Tag: anger

Moving Forward

I have had friends that have struggled with addiction and/alcoholism through the years. And since I know it’s a disease, I stand by them. What do you need? You got this! I’m here for you! It always seemed so completely heartless when someone they loved abandoned them. How could they not be there for them in their time of need? Don’t they see they are trying to be well? Then, I was that loved one.

I once dated someone who was a recovering alcoholic. I met him after his rock bottom. I met him into his walk of sobriety. He told me about when he came back after getting sober. His wife had a function planned, and they were serving wine. He served wine. I was shocked at the insensitivity she had. Why wouldn’t she cancel the function? Why would she let there be alcohol there when she KNEW he was trying to be sober?

Why? Because she had years but having to cancel things or put her life on hold. Because he’s lied about his drinking before and this was just one more time he was going to disrupt her world. Because the rest of the world didn’t see what she had to live with, day after day, so this wasn’t anything new. She was tired. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care. He had siphoned all of the worry and care out of her for years and years. She just wanted to live life. She didn’t trust or believe him. She was done.

Did he need support? Absolutely. And he found in friends and family. And I’m sure she’s glad he did. He’s doing well. She’s doing well.

When alcoholism hit my family, I started going to a support group. The first thing they told me was to detach with love. Let go of control. I read the following, “today, if I am tempted to interfere what’s something that is none of my business, I can turn my attention instead to some way in which I can take care of myself.”

I disagreed with them. I am not controlling. In fact, I am pretty out of control most of the time. Detach with love? But he needs me! Now seems like the WORST time to detach! They told me that he needed to be in control of his sobriety. Not me. I had to let go. I could support and love, but I needed to stop doing things for him.

The next day I started to get his stuff together and thought, no, he needs to. It’s just paper work. He can grab it himself. Then later I went to text him to ask if he made his appointment…no. He needs to. Then I googled local AA meetings…no. he needs to do it. Oh my gosh. Beth. STOP.

I looked at the bills I had organized, the budget I made for him. I looked at the cleaning supplies I got to bring to his house to clean with. I realized that I am his enabler. I just keep bailing him out. He needs to do it. But how? How do you look at someone you love and just step aside? When you know they won’t do it themselves, and you want to help?

“If they don’t want to be well, they won’t be. And there’s no amount of ‘doing it for them’ that will bring them there.” Ouch.

So I read up on codependency. I was the victim role. Always the victim of my alcoholic. And if I wanted any chance at all of us being healthy, I had to stop putting myself in positions that made me the victim. So, I tried to detach with love. I tried to be supportive and ask about his journey. And I waited or the deep talks and healing to begin. I was ready to work on me while he worked on himself.

What I wasn’t ready for was the backlash that came. If I asked about his sobriety, his house, his family, I was immediately met with anger and rage. Accusations of me being on drugs. Reminders of how I abandoned him. Screaming and cussing at me. And my response, to give it right back. That was our cycle: attack, defend, yell, repeat. It was way harder than I anticipated. I can be pretty mean. I know the low blows. And all the years of working on me, went out the door every time we had an arguement. I could feel the toxicity seeping out of me. I hate that side of me.

There was one day I went out to help with yard work. I immediately felt the impulse to “look for evidence”. Just like I had done years before. I didn’t trust he was sober. So I started looking around. Then I stopped. Is this what I want? To always feel like I need to check the hiding spots to “catch” him? No. I can’t. I don’t have the energy. He lies. A lot. He sneaks. A lot. As do most alcoholics. And I can’t “snoop” my way into trust. This is something he has to do. I am not a victim of him. He is a victim of his addiction.

So I stopped asking. I stopped responding with anything more than a “that’s too bad” or “I’m happy for you”. Slowly I started noticing being treated differently by him. And things dissolved.

It’s not about love. It’s not about not wanting someone well. It’s about awareness of your own part in toxicity and not participating. If you see someone working on sobriety or being clean, BE THERE FOR THEM. I can’t stress that enough. They need their family and friends. But just know, that person that “abandoned” them? They had to walk away. Because they were probably in a place where neither could heal with the other there. Every week I share with my therapist something I wanted to say and didn’t. Or something I shouldn’t have said, but did. I talk through why I wanted to say it, and why I didn’t. I feel like a toddler learning to walk. A bit wobbly. And when I fall, I stand back up.

We don’t talk about money. Be poor privately please.

