until 5:00 or 6:00 every evening. I took work home with me at night and over the weekends. I planned extra activities for my students and bought things for them whenever I could. I poured all of my energy into making that year the best I had ever had as a teacher. As much as I felt like I had let my previous year's class down, I intended to give this class everything they needed and more. I guess in some ways I was trying to make up for leaving my students the year before. Those two classes will always be the two I remember the most ... one for being with me at the worst point of my life and the other for helping me recover from that point.
"Think of a painful feeling as being like a bonfire in a field. At first it is hot, unapproachable. Later it may still smolder. Even later, you can walk on the ground without pain, but you know there is an essence of the fire that still remains. Take your own time, but be sure to walk over the ground again. You must do so because whatever you run away from runs you." - Gay Hendricks, Learning to Love Yourself
Friday, July 29, 2011
A Decision I Never Dreamed I Would Make
As part of my effort to make sense of what had happened, to regain some control of my life, and move on after Eddie's death, I continued to see the counselor and the pastor on a regular basis. While they helped me with many things, there was one area they couldn't help me with - sleep. After two months I was still sleeping only two to three hours a night, and it was really starting to take a toll on me. My family doctor gave me a couple of different things to take that were supposed to help me sleep but neither of them worked ... one made me sick and the other made me feel like I was in a daze all of the time. I knew sleep was important and that lack of sleep could have negative effects, but I never knew just how much until I experienced it myself.
While some people sleep as a way to escape the reality of what has happened in their life, others find they can't sleep at all. I was one of those people - my mind and emotions wouldn't turn off when I went to bed at night. The darkness seemed to make the fear, doubt, sadness, dread, and loneliness worse. My worries were magnified at night, and my stress level increased as the night went on. I did some reading on sleep deprivation and found the following information: 1) Sleep is needed to regenerate the body, especially the brain; 2) A lack of sleep visibly affects a person's behavior; 3) Verbal language is affected, resulting in slurred, monotone, slow speech; 4) Sleep deprived people have difficulty forming new ideas and often repeat their words and actions; 5) Reflexes are slowed, judgment is impaired, and the ability to control impulses is reduced; 6) Lack of sleep affects the ability to focus and make decisions; 7) The immune system is weakened without sleep; and 8) In extreme cases hallucinations occur and can even lead to temporary insanity. I realized I was experiencing most if not all of these symptoms (I truly felt like I was going crazy), so I made a decision I never dreamed I would make in my life - I decided to see a psychiatrist.
My counselor was the one who initially suggested this, and she even made the referral and appointment for me. Of course I had no idea what seeing a psychiatrist would be like. My only ideas were based on things I had seen on TV - Bob Newhart meeting with a group of patients who had weird fears and habits or Frasier Crane giving advice to callers on the radio. I pictured myself going into an office, lying on a couch with a box of kleenex beside me, while the doctor sat in a chair, notepad and pen in hand, writing and saying things like "I see" and "How did that make you feel". I couldn't believe I was going to go through with it, but by this point I was willing to try anything. I knew psychiatrists usually prescribed medication, but I was very wary of taking anything after seeing what addiction had done to Eddie. The night before my appointment I searched for medications on the internet. I typed in all of my requirements - mild, non-addictive, few if any side effects, sleep aid, anxiety relief. No matter where I searched, one particular medication kept coming up at the top of every list. I wrote the name on a slip of paper and put it in my purse to take with me to my appointment the next day.
The psychiatrist's office was located on the second floor of a medical building downtown. On the drive there I kept coming up with all kinds of reasons to call and cancel the appointment. Once I got there, I sat in the car in the parking lot working up the courage to go inside. On the elevator I rode past the floor because I was afraid to get off. When I got to the office door I looked around to make sure no one saw me go inside. When I finally made it into the office, I was pleasantly surprised. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was relieved to see that it looked like any other doctor's office. It was small, nicely decorated, comfortable, almost cozy feeling. After a short wait I was called back to see the doctor. I didn't think I would be in there very long because I assumed the main thing she would do would be to write me a prescription. Again I was pleasantly surprised. The doctor listened and talked to me for almost an hour. She didn't bring up medication until the end. When she did she said that based on everything I had told her there was one thing she wanted me to try. Before I had a chance to get my slip of paper out of my purse she said the name of the same medication I had written down the night before. I took this as a sign that I was meant to give this a try. The doctor had me make an appointment for two weeks later so she could see how I was doing on the medication and also told me to call her if I had any problems or negative side effects at all. This eased my mind and made me feel much more comfortable about taking something.
