behindblueeyes54

[behindblueeyes54]

Finality.

Finality.

When you already know something was final or over, that your situation would never be different or change; yet when you see something and it hits you. It hits you like a ton of bricks being thrown at you all at once. Like bricks being thrown a hundred miles an hour bundled together and crushes your soul all over again. It would hurt right? Physical pain and mental pain can be one in the same. I have experienced both at the same time. I was talking with a friend about recovery and how there is no magic number on recovery or being mentally well. It’s something you work at daily. It is something I continue to work on everyday and will throughout the rest of my life and will encourage others to do so. There are good days and bad days. Having a bad day doesn’t mean that we aren’t well. It means we are human. Struggling with grief or our mental health can be difficult, but the important thing I have to remind myself is that pain is temporary. Though I will never get over the loss of my Dad, I can honor him by trying to help others. I’m not naive, I know that I cannot save everyone, but I cannot and will not stop trying.

I go through my days working in prevention against this disease that took my fathers life . I want to scream and beg people “Please listen to me! Listen to me about this epidemic that is taking the lives of our kids.” We are so worried about our children and ourselves getting the flu, but we aren’t listening when we have the information right in front of us that tells us that the second leading cause of death from ages 10-24 is death by suicide. I get it. It’s scary, we don’t want to go through life hearing about suicide and mental illness. It’s not very uplifting. Who wants to talk about death? My husband is type 1 diabetic, diagnosed at 6 years old. My Papa who died at age 57 was also type 1 diabetic and had a disease called lupus. My papa lost his leg, all of his toes and his finger on one hand. He was the most courageous man I’ve ever known. It scares me everyday thinking that one day one of my children will possibly be diagnosed with diabetes. I do everything I can to prepare my children in life the best way I know how. Feeding them healthy, using safe products all throughout our home with the best knowledge I have available to me. I will also support them mentally as well as physically. I think we have to treat our mental health just the same as we would our physical health. I know it’s hard for some who do not experience depression, anxiety, or for those that have never been diagnosed with a mental illness to understand or sympathize. For every 1 person who dies by suicide there are countless people who are directly effected , therefore causing a ripple effect. These ripples spread far and wide leaving devastation in their path.

Tuesday I thought would be a happy day, a day we would finally see my Dad get his beautiful grave marker. He would no longer lay there without his name. We could finally see his physical resting place was finished and we could come and visit and see his beautiful name and not just stare at the bare grass, flowers or arrangements we decorated for him. It didn’t feel like what I expected at all. It never does. Grief has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you think you have it all together. Even though it’s been real for quite sometime now, seeing his name, when he was born and the day he died made me feel that pain all over again. The weight of the bricks weighing in on my chest all at once, all over again. Screw you grief.

Finality. This was it. No more waiting. No more decisions to be made. The last thing we were holding on to was finished. He was really gone.

That’s the thing about pain. We get so caught up in our pain or grief that we forget that it won’t last forever. I will always miss my Dad, but I know I will see him again. I know that whatever struggle tomorrow may bring that the next day will be better, because I made it to the next day. Pain is temporary. It isn’t our final destination. Each and everyone of us has a purpose or something meaningful we can be apart of. “Find out who you are and do it on purpose.” DP

But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him”

1 Corinthians 2:9

Isn’t it wonderful to know that there will be a day where I will be reunited with my Dad. I look forward to seeing that beautiful big smile and those beautiful blue eyes. When I think of this day it makes my passion even stronger to push through those days of grief and have a better tomorrow and be a better me.

[behindblueeyes54]

Hope, healing and moving forward.