Why are the poor poor? Not how did they become poor, but why are they still poor. Have you ever ask yourself that? If you are, or have been, you know why.

Based on the posts I see on social media, the reason is, because that person is either: lazy, entitled, or makes poor choices. Are there lazy and entitled people? Sure there are. But I guarantee 99% of poor people work 10 times as hard as a financially stable person. Their life depends on it. And there are a lot of people that make poor choices, I being one of them. But unless your poor choice is gambling away your family savings or working for the mob, most poor people’s bad choices are buying a pair of jeans or going out for drinks. Not quite what I would consider worthy of a lifetime struggle to provide for your family.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I’m a poor person trying very hard to obtain what others tell me I could get if I just worked harder. I’m trying reach that goal you told me I’m not entitled to, that I have to work for. What is that goal? To have a place to live of my own and to be able to feed my children and pay my bills without worry or anxiety.

I receive SNAP. Because I’m below the poverty line. Does that make you uncomfortable? If you don’t know me I’m sure it doesn’t. If you know me personally I’m sure you feel quite uncomfortable knowing that about me. I once had a family member harass me on a Facebook post. He was convinced that the reason I am struggling HAS TO BE because I deserve it. I’m an entitled millennial who wants everything handed to me. I deleted him off my Facebook and had myself a good cry. Where has he been the last 10 years? I am not a quiet person. I do not bottle things inside. I am very honest and open about the good and the bad in my life. Why is my struggle making him so angry? It’s my struggle. I’m not angry. I love sharing my struggle so that others can know and feel hopeful. He was legitimately angry. Zero compassion.

Then someone said something to me that put it in perspective. “Of course he is angry. And of course he is blaming you. Because if he admits you’ve done everything you were supposed to and you are a good person, and are still suffering, then he would have to also admit that he stood by as you suffered for years and never offered you a hand of help.”

Holy crap. I used to always wonder why we didn’t talk about money. From a young age it was instilled in me that you never ask how much someone makes. And you don’t talk about how much you make. I remember asking, why we can’t talk about it. I was told it was because people that don’t make as much might get jealous and angry. It was to protect those who deserve their income from people who didn’t deserve it and wanted it.

Poor people don’t care if you know how much they make. I’ve had perfect strangers mention how much their check was in casual conversation. Poor people are not uncomfortable with talking about money. Whatevs. I’m broke but I needed some Chipotle. See, every single thing we do revolves around money. Like, if I buy the good toilet paper, will I have the gas to get my kids to school? Which bill can I be late on so I can replace my kids ripped school pants? We’re not handling our money with our sights set on vacation spots or the best investments. We’re trying to find a way to make sure we don’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly or cereal for dinner for the next week.

You know what would save me a lot of money? Being able to buy a house. My entire life has been at a standstill for the last year because the house I live in is unlivable. If I move my rent will be double to triple what it is now. It is not possible.

Poor people can’t buy houses. Not because they can’t afford them. Because the system is set up in a way to keep them poor.

I do not have a great credit score. To even have a chance at obtaining a mortgage I need 10% down. So let’s say I work for that goal. The houses in my area that I would be ideal for my family are about $150,000. But I don’t need ideal. I’m sure if I looked around and waited I could find something that makes do for about $100,000. So I need $10,000 to buy a house. With my current income I know I could save $100 a month. So that means in 8 years I could buy a house. If I lived extra poor I could probably save $200 a month. Then I could buy a house in 4 years. Do you see the problem? That means I still have to live in this shithole house with my four children until they are raised.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I can save $500 a month. That’s only a year and a half. Buuuuuut. I receive Food Stamps. About $500 a month. And the second my assets exceed $2,250, I do not qualify anymore. So 5 months in, I wouldn’t be able to afford to save anymore. (2 years into my 8, 1 year onto my 4).

Why are the poor poor? Because unless someone steps in and knocks down the societal hurdles, we don’t have a choice. Why do poor people buy lottery tickets? Because there’s a better chance of winning the money to help pull them out of poverty than there is to do it by hard work. Why do the poor buy cups of coffee and get tattoos instead of saving? Because what’s the point? Do you have any idea how helpless that feeling is? Then you feel guilty and ashamed when judgmental eyes look at your $50 tattoo and tell you that THAT is the reason you and your children deserve to suffer. You feel like you need to justify the $10 Goodwill Coach purse you carry because others see it and believe you’re exaggerating your circumstance. You’re either lying, or deserve it.

