Archive for the ‘marriage’ Tag

already wrote, already cried, already tired.

mumford and sons

i promised myself i would write today.  i don’t feel like i have much to offer the page.  i am pretty worn out from yesterday and today already.

sean and i talked a lot yesterday.  he doesn’t like how i talk about the old me as if it is not part of me anymore.  he thinks it is unhealthy and it scares him.  he has never liked the way i talk about my brain my brain being a separate entity.  i would say things like, “i just want to shut my brain the fuck up!!!!!” it has become more than that now, because i don’t feel like kim.  this is not kim.  if this is kim, then i fucking want to slap her and defriend her on facebook.

i talk a lot about how i don’t understand how sean can still love this person when he married someone so fucking different.  i know he is sick of hearing it.  i was never the girl to put on an outfit and prance in front of him and ask him, “do i look fat in this?”  i knew men hated then way more than any outfit.  that constant need for complements could drive them crazy, so i just didn’t do it.  i stepped back and knew he for whatever reason found me to be a goddess.  i would not place doubt in that thought process.  if i had one man find me to be a fucking goddess, then just shut the fuck up and go out in the outfit and have fun. i have become that woman.  i look at him all the time and ask him why he still wants to be married to me. i am different.  i am not kim.  i am someone else and kim is not coming back.  usually he is silent.  yesterday he had enough.

he told me i was kim.  i am kim.  I AM KIM!!!!!!!!  all the things i talk about that don’t make me kim are just tasks and they don’t define me.  he looks at me and he still sees me…the only me that will ever be there. there is no replacement.  other things have changed that would have changed my behavior and the way i ran the house anyhow.

what he doesn’t understand if that i don’t feel like kim. i don’t feel like me.  i don’t feel like my skin fits me. i don’t know who is staring back at me in the mirror.  i tell him so many other suicide survivors describe this so i know it is true.  i tell him i think my therapist says it is normal and that letting go of the old me is part of the process of finding and and excepting what is coming down the line.  he is trying to understand it, but it scares the shit out of him.  he saw my breakdown.  i didn’t write during my breakdown.  i didn’t write about thinking the meds were poisoning me and that i would double over in pain or pull my hair or at my eyes.  that i didn’t understand why i still had eyes.  i believed they should have been scratched out when tom died.  that the appropriate reaction was to scratch my eyes out and since i didn’t something was wrong and i was being poisoned.  he lived through this and much, much more.  pulling me out of the tub and getting me ready for the hospital.  admitting me and then seeing the fear in my eyes as i looked around then  trying to get the nurse to release me.  watching me curl up into a ball crying hysterically over and over, but in the setting of the hospital is was unbearable and he just wanted to bring me home and watch over me himself.  he lived through that.  i talked a lot about myself in the third person as my mind shattered.  i understand why he can’t hear me talk about letting go of a me i know will never come back.  i don’t know how to word it.

i also cried in front of him for 45 minutes.  then rocked back and forth and told him that the fact that i was crying and talking was good.  that i know it is painful for him to see, but i am not walking around with a thick wall around me unable to meet his gaze.  unable to look at his eyes full of emotion, because mine are dead most of the time.  the fact that i was crying and identifying emotions with words and ideas was good.  that i have been stuck and i am trying to move forward and it will be messing, bu ti can’t keep falling.  i can’t keep pulling my shit together and then completely falling apart and landing back in bed.

i go to a site for survivors of suicide.  i mostly put on a happy face there.  i reach out to every single new member and write them a personalized response.  i try to make sure that none of them are the same even if it is the fifth one i am writing that day.  i also have started following with interest certain members.  i try to remember them on days i know will be hard and try to watch for their posts.  i have opened up a few times.  started a thread for myself, but mostly i go there to try to keep the armor on and reach out to those who are in a much more painful place than me.

so between here and there i have been writing.  between here and there and my conversation with sean, i have been working really hard.  i want to break free from this grief.  i know it is very normal to still be in so much pain after a suicide and after the tragic way things played out, but i only have this one life and i can not spend much more of it this way.