It’s been awhile since I have sat down and written. I write little notes throughout the week when I’m feeling down. Sometimes I rip them up and throw them away, other times I write notes in my phone. It relaxes me and this has become a way of coping throughout the years for me when I have been going through hard times. I remember sitting in my first therapy session and my therapist encouraging me to write. This was just after my stay at a mental facility in Atlanta, Ga after I attempted to take my life. I was foggy, disoriented and I remember thinking, “how can I write when I can barely fill out my checks to pay for my prescriptions?”. I was adjusting to my medications and trying to adjust to my new normal. In time I would come to realize that everything that my therapist and my psychiatrist told me would be a life changing experience for me. However, I didn’t know how hard the next 6 years would be. I had lost one of the closest people in my life, and I had to mourn that loss everyday and still do to this day. I had to fight a battle against what was true and what wasn’t. It left me exhausted and to a point where I didn’t want to leave my house. I felt like I needed constant approval from people who weren’t willing to give it to me. I lived with an immutable struggle inside my head and with a broken heart in my chest.

I sit here today and I look back on how much I longed for the approval of others and what people thought and While I sit here, another person is not with me. A person who had my back, who loved, supported and defended me when I was at my lowest point of my life. I live with the guilt everyday that sometimes I didn’t do enough for him. Survivors guilt can be unbearable at times. The abuse that I suffered as an adolescent will never come close to the pain of loosing my Dad by Suicide.

Every thought I had in the past of seeking approval and feeling like I needed people who didn’t want me in their lives seems so minuscule now. I’m realizing everyday to embrace the people and life that God has given me and to find every inch of beauty in it because I know how precious life truly is. Missing my Dad will now forever be away of life for me, but moving forward and helping other families and individuals that are struggling gives me hope. Hope that we can make a difference on how the world views mental health. I’ve met so many amazing people over this last year and I know together we can make that change together.

If you know someone struggling or in distress you can #bethe1to by calling Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255 or The Georgia Crisis & Access Line 1-800-715-4225

[behindblueeyes54]

“You are never too lost to be saved.”

“You are never too lost to be saved.” I read those words, and I say them out loud. “You are never too lost to be saved.” I found the quote on a Suicide awareness page I follow.

Since the death of my Dad I have bought books and followed numerous pages about Suicide awareness. I read pamphlets and research websites. I look for inspirational quotes. I read the Bible and my daily devotionals. I feel like I am constantly seeking out ways to somewhat save my sanity. But the truth is I am “lost”. I am lost in my grief and I can’t find my way out. I wonder to myself how my Daddy felt in the days before he died. Did he feel so lost he didn’t see a way out? So lost in the sadness and fog of his depression.

A wise person told me “Cry your tears, and express your grief and know that you are not alone.” He said that now was the time that the phone stops ringing, the food stops coming and people stop feeling empathetic for your loss. He was right. Your loved one is gone and it’s almost as everyone has forgotten the tragedy but you and your family. The phone has stopped ringing. The text have stopped coming, and you can’t help but feel alone and consumed in your grief. You can’t expect people to feel sorry for you, and you don’t want them to. People move on. I think your biggest fear is that the memory of one of the most important person to you is just fading away or getting “Lost” as time passes and everyone else moves on. Reading the quote “You are never too lost to be saved.” Seems like something wonderful to say to someone who is struggling or who didn’t already loose the fight, but it makes those of us who have lost someone in the battle of mental illness feel like we failed them— that we let them down when they needed us.

I’m overly sensitive these days. A simple quote can throw me 10 steps backwards when I’ve made 10 steps forward. This is what life is like living as a survivor of Suicide. Wondering everyday if something could have been done differently. Would it have changed the outcome? You know the real answer. You know it was the disease, but you will always blame yourself in someway. No amount of therapy helps convince you of freeing yourself from the guilt. You always go back to the what if’s. There aren’t many mornings I don’t call my Momma or she doesn’t call me. We still say the same thing almost everyday “Can you believe this is real?” It’s been almost seven months and it still feels like some terrible nightmare. I had my first dream about my Dad the other night. My Mom dreams about my Dad a lot, but this was my first dream since he died. I had been constantly complaining “Why can’t I just dream about him?” I wanted to see him and know that he was ok. It wasn’t the dream I wanted. A man was fighting him and I was trying my best to get to him to save him, but the man just kept beating him. My Dad was dying. I came across a gun and I shot the man in my dream. My dad was lying on the ground and had been beaten so badly I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t save him...I didn’t save him. He was gone. I woke up panicked feeling and was so sick all day. I think the guilt of not saving my Daddy is carried over in my dreams. I can’t escape my survivors guilt, not even in my dreams.