I filled the prescription as soon as I left her office but didn't take it until I was ready to go to bed that night. I lay down to read, expecting to be awake off and on most of the night as I had been every night for the past two months. As I turned off the light that night I looked at the clock - it was exactly 12:00 PM. The next time I opened my eyes I looked at the clock again - it was 8:00 AM. I couldn't believe it. I thought the clock must be wrong so I got up and looked at my watch. There was no mistake - I had slept soundly for 8 solid hours without waking up once! The medication wasn't a miracle drug - it didn't take away the sadness or the loneliness, it didn't speed up the grieving process, it didn't bring Eddie back. But it did allow me to start sleeping again which in turn made it possible for me to focus on dealing with the loss and getting my life back together. I know some people don't agree with or approve of taking medication, but this proved to be a major step on my road to recovery.
"God is aware of your circumstances and moves among them. God is aware of your pain and monitors every second of it. God is aware of your emptiness and seeks to fill it in a manner beyond your dreams. God is aware of your wounds and scars and knows how to draw forth a healing deeper than you can imagine. Even when your situation seems out of control. Even when you feel alone and afraid. God works the night shift." Ron Mehl, God Works the Night Shift
While some people sleep as a way to escape the reality of what has happened in their life, others find they can't sleep at all. I was one of those people - my mind and emotions wouldn't turn off when I went to bed at night. The darkness seemed to make the fear, doubt, sadness, dread, and loneliness worse. My worries were magnified at night, and my stress level increased as the night went on. I did some reading on sleep deprivation and found the following information: 1) Sleep is needed to regenerate the body, especially the brain; 2) A lack of sleep visibly affects a person's behavior; 3) Verbal language is affected, resulting in slurred, monotone, slow speech; 4) Sleep deprived people have difficulty forming new ideas and often repeat their words and actions; 5) Reflexes are slowed, judgment is impaired, and the ability to control impulses is reduced; 6) Lack of sleep affects the ability to focus and make decisions; 7) The immune system is weakened without sleep; and 8) In extreme cases hallucinations occur and can even lead to temporary insanity. I realized I was experiencing most if not all of these symptoms (I truly felt like I was going crazy), so I made a decision I never dreamed I would make in my life - I decided to see a psychiatrist.
My counselor was the one who initially suggested this, and she even made the referral and appointment for me. Of course I had no idea what seeing a psychiatrist would be like. My only ideas were based on things I had seen on TV - Bob Newhart meeting with a group of patients who had weird fears and habits or Frasier Crane giving advice to callers on the radio. I pictured myself going into an office, lying on a couch with a box of kleenex beside me, while the doctor sat in a chair, notepad and pen in hand, writing and saying things like "I see" and "How did that make you feel". I couldn't believe I was going to go through with it, but by this point I was willing to try anything. I knew psychiatrists usually prescribed medication, but I was very wary of taking anything after seeing what addiction had done to Eddie. The night before my appointment I searched for medications on the internet. I typed in all of my requirements - mild, non-addictive, few if any side effects, sleep aid, anxiety relief. No matter where I searched, one particular medication kept coming up at the top of every list. I wrote the name on a slip of paper and put it in my purse to take with me to my appointment the next day.
The psychiatrist's office was located on the second floor of a medical building downtown. On the drive there I kept coming up with all kinds of reasons to call and cancel the appointment. Once I got there, I sat in the car in the parking lot working up the courage to go inside. On the elevator I rode past the floor because I was afraid to get off. When I got to the office door I looked around to make sure no one saw me go inside. When I finally made it into the office, I was pleasantly surprised. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was relieved to see that it looked like any other doctor's office. It was small, nicely decorated, comfortable, almost cozy feeling. After a short wait I was called back to see the doctor. I didn't think I would be in there very long because I assumed the main thing she would do would be to write me a prescription. Again I was pleasantly surprised. The doctor listened and talked to me for almost an hour. She didn't bring up medication until the end. When she did she said that based on everything I had told her there was one thing she wanted me to try. Before I had a chance to get my slip of paper out of my purse she said the name of the same medication I had written down the night before. I took this as a sign that I was meant to give this a try. The doctor had me make an appointment for two weeks later so she could see how I was doing on the medication and also told me to call her if I had any problems or negative side effects at all. This eased my mind and made me feel much more comfortable about taking something.
