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9 smells like the color purple

Exhaustion smells, looks and tastes bad. I am so freaking tired. Emotionally I feel like a tilt a whirl ride at an amusement park. I think this is the least amount of time I have ever spent on my appearance, I grab clothing out of the closet as fast as I can, to run out the door for the  day for endless amounts of errands. UGH!  I feel like I look like the women I judge at the store for not trying. I AM SORRY LADIES, FOR JUDGING YOU!  I have never considered your life might suck on levels ,that the fact that you are dressed and at the store ,requires cheerleaders, awarding medals for being in public, with the mental and emotional hot mess you walk around in . Or you don’t give a shit and that is cool with me, I am getting there myself. Or you have figured out men are into natural looking women.

Hubby and I  leave Friday morning for Belize to celebrate my 40th birthday. To answer the question ,I am frequently asked ;” how do you get out of bed?”  Currently, Belize ,is why I rise to the sunshine, not really sunshine ,but a small flicker of light coming from a basement window, hubby and I are sleeping under, on a full size futon. I know, be jealous. 

Turning 40 is a trip. I am in total denial I will be this age. All my high school friends are turning 40 on Facebook,  that was yesterday in my mind. This life goes so fast!

It’s not looking promising to write on my blog during my stay in Belize. Being the super cute third world country it is, WiFi and Internet are not always stable. My hubby and I have never vacationed together in our 16 year marriage.  We are so excited to be alone and relax. But we also feel nervous because of the recent and frequent traumas and naturally feeling like we might crash on an island like, LOST, the t.v. series. The good news is I have been hit on more looking like crap, that is perfect for island living.
Lesson 1,098: when you feel anxiety you are living in the future. When you feel depressed you are living in the past.  Life goes on. Live in the moment,  shit works out the way it supposed too. LET GO AND LET GOD!

Namaste ♡

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Blessed, not so much

‘I didn’t feel blessed anymore.  The blessed ones are the ones who walk away from accidents. They’re the ones who almost got killed, but don’t.  They’re the ones on get sick then recover. That’s what we are taught.’

‘That’s how being blessed feels.
One of the first things to go when we experiance loss is that feeling of being blessed. People feel blessed when they escape the jaws of death because they swerved in the neck of time and missed getting hit by the bus.’

‘It’s not as easy to feel blessed when the accident happens and you become a quadriplegic. Or you declare bankruptcy and loose the house. Or the person dies and there’s no story to tell, or at least not one that anyone wants to hear.’

‘ It’s hard to call those things the loving hand of God.’

Melody Beattie- The Grief Club

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The road back home

” whatever we don’t have isn’t the missing piece. The moments we live for their own sake turn to moments of joy. Something way more profound and lasting than happiness is peace.” 

“The way you want to feel again is the way you you’d feel if it never happened,  trauma keeps you locked in, stops you from doing what you were going to do when you got hit with the traumatic event.”

“Surrender to everything,  even being traumatized. It’s paradoxical. Surrendering means we loose control, but it gives us control too. It restores our connection to ourselves, God, life. We become aligned.”

” Big loss- the stuff that changes us and our lives forever-can be called initiation. Spiritual lessons we go through as we work our way back to God. The illusion is that we are separate.  Our oneness is what’s real. Initiations wake us up to that. Loss and change can be sacred turning points.”

” All the trials and tensions of the world take us back behind our ego where the divine self is waiting. Each of us is a piece of the Divine.  Pain and loss initiate us to our oneness with each other, God, and life. Nothing can separate from us from God, no matter how alone we feel.”

” when we’re most lost is when we’re most guided.”

Melody Beattie- The Grief Club

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Heaven on earth

My husband, mom and I went to her house yesterday. In the aftermath of my dad’s suicide,  the trigger of being in the house with dad everywhere, every single time I step foot in that home, I fall apart.  Some days I can’t do it.  I have to wait outside in the car while mom grabs something.
Yesterday was exceptionally hard. My dad took his life in their backyard.  I have not spent much time out there. We needed to weed and take care of the lawn. I needed to weed around that area and threw up while convulsing with tears. The violent ending is too much to process. The only peace I have is he died in the place he built, groomed, loved, and spent most of his time in if he wasn’t in the workshop,  tinkering.

Dad made an oasis in their backyard complete with a wooden trellis archway leading you to a wooden handmade gazebo, bench seating and a fire pit for winters days. The backyard was built to be a sanctuary for birds, lush gardens, organized compost containers for their huge vegetable and fruit garden. He made a stiff Styrofoam board that was attached to the back fence,  for all eight of his granchilden to practice archery.  He spent most if his days in this, heaven he created here on earth.

I was gathering all mom’s things to take to car, when my eyes caught sight of my dad’s black, enormous, tabbed and personally enscribed with ‘pappa’ in gold letters ,bible I had given to him last Fathers Day sitting on his side table next to his leather chair. I felt like a sprinkler turned on full volume, sobbing.
My mom said, ” I was going to give that to you.” When she saw me holding it to my chest.  I told her,  ” I had forgotten about it. ” she answered, ” I didn’t,  he read that every day and it was special to him, I was waiting,  but you found it, take it.” Dad had found his faith and devoured everything he could read about it.
As this process continues I see my father’s strength in me rise to be mom’s caretaker. I am my father’s daughter.