To say the past five years have been hard would be an extreme understatement. I lost someone in my family, they weren’t just family but a best friend too. I felt like I was mourning the loss of someone, but they were still alive. I watched My Momma, My Daddy and My middle sister do the same. It was a hard heartbreaking five years, but I would do those five years a thousand times over because we learned the true meaning loyalty and family. We stuck together and became closer and better knowing that family is precious and it should be valued. We learned how to celebrate holidays differently and except that things would never be quite the same again. This thanksgiving was even harder without another family member with us. Excepting that Daddy will never be here to celebrate another holiday with us again feels almost unbearable.

After I left my husband’s family Thanksgiving dinner we went to my Momma’s house. We decided to try and keep things as uplifting as possible for the kids sake. Momma and Meg worked so hard cooking all day. When I walked in I made sure and did Daddy’s traditional nose flips to everyone and claimed I cooked all the food. We held it together for the first little bit, until we didn’t. The food Momma and Meg had worked so hard on nobody touched. We couldn’t eat. What started as an evening of listening to music and talking about “the good times” turned into tears and hiding, trying our best not to let the kids know we were upset. The house felt so empty. There was a house full of 5 screaming kids running wild, but without my Daddy there we felt so alone. It’s amazing how one person can make a house feel so big. My Dad had a way of doing that. I can honestly say I’m not looking forward to Christmas.

I was sitting on the sofa last night and I told my husband that I was ready to go back to church tomorrow. I read the Bible, I pray everyday, but I have to be honest and admit I haven’t been back to church in awhile. Every Saturday we will say “okay we are going tomorrow, no excuses.” And this morning I just couldn’t get out of bed. The anxiety starts as I think back to my Dad’s coffin sitting in that beautiful church. The church where he loved so many people, where we all do. And I see myself breaking down as soon as I hear their beautiful voices start to sing. I’m scared, scared I won’t be able to hold it together. Scared of breaking down in front of everyone. I know that god is the ONLY answer. He is the ONLY way. I CAN’T get through this without him. I can’t depend on writing to relieve stress or hiding in my house with my nose buried in a book or pamphlet. The answer isn’t going to come from some inspirational quote I find on Pinterest. These are temporary fixes. I don’t need temporary fixes. I need God.

John 10:27-28

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me; and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand."

I am alive. I am not sick. I may be grieving, but “I am not too lost to be saved.” I DO NOT want to perish... I want to press on. My battle has not been LOST.

[behindblueeyes54]

Can we just skip Thanksgiving?

As Thanksgiving approaches I have been sitting and reading a lot of post of what people are most thankful for. I read them almost envious because they seem so happy and full of joy. I know deep in my heart I have so much to be thankful for, but the bitter side of me feels like I don’t want to celebrate Thanksgiving — that I’m not truly thankful for what this year has brought me. This year has brought me tragedy. It has been a year where we lost someone who can never return, someone we mourn for so much and have so many questions of why did you leave us? We know the answer to that. We know you were sick, but it doesn’t make your loss or the grief any easier.

I think about last Thanksgiving and how you could barley hold it together to carry on a conversation without crying. You were already so sad and you were trying your best to put on a smile. I look at our pictures from that day and they don’t really look like my Daddy. Your smile is gone, the big beautiful grin you usually had...it had disappeared. You made it 7 more months before that awful day.

I always looked forward to holidays with my family. The last five years had been a little different, family had gone their separate ways and it was always our team, or “the circle of trust” as my Daddy would call it. It had become our “new normal” and it was nice because we had one another and no one could take that from us.

There was one quality about my Dad that I will forever be thankful for and that was his loyalty. He was our pack leader, the alpha. I think that’s why we all feel a little lost without him now. My Dad, Momma, Megan and our family’s along with our grandparents had some pretty great Thanksgivings. I’m truly going to miss our leader.

