Tag: family

Hi. I am Beth. And I’m a toxic person.

One of my favorite things that social media and technology has brought to my generation is its ability to help us cope, understand, and process dysfunction and toxicity that is in our lives. I see it all the time. People in my age group properly able to identify unhealthy behavior in themselves and in others. That doesn’t mean they necessarily know how to deal with it, but they can identify it. Which is a huge step.

A few weeks back I had a friend say to me, “I feel like I’m gaslighting them! I didn’t even realize I was doing it. They deserve better than that.” My friend was 100% serious and concerned about it. The self awareness this person has in their 30s is astounding to me. They are toxic. They know they are. And they are able to zero in on exactly what they are doing that is dysfunctional, and even tell me why they think they are like this. 

I am a toxic person. I have the potential to suck out all the life of a person. I can manipulate. I can read people and very quickly know what they are insecure about. I can sense vulnerability and dysfunction like a freaking superpower. I can also tell when a person is emotionally healthy. I can feel boundaries that are set (or not set) almost immediately after meeting someone. My comfort zone is filled with toxic interactions and unhealthy behaviors. 

I sound like a gem, eh? Well, I think I am. Not because that stuff doesn’t matter. Because I fight that stuff EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Ask anyone who knew me in my 20s. Talk to my exes. I was not a bad person. But I was broken. The adult I was trying to be was not one on a healthy path. It was one who used white lies, cheated, and manipulated to get my way. I didn’t want to be like that. I did not like seeing the ones I loved hurt by me. 

I started seeing a therapist. I started making a conscious effort. I had to learn how to purge the toxicity from my interactions. It sucked. It was hard. No…not was. It is hard. I find when I’m with other people working on themselves, or people that are emotionally stable, it is easy. I can relax and just be. But the moment someone with dysfunction enters my life, I want to retreat to my ever so toxic comfort zone. I can feel it. I can hear it in what I say. I leave feeling angry at myself. Ashamed. 

I like to cut people in their 20s some slack. That decade is such a shit hole anyways. Add in having to process through childhood/adolescence and you’re left with some pretty lost adults who are trying to sort through 2 decades of preparation for adulthood. It’s exhausting and can be overwhelming. But once you’re in your 30s, get your shit together. You have had over a decade of making your own choices. At this point, your life is what you have made it. Acknowledge what you’ve been through and grow. 

I am a toxic person. I have to know this always. I have to understand and be compassionate to those who distance themselves from me. I have to work 10x as hard to make sure I keep my toxicity from my children. I need to make sure my children find dysfunction uncomfortable and wrong. I have to make sure I guard myself from others who take me by the hand and try to lead me down to that place I’ve escaped from. I need to acknowledge what brought me to this point, but not dwell on it, blame does not add to my growth. I need to know that when I do slip up, I tell whoever I hurt I was wrong and they deserve better. 

If you are a toxic person, you are not a bad person. Every day, every interaction, you have a choice to do better, to be better. Find a therapist. (I know I know, therapist shopping is the WORST. But don’t settle for one that isn’t helping you.) Start working on rewiring yourself. Your life will be happier. Your relationships will be better. You will thrive. 

A “no” is the first step toward a “yes”

“Beth. People want to help. People like to give. You need to put yourself out there and let those who can, help you.”

Variations of this statement have been said to me year after year. Is it my pride that makes it difficult? Society’s “don’t expect a handout” knee jerk response with every need? Either way, the above statement is true. People do like to help. I like to help. Even with as little as we have, if I know someone is in need, I try to help. I don’t think less of a person in need. I definitely don’t hold it over them or against them. 

Do you feel like I am buttering you up for a request? That’s because I am. I’m trying to sell you on the idea that I deserve help. I think that bothers me the me most about being poor. That panicked feeling you get when you’re trying to convince someone you are worth their time or money. 

This morning I went to my grandma’s for a cup of coffee. We talked about how we’ve been treated during the years by those with influence or money. “I know a lot of people just assumed we were hillbillies and were beneath them. They didn’t even try to get to know us.” My grandma said. “So what? What if you were? Should that even matter? Grandma, hillbillies are people too.  To suggest that a human is less worthy of help or kindness because they are “poor hillbillies” is saying that rich = superior.” People justify withholding love and generosity, due to social standing, by suggesting the poor are poor because they deserve it. And that the rich are rich because they deserve it. When we all know amazing people who have almost nothing and disgusting humans who are very wealthy. 