there is a mumford and sons song i have been listening to that has been reminding me about how lucky i am to have such an awesome family and really lucky to have such amazing brothers.  i think of all the times both of them have held me up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kl-VCHzS1So

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2012

I woke up in a very good mood.  This isn’t something completely new or different.  I get these highs and always have.  Every song on the radio makes me smile, even that damn Adele song.  I sing loudly and with passion to Air Supply or Pit Bull or Katy Perry or Metallica.  I think about the future and I know it is good.  I mean really good.  Gooey good.  I think about the past and even the hard stuff, even something horrible is felt with a clean hurt.  When my eyes sting with tears, I feel fierce.  This fierceness is all good though, because I smile through the tears and the smile is shining and true.

I want to hold on to these mornings or nights or whenever these times of clearness enters my being.  It feels so true and beautiful.  Colors pop, pop, pop faster than my thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.  I know it can’t stay or I would become giddy and my eyes too wide and my smile too toothy and then maybe a bit of madness would slip in.  So, I sit back and I take in the thoughts, the feelings the realizations and I don’t try to touch them.  I let them move over me and through me and the ones that can settle, I let settle.  I don’t even hold my breath any more when this happens.

Overall things have been good.  Even, if I try to remove the high, I can still say things have been better.  New Year’s Eve was spent with Sean and the kids.  Sophia was sick, but we had a toast anyhow.  I looked at my two children and I knew what I had—have.  I looked at Sean and I knew I was born under a lucky sign.

As a child, I thought the way you left your home was to get married.  I wanted to find someone to take me away and take care of me and make my life good.  Sean spun past me and I dug my claws in deep with desperation.  I was a little girl, but I was determined.  I used to think that I forced my will and love on him, but I now know the truth.  He was just as desperate to find someone to ground him so his ego didn’t fly him off into a life of misery.  We spun away and he made my life good as I learned to do it myself and I kept him grounded as he became a man and grounded himself.

It will be two years in April.  My life completely fell apart.  Some of you know how close it all came to annihilation of the soul.  I didn’t write during that time.  I stayed in bed.  I stayed in bed drugged and usually drunk.  I stayed in bed for about a year.  My brother Nick came and helped Sean take care of the kids for 6 of those months.  My brother Sean would ride in to try to shake a smile out of me.  My parents came and called and sent in the troops when needed.  Vanessa dragged me out of bed when she could and listened to desperate pleas from Sean.  Many other friends and family did what they could or didn’t .  Somehow I was dragged, helped, carried, supported and deposited to this new place.

This new place isn’t perfect.  I still have a lot of work to do, but even if I stay here, it will be okay.  Sean and my kids are still here.  Most of my friends and family are still here.  Those that I have lost, I don’t miss.

2012 is an important year.  I have set goals for myself.  I am off most of the meds.  I just started being able to sleep without a sleeping pill.  2012 is going to be better than 2011, which was not better than 2010.  I say this all from a perch as high as the moon, yet I know it is true.

I miss my baby brother.  I miss Tom.  I miss him, but he is gone and I have to live my life without him.  I am starting to live my life again.  I am reaching out and trying to be there for friends more than they have to be there for me.

Even when I am not flying, I smile and even laugh.  I have more than my share. I have a good life.  In 2012 I will make it an even better life.

 

 

 

Excuses

I have not written in a long time.  I had house guests for 3 weeks and it sort of removed the rhythm.  I was feeling better.  I was feeling worse.  I was feeling confused.  In the end, I lost motivation for many reasons but the most honest reason is that I have a difficult time following through with anything.  I follow through with close relationships, but not distant ones.  I have just started finishing projects.  It could just be the grief that has driven me to the level of obsession i need to crochet or knit a project to the end.  i am hoping maybe tom’s death has changed me into someone who finishes things.  i have started to finish the dishes.  i used to leave something in the sink, because i just couldn’t complete the task. i was making my bed every day, but the surgery has slowed that down.  i was writing every day, but something has slowed it down.