The rich want to believe that the poor are poor because they deserve it. Because if they acknowledged what it really is, they also have to admit that they’re okay with thriving while others are unfairly suffering. And that makes them uncomfortable. So it’s easier to just blame.

I am poor. My kids play sports, go to a private school, have new clothes and shoes at the beginning of the school year, and none of it was provided by me. Because I have people in my life that saw the value of my children and said, “I want to help”. My eyes swell up with tears when I think about what I would do if I didn’t have kind people in my life. Because I know you’re out there. All you that are suffering without a support system. I want to help you so bad. I want somebody to help you. I feel your pain, I feel your anxiety. I am so sorry we live in a country where you are demonized and told you deserve to suffer. You do not deserve to suffer. Your kids do not deserve to suffer. You deserve so mich better than this.

Why are the poor poor? If you are not poor, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable and do something. You need to stop blaming and start asking how you can help. Perpetual poverty happens when you can’t afford the necessities. Do you feel the Necessities in life a privilege or a right? Do you believe that someone’s financial circumstance equates their worth? Your complacency is hurting people.

I Get it Now

My family is comically large. We have it all going on. Siblings, half siblings, adopted, step, etc. Growing up this way, none of the labels mattered. It was just “my brother” or “my sister”. Many would look at the complexity of our family and just be happy we didn’t try to complicate it more. I won’t bore you with a list, because today I’m just focusing on my little sister Kaylene.

Kaylene and I hated each other growing up. We also absolutely loved each other. I felt like she got away with everything, and I’m sure she felt like I was mean and picked on her. Just your basic love/hate sibling stuff. But there was one detail, that until recently, I didn’t realize played such a large roll in our relationship. I was from a broken home, she wasn’t.

I have 3 daughters close in age. It mimics my family dynamic growing up. My sister Lynda and I would go to our dads every other weekend. My sister Kaylene stayed home with my mom and step dad. With my girls, my eldest 2 only see their dad a couple times per year. My youngest daughter goes to her dad’s every other week.

See, I knew my pain. My older sister and I would feel torn and left out. We only saw our dad twice a month. I would get so mad at Kaylene. She has her mom and dad ALL THE TIME. What does she have to complain about? She should be happy! So ungrateful. She has no idea the emotional stress that would cause us! She would whine about how unfair it was that we got to go to Cedar Point with our dad. She would get jealous if our dad sent us a letter, and she didn’t get mail. She would pester to hear about all the fun stuff we built with legos or which video games we played. I would just tell her it was none of her business. I would get angry and purposely not tell her things so Lynda and I could have inside jokes and stories. She just didn’t get it. We would have given up every single toy, video game, vacation, and letter to have what she had. I loved my step dad. A ton. But only kids from broken homes can truly understand how torn you feel. How you can love both parents and feel happy at both houses and still feel like somehow you’re not whole.

“But Nadia! I never get to go to Las Vegas! Can’t I just go and see your dad’s house sometime? I want to see his dogs!”

“No Genevieve. It’s OUR dad. You get to see your dad all the time. Las Vegas is our special time with him! And Ziggy and Pepper probably wouldn’t like you because they only like certain people. ”

My heart broke. For both of them. Nadia is so mean to Genevieve. Not because Nadia is a mean kid, but because she is hurt. She is jealous. She is trying so hard to make herself feel like she has something special, when in fact, she is terribly jealous of her baby sister. She has anger that her dad has missed the majority of her childhood, while Genevieve has her dad and stepmom involved in almost every event. She is hurt, so she is choosing to take it out on Genevieve. And my poor little Genevieve doesn’t understand. She just feels left out. She feels alone. All her siblings (on both sides) have someone. She wants to feel connected and is purposely being excluded.

Genevieve came to me a couple weeks ago. She gave me a bracelet that was half a heart that said “Big Sis” on it. I asked her why she was giving it to me. She originally bought it for a one of her sisters at her dad’s house. She told me both her sisters told her to give it to someone else. So she tried to give it to her sisters here. Neither wanted it and told her to just wear it herself or put it on a stuffed animal. She then said to me, “When I’m a grown up, can you be my sister? Because then you can wear it.” I put it on, gave her a big hug and told her I loved it.

