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Resurrection

4/23/2019

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Every year around this time, sometimes a bit sooner, sometimes a bit later is Easter. Christians celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. Me I am over here celebrating the yearly resurrection of Re. (not that Jesus doesn't deserve mad props but I need this a bit more right now)

April 21st. Resurrection day, out of the ashes of the year before's downward spiral of hell. Every single year I say IT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! I GOT THIS. Every single year I crash and burn into a pit of depression and overwhelming grief. There is one day that is worse than any other, April 19th, literally the day before her angelversary is spent in an unbelievable amount of anxiety, sadness, self loathing, anger, you name it.. that day it happens. The next day the "Fuck You Day" happens, and it is never as bad as the anticipation day of the 19th but it is not something I would ever consider good. You can tell me to remember the good times, best memories, and so forth all you want, my brain is riddled with a bazillion questions, what is, you sucks, failures and no matter what I can not turn it off. The worst thing it is not even just things revolving around the loss of my girl, but every single craptastic thing that has happened starts on repeat. I don't sleep. I toss and turn and wonder how a human as disgustingly sick as myself is allowed to continue to live and my De's life was ripped from her like a forgotten page from a forgotten book.

I get it, I am not everyone's cup of tea. I know that some people think I whine. I know that some people think I betrayed them. I know that some people just don't like me. I know that some people love me but can't handle the sadness. I KNOW these things, what you don't know is that I personally beat the crap out of myself for each of these things. I lay awake at night wondering how my decision that I made to help myself, made me lose the friendship of someone who I loved. I wonder if I am a good employee or even work family member. I wonder if I am good enough daughter, sister, friend... I wonder about it all and I typically come to the conclusion that I just suck. Then now happens.

I have this window in time from April 21st until October that things level off and I see things clearer, they aren't as muted and fogged by sadness as the the season in hell of the last 7 months. Its that time that I can dig myself out and look at things in a truer light and realize that my heart doesn't suck at all, that I am truly a human who wants good things for all people and if a decision I made turned out badly or hurt someone it was never every my intention. I am a good bean, but for those 7 months, I don't believe it.  I don't believe in myself at all, and during those time I rely on those that love me to hold me up so that life doesn't just swallow me whole. God I am grateful for those that do this and continue to do so.

So what does this all mean? Simply that I have a window of 5 months to straighten my path, to fix some emotional and physical problems that the last 7 months have caused. It means that I need my tribe, my people, my support to help keep me on track because I can not waste one second of the next 150 days. Each milestone met is one thing that during Hell Season I won't be able to beat myself up over, it will be one step closer to maybe not falling to the bottom of the pit next year.

I won't make any insane promises of what the next few weeks will hold but I do promise to show up, to resurrect myself out of the darkness and enjoy the light for the time it lasts.

Peace and Love
Re
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April 15th, 2019

4/15/2019

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In exactly 5 days, just about to the minute, Deanna will have been gone for 6 years. This week is hell, I am in hell, I have been IN HELL for 6 years. If you have not lost a child, then no, you don't understand, sorry, you don't. Better still, if your daughter didn't die, you don't understand. If your child didn't die in a car accident, you don't understand. If it wasn't on April 20th, you don't understand. Do you see where I am going here? Each and every situation and human being is different. I can find a mother who lost her 19 year old daughter, in a single car accident, on April 20th of 2013 and guess what, there will be things about each other that we don't understand. That is what makes us... us. So I ask you, don't fool yourself into thinking you understand someone else... you don't.

I had a very close personal friend who lost their daughter. I watched as years later she suffered still from great depression and sadness. I watched as life happened around her and she watched from inside her own hell. Many years later her life ended but she never was able to see past that darkness. I pray she is at peace now. When I lost Deanna, I vowed to someone that I wouldn't allow that to happen to me. That no matter what I would fight to keep going ,that I would not allow the tragedy to consume me. I am still fighting.

19 days before Deanna's accident, another young woman took her life. The stress of medical school and underlying untreated depression (fyi you can't be treated for depression and become a doctor.. crazy yes??) built until it was unbearable. I met her sweet mother just a month after we lost our girls. We spoke via emails and Facebook, just briefly, the kind of talk that just lets another know you are there, that your heart aches for them too. My friend could not bear life without her daughter and ultimately I read her goodbye on Facebook, again I vowed I wouldn't allow that to happen to me. That no matter what I would fight to keep going, that I would not allow the tragedy to consume me. I am still fighting.