My momma would always work so hard cooking and my dad would help her with little things, but as we would walk in the house it never failed he would say “ I’ve been cooking all night long. Now y’all eat!” He would get tickled. And every time as I walked in the door and as he greeted me he would look down at my shirt and say “what’s that?” I would look down and he would flip my nose. I literally fell for it every time. These things didn’t happen last Thanksgiving. The depression had already started, he was different. I’ll never get to experience those little things again. That’s hard to except. It’s strange, you never imagine how much you will miss the smallest things about your loved one. Little actions, sayings or nicknames they called you, even when they annoyed you.

It makes you feel like a crappy person when you have two healthy children, a good husband who loves you and you don’t feel overwhelmingly thankful. Please don’t misunderstand me— I am truly thankful for them and all of my family.

I don’t want to be this person who is bitter or who can’t write a list of how many things I am thankful for. I will be forever thankful for those I have left in my life and for their love. And more then anything I am so, so thankful for GOD and his love ...because I know he forgives me even when I am bitter and I don’t deserve it.

I will miss my Daddy so much this Thanksgiving and all throughout the holidays. The nose flips, his claims of cooking all of Thanksgiving dinner, but most of all his presence.

I am thankful for the memories we had.

“I thank my god every time I remember you.”

Philippians 1:3

#suicideawareness #suicideprevention #writing #blogger #thanksgiving #mental health

[behindblueeyes54]

"In the midst of life we are in death."

Most of you do not know my story, not many do. Not the real story anyways. They say there are two sides to every story, but in my case it seemed to be my side vs their side. Anyone that liked to say a few words about what they believed or didn’t believe and add a little bit to it just for fun. What some do not understand is that this is my reality. This is my life I live everyday. I have lived this life since I was twelve years old. To me it’s not just a rumor or a story to be passed on to your friend, but something that lives inside of me every single day that never goes away. I initially wrote this in honor of Suicide Awareness day, but to me everyday should be an awareness day. On average over 35,500 people lose their lives to suicide each year. That is 94 completed suicides a day that a family suffers the loss of a loved one. My family and I are now apart of those numbers. Losing my daddy to suicide has taught me to no longer to live in silence nor fear, something that leaves me full of angst, worry and the feeling of having no justice day in and day out. A feeling that five years ago almost took my life as well when I ended up in an emergency room after trying to take my own life. I can no longer worry about how everyone will view me, judge me, think I’m dirty, broken, or even call me a liar. I’ve even worried I would embarrass people close to me for sharing my story. But this is MY story to tell and something I have carried around with me for so long. I am choosing to take a little bit of this weight I have felt for so long and maybe make it just a tad bit lighter. People are so quick to judge and they don’t like to hear about the darkness that surrounds us, but it’s there. Whether it’s suicide, cancer, sexual assault, domestic violence, miscarriage, drug abuse or any other disease … it does exist; and so does STIGMA. Most people like to avoid a lot of these topics because they are so heavy to discuss. This particular darkness I speak of today, walks by you every single day. They teach your children, you sit next to them at school events, your kids play with their children, you have dinner with them. You pass by them everyday and you may never even recognize them. A wolf in sheep’s clothing…at least for me they were. As a child you’re not too good at spotting the bad guys. They become people you grow to like, they become part of your family. The first time I met that wolf, I was in a pop up camper on a camping trip with my entire family. A trip that was meant for fun and laughter turned into a moment that changed the course of my life. It was was the first time I was sexually abused. I don’t feel like the details matter and they are a bit graphic, but I remember that it was the first time I saw the world differently; that for the first time I was actually afraid of something, someone. If you knew me as a child, there was no horse too big or too wild, no animal I was afraid to catch and bring inside and hide in my room. Life looked different to me now and it only continued to look grayer as time passed. I didn’t think things could get any worse …until they did. A lot of people like to blame a victim for the state of mind their in or the clothes they were wearing. I’ve even heard people say “she was asking for it”; but no woman nor child especially was asking to be sexually abused. I wish that more people could see that. Unless someone has gone through a similar situation it’s best not to give your opinion until you experience a walk in that persons shoes, lived their life, or experienced their pain. The same can be said for my dad’s depression. He lived with it for most of his life and no one knew how he truly felt. We spent so many years with him through the ups and downs and unless you have lived it, you don’t know their pain. A lot of my dad’s pain came from what I’m about to tell you.