Then I cried. A lot. Siblings are mean to each other. That’s nothing new. They get sassy, bossy, and sometimes they’re just little assholes to each other. But this is more than that.

I talked to my older kids about it. I told them they need to be kind to her. That she’s only 6 and needs to feel love from her sister’s. To try to remember being that age. Try to remember how it felt to feel excluded by older kids. To try to remember how it felt to want them to think you were cool or funny. Just try to be compassionate.

I am so sorry Kaylene. I have always loved you, but I never realized the pain you went through because of us. I always felt that my home was broken, but yours was not. And I was jealous of that. So jealous. Jealous to the point of anger. I did not realize that we were your home. That every other weekend, your home was broke too. Because your sisters left and had a whole different life and home. I see now that mom and dad weren’t “favoring” you. They were protecting a little kid from a mean bully of a sister. They weren’t letting you get away with stuff, they just understood that you were acting out because, honestly, your sister Bethy was kind of an asshole who liked to push your buttons.

When I see Genevieve, with hurt and loneliness in her eyes, I can finally understand why you didn’t feel like the “lucky one” who had both her parents. You felt like the forgotten one who was pushed aside. And while my actions as a child are completely understandable and probably expected, it doesn’t take away from the fact that it hurt you. I’m sorry.

Love you baby sis.

Teaching My Kids to Acknowledge Struggle

Yesterday, my kids and I had a conversation about my parenting. My teenage brother was watching them, and he was stressed out and started yelling and being, well, a teenager. They were very upset about it and my middle daughter explained, in great detail, everything that was said and done. I listened and thought while she spoke, about how to respond.

I’m going to paraphrase, but I said something along the lines of, “It is not ok for him to raise his voice to you. Or use cuss words. And I’m glad you told me about it. We all struggle with stuff. You know what his struggle in life is going to be? His temper and his self control. Is he a mean guy? No. Does he hate you guys? No. He just doesn’t know what to do when he feels out of control with stuff. This is something he is going to HAVE TO learn. Because you know what’s going to happen if he doesn’t? He’s going to end up losing friendships, or relationships. Or even worse, he could end up actually hurting someone or going to jail. But you know what? That’s not your problem. He is not your problem. Those are HIS problems. Your job is to keep yourself safe and to make sure he knows that’s not ok to be like around you. Walk away and tell a grown up. Don’t yell back, don’t try to explain yourself to him. Leave and let him sit in his own anger. He doesn’t get to blame you for his loss of self control. We are only in control of ourselves.”

During this conversation, each kid piped in with questions and thoughts. “What if we walk away, but he follows us and keeps yelling?” Then, tell him that YOU need a min to calm down. Keep it about yourself. “I get angry too. Sometimes I just can’t control it and I yell and stuff.” So, you understand that it doesn’t mean you hate that person, or that you’re a mean person. What do you think after you yell at someone? “I feel really bad for hurting their feelings. And I get embarrassed and worried they hate me.”  So, maybe you should go tell them sorry? That it wasn’t their fault you lost your temper? Don’t you think they would be happy to know that you realize you were wrong and care about them? It’s the same with my brother. I guarantee he feels bad for making you cry. Maybe you should tell him you forgive him. Tell him you know it’s hard to control emotions, and you know he’s trying too. That could make him feel like he’s not hated. And encourage him to keep working on it. Sometimes we don’t think people notice we’re struggling or trying. Let him know you notice.

Then I said, “Can I tell you guys a secret? Parents, we have no idea what we’re doing. We think we know, and then they hand you this brand new, beautiful baby, and you realize, uh oh….I have no clue what to do. We’re all just figuring it out as we go. There will be things that you hate about my parenting. You will grow up and say. ‘I will never do “this” with my kids.’ And then there will be other things that you love, and will say, ‘I am so glad my mom did “this” with me.” I do it. Everyone does. I try really hard to look at you guys and make decisions that will help you know yourself and to help you get through things that you’re going to struggle with.”

They all reassured me that I was the best mom in the world and that they love me. I smiled told them I loved them more than anything. I would love to have that moment froze in time. I know their admiration for me will fade in the next few years as we enter into the teenager phase. That’s what I wanted to say. That really, I feel like I’m just working on the preparations for the years I’m the “worst mom in the world”. That I am hoping to give them enough tools and self awareness, that as the enter the years of feeling alone and misunderstood, they still have parts of themselves established enough to make it through.