i went off the abilify and fell into the darkness again.  i didn’t far as deep or hard, but i did end up in bed for three days.  the grief washed over me and i could not catch a breath.  i ruminated about starting back on the abilify.  i mean, it could just be a normal phase in the grief process or it could be pms or maybe i was just feeling normal.  maybe normal for me was tired and normal for me was constant tears.  maybe that is the normal reaction to losing a brother.  why drug myself through something so normal?  luckily there was a small voice telling me the pain wasn’t worth it and that my kids and marriage need me to be stronger than i could be on my own.  i needed help.  i also had family telling me it was okay to go back on.  i had janet tearing apart any logic i thought i was creating to stay off it.  i had vanessa arms crossed, phone in her back pocket staring me down. 

i started the abilify again about 5 days ago and it has been a hard process.  i am out of bed, but i am crying a lot.  i miss tom.  i don’t want him to be gone.  i don’t want to have a dead brother.  yesterday was stupid suicide prevention day.  fuck you.  fuck you for telling me it would have been okay to bring up suicide to tom.  fuck you for telling me it would have gotten him talking and not pushed him away.  i am crying or raging.  i have a lot of hatred brewing.  vanessa reminds me that this happened before.  i want to spit out words to tear down people around me.  i want to slam dishes onto the floor and stomp on the shattered glass. vanessa keeps telling me this will pass.  i believe her.  i don’t know it yet, but i trust her to tell me the truth. 

i dropped the kids off at school this week and missed tom.  i used to call him after those kind of moments and talk, talk, talk.  i would talk to him about the kids then about how board i was driving home.  i would make him listen to my random thoughts during my commute back home or to work when i was at u.i.c.  i would make him listen to me when i was avoiding writing a paper or working on my graduate thesis.  i would make him listen to me when i needed to rant about the family secrets.  i thought i mostly listened to him, but he listed to me too.  i wish him back a lot.  i wish him back like a little girl.  i actually sometimes believe my time spent wishing him bask isn’t wasted.  it is to much to believe i will never see him again. 

i try to remind myself how lucky i am.  i had three amazing brothers.  i now still have two amazing brothers who i love and who love me back.  they love me in a way not everyone gets to experience.  they love me for me.  they don’t care about my flaws they see them and shrug them off.  they know me.  sean supports me no matter what.  nicholas is one of the few people in the world who tells me off and knocks me off soap boxes.  my brothers friends have stepped in to offer love and support too.  i used to think it would all add up to enough, but it isn’t .  it is not enough.

Vanessa and Nicholas at Liz's

Monday at home.

I think I worked out a lot emotions yesterday. Today I mostly floated around and stayed close to home. I went to the woods with Vanessa and talked to her a bit about my break down the night before. The rain came and we got the boys home before the storm set in. My fear of Sean being disgusted by me was partially laid to rest by Nessa. In the end, even if the worse occurs and he looks up at my snotty tear stained face and becomes disgusted it will not cancel out 20 years of hard work. I sort of know this to be true, but sort of don’t.

I could feel a little bit more of a connection with Sean today. I think it is rare that he rises up and sets me straight sternly and when it happens it shifts things around a bit and we both feel better. I wrote him a long letter and tried to be the old Kim for part of the day. I have asked him to design a new tattoo for me. I was about to run out and get a hand gun with the caption, “Suicide Ruined My Life, ” but thought i might not be thinking clearly. I am excited about the design I came up with. I wish I could draw so I could just sit down and do it myself. Sean will make it work, but it will have to be on his time and sometimes I can be impatient.

I still feel as if I am not facing Tom’s death. It is too much. He was so alive and big and full of an energy that few people possess. Just facing the fact that his life energy is gone is hard enough to look at, but then acknowledging the loss of Tom makes me stop breathing. I just can’t look at it right now.