I filled the prescription as soon as I left her office but didn't take it until I was ready to go to bed that night. I lay down to read, expecting to be awake off and on most of the night as I had been every night for the past two months. As I turned off the light that night I looked at the clock - it was exactly 12:00 PM. The next time I opened my eyes I looked at the clock again - it was 8:00 AM. I couldn't believe it. I thought the clock must be wrong so I got up and looked at my watch. There was no mistake - I had slept soundly for 8 solid hours without waking up once! The medication wasn't a miracle drug - it didn't take away the sadness or the loneliness, it didn't speed up the grieving process, it didn't bring Eddie back. But it did allow me to start sleeping again which in turn made it possible for me to focus on dealing with the loss and getting my life back together. I know some people don't agree with or approve of taking medication, but this proved to be a major step on my road to recovery.
"God is aware of your circumstances and moves among them. God is aware of your pain and monitors every second of it. God is aware of your emptiness and seeks to fill it in a manner beyond your dreams. God is aware of your wounds and scars and knows how to draw forth a healing deeper than you can imagine. Even when your situation seems out of control. Even when you feel alone and afraid. God works the night shift." Ron Mehl, God Works the Night Shift
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Fighting Resentment
Sometime after Eddie's death I remember watching a television special on Farah Fawcett. It detailed her long battle with cancer and all that she went through trying to beat the disease. I couldn't help but wonder why one person would fight so hard to stay alive while another would give up so easily. I'm asking the same thing again now in relation to my mother and her cancer. Now that she has decided to pursue treatment options, she is very determined to do what it takes to beat the disease. She is seeking a second opinion from a surgeon in Atlanta before she makes a decision about exactly what she will do. But she will do something - surgery, chemotherapy, or both - what she won't do is give up. So why was Eddie willing to give up so easily? Alcoholism is a disease just as cancer is. There's no cure for alcoholism, but you can recover from it just as you can recover from cancer. There are treatment options for alcoholism just as there are treatment options for cancer. You don't have to choose to die from either disease. My mother is willing to fight, so why wasn't Eddie?
I've been surprised to find that I'm having so many of the same feelings about my mother's cancer that I had about Eddie's suicide. I experienced the same shock and numbness upon hearing the news. I've felt anger and asked the "why" question. Now I'm dealing with another common feeling - resentment. I do not resent my mother, nor did I ever resent Eddie. My mother didn't ask to have cancer, and Eddie didn't ask to be an alcoholic. I don't blame either of them. What I resent are the diseases and what they do to our lives. I resented what Eddie's drinking did to him, to Trey, to me, and to our family. Our schedules, our plans, our routines, our entire lives changed when he was drinking. The same is happening now because of cancer. I resent the cancer and the changes it is making in our lives. My mother had just gotten my grandmother settled into living here with her ... now that has changed. She was taking care of Emily before and after school every day ... now that has changed. Trey has always depended on my mother to be there when he needed help with Emily ... that will have to change. My dad counts on my mother to check on him and take him places ... that will have to change. There will be changes in my life too. I have been working on my specialist's degree for the past three semesters. I was on track to finish next summer. I have decided not to take any classes this semester though because I don't know how much time I will need to spend helping my mother. This is in no way her fault, I don't blame her for what's happening, but I resent having to make the change.
I hope my honesty doesn't make others think less of me. When I first started my blog I said I would be completely honest about everything. If I'm not honest, writing this won't help me or anyone else. I waited for two years to start writing about Eddie's death. Once I started it helped me a great deal. My hope is that writing while this is happening with my mother rather than waiting will help me to get through it. I want to continue my story of Eddie's suicide, while relaying what we're going through with my mother at the same time. I just have to figure out how to manage everything on my plate at one time!
He Asks so Little and Gives so Much - Helen Steiner Rice
What must I do to ensure peace of mind?
Is the answer I'm seeking too hard to find?
How can I know what God wants me to be?
How can I tell what's expected of me?
Where can I go for guidance and aid
To help me correct the errors I've made?
The answer is found in doing three things,
And great is the gladness that doing them brings.
"Do justice" - "Love kindness" -
"Walk humbly with God" -
For with these three things as your rule and your rod,
All things worth having are yours to achieve,
If you follow God's words and have faith to believe.