Ten days ago my kids and I started a St. Joseph Novena. For those non-Catholics out there, it is 9 days of prayer for a special intercession. Our Novena was to find a home. I told my kids on day one, “This isn’t magic. This isn’t superstition. We will get a yes. BUT. It may not be the yes we think we need. So we need to remember to not be sad when we hear no. No is a good thing, because that will point us to the yes that is waiting for us.” 

Today I went to the bank to try to get pre-approved for a mortgage. I was told no. This sweet lady looked as if she wanted to cry for me. She shared with me a personal story of hardship she went through when she was younger. And I told her, “It’s ok. This no just means there’s a yes somewhere else. I had to start somewhere.” 

I need a house. I cannot afford to rent any longer. For a house big enough for my family, I will have to spend twice what I am spending now. Throwing money away. I have spent 7 years doing what I’m supposed to do. Working, paying bills, and taking care of my family. No bankruptcies. No foreclosures or evictions. No repossessions. Student loans and defaulted medical bills are all the debt I have. All of these things mean nothing to the bank. The bank says I should have a credit card. The bank says I need to wait another 2 years. The bank says I am too poor to have a house. Do I have a family member able to help with a down payment? Someone who would be willing to do a land contract? They cannot help me. I would need someone else to help. A family member? A friend of a friend? There is is. This “no” just pointed me in the direction I need to go to find my “yes”.

I need a house. I need someone who knows my situation to say I am worth investing in. I honestly believe we are all connected. That all that I am going through in my life is bigger than I am.  This is not just about me. It’s hard to explain. I have never felt so confident about anything. There is someone out there right now with the desire and ability to help my family. There is someone who has it in their thoughts or in their heart. They will know the moment they read this. 

Now, my children and I will wait to see what our “yes” will be and start preparing for our next life adventure! Because, whatever “yes” we are given, will most definitely be a positive, life changing yes!

Bringing it down to the Basics

It was 2011. I was newly divorced, in school full time, working as many hours as I could get, and raising 3 kids. Looking back, it’s almost comical that I thought I could have an organized house as well. 

“What do you need?” My friend Kris asked me. She had come over with the intention to clean/organize/help. I was drowning in my life and I desperately needed someone to throw me a lifesaver. 

“I don’t know. I mean. I guess the toys. I can’t think because there is so much everywhere. The toys go there. Top drawer is dolls. Second is dress up. Bottom draws is everything else. I don’t know. They’re all mixed up.” I told her showing her my organizer. “And art stuff goes here. Paper in this drawer, crayons and markers in this one, and the other stuff in that one.”

“No. That’s too much. You need to simplify it. How about toys here, and art stuff here.”

“But. Everything has a place. I just…”

“What a your goal? What do you want in here?”

“I want the toys off the floor. I want to walk through my house without stepping on stuff.”

“Beth. The girls can help. They need to. You can’t do it all, so we need to find a way that is simple. So the kids can do it.”

I had to let go of some control. Here’s the thing, (for those who don’t know how it is to function with ADHD) I have to be that uptight about things. Chaos around me gives anxiety. I forget things. I lose things. Everything has a place, because otherwise, nothing has a place. 

So I changed the rules. Instead if having such strong stipulations on where the kids put the toys, I just made sure they were put away. It worked. The kids didn’t feel overwhelmed with helping. So I started simplifying other aspects of my life. 

Sorting socks? Nope. I don’t have time. My goal is to have clean socks when we need them. Boom. New rule, sock basket. All the clean socks in the house are in there. Find your own. While thes things were not ideal for my house, I found the amount of stress that was lifted was definitely worth letting go. 

Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed, I like to bring it down the the basics. Not forever, just for long enough to gain some perspective. Not just with household chores, but with friendships, parenting, work, and everything else. 

Parenting. What is the goal? I’m sure your response would be something about love, or God, or kindness, or being strong or something like that. No. Those are not the goals. Those are the personal details you have set for what are actually the goals. 

There are 2 things your kid needs from you. Two. Taking it to The basics. These 2 things are the backbone of why you make any and all decisions regarding your kids. And if they’re not, you need to reevaluate your motives in parenting.

The first, let them keep their innocence as long as possible. We protect them from the horrors of the world so that they can develop into who they are truly meant to be. Life has a way of hardening us. Our children need to keep the tenderness, and awe for life and the world as long as possible.