Can't really be gone

I spent a long time on the phone with my brother Nick. I miss him and really want a brother here in Chicago. If Sean wasn’t married, I would be bugging him to come and see me. He has offered to come, but I just feel like I need to respect his time with Mary. I love Mary as a sister and I don’t want to step or overstep. Nick, on the other hand, is alone in California and I don’t feel wierd about begging him to either move or visit Chicago. I need a Foley around me.

Before Tom died, I spent a lot of time reading about politics. I signed up to volunteer for the governer’s race, I read, read, read and talked, talked, talked about politics. It excited me and I love debating about it or agreeing about it. I have started reading again, but I just don’t care. I am also trying to wrap my head around the oil spill, but again I just don’t care. Bombs could fly or the ocean could fill with oil and I would be sitting at home crocheting and trying to figure out how I am going to navigate this next year and still have friends and family around me. I am thinking this is completely normal.

I feel like there is a lot more I need to say, but I feel foggy. I talked a lot today. I talked with Nick and Jenny amd Janet V. for a long time each. Janet was telling me I should write about the food people have brought me recently to fatten me up.

Friends Tom and Chal have dropped off food a number of times. The new thing that Tom does is drop off a cake doughnut dipped in chocolate. I don’t even tell the kids about it and I eat the enire thing. Last time he brought me two and I still didn’t even share with Sean. Janet M. dropped off the most amazing brownies and I ate most of them by myself. I offered the kids a few, but I just couldn’t stop eating them. Cassie and Venessa have both offered to bring me high fat meals, but I just don’t even know how to ask for help or a meal. It has been helping because I am starting to put on or at least maintain my weight. As I have mentioned before, I am being held up by an amazing group of people. Every text, email, facebook post, telephone call, surprise bag left on my doorstep or eye contact has kept me from drowning. I was really contemplating ending it all a couple of weeks ago. I could not see an end and I wasn’t even being a good parent anyhow, so ending it made sense to me. I wanted to try to make it look like an accident. I figured Sean would move back to Ohio and Sean and Mary and my folks and Sean’s folks would give my two babies a much better life than I could since I broke. I don’t know how I got out of that hole, but I do know I wouldn’t have without the people surrounding me. Even though I feel very alone and isolated there is a part of me that knows there is a battalion on constant watch. With all of them, no one is going to let me fall through the cracks of my fractured mind or soul.

I am a lucky human.

Magic wand missing

I have so much to write about, but I don’t think I will be able to fit it all tonight.  It has been a long day and I have been wanting to sit down and write, but just haven’t been able to work it into the day.  I really wanted to clean my damn floors.  I wanted to dye my hair thinking it would prove that I am still alive and care.  I wanted to shower for the same reason. The kids were great and stayed busy. 

Friends stopped by for tea and light snacks.  They came by soon after I had returned from Cleveland and I don’t really remember the visit well.  He had lost his brother to suicide also and I think he talked to me about it, but I was so lost inside my head and grief was all I could hear that I don’t remember any of it.  He also sent me a few email, which were very helpful and I wrote a few back.  I was thinking we would talk a little more about it, but instead we just hung out like two normal couples and talked about work and kids and the crazy world we live in.  Towards the end, I even joined in with a funny story and for a few moments felt like I was sort of connected again with the world.

The biggest thing destroying my progess right now is this feeling of disconect.  I don’t care too much about it, but I feel it with Sean and it makes me want to pull my hair out.  Sean and I have a magical relationship, because I fucking stir up potions.  I work over boiling pots after digging for rare herbs and gems. I create these potions and I slip them into his home cooked meals and rub them into his temples and spray them on our bed sheets.  Because of this when you look at us through volcanic dust you will see beams of light connecting us.  Some of these lights are thick and twisted and multicolored and others are hair thin and made of glass.  I have lost all my magical abilities and I am pretty sure each and every tie has been broken.  We are left with the natural ties to bind.  We are left with parenthood and history and debt and photos and some marriage certificate from 17 years ago.  I am a broken women and I see his disgust at times.  He loves strong women.  He tells me he likes getting the chance to see his own strength now that I am down for the count, but he loves strong women and I am weak.  I am withered and powerless.  I hide my tears in the shower and I attempt to rub his head, but without the magic it might as well be his mom.