I've been surprised to find that I'm having so many of the same feelings about my mother's cancer that I had about Eddie's suicide. I experienced the same shock and numbness upon hearing the news. I've felt anger and asked the "why" question. Now I'm dealing with another common feeling - resentment. I do not resent my mother, nor did I ever resent Eddie. My mother didn't ask to have cancer, and Eddie didn't ask to be an alcoholic. I don't blame either of them. What I resent are the diseases and what they do to our lives. I resented what Eddie's drinking did to him, to Trey, to me, and to our family. Our schedules, our plans, our routines, our entire lives changed when he was drinking. The same is happening now because of cancer. I resent the cancer and the changes it is making in our lives. My mother had just gotten my grandmother settled into living here with her ... now that has changed. She was taking care of Emily before and after school every day ... now that has changed. Trey has always depended on my mother to be there when he needed help with Emily ... that will have to change. My dad counts on my mother to check on him and take him places ... that will have to change. There will be changes in my life too. I have been working on my specialist's degree for the past three semesters. I was on track to finish next summer. I have decided not to take any classes this semester though because I don't know how much time I will need to spend helping my mother. This is in no way her fault, I don't blame her for what's happening, but I resent having to make the change.
I hope my honesty doesn't make others think less of me. When I first started my blog I said I would be completely honest about everything. If I'm not honest, writing this won't help me or anyone else. I waited for two years to start writing about Eddie's death. Once I started it helped me a great deal. My hope is that writing while this is happening with my mother rather than waiting will help me to get through it. I want to continue my story of Eddie's suicide, while relaying what we're going through with my mother at the same time. I just have to figure out how to manage everything on my plate at one time!
He Asks so Little and Gives so Much - Helen Steiner Rice
What must I do to ensure peace of mind?
Is the answer I'm seeking too hard to find?
How can I know what God wants me to be?
How can I tell what's expected of me?
Where can I go for guidance and aid
To help me correct the errors I've made?
The answer is found in doing three things,
And great is the gladness that doing them brings.
"Do justice" - "Love kindness" -
"Walk humbly with God" -
For with these three things as your rule and your rod,
All things worth having are yours to achieve,
If you follow God's words and have faith to believe.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Times Like These
The shock of learning that my mother's cancer has returned hasn't worn off, but the numbness has. In its place is another old, familiar feeling - anger. I'm angry at Eddie for not being here to help me through this. I'm angry, once again, at a disease that I have no control over - first it was alcoholism, now it's cancer. I'm angry at what I see as the unfairness of life, and I'm also angry at God again. I said that I was afraid to admit that after Eddie died, but this time I'm not. If I didn't believe in God I couldn't be mad at him. In addition to the anger, I'm also asking the why question again. Even though I know from past experience that there isn't an answer, I'm still asking. I know that everything happens according to God's plan, but that doesn't mean that I understand. I don't understand why, when our family was just reaching the point of recovery and moving on with our lives, something like this had to happen. I don't understand why someone who has done so much for others should have to suffer. I don't understand why God would even consider taking my mother away when so many other people depend on her. Just as I did before, I will try not to let myself become bitter, but right now it's hard not to feel that way.
This is just the beginning of another journey for my family. There's no way to know right now when or how it will end. My mother has decided to undergo chemotherapy treatments, so we will hope and pray for the best possible outcome. Whatever that outcome may be, though, it's not going to happen overnight. We all have a long road ahead of us, especially my mother. It's not going to be easy, and we will all have to make sacrifices along the way. I'm sure there will be times when we want to quit trying and give up. I'm not going to lie and say I'm looking forward to any of this. But if I learned anything from my experience over the past two years it's that no matter how hard and hopeless things may seem, there's always a reason to keep going. Following Eddie's suicide I somehow found strength I never knew I had. I survived before and I will again.
"Times Like These" - Kid Rock
It's times like these we can't replace.
It's times like these we must embrace.
And even though it's bittersweet
And brings us to our knees,
It makes us who we are
In times like these.
This is just the beginning of another journey for my family. There's no way to know right now when or how it will end. My mother has decided to undergo chemotherapy treatments, so we will hope and pray for the best possible outcome. Whatever that outcome may be, though, it's not going to happen overnight. We all have a long road ahead of us, especially my mother. It's not going to be easy, and we will all have to make sacrifices along the way. I'm sure there will be times when we want to quit trying and give up. I'm not going to lie and say I'm looking forward to any of this. But if I learned anything from my experience over the past two years it's that no matter how hard and hopeless things may seem, there's always a reason to keep going. Following Eddie's suicide I somehow found strength I never knew I had. I survived before and I will again.
"Times Like These" - Kid Rock
It's times like these we can't replace.
It's times like these we must embrace.
And even though it's bittersweet
And brings us to our knees,
It makes us who we are
In times like these.
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