The second, produce functional adults. Our children need to be able live and function in society someday. We cannot shelter them forever. They need to be able to socialize. They need to be able to work a job. They need to be able to keep themselves safe when you’re not there. They need to be able to think and make choices. 
These goals sound contradictory. You can see why teenage years are so tough. Constantly trying to balance protecting our teen while at the same time knowing in a few short years they need to be able to function in the world. 

Now, what is your definition of innocence? What do you consider a functioning adult? This is where our parenting styles come into play. We make choices every day with these in mind. “No, sorry, Sally isn’t allowed to sleep over until she’s older.” Or “Rinse your bowl.” Or “Sure, Jimmy can definitely go out with his friends after the game.” Based on our childhoods, usually, we decide what we will or will not do with our kids. 

If you are an overwhelmed parent, bring it to the basics. Ask yourself, is this helping them keep their innocence or helping them develop into a functioning adult? If it doesn’t fit one of those 2 things, quit fretting about it. Quit being angry about it. Quit wearing yourself down over it. 

Someday I will sort socks again. And you know what? The toys in my house are now sorted. The art stuff all has a place. It took 7 years, but I got it back slowly. Just because it’s not ideal, doesn’t mean it’s bad. My house is a disaster. Why? Because I want the kids to help clean. And honestly, they don’t do a great job. My kids need a mom who helps show them. Not a mom who yells and shames them. 

You know what your kids need. You know what type of adult you hope they become (or possibly one you don’t want them to become). Have a little faith in yourself. Take a deep breathe, and let go. 

 One of my worst nights.

I want to tell a story.

A few years back, on Halloween, I went to a costume party with my sister, I dressed up as a Marvel character. We met my mom and step dad there. It was a BLAST. I drove and the plan was that my mom, who wasn’t drinking, or my sister were going to drive me. The plans were vague, but we knew we would figure out a safe way home. No biggie.

One of the best Halloween Parties I’ve ever been too. And I am glad for that. It was the last time we all went out with Dad before he died. It was adorable to watch him watch Mom. Just love and awe as he watched her dance with her girlfriends. Of course my sister and I took turns buying him shots of Crown, and tried to get him out there dancing with her.

Just all around a great night.

Then I ran into someone who recognized me from a play I was in. We started talking and laughing. I was DRUNK. Everyone was my friend and great. Everything was great. But I was getting tired. I better find my family.

They were gone. I grabbed my dying phone and tried to call. Straight to voicemail. Panic starts to set in a bit as I look around for anyone I know.

A guy approaches and starts to talk to me. I smile and try to keep my level of drunkness at bay. Then a couple of his friends walk up. They all start talking to me. The first guy asks if I want to go to a party with them. I feel my stomach drop. The bar lights are on. There is only a few ppl left and I don’t know any of them. I don’t know what to do.

You know that “gut feeling” we are always told to listen to? Mine was saying run. Get. Out. Now. I was absolutely terrified that these 5-6 were guys going to rape me. I told him I couldn’t, but thanks for the invite! He was not taking no for an answer. He wouldn’t leave me alone and kept getting closer. All of them were around me. Finally I said, I would go. I faked a laugh and asked where it was at. “Oh, we’ll drive you. Don’t worry about it.” I HAD to get away. I agreed and leaned against the wall. The main guy told me he needed to go to the bathroom and then we would leave. He turned and I ran.

I ran to my car quicker than I’ve ever ran. I started it and left the bar. I started to cry. Why the fuck am I driving. I am going to go to jail. I would be so mad at any friend driving drunk. Maybe I over reacted? I shouldn’t be driving. If I get pulled over they won’t care that I was stuck. What if they raped Me? I shouldn’t have dressed as Domino. I need to park my car. But they saw this car. Where can I go? I need to go somewhere public. A gas station.

I pulled into a gas station. Turned off my car, threw my keys on the seat, locked the doors, texted my (then) fiance where I was and closed my eyes, still shaking. I slept there for about an hour. 

Officer: Knock-knock-knock “Ma’am? Are you alright?”
Me: Yes I am fine. Thank you.
Officer: I need you to come inside.

I spent the next hour and half with this man drilling me. I was cooperative. I told him I was drunk. I had friends that cared about me. My fiance would be stopping here in the morning to give me a ride home, so this was a safe place for me to sleep. I thanked him for his concern. And agreed to wait inside for my fiance. At this point my phone had died and I told him I just had to wait I couldn’t call him.

He had me call him from his phone. I called my fiance and explained that I’m not safe to drive, I was sleeping, they were concerned about me sleeping in my car, and he had to come get me. This seemed to appease the officer. So I thanked him again, he left, and it went into the bathroom to wash the Halloween makeup off my face.