On a night that was supposed to be somewhat of a fun evening, there was alcohol. This is something my parents didn’t allow and I knew was wrong , but the rebellious kid in me chose to drink anyways. Being so young, the alcohol didn’t mix well with my body. It was of course bought by my perpetrator, I drank entirely too much and passed out sometime in the night. The next thing I remember was being carried into a closet of a laundry room full of dirty shoes. I can still remember the boots and how they dug into the back of my head as I lay there in the closet floor, so nauseous from all the alcohol. I could barley speak or move, I was paralyzed with fear. I was raped that night. I was left there in that closet and left to crawl my way back to the sofa that I was carried off of. I remember crying and thinking I needed to act like nothing was wrong so no one would know that I was upset. I was humiliated and scared. I know what you are thinking. Why didn’t you tell someone immediately? — Try …if you can, to dive inside the mind of a child. Some of you have 12, 13 year olds? Do you know exactly what they would do? I trusted this person and it always came back to the same line of “I’ll never bother or hurt you again.” But it did… not to that full extent, but throughout the rest of my childhood and teenage years and every time I was in any vulnerable state… there he was. I felt imprisoned by this person for years and years to the point where I felt like I was loosing who I was. Once I began to fight back they became a bully to me, making my life almost unbearable at times, even threatening my life. I later came to find out that I had not been the only one, that some of our friends were coming forward with their stories as well as other family members. I wasn’t alone - I just had endured the worst. May 19, 5 years ago I was loosing myself. I could barely eat, the depression was so horrible it was literally taking me over. I was barley over 100 pounds and I was spiraling out of control. I had been holding in this huge secret since I was a just a kid. Walking around as if everything was okay, trying to hold a family together and too scared of the repercussions that would follow if I were to tell the truth. Scared that no one would believe me or turn against me…but on that night I couldn’t bare it any longer. I told my husband. As protective and upset as he was, he told my daddy. My daddy was the one person we always avoided telling anything to. In a way we always tried to protect him from himself. If you knew my daddy, he was so overly protective of his family and we were afraid of what he would do. My daddy was upset, but he handled it far better than anyone would have imagined. My dad carried this with him for 5 years. My dad always suffered from depression, but I feel this intense sense of guilt he had took him to an even lower point. My dad took his life 5 days to the anniversary of me telling what had happened to me. Suicide survivors all carry their own personal form of guilt, this will forever be mine. I tell myself repeatedly it’s not my fault, but guilt will always reside in my mind. I will always question whether I made the right decision and could I have saved so much heartache in my family. After that night a lot of things transpired that I never would have imagined. They say when you tell, that you feel this great sense of relief. It wasn’t like that for me. For the months and now years to follow I have had the wonderful select family that has stood by my side and then those that chose to neglect me and turn their backs on me. There has been a lot of manipulation and lies. I’ve had great friends by my side and those who were friends that chose to turn a blind eye. This didn’t end for me five years ago. I have been stalked, as well as other members of my family - which my perpetrator was arrested for. My husband has been video taped outside our own home and it was sent to us in text messages along with other threatening messages. I could sit here and write a book on heinous acts that have been done against me and my family, but I won’t. It doesn’t matter. I realized one thing after the death of my daddy…this haunted him. I know that he would have wanted justice for me and our family and for me to finally stand up for myself. I will no longer sit in silence. I will no longer protect the bad guys. I am not perfect. I am flawed just as everyone, but the TRUTH is the TRUTH. I am unashamed of who I am and I will fight for the young girls just like me that didn’t feel like they had a voice just as I felt. I know at times and still to this day I have times where I feel defeated, broken and like life is unfair. I remember then that this is not our final destination and this life is only temporary. I don’t understand why bad things happen the way that they do, but I do believe that god is on MY side - even when it’s hard for me to see good in all the grief and struggles I’m facing. This is my story and I will not be silenced. Staying silent nearly ended my life and I want to live.