The loneliness and fear I have at the moment is very overwhelming.  Two people have told me the Zoloft might be making me feel this disconnect.  Maybe it is true with the people in my outer circles, but with Sean it is different. 

Sean just pulled me away after reading my draft and pretty much told me I am wrong.  I am not the only one who has made the marriage work, which is most likely true.  He also thinks I am thinking about too many things at once, which might be also be  true.

I had an odd thing happen yesterday, which might be contributing to my feelings of vulerability.  A person I had let into my inner circle for no other reason than she had also lost her brother to suicide has left without a word.  I am sure my neediness was a little much or maybe my questions and her answers were bringing up old issues about her brother, but it was abrupt and without explaination.  I hate humans and love humans.  I love being around them and smile and tell them my story and let them just so close.  I save my heart for a very limited few.  I let this person in closer than I should.  I did out of desperation.  Our stories seemed so similar.

Anyhow, one of my big fears is that I am going to wake up from this nightmare and everyone is going to be gone.  I am not fun to be around.  I cry a lot.  I produce lots of snot.  I don’t cook yummy meals.  I barely keep the house in order.  I don’t really laugh at much.  I mean, I can barely be around myself.  Sticking around and waiting for Kim to come back is easy if it happens in a few weeks, but I am gone.  I don’t know who or what will replace the old Kim when the dust settles.  So, I fear and almost dare people to leave.  Well, this person seems to have left.  It made me face a fear of mine and it has thrown me for a loop. 

So now I am looking for my magic wand.  I am not sure, if I can even lift it anymore.

Wednesday, Wednesday, Friday

I somehow completely forgot to write yesterday.  I woke up and didn’t want to spoil my higher than normal mood level with a Thursday.  Julie was taking Isaac after school to play with her Isaac, so I had from 9:30 – 2:00 to do anything I wanted.  I could read, crochet, clean, cry, run errands or whatever.  I started the dishes and kept looking at the clock like I do every Thursday.  I know that at 7:20 am we exchanged our first text.  I know around 9 Vanessa showed up and I mimed to her that Tom was talking about killing himself and she started to try to get Isaac out the door.  He knew something was very wrong and decided he didn’t want to go with her.  She bribed him with icecream from across the street and they left for a few.  Tom hung up and my dad called.  My dad had been driving all over Berea looking for him.  He had talked to the police and they had heard anything.  Nessa came back and I was pacing and shaking and telling her I didn’t know what to do.  She was able to get Isaac out of the house, hugged me and told me to keep him on the phone and everything would be okay.  We texted and talked again.  He hung up. I kept calling my brother Sean and Nick.  Sean was on the road and Nick was asleep in California.  I would then call my dad who had the police breaking into Tom’s place to see if he was lying about his location.  I texted Tom again and asked him to talk to me.  Every text, every word out of my mouth was weighed and calculated and not desperate.  I so afraid of pushing him away.  I was so afraid of him not talking to me any more.  I had to keep him talking to me.  Even when he became angry once, I stayed very calm.  The last conversation sticks in my mind the most.  He kept telling me it was done.  It was over.  I kept asking if he had taken something and i could picture him shaking his head in frustration.  his words meant something.  he was saying what he meant.  it was done as soon as the note was written and he drove to the tressels in Berea.  It was over.  He kept saying he wasn’t going back.  He said, “Kim, I am trying to give you closure.  This is happening and you have to accept it.”  I feel like his teeth were slightly clenched.  I was a bit speechless and then he said, “They are coming; I have to go.”  I begged him to talk just a little bit longer with me.  “Tom, Tom, just stay on the phone a little longer.  I want to talk to you a little longer”  He hung up, checked his voice mail and then shot himself.  I still thought he was alive and called my dad to let him know, I knew for sure he wasn’t at his house because I could hear the traffic.  He was in the car with my mom and they were on their way done there.  They got there and the police told them that Tom had shot himself about 5 minutes before.  They talked to the police for awhile and then called my mom’s doctor.  On their way to his office my dad called me and said, “Tommy’s no longer with us.”  All I could do was scream.  I screamed louder than I ever have in my life.  I screamed over and over and over and over again.  I told my dad I couldn’t talk and hung up on him and just walked around the house screaming, “NO!”  or just screaming a blood letting scream.  I finally called Vanessa and yelled and screamed and cried in the phone telling her, “He’s dead.  He’s dead.  He fucking shot himself. He’s dead.”  Vanessa stayed very calm and said some soothing things and then kept isaac. 