When I came out he was there again. He wanted me to take a breathalyzer test. At this point I am feeling harassed. And I told him so. I did not deny my alcohol consumption. I came in and I called. I did everything he asked. I was not belligerent or uncooperative. So I asked him why he wanted a breathalyzer after all of that.

He could have asked at any point. Why did he leave and come back to ask me for one? He said he just wanted one and I had to do it. I told him no. I did not have to do it and, because I was intoxicated, I did not feel comfortable having any more interactions with him without my fiance or a lawyer present.

I was terrified. This was one of the scariest nights of my life. Everytime I think about that night and makes me sick to my stomach. It was such a great night. Then, it wasn’t. I think about all that could have happened. What if I decided to do the right thing and not drive? And those guys took me? What if I fell asleep on the road or hit someone? What if I did do the breathalyzer? What if the officer decided to arrest me?

I’ve only told a couple people about this night. I was so ashamed and embarrassed. Everytime I think about that night I am affirmed in my mind that I did the right thing. But I still feel so hurt and angry about it.

When I hear stories about women being assaulted and the defense being that the woman was dressed provocatively, I realize how close I was to being that woman. Would these men have gotten away with it because I was in a Domino costume? Because I was drunk? Why is my only option in the situation to break the law or potentially be raped?

I went out for a night of drinking and dancing with my family. One little misunderstanding about rides could have potentially changed my entire life. 

I don’t know why I wanted to share this. I guess I just feel like people should know that even if you plan and do everything right things can change very quickly.

And that it really sucks that as women, we have lingering fear of harm and guilt of pleasure with everything we do. That those men could have been excused due to intoxication and poor judgement while I would be blamed because of the same things. 

Welcome to Our Home

I love analogies. One of my favorites is viewing our country as a household. First off, the family/house you’re born into is completely by chance. We (Americans) were born into a wealthy family. Or adopted into it. We have running water, food, a place to sleep, and amenities. While other households (countries) may be lacking some or all of those things. Secondly, we all disagree with our other family members at some point. But having the “house rules” (Constitution) makes sure that everyone is heard, and no one is taken advantage of or treated unjustly. 

I’m not going to go into our relationship with our neighbors. Or exactly how our family started out here, since we know there was bloodshed.  I want to talk all but what’s going on right inside our house right now. Because I feel like people are so busy looking out the window that they’re not noticing what is happening to our family. 

I want to know. If your child told you they were being poisoned by the water in their bathroom, would you call a plumber and pay to fix it? If your child lost their job and couldn’t buy their own food, would you feed them? If your child couldn’t get to school, would you make sure they got there? If your child had strep throat, but couldn’t afford an antibiotic, would you pay the bill? Of course you would. They are your family. You know investing in your child is going to help set them up for success. Plus, it helps the rest of the family to have a child that can read, isn’t ill, and is thriving. 

Obviously, I’m saying that every American has a right to have their basic needs met. And don’t start this “you’re not entitled” bullshit. Yes we are. Being born (or adopted) into this family means we don’t have to (or shouldn’t have to) worry about basic human rights. 

Now what about the extras. If your child wants to play baseball, do you let them? Piano lessons? The Internet?  Remember, this isn’t about money in your household. Your house is rich. This is about whether you think a child should have to pay for the extra stuff, or if it should come out if the budget. One parent may say, “Yes! We’re able to give this kid experiences and privileges that others can’t have. I say we go for it.” While the other parent may say, “Absolutely not. I didn’t have those things when I grew up and I turned out fine. They will grow up spoiled if we don’t make them work for it.” So what’s the solution? We find a compromise. A budget. 

Now what if you have a kid that stealing food out of the pantry. They’re taking more than they need. They’re wasting. They’re selling the food to other kids in the house. Should you disallow all the he kids who can’t buy their own food from eating? No. Because you know who will be hurt? The ones that can’t work. The ones too young. The ones with disabilities. The ones who are struggling. 

Now, one of your neighbors is blowing something up. Threatening to blow up your house and your kids. And you notice that a few of your kids look a lot like this neighbor. You know they are your kids. They work, contribute, and are ready part of your family. But….they do look are really lot like those bad people. Do you kick them out? Do you tell them they are unwelcome? Or do you protect your child, because they are part if YOUR FAMILY. 