I have a very hard time the closer it gets to Deanna's angelversary. I go over every little thing that I could possibly torture myself with. From moments that I could have made better, to massive mistakes I made, right down to maybe that tip wasn't that great because I smiled at them funny, or I didn't vacuum under my desk when I vacuumed last, you lazy shit. I openly admit to actively battling depression as well as very unfortunately suicidal thoughts. I fight myself in the war of self worth, and especially at this time of year I find little that is good with me. I look at all the ways I have failed in this life, but.... I am still fighting.

Oh speaking of failing, I can promise you each and every time I look in the mirror I see a failed attempt to lose weight. I can't seem to get the potion right, the magical combo, the prescription, cocktail, that will allow me to see pounds come off. I think I have tried every diet known to man and still.... fat. I will find the solution... I am still fighting.

Yesterday as I was knocking the weight of 6 years of hurt off my shoulders so I could complete the tasks ahead of me to prepare for my up coming trip, I read something that shook me. On a friends post about a half marathon we ran, someone else posted that I should not have stopped, in my mind that very quickly meant they think I quit. Someone out there thinks I am a quitter, someone I love and care about ... sees me as a quitter. After fighting some mornings to just get out of bed, to face other humans, to keep breathing, someone thinks I am a quitter. I sat on my bed and cried. I stood up because... I am still fighting.

This morning my alarm went off and I was tired, my body hurt, my soul hurt, and I just wanted to stay there, and I thought to myself, "NO DAMNIT GET UP! You are NOT doing this, take it one minute at a time and GET UP!" I did... I joined my Reboot family and started working out. After about 30 minutes I found myself outside hurling, not my brightest moment, poor bush. Tears were running down my face, (side note: I cry when I throw up... no clue why) I walked back in the Gym and just said .. I got to go, picked up my kettlebell and put it away.. " NO DAMNIT.. SHAKE IT OFF! YOU ARE NOT DOING THIS! Get back to work" and I did. I spent another 45 minutes pushing through a rolling tummy and massive anxiety that I may puke on someone. I thought to myself... I am still fighting.

I let my team drive me. their will to be there this morning, their fight to get through all the days, all the minutes, all the things on their plates, as I fought through this morning beside them I was reminded of a couple of things. First a card that my dad gave my brother when our sweet Melanie went to heaven, I know it seems weird that I remember that card but somehow I did, my brother carried it until it became tattered and almost unreadable but the last lines of each verse (are they verses in poems? Maybe they are Kastanzas.. no that is George from Seinfeld.. nevermind) has stayed imprinted in my soul somewhere...

"When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest if you must, but don't you quit"
"Don't give up though the pace seems slow, You may suceed with another blow"
"So stick to the fight when you are hardest hit, It's when things seem the worst that you must not quit"

And then... the speech from Any Given Sunday...

"We’re in hell right now, gentlemen, believe me. And, we can stay here -- get the shit kicked out of us -- or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb outta hell one inch at a time.

You know, when you get old in life things get taken from you. I mean that's...part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out life’s this game of inches. So is football. Because in either game, life or football, the margin for error is so small -- I mean one-half a step too late, or too early, and you don’t quite make it. One-half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite catch it.

The inches we need are everywhere around us.

They’re in every break of the game, every minute, every second.
On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for that inch. We claw with our fingernails for that inch, because we know when we add up all those inches that’s gonna make the fuckin' difference between winning and losing! Between livin' and dyin'!

I’ll tell you this: In any fight, it’s the guy who’s willing to die who’s gonna win that inch. And I know if I’m gonna have any life anymore, it’s because I’m still willin' to fight and die for that inch. Because that’s what livin' is! The six inches in front of your face!!

Now I can’t make you do it. You got to look at the guy next to you. Look into his eyes! Now I think you’re gonna see a guy who will go that inch with you. You're gonna see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team because he knows, when it comes down to it, you’re gonna do the same for him!

That’s a team, gentleman!

And, either we heal, now, as a team, or we will die as individuals."