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Beauty from ashes

I didn’t post anything yesterday because I had a hangover, that was so bad, I felt the only choice was to drink bloody Marys ,to get over the nausea to function and help mom with what feels like the never-ending task of making dad officially dead.
My best friend of 35 years came over Friday night. She knew my dad so well. I think his suicide affects her greatly. I told her,’ to pick up some wine on the way here’, mom and bff love white wine, she brought a box that we downed.  She stayed the night which was awesome,  I haven’t had a sleepover in twenty years with her.
My bff and I hung out in my room, where mom is staying with our glasses of wine, we reminisced about my dad, sharing memories with mom and mom filling us in on her thoughts and experiences with dad.  She said,” your mom and you look happy. ” We are happy to be together. 
Death has given me a perspective of priorities and what my heart truly cares about.  Having mom live with me has been awesome, I feel like I am getting to know her on a level I haven’t felt since childhood. 
Spending time with people I love and talking about my dad and our relationships has new meaning of depths ,I would never know without going through this trial.
My bff is very forthcoming while drinking (truth serum).  Not unlike many people. She told me something I will never forget, ever! 
When I was 14 , I attempted suicide by drinking bleach. I was removed from my home to a children’s home after being released from the hospital. I stayed in the children’s home for four months. I received major therapy as well as family counseling and was put on suicide watch. Meaning,  I could never wear shoes and had to be supervised while showering if I choose to use a razor. I have never talked openly about this part of my life. There seems so much shame around admitting that I was in the same dark place my father battled for 46 years.
When I got out of the children’s home, we moved to a new town and school. My bff moved with me. My parents were willing to do that for me and so was she. I  got her into trouble and introduced her to smoking and drugs.  I feel bad for that. 😦
My bff told me Friday,” after you had hurt yourself,  I promised to take care of you, I have always loved you more.” She fulfilled that promise to me. She helped raise my oldest daughter till I married, when my daughter was 5. She told my daughter all the memories she had of her being little. She told my husband, ” I gave her to your care, when you married. ” These things I can never repay her for. That is love. That is friendship. Thank you ♡♥♡.
These things matter! She is one of those lifelong friends, you wrinkle and age, and loose your mind with, to become best friends all over again.
I have met and identify with people who have a death wish. Dad’s suicide makes me realize how much I am loved. I can’t believe his memorial was a week ago, yesterday. The church was exploding with people.  So many people loved him.
The voice of shame in suicide has to be broken. This life is HARD! I have battled depression and anxiety most of my life.  I have to be medicated for those things, I am not ashamed of that. It keeps me here and going.

What I am realizing is how important it is to tell people in your life,  ” how much they matter to you, how much you value and love them.” Also, you cannot undo words. Like a tube of toothpaste,  once squirted, you cannot put it back in the tube.
During this emotional time I tend to be emotionally reactive.  My tongue however feels tied from saying what I really want too, because I  know the hurt isn’t worth it.
During this time I see life going in the direction it wants.  It is about letting go. No matter the plans I have, it is going to work out the way it is supposed too. 
Step 3 in the twelve steps ; made a decision to turn our  will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God. 

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An open letter to my father

Dad,
My friend sees you driving around in every Subaru ,she sees.

Thank you for visiting,  I don’t understand the way you visit different people.

I felt your presence left, when I touched your frozen body and full consciousness hit me that you are really gone. It makes me sad because I felt your presence so strong until that point.  I almost wish I hadn’t seen your lifeless body if I knew , you would go away.

About 3pm every day I have a melt down. By that time of day, I have had so many triggers go off, physical pain in my heart, and the thought of never seeing you again ,bring the tears that start the crying that makes your whole body shake.

I understand that you are somewhere better, that is the hope we cling too. You are not miserable. 

It is all too raw still.  It is surreal to have life continue on. I see the benefits to going on. It is good to forget for a moment, lost in the business of certifiably making you dead.

I realized yesterday I think I can handle more than I can. A problem you had, dad. Followed by a meltdown because of that quality.  Much like you.

Mom is a million times stronger than me. Getting her to slow down is near impossible,  I know, you know that. I am making her rest despite her insistence, she is fine. I promised to take care of her and I will.  She calls me your name every day in a snappy tone of correction.  Old habits die hard.

We are trying to put the ‘fun’ in dysfunction, somehow in this madness, their is healing.  This brought triggers up for so many people.  We all are battling the loss differently and have strong emotional reactions. It is good mom is here, it is good ray is home.  We all rotate sleeping together and it brings us closer to process one on one with each other about our feelings of you leaving.

I miss you so much! Your generosity is a constant reminder of who you were. I miss walking into your house, to hear your rocking chair snap out of the recliner position. You would say, “heeeeey, hotshot,  what are you doing?”Giving me a bearhug squeeze. Sitting across from him on the couch, looking at him talking from his brown leather rocking chair. I miss our Monday calls. I miss your smell, I can’t smell you. I love you so much!

My friend was telling me how much I remind her of you. I have cards from people who say the same thing. I will fight ,dad, for this family to stay together.  I am sure this won’t be my last letter as every day brings some new memory of you. You are missed. We all feel the loss, we all feel guilty for taking advantage of the time we had here with you.

I get mad at you because it is no small chore to deal with what is left behind. I already had plenty on my plate with my own children. You told me , “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” I disagree dad, this is too much! Somehow,  I manage to continue to believe I am being refined by fire. I keep going because I think there is a purpose and a divine plan.

Rest in peace

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My daughter introduced me to the screamo scene many years ago. This is my favorite screamo song.

It was written after the lead singer’s  daughter Copeland was born, battling emptiness prior to her birth. My granddaughter will be named Copeland Kai.

My daughter’s father is from Macedonia.  The lead singer of this band is also from Macedonia.  She met him last summer on his tour here.

As we grieve my father’s death and the pain we feel. This little, tiny person we are anticipating to welcome to our family ,will be our light back to feeling alive again. We are all waiting for you CK. ♡♥♡