Our family. Our household. America. We need to stop acting like we are in competition with each other. There is no reason every American shouldn’t have every basic need met. Why does Flint still not have clean drinking water? Why is higher education considered a luxury? Why the hell can’t I drive down my road without fear of messing up my car because of the pot holes? Why are there people that have ongoing medical issues that are untreated because they can’t afford the bill? 

I am not saying every American needs a new ipad or should be issued a new car. I’m saying we need to stop sending our family to the neighbors house to fight with them and maybe fix our effing roof, make sure everyone’s getting food and water. Maybe we need to ask the ones that are making these decisions for our house why they are eating lobster and sitting in a warm room while there are people downstairs that are thirsty and cold. 

I will never understand why there is SO much fear involved in helping people. Always scared someone is going ro get something you’re not getting. They hold on to these stories of someone abusing the system, and clump EVERYONE who needs assistance under it. I have needed food, medical, childcare, and even cash assistance at one point or another in my adulthood. And I don’t feel bad about it. Because America is my family, and I had needs my children and I needed met. And I will be damned if someone is going to tell me that I am a leech off the system or make me feel guilty about it. 

I’m a 31 Year Old Toddler

Today, my mind keeps wandering. Usually when I sit down to write out a blog, it’s because of an occurrence that sparked my mind to come to some sort of epiphany type moment. Not today. Today I keep thinking about something I have already written about. So I reread a blog post I wrote a long time ago.

http://wp.me/p4Wgjj-H

I knew after my dad died a part of me died too. I knew it would be traumatic. I knew I would have to watch each family member of mine deal with the old them die away. I knew, with the amount of disfunction in my family, that there would be lashing out, mistakes made, comfort given, frustrations voiced, and tears shed. For over a year now, I have watched every person I love go through the emotional “rehab” that comes after a life altering occurrence. Some of them have watched parts of themselves die before. They are usually more self aware of what’s happening. Some have never experienced loss like this, and are new to it. But no matter which they are, they died that day too.

Self awareness. I mention this a lot. To me, being self aware is one of the most important parts of humanity. To look at a reoccurring problem and be able to just KNOW why you react that way, or what your limits are, is the only way to grow. I am self aware. I become bitter easily. I care what people think of me. I have image issues with my appearance. I play mental games with myself when I know I should/shouldn’t do something to try to justify doing what I want, and then regret it. I know me. Well, I know the old me. Still learning the new me.

It’s a helpless feeling. To watch those close to you struggle to learn themselves again, and know there’s nothing you can do to help, because you are going through it too. I feel like we’re a family of toddlers. Stumbling around, trying to learn how to walk and talk. Have you ever seen how different, yet the same toddlers are? Some go off by themselves to cry when they get frustrated, some throw a screaming fit at the grocery store. Some wait for guidance when they don’t know how to do something, some scream “I do it!” and end up making it worse. But they all have something in common. They can see what they need/want, but haven’t quite mastered their ability to communicate it. They have no control of their emotions and don’t know convay what they’re feeling, which makes them overreact and look quite irrational.

So how do we get through this toddler stage? With love and patience, boundaries, and if need be, a swat on the bottom.

This last summer, I was that kid that who decided to sneak into the candy and then started running in circles all over the place. And guess what, I slammed right into a wall. It hurt. I cried…a lot. Thankfully, I had people in my life to help wipe the tears as I calmed myself down. (To clarify for those not in my personal life, I went out a lot and became pregnant, unplanned). So now I’m in timeout. Nobody to blame but myself. Life said, you need to calm down and I protested that “it’s not fair!”.

As I grow out of the toddler stage of this Beth, I feel relief. I watch my family members, and know they will too. I can’t predict or stop their tantrums, meltdowns, or confusion. It’s just going to happen. All I can do is wipe their tears when life puts them in timeout, and let them learn their new limits and abilities on their own. Do you know what the best part of going through a “toddler stage” is? The next stage is the magical stage. Watch a 3-4 year old. Everything is exciting, new, and magical. Princesses and superheroes. Overwhelming joy over bubbles. Feeling proud of your coloring skills. Excitement over new friends. I am so ready for that stage.

This One Time, I was Homeless. It was Great.

I was homeless for almost 2 months. Very recently actually. Like, up until a couple weeks ago. Let me clarify that I was NOT living on the streets as one might assume by the word “homeless”. I was living in the basement of dear friends of mine. Let me back up a bit. In March 2015, for reasons that I consider large enough to warrant a quick decision, I left my fiance. Said incident happened on a Friday, I was gone by Sunday, with kids in tow. And yes, I am purposely leaving out the juicy “why” of the sudden split, because frankly, it doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to make a judgement call or weigh in on whether it was the right thing to do. If you know me, you know I always aim to make the best decisions for my children. Even if hard or heartbreaking.