#suicideawareness

[behindblueeyes54]

Raising two toddlers & managing your marriage after your parent decides that it's their time to die.

It doesn't seem fair, for anyone but God that is, to make the decision when it's your time to live or die. I sit here almost four months to the anniversary of the call from my Momma telling me my Daddy hadn't made it home from work yet. I knew immediately when she said those words. I felt it in every inch of my body as I sank into the chair I was sitting in that he was gone. Gone from our world forever, that I would never see my Dad ever again. I looked at my husband Eric and I said to him "he's dead, I know it". He answered back with that he was okay and that if he was going to have do something to himself he would have already done it. We continued to go back and forth for a moment and I explained to him that I disagreed. That death wasn't an easy decision, it was something people thought about for days, weeks, months or even years. I knew the suffering my Dad had been going through. My family and I had been trying to help him through his depression for the past several months and this time wasn't like any other time we had ever seen my Dad go through. My Dad suffered from Bipolar disorder, highs and lows with severe depression. This low was different. His physical appearance had changed, he talked differently, he even walked like an older man. Everyone that knew my Dad knew him as this incredibly brave, hardworking, nice guy. All the things that I just said couldn't be more true. The things that everyone didn't know or should I say "who" they didn't know, was the man who suffered from severe depression/ bi polar disorder, multiple suicide attempts and behind those beautiful baby blues a lot of pain. I start driving myself crazy trying to defend this disease that my dad suffered from, this disease that not everyone understands or has compassion for. I think to myself, for all these people know, "my father was some drug addict or Alcoholic" who decided to drive off and end his life. Even if he was that person, it would have been his story and his ending, but it wasn't. On May 24th, my Dad woke up early, took a shower, put on his best, gave my Momma a kiss and hurried his way off to work and seemed better that morning. Unaware as my Momma sat and drank her coffee on the front porch, watching my Dad drive away for the very last time, he drove about 6 miles down the road, pulled into a wooded area and soberly decided he was ready to die. All because of a disease that he had been fighting since he was 23 years old. He was tired and he wanted peace. My Daddy was found around 1am the next morning. I'll never forget the drive to my Momma's after I got the call that I needed to come over because they had news of where they had located his cell phone. I knew what I was driving to my Mom's to hear. I had been up all night, I felt like I could barely see the road. I had to roll every window down in my car, I couldn't breathe. I pulled into the driveway and as soon as my feet hit the pavement as I opened my car door I could hear screams coming from inside the house. The details of your Daddy's death from an officer and a coroner standing in your mother's kitchen don't seem real. I fell to my knees. I laid in my Momma's and Megan's arms and probably threw up more then I have from any stomach virus that I have ever had. It was the worst night of my entire of life. It wasn't like any hurt I could've ever imagine and I felt no sense of peace and haven't since that night. "He seemed better this morning". " Is this really happening?" "Is this real?" "We are dreaming." These are just some of the things we would say all throughout the days we went without sleep from that moment we all laid there in that kitchen floor together. We couldn't even plan his funeral because we were too upset to even begin to think of making arrangements to have him buried. All we could do was just sit together and say "this isn't real." But it was. My Dad chose for it to be that way. We didn't get to say goodbye, to prepare or even get to tell ourselves it was his time because in reality, it wasn't. The last text I sent to my dad just two days before he died..."You are a wonderful person. You made me and are a big part of who I am today. I love you and I will do anything and everything to help you get through this and feel better. There is a path to better days! I promise. I'm praying every day for you and I know that things are going to get better because I know the man you are and you are strong!!! I love you so much, daddy." We later found a book where he wrote prayers asking god for help. Help to overcome his depression. My Daddy was a true believer and I know that all he wanted was peace. I really hope that he has found his peace. For us here, we are left with so much heartache. My Momma has lost her soulmate and best friend, her whole world has been turned upside down. We have lost a father who we loved and depended on. His Mom and Dad have lost a son who they adored. Our babies have lost their Papa. I'm not angry with my Daddy because