I paced the house until sean came home.  i couldnt’ even tell him.  i couldn’t say the words anymore.  I go over these events every thursday.  calling my cousins.  calling my friends.  calling to rent a car.  calling my brother sean.  calling his wife mary.  calling my in-laws.  calling to reserve nick’s tickets.  waiting for phia to come home to tell her that he fun uncle who spoiled her rotten and loved her to death was not only dead but had killed himself.  Thursday’s suck.  So I slept as much of Thursday away as I could.

I told my brother Nick I was now only going to have Wednesday, Wednesday, Friday.  I am going to skip Thursdays for now on. 

Sophia reading to Isaac

Janet came over for dinner last night and we talked a lot.  she lost a sister years ago, but understands the process she took to be whole today.  the one thing i took away from the night is that I can’t be upset with anyone’s anger towards Tom.  Nick has some anger.  He has no more control over that than I do over my sadness.  i think this is a good was for me to look at it.

i took isaac, his friend isaac and laz to the beach today.  i didn’t do a thing.  laz wanted to cuddle on my lap under a blanket most of the time.  so i just cuddled him and watched the two isaacs have fun in the sand.  it was a good day.

i feel something rising to the surface.  i feel like i am having some of the same thoughts, but they aren’t making me feel crazy.  they are there, but at a lower volume.  tears are in my heart.  i really don’t want to cry any more.  i cried last night because when I tried to talk to sean about how i feel like there is a missing string that once connected us i could tell his head was ready to explode.  he is used to me being strong and confident, but i do feel like there is something off.  it could be the change in me or just how tired sean is or nothing.  he said, “let’s just sit on the couch together and watch something.”  i ran into the kitchen and cried like a baby.  i couldn’t stop crying.  i couldn’t stop crying because i know he is here and will be here, i couldn’t stop crying because i was afraid he was sick of me and how the hell is he going to make it through this next year of my grieving. 

uhg…there is so much more to deal with then just Tom being gone.  My cousin Brain performed a buddhist ritual for tom.  it sounded so intense and pushed my aethism.  it made me want to believe something so i could try to talk to him and trust that he would talk to me again .   That he knows and understands now and I don’t need to explain.  The whole thing sounded so healing and beautiful and wonderful and Brian was able to see and talk to Tom through this ritual.  I am so greatful to Brian for doing this and I will email him for more information.

Potluck

My Brother Sean

I went to Vanessa’s potluck today.  I thought I would just stay for a little bit, but I stayed for almost the entire thing.  It was good for me to around people.  Everyone there was someone that I feel safe around. I trust what they are saying to me and I trust their motives.  I don’t even know everyone very well, but it is a good group.  I am learning who to open up to and who not to open up to.  I had a bad day after i talked to a friend i shouldn’t have.  i know this person has a hard time when the focus isn’t on her or when she is the best or first or worst.  It was a mistake and a reminder.  I think this is part of the reason I stay home so much.  I feel like everything is going to okay when I am home.  I can control who I call, who I read emails from who I email back and what I write.

Sophia’s birthday overnight went very well. It seems like she was happy and so were her friends.  It is the event I stressed the least about and it seems to have been a success.

