Friends

Forgiving
Respecting
Inspiring
Endearing
Noticing
Depending
Supporting

Betrayal

  This is a poem I wrote...probably around summer of 1996 titled Betrayal.

betrayal

rises

in

anxious

neverending

careless

oppressive

overbearing

pompous

excuses

regally

Thank you, Joey

 I took it back.

I bought my domain back. It was available and meant to be.

Maybe Blogger changed things? I had to contact my domain registrar to assist with the settings, and that was completed just a few hours ago.

What a monumental day. And then I looked at the date.

Hi, Joey.

Is it crazy to think you'd still be hanging around? I don't think so. Tried and true, your parents posted their annual tribute on this day. Has Jen told you how dazed we were that morning, driving around listlessly?

The sun is shining brightly, even though the temperatures are freezing. Is that you?

How has it been 36 years? 

I hope you know how deeply you've impacted the lives of so many. I hope you know you've been missed and sometimes I think about how life would have turned out for you if you were still here. Would we still be friends? I'd like to think so.

You will never be forgotten. Thank you for continuing to be a part of my life.

What Am I Doing Here?

 The tidbits.

The threads.

The things that make up a life.

There are so many things that turn us into the beings we are. Every day.

Sometimes, past experiences replay in our heads. Especially when those things inform aspects of our current lives. When I think about situations in my childhood, teen years and young adult life: they have all meshed together to create the person I am today.

I am always striving to be a better version of me. I can look back on some of my traumas with a more objective eye than ever before. I have developed a spiritual life of looking with gratitude rather than bitterness.

There are still things in my past that I grapple with. Some days I look at things and wonder who that person was, even though that person was wearing my human suit. It legitimately gives the idea of parallel timelines weight in my mind. 

I hope to write about things from a place of healing. But if they're not from that place, I hope to recognize them as moments I need to heal.

I guess this will be a journal of sorts, but probably more memoir. Difference being: when you write a journal (or diary if that sparks a better view), you do it solely for yourself. A memoir: you're doing it with the knowledge that others may read it someday.

So then I ponder the question: do people destroy their diaries before they leave this physical plain (assuming they know it's coming or maybe they even do it years before)?

I have journals. I was forced to start writing one in 7th grade English class. It was a good habit for many years. In late 1997 I stopped journaling. Why? Because it didn't feel safe to do so anymore. My marriage was falling apart and I didn't trust my then-husband.

By then I also had two kids. Who had time? Who wanted to write about the struggles of motherhood that might later be found by the children and said children leave with the impression that they were anything other than loved? Who wants to take the chance that their children would read such a thing at much too young of an age and see all the messy humanity that life is? Who, at those precious years, wants their children to think less of them because they struggle as well? Because haven't we been raised that parents are supposed to be perfect and have all the answers?

So why is this safe(r)?

Because my children are adult-aged and I have since told them that adulthood is a fallacy. It's a trick to get you to contribute to the vast machine and have bills to pay. There will always be moments in your life when you feel like a child who needs guidance from a "real adult". Moments when you need a "real adult" to protect you and make decisions for you.

Why is this necessary?

Because I need my children to have the opportunity to know my threads. Things I might fail to say. Things that I went through that I never told them. Things that might help them (and others) make a little better sense of this human life. Musings from a mish-mashed life in a sane-as-possible mind.

I'm not linking my about me to this blog. I'll probably use fake names to protect people. A girlfriend of mine refers to her child by their first initial on social media posts. Maybe I'll borrow her idea and use first initials. We'll see.

May your life be blessed with overwhelming love and joy.

The Ledge

Stan's death still weighs heavily on me tonight as the anniversary of another looms just 5 days away.

30 years ago on the 20th, a classmate departed this world after falling off the ledge. His was my introduction to what it felt like to be a survivor...the one who asks "why didn't I see?" "how could he do this?" "why didn't he reach out?"

Every one of those questions presumes blame. Someone MUST be to blame.

But real life has taught me that no one is to blame. It's just a ledge. I've been on that ledge, and this is why I'm standing on my soapbox.

Some of us make it down on our own. Some of us get there with the help of loved ones. Some of us get there with the help of strangers. And some of us fall off. I wish I could tell you what the perfect formula is, but I can't because we're all different.

I think about Joey every year on the anniversary of his death. And often times in between. I've never gotten over the pain of self-blame with him, even though we weren't close at the time of his death. But I still wonder...should I have known? Should I have seen? Could I have made a difference?

My introduction to being a survivor of someone else's suicide is one of my cornerstone pieces. The foundation under the steps, if you will, that has helped me off that ledge more than once. I still talk to Joey maybe more than I should. I often thank him for giving me the strength to have stayed. I look back on my life with wonder and awe. I thank him for the memories I have witnessed because my pain over his loss gave me the strength to stay. There are so many beautiful, wondrous and amazing things I would have missed out on if he hadn't provided me with that first step of strength.

Love your loved ones. Life is short. We don't always know when someone is sitting on the ledge. We won't necessarily know when they're teetering on the edge of falling off. We can say we'll be there to help them until we're blue in the face. The funny thing about that ledge...sometimes it's so high off the ground that we can't be heard. And sometimes it's so high off the ground that we can't hear them screaming for help. I know these things from experience. I also know that it's time we stop trying to place blame. We need to stop blaming ourselves for not knowing. We need to stop blaming them for not reaching out. We need to stop the blame and we need to stop the shame.

Thank you, Joey. Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me that step.

#suicideawareness #stoptheblame #stoptheshame #hugyourlovedones

*This was originally posted on my personal Facebook page on January 15, 2020.

Honoring Stan

I started to read the comments on this article, but boy was that a mistake. The article itself is well written. And many people don't want to talk about the fact that he committed suicide. I get that they think it's respectful to the family, but that's not necessarily the case. We need to talk about suicide, and we need to be respectful when we do. Stop with the bullshit questions about "why didn't anyone notice." Stop with the bullshit statements of "if only someone had reached out." Stop looking for someone to blame! All that matters in regards to Stan's death is that he was loved and IS loved. Stan was sitting on a ledge and he fell off it. Anyone who has ever sat on that ledge KNOWS how difficult it is to climb down on the side of continuing to live.

My heart aches for him falling off the ledge. My heart aches for his family and his wife. My heart aches for me and all of his others fans. But I won't blame him for falling and I won't blame anyone close to him for "not seeing" how close he was to falling.

I'll be over here, sending my love to everyone who knew him and everyone aching for the loss of his physical presence in their lives.

And just so you know, I'll sit with you on the ledge. I'll hold your hand, and I'll do whatever I can to help you climb down.

*This was originally a post on my personal Facebook page on January 14, 2020.

Hello? Is anybody home?

It's that time of year. StrivingBeyondTheNorm.com was set to expire today if I didn't renew. Last year, I struggled with the decision and ended up keeping it so I could "download my posts" because I didn't realize that time was "here" already. 

Hahaha. That's funny.

I renewed again. I haven't posted a damn thing on it in 2 years. But I renewed it again. 

Here's a thing about a blog like this. It sometimes puts you on the radar of people you don't want to see you. That happened to me, and it's one of the reasons I haven't posted here in forever. But I'm considering reclaiming my personal power and conquering that fear. 

Oh, and I love that name because it so aptly describes me and what I try to do every day.

Will I post regularly here ever again? I simply don't know with all the little pots I have boiling and brewing in my life.

Will I strive to post regularly here even again? Of course. Because striving is one of the things I do.

Maybe I'll see you again here soon.