Self awareness. That’s what I want for them. I am very self aware. Have been for most my life. I was never completely delusional about life. Even as a teenager, I remember thinking, “Man I love peer pressure. I am such a sucker for it.” I even knew why I liked it. It was because I felt like not knowing what was expected of me gave me anxiety. Peer pressure was straight up telling me what was expected. I was not stupid. Most the time, I didn’t have to be manipulated by my peers. I could see right through their intentions.

I think about how many oblivious adults there are. Absolutely no self awareness or self responsibility. No intention of finding solutions for their struggles. They just accept it as part of themselves, and expect others to just deal with it. No growth. And they’re raising children with the same mentality. I am not. I want my kids to enter adulthood KNOWING they have to work for the rest of their lives adapting and growing. They need to make choices on who they want to be, and accept it is in their control, no one else’s. I also want them to know that not everyone will do this, and that’s not their problem. They can, and should, walk away from situations that don’t help them grow as a person. That the “this is how I am, accept it” is a lie. We don’t have to accept it. That a broken person who is trying, is worth investing in, but a person content in their toxic nature should be avoided at all costs.

Will this lesson last into adulthood? I have no idea. Because, they are their own person. With their own thoughts, feelings, ideas, and experiences. This is where I have to take my own advice and realize that I don’t have control. No amount of guilt, manipulation, or lecturing will make this resonate with them. The only thing I can do is keep asking them questions, and listen to and answer their’s. Hopefully, I am growing strong minds which will learn to come to their own conclusions.

I feel like I should set an alarm to go off in 10 years for me to reread this post. Because, I know 41 year old Beth will have wisdom and growth I’m lacking now. I would love to hear her thoughts on all this. But, wisdom can’t just be learned through being told, so it wouldn’t matter anyways. Wisdom is something you just have to let develop with time.

Yeah, Yeah, I’m so Stong. Like I Have a Choice

Oh, death. We have become far too familiar.  For any of you that didn’t know, my brother died tragically in an accident on February 24, 2015. I sat in my car, reading and rereading the message. I HAVE to be reading this wrong. there is no way. I just saw him at our dad’s funeral just a couple months before. We had just talked on Facebook. This can’t be real. I started shaking and called my mom. We sat together sobbing and holding each other. Is this some kind of sick joke? How much can one family handle? When can the sorrow and pain stop?

I would say, across the board, the response from those in our lives was a pretty consistent, “You have got to be shitting me” followed by, “Are you fucking serious?” with a few, “What. The. Actual. Fuck.” Even our more uptight, conservative friends and family found themselves only able to convey their complete shock without the added profanity. Which I was actually quite grateful for, because seriously. What the fuck.

After the denial was unable to stay, and the overwhelming sadness took a brief break, I found myself angry. Very, very angry. At Matthew, at my dad, at death, and at the world in general. How could they just die? How could they leave us? It’s kind of ridiculous to be angry at the deceased. They didn’t choose it. But I still was. I wanted to yell at my dad for not being here. For leaving right before something so tragic happened. I wanted to yell at him for leaving my mom without her rock. For her to have to grieve this without him. I wanted to yell at my brother for leaving his children. I wanted to scream at him that he was such a jerk for talking with me about coming to Germany to see him and the kids and then leaving before I could. I wanted to cry and yell at them both for dying so close together. I wasn’t done grieving dad, Matthew! He’s suppose to have my grief right now! Not you! I want to be able to grieve Matt, Dad! Why did you have to die first? Now he won’t get the grief he deserves!

Stupid, huh? To be so mad at them? Well, I know it’s not really anger. It’s immense sadness. These were two people I loved dearly. I want their lives to be seen, thought of, and missed individually. I don’t want their deaths to be lumped together. I don’t want them to have to share in this time, even if it’s a horrible time. It SHOULD be separate.

So, after I had my internal emotional temper tantrum, I just accepted it. I say just, but in all reality, this is not an “I just..” type thing. What other choice to you have but to accept it? It’s not like it’s a decision you make. Well, I guess I could opt for going completely crazy, but that being the only alternative kind of decides that acceptance is really the only choice in the matter. So now what? Time to start the grief process over again.

I would like to share with any of you readers a little insight to multiple losses. This is something I was not aware of until the last couple weeks. You are only aloud one large loss a year. More than that, and you will be treated as if you have an infectious disease. For all of my loved ones reading this, please do not take this personal. I do appreciate the support, but it is different. And, I too am guilty of avoidance in similar situations. It just is what it is.