I know that he was sick. I know that had my dad been well, he would have never put us in this situation. I don't agree with what my Dad did, that's why I want to fight so hard to raise awareness to suicide and make people aware that Mental Illness is a REAL disease. It isn't just an act someone does for attention or some made up disease. It's as real as diabetes, cancer, lupus, or any other disease. I name those diseases because I have people in my family fighting those specifically or have died from them. Just because you can't physically see Mental illness like you can most of the ones I named above, doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. People are just really good at hiding it, like my daddy. I asked my Momma the other day "How could something like this happen to our family?" We have already been through so much and now this." Lately I've starting questioning everything, about God and why didn't he save my Dad when he asked and prayed for help? I've even wondered if I was being punished. My momma and I continued to talk about how we felt like we had tried to live and be good people and we just didn't understand. I am a stay at home mom and I'm raising a 19 month old boy and almost 3 year old girl, with a husband who travels a few days through the week. I used to think life was hard, but now trying to be a happy mom while I'm mourning my Dad's suicide feels like I've entered an obstacle course every morning. I'm hiding in corners, or the laundry from my daughter trying not to let her see me cry because she's started to brush my hair to the side and say "Mommy's sad." I don't want her to remember me that way. It's not fair to her. I find myself some nights sitting at the dinner table, the kids , Eric and I. We will be laughing hysterically at the kids and I feel it...that brief moment when peace slowly creeps in and I feel happy. I have forgotten about all the bad and I'm totally in that moment with my family and I'm happy. Then it happens...I remember, My Daddy's dead and I'm sitting here laughing. I have this overwhelming feeling of guilt and my eyes will fill up with tears and I have to get up from the dinner table because I don't want to ruin the moment. I've lost my joy and I know that Eric see's it. I feel guilty for being so sad. I feel guilty when I'm happy. Guilt is a word I've become very familiar with. I know you all must think I'm a horrible Mom, wife, person. That I should be counting my blessings, focusing on the good. The truth is I'm stuck. I'm still stuck in that same moment I was in 4 months ago, sitting on floor of my momma and daddy's kitchen. I see my Daddy driving, I see him pull over, walk into the woods, and I see him die. I hurt for him. I hurt for my Momma and worry so much about what the future holds for her. People keep telling us that time will help, it will heal us! But time has actually been harder on us. In two months it will be half a year that my Daddy died and even writing that seems unfathomable. Sometimes I pray at night that I will wake up the next morning and I will be in the hospital and I will have woken up from being badly sick and I have dreamed all of this. It's not a dream though, it's real. It's real every time I drive home and I pass by where he is buried and my stomach twist and turns until I feel sick. How can my Dad's body really be there? Why isn't he at home with my mom? Why did he leave us? I wish that I had some kind of wonderful scripture or words of wisdom for this kind of situation, but I don't. I know that loosing a loved one, any loved one is devastating. No loss is easy. Loosing someone who chose to leave you, who chose to die; leaves a different type of devastation behind. A kind that cannot all be explained in a blog. I miss my Daddy and when he died it impacted our family so horribly. His pain is now ours. We are not the only family right now going through this exact situation. There are families loosing their young children from depression, their moms, dads, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins. I've had so many people reach out to me all over the world with their stories and it's heartbreaking. People may judge me for being too open or too vocal, but hiding the truth about real life situations isn't something I'm okay with anymore. Suicide is claiming lives everyday! Some statistics for you. Suicide claims more lives than war, murder, and natural disasters combined. Currently, suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States. A person dies by suicide about every 11.9 minutes in the United States. Every day, approximately 121 Americans take their own life. Ninety percent of all people who die by suicide have a diagnosable psychiatric disorder at the time of their death. A lot of these people are just kids. I feel that I owe it to my Daddy and others out there, that might not even be aware of what's going on with them, to share the effects that suicide has on a family. That there is help, there is a solution other then DECIDING to die. DECIDE to live.

#suicideawareness #suicideprevention #writing #awareness #loss #love