I have been thinking about how the only way I can move past this is to hate Tom.  When I love someone I love them with so much of myself and when I hate them they take nothing from me.  I don’t even hate, I just erase and never look back.  I don’t find it painful when people are removed from my inner circle.  So maybe if I did that with Tom, I could move on and be there for my kids and husband.  The only thing is I could never, ever hate Tom.  I loved him too much.  I fucking loved him.  I also can’t hate someone who put a fucking gun inside his mouth and pulled the trigger.  He had to have lived for a moment with his brains blown out of his head.  He had to have lived as he fell over.  What did his eyes see as he died?  How can I hate someone who did that?  That is the saddest thing in the entire world.  How could I hate him?

Vanessa told me I was creating a false choice.  I don’t have to be a mess or hate him.  I will stick with that for awhile.

I have been  becoming very close with my brothers.  Sean and I are getting to know eachother and I think it is going well.  We are so different and I feel like I get more out of the relationship than he does, but he tells me our conversations have been helping him.  Nick and I didn’t really talk much for years.  Over the past year or so, we had been working on having more contact.  We are talking almost every day now.  This isn’t a blessing in some way or something good that is coming out of Tom’s death, it is just what it is and I am happy it is happening.

Sean continues to be a great support.  He is letting me grieve and he is trying very hard to pull everything together around the house.  He did fit in some painting today, which made me happy.  I know his art has suffered over the past few years and I don’t want to take any more of his time away from it.  He is a better person when he is painting and I love the smell of linseed oil in the house.

Sophia’s Birthday

I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull it off, but I have made Sophia happy on her birthday.  Vanessa made her morning by dropping off the snacks I refused to leave the house to purchase.  Vanessa and Alex then stopped by and we let the boys watch tv while we sat around the table.  Usually I would be in stitches hanging out with the two of them, but it just wasn’t happening.  It was still good for me.  I then took a nap, while Isaac continued with TV.  I am not winning any parenting awards this year.  When I woke up, I could feel tears were ready flow and that they wouldn’t stop once started.  I called Sam and asked her to slap me around and make so I could pull it together by the time Sophia came home.  It worked.

I talked to my brother Sean and we talked about how I am out of control with grief and he hardly feels changed at all.  I wonder, if I am fucked up and he wonders if he is.  I think it has been getting easier for the two of us to talk to each other. 

I am very worried about my dad.  He seems to have a hard time talking without getting choked up.  I have been pushing drugs, but he doesn’t really want to talk about it.  My brother Sean and I talked about how in some ways we just have to give my dad the right to grieve and be sad.  After all just yesterday I had snot running down my face while moaning in the bath tub, why can’t my dad get choked up?  I want to take his pain away.  I feel like he doesn’t have the tools he needs to process this.  I am not sure why I am not as worried about my mom, but she is a strong russian and seems like she can deal with anything.  Not that I don’t think about her and feel sorrow for her and wish I could make things better for her, I just don’t worry.

I continue to beg my brother Nicholas to leave San Diego and move near me.  I don’t know why I feel like I need him close, but I do.

I want Nicholas in Chicago

 

I feel like I need him.  I need him.  I need him.

Sean and I talked a lot last night.  I told him how worried I was about our marriage.  He is not worried.  He has given me permission to fall completely apart for as long as I need.  Tomorrow will be our 17 year wedding anniversary. 

I am not here.  I feel very foggy and I am not really writing from the heart.  I am writing more because I have made a committment to write.  Maybe tomorrow I will have better access to my soul.  At the moment it is surrounded by steal.  Tears have not flowed today.

Pushed Forward

Yestereday was a bad day.  I did everything I was supposed to do to try to make it better, but all in all it was bad.  Vanessa came over and Jenny and Janet V. brought up institutons.  By the end of the evening, India had come and grabbed the kids and I found myself at the table with Sean and Vanessa demanding things had to change.  Not that I had to change, but things were not heading in the right direction and they both could see it.  Vanessa refused to leave until I agreed to go to a suicide support group tonight.  Many people want me to try talk therapy, which I am still fighting.  I called my shrink, I doubled my dose of Zoloft per his advice.  I am committed to getting better and pretty much doing things I never thought I would do to try to get to the otherside.