The first loss, you will have an outpouring of support. People will send flowers. They will cook meals. They will accommodate you missing work. They will hold you and tell you, “You grieve however you need to. There is no wrong way.” Then, a small amount of time goes by, and BAM. You’re hit with another death in your family. But this time it’s different. You receive texts, Facebook messages, encouraging photos, and then it’s done. You’re expected to snap back quicker this time. You put a smile on you face, and respond with a well rehearsed, “We’re hanging in there.” or “Yeah, our family has had a lot thrown at us, but we’ll get through.” While you’re really thinking, “I’m not ok and I hate that I have to pretend that we’re all so fucking strong all the time.”

I started wondering why this was. I was very honest about things after my dad died. I would just say, “My kids are late to school because I can’t sleep at night, and when I finally do fall asleep at 3am, my body doesn’t wake up.” and “I can barely remember to brush my teeth in the morning, so I’m sorry I forgot her permission slip, can I have another one?” and “No, I haven’t checked my email. I am overwhelmed and have no desire for human interaction at the moment. Please be patient with me, I am trying to function normally again.” No one want’s to hear that after the second death. Because life goes on. People keep living, and the time allotted to you for grief has expired.

I don’t want people to avoid me. That’s what it comes down to. We hear SO much to “cut the negative out of our life”. I don’t want to be cut out of people’s lives. What a line of horse shit. All those who are “cutting the negative” are cutting out my family and me. We need to cut out the toxic people in our life, yes, but not the negative. Life is so full of positive and negative. People feel uncomfortable around someone who is wounded. I do. I am such a coward. I do not deal well with death, divorce, illness, etc. And it’s not because I don’t care. On the contrary. I hate seeing someone I love or care about hurt, and not know how to fix it. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. So I avoid. And I’m here to tell you, now being on the receiving end of the avoidance, it freaking sucks. So, I act. I change the subject when I can tell my sadness is making the other person uncomfortable. I laugh, and smile, and make jokes as much as I can, so people can feel at ease. It let’s them take a deep breathe and not feel like they need to walk on eggshells around me, and avoid being with me.

People keep saying, “If you need anything, let me know!” Well folks, even though I know that’s just what you say whether you mean it or not, I am going to tell you what I need. I need people to take charge for me. I feel alone, and I want to be with people. I just can’t seem to get my shit together. I need people to let me say stupid stuff without feeling offended. I need to be able to say overly depressing things and not be met with a subject change or you leaving. Most the time, I’ve just been holding it in too long, and it comes out all wrong. I need people to treat me the same as before. For god’s sake. Make jokes with me. Plan things with me and then harass me to death about remembering it, because I will forget. I need you to cut me some slack with, well, everything. I know this is a temporary state I’m in. I’m just trying figure out what and how much I am able to handle. You see, I do like to help. I do like to do things, be in charge of things, and be counted on for things. The problem is, I will be fine one min, and then it all just hits me. I will drop the ball, please just pick it up for me and do not make me feel like a failure. I do not know my limits, and I’m trying so hard to figure them out.

My brother’s death has hit me in a different way than my dad. My dad was involved in my day to day life. My brother was not. So, in that aspect, a lot of my issues have to do with the things my dad did for me that I have to figure out without him. With Matthew, I am able to do my daily duties without the need for him. But I’m still not ok. I now have anxiety attacks almost every day. I get a panic feeling in my stomach when my phone rings. I worry about the other people in my life. What would I do if they died? They could. At any moment. How does everyone else not feel completely helpless about this? Now, logically, I know this is a silly thing to spend time worrying about. 99% of the time, things happen, and we’re ok. How many times do we say, “Whoa! That was close!” It makes me wonder how many times I’ve almost died, and just missed it. I know I cannot live my life with these lingering fears. We can’t dwell on death all the time. None of us would ever get anything done. It is just so prominent in my life right now.

One last thing I would like anyone reading this to do. Just stop. Feel the air around you. Look at your world. Notice the colors, feel the temperature, take a deep breathe, and let yourself just exist for a second. Watch your loved ones move around. Notice their quirks. Memorize their facial expressions. Because you never know when “That was close!” will turn into, “I can’t believe they’re gone.”