My sister was going to be out of town for a week, and offered her place to stay. I shoved all of our clothes into trash bags and loaded up my car and headed to her place. I spent the next week in a mild haze. What was I going to do? Where was I going to go? How am I going to afford to live on my own? I cannot believe I have to start over AGAIN. There was no place to go. No houses to rent, and no way I could buy my own house. I was stuck. Then I got a text that changed everything. My friend Kris messaged me teasing, “David says he will barter a haircut for our “basement suite” for you guys.” Phew. I have the next week covered.

Well, one week turned into over 6 weeks. How many of you just cringed a bit? We know what they say about house guests right? If I heard that, I would assume someone was taking advantage of hospitality. I could not imagine how any family would willingly take in a single mother with three kids for THAT long. That sounds like a situation where a friendship ends and there is a lot of emotion and tension.

As the receiver of this hospitality, I worried that the stress and anxiety of being in someone else’s house was going to push me over the edge. We all clean better, act nicer, are more polite, organized, etc, when we’re guests. I know myself. This was going to stress me out to the max. I knew I would only be able to maintain the “guest Beth” persona for a week, two max. So panic set in about the urgency of finding a place before disorganized, emotional, spastic Beth would come out. I loved this family and REALLY didn’t want them to regret their decision to let us live here.

Hands down, the BEST homeless situation I could have possibly asked for. These last couple months have been so full of love, compassion, kindness, and contentment. No judgement, no guilt, no manipulation, no animosity, just peace. Moving into my own place, while exciting, brought a certain amount of sorrow with it. I didn’t want to leave this family. I saw my children thrive here. I hadn’t had an anxiety attack the entire time I lived here. I could just state my needs, or ask for what they needed and there was a completely open line of communication. I wasn’t made to feel bad if I needed to cry and vent. I was NEVER made to feel like a burden. I felt accepted and appreciated. Is this family perfect? Absolutely not, none of us are. But there is a self awareness they have, that freed me to just be my loud, flighty, imperfect, self right with them.

So what do I do with this experience? What have I learned from all this? First off, I’ve learned how important it is to be grateful for the sacrifice others give to you. Seems like a pretty obvious lesson. But I feel it needs to be stated. Gratitude is something we MUST hold on to. My existing doesn’t entitle me to anything except the space my physical body takes up. How many woman DON’T leave because they have no where to go? What would I have done if I didn’t have anyone to take me in?

I would say, the biggest lesson I have learned from all this is from the other side of the situation. How completely selfless of this family to take in my family, no questions asked. Would you do that? Think about it. How many excuses do we make because we wouldn’t want the inconvenience of someone else’s problems. I was desperate. I was HOMELESS, with three kids. Did I choose it? Yes, I chose to respond to a situation the only way I could. I have actually had people say, “You chose this. You’re going to have to figure it out.” (We’ve come so far haven’t we….I should probably just put up with it. I probably deserved whatever happened, right?….I asked for it.)

We HAVE to change this “not my problem” approach to life. And this, “You didn’t do it the way I would have, so you deserve to suffer.” Yes, these were MY problems. Whether due to the fact that life just took a shit on me, or I made bad choices, the reality was, I needed help. My kids needed a stable place. And I needed one person to have compassion and say, “I care about you. So this IS my problem too.” I needed someone to say, “We don’t want you or your children to suffer.” That’s what Dave and Kris did. They said, we love you, so if you’re hurting, we’re hurting. If you need, and we can provide, we will.  It brings me to tears to think about how rare this is to find people like this. They are a treasure. I am I different, better, person because of them. To watch them parent their children, and include mine like family, to not ONCE feel like I needed to make myself scarce or that I was somehow intruding in their personal life, they were inclusive and sincere.

Does this mean you need to take in any person wandering around looking for a place? No way. That would be unsafe. What I mean by all this is, if I’m ever in a position where someone is in need, and I can give them what they need (not what I THINK they need) I will to just do. Don’t ask how they got there. Don’t explain what they did wrong. Just simply, see the need, and lighten the burden. To just love and know I AM responsible for other people. We can’t help every person, every time. Sometimes, we have to say no. But if we can, then we need to.

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.”