I have to say I am so very grateful for my team, our group, the people who believe in me with me, no matter our differences. Without this team I don't know that I would fight as hard as I do. I know in this team that I can look around and the person next to me is willing to go that inch with me, for me, beside me, for that reason. I am still fighting.


So believe what you will, I believe some rather shitty stuff about myself, but if there ever was one thing that I know I am not, nor will I ever be, is a quitter. If you need proof of that ask that treadmill I mutilated this morning after puking my guts up. I think a 1 minute 55 second quarter mile is pretty good for a quitter don't you?


I will keep fighting.

https://youtu.be/WO4tIrjBDkk
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The struggle of the juggle

4/8/2019

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The struggle of the juggle is so real.


I read an interesting article this morning. I am posting it here for you to take a look at. It is worth the 2 minute read. Long Term Coping . I am stuck in this right now. I have a list so overwhelmingly long of things that must be done but I end up exhausted trying to figure out what needs to be done when. The struggle of the juggle is so very real!  I am learning that I take on too much, I say yes when I should be saying.. no. I should be saying, "I really want to help you, but I already have a plate full right now" and by plate full I mean the laundry list of items (it ironically has laundry on the list, some of which is not even mine!) that have backed up because while trying to pretend I was holding it all together it was seriously just all falling apart.  Throw on a dash of OCD, (believe me my house like this is KILLING ME.. just ask Kris she will explain) a sprinkling of anxiety, top with a whip of grief and you have the recipe for a full fledged break down.


A break down that I think I am only seconds away from.


I have a vacation planned in exactly 9 days. Right this minute, I don't want to go. It is one more thing that is causing me anxiety. I didn't lose the weight I needed to so the clothes I wanted to wear don't fit.  Forget a bathing suit. I have not had my hair done in a year, I don't want to spend the money or time to do it. My toes still have Christmas polish. I have the skin tone of Casper's sister.. yes Casper the ghost. Leaving Banx and KD.. no more words needed. My house is not sitter or visitor ready, she comes tomorrow for a visit.. TOMORROW. I have to schedule a visit for a puppy I am sitting for on my return. Have to clean the house before then. If I don't clean the jeep, we will arrive in Florida having left a trail of puppy hair to follow on our return trip.  The fish need clean tanks.. the lizard needs to be let go, queue another emotion filled issue.. what if it is too soon, what if he is used to having crickets handed to him, what if he dies... I have a list of 15 high level things that have to get done before I can even think of leaving. I just want to cancel it.


Yesterday I was supposed to do yard work all day. With in an hour of starting I realized I had no idea what I was doing, ended up melting down and making the house even worse in the process. I accomplished next to nothing. Thank you dead leaves for providing the added dialogue of "You are so useless you can't even get the dead leaves up!" to my "You're useless because..." List.


Today I was supposed to get on the scale and see a 5 lbs loss. It was POINT 2. not even a quarter of a pound. No added dialogue needed there. I thought I ate better last week. Apparently I did not.


Part of my family is being attacked, causing more emotion filled stress as I can't help fix it. Literally watching them hurt and not being able to do the first damn thing to help is torture. It was all so unavoidable, but here we are due to ugliness of another.


I read another post "Some people don't want to be fixed because it gets them attention" I wonder .. do people see me like that? Do they understand that I share where I am so that maybe someone else won't feel so alone, even though I am not alone.   I would gladly fix me, I would turn in this broken me in exchange for never writing an emotionally filled post, for never crying another shame filled tear, for never screaming another silent scream on the inside only to break down on the other side of a keyboard. Please... fix me you can have all of the attention. Do people just thinking I am screaming for attention or do they realize it is my outlet?  Do they get that I hope to help others understand how this feels so they are kinder and gentler to someone who needs them?  Why do I even care what they think? 


I have this awesome network of people who would be willing to help me do anything if I just asked, but I can't. The horror of saying, "I need help with this stupid list of every day normal things because everything is crashing down on me and I just want to hide" is just more than I can handle. The unbelievable shame of not being able to deal with every day life ... I just need to pull up my boot straps and do it. Let the anger, the hurt, and ever other emotion fuel me into just doing it. 


Bottom line, about the only thing I am doing right this minute is coping and hanging on by a tattered string, that sometimes I wish would just break so my heart wouldn't hurt anymore.



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