I am still feeling very alone.  I am used to be strong in every way.  I am used to being there for my family and friends.  I am used to being very strong in our marriage.  We just passed 20 years of being together and are approaching our 17 year wedding anniversary.  I do believe in many ways I am lucky and Sean is lucky, but I have to say I protect my marriage like a wild rabid beast.  I work at it and I think about it and I shake Sean’s mind and soul back to me whenever I feel it tug away.  I am feeling very wounded and weak.  I don’t have the energy or the alertness.  I feel sleepy and paranoid.  I both don’t care and find myself reaching for any weapon available.  I think my largest weapon is leaving first.  I had a strong urge to walk out the door and leave everything behind.  I am still not sure whether I wanted to bring Tom with me or leave him behind also. 

I have swearings and promises that I can be broken as long as I need and things will be fine.  I am trying to trust it.  I am trying to trust that the foundation will hold me broken instead of me holding the foundation together.

I keep promising that I will start talking to Tom.  I still can’t seem to do it.  I do grab my pillow at night and beg for a visit.  I don’t know who I am begging, but all dignity is cast aside and I beg and beg. 

Now I will continue my day filled with very normal activities until I go to the damn support group.

Sunny Sadness

Yesterday was Thursday.  Thursdays are difficult for me, especially in the morning.  My first text went out to Tom at 7:30 am as I was getting the kids ready for school and drinking my first cup of tea.  When he texted back immediatly I knew something was wrong.  First of all, this would mean he had been up all night and secondly the text was dark.  So every Thursday between the hours of 7:30 am and 12:20, I replay out last conversations and texts.  I replay Vanessa laughing at me in my pj’s and my hair a mess as she came to grab Isaac and then I replay the understanding settling in her eyes as she goes into crisis mode and somehow gets Isaac out of the house despite his knowledge that something bad was going down.  I replay my calls to my dad, mom and brother Sean.  I tried calling Nick over and over.  I was both on the phone with Tom and calmly trying to Isaac’s socks on.  He is sitting in the tressels in Berea and I am saying, “Okay, Isaac, let’s get your socks on and you can go with Nessa on an adventure, ” then back on the phone, “Tom, I just need 10 minutes and Isaac will be out of the house.  Will you take my call in 10 minutes?”  As I hung up, I knew I might never talk to him again, not because he would kill himself, but because he would be done talking. 

I didn’t cry until after the kids were in bed.  I looked at Sean and told him I didn’t want to be living this life.  I don’t want to have a dead brother.  I don’t want to be without Tom.  I don’t want to have parents with a dead son. 

Today, I am sad.  I am not oppressivly sad, but sad.  I took Isaac to the park and then went to the Field Museum.  As we were looking at all the mummies, I was once more struck with the horror that Tom is scattered.  I had the chance to see his body and say good-bye, but I couldn’t do it.  Now I wonder why I didn’t at least touch his hands for one last time.  Why I didn’t beg for him to be buried so he could rest his body all in one place.  He donated organs, which is great.  He was then cremated and most of his ashes were placed in a biodegradable urn and laid in Lake Erie.

Sean is working hard to stare me in the eyes and tell me truths.  He stares hard to make sure I hear and feel what he is saying.  He promises me I am better and we are fine.  My brother Nick told me there is a limit to everyone’s patience.  The few moments I have felt Sean’s reaching that limit, I feel so overwhemling lonely. 

I want to talk to Tom.  Someone has told me to  talk to him.  What am I talking to?  His ashes?  He has gone and I have no way to contact him.  I have all the cliche things I want to say to him.  I mostly just want to hug and cry with him.

My brother is dead.  My brother killed himself.  My brother shot himself.  My brother shot himself in the head.  My brother calming told me he was done.  I am still waiting for Tom to call and make all of this untrue especially on these sunny days.