Ramblings–because there are no rules in grief

I’ve been occupied the last few weeks with selling our home, moving, and starting a new job. So much for being ok with not teaching HA! I went back to the classroom. I’m at a new school and hoping to actually finish this school year…

Rambling 1
Stress or Peace. One of my new teacher friends, well we’re not quite friends, but I think we eventually will be, came up to me and said she needed to hang out with me more because I seem so peaceful and not a whole lot seems to rattle me. That was new because normally every emotion I experience or even think about is flashing on my face. There is no need to wonder what I’m thinking or feeling. Although I can zone out on occasion and that look has been interpreted as a scowl or anger…so there is room for misinterpretation…but I’m not playing in any poker tournaments either.

Only a handful of people at the new school know about Patrick. It’s not something that I am ready to share with my new co-workers. First, I told my new friend that I didn’t think that was the case because I’ve been a nervous wreck most days before going to school. New experiences and not knowing exactly what is going to happen is enough to rattle me. I’m glad it’s not showing.

I thought to myself and it’s been a prevalent thought rolling around in my head for the last several months–I’ve already experienced the worst thing that could happen to me. There’s no reason to be stressed out or worried about the unknown or being upset that things didn’t go as planned. I’ve been telling myself to go with the flow and do my best in whatever situation I find myself in. Believing that the worst has happened to me is not a free pass that nothing bad will ever happen again. It’s more like I’ve survived Patrick dying so there’s nothing I can’t live through.

Rambling 2
Dates. I thought I had finally gotten past the dates. Wednesday,March 14th the date of the accident and Sunday, March 18th the date Patrick was declared dead. So for probably the first year every 14th and 18th of the month was a reminder of how long Patrick had been gone. On those days I would cry most of the day and truly make myself miserable. This month, today, August 18th caught me off guard. I didn’t cry all day or make myself miserable but I was definitely sadder today than I have been in awhile. I think it’s because Patrick’s birthday is a few weeks away. It will be the second birthday that he’s not here with us.

Rambling 3
Apartment life. We are temporarily living in an apartment while our new house is being built. The convenient location and the brand new complex was a plus when we moved in a month ago, but that has already worn off. At this point I wouldn’t care if I lived 100 miles away from the nearest grocery store. I’m still glad that it’s new. There’s too many people. There’s noise all the time. There’s no parking. And, we’re old enough to be parents to most of the people in this complex.

Rambling 4
School and Teaching. It’s definitely different being at a new school and a new grade. It’s a dream position. There’s a lot of pressure to see growth in the students. I don’t have too much to say about this yet. I get to meet my students next week.

So all of this to say as much as I don’t like change, life is based on change. I’m never going to understand why my life took such a drastic change and why Patrick died. I’m not even sure about the change that takes place because of my desires and my will. For someone that doesn’t like change I sure do enough to cause change in my life all the time! I chose to sell my home. I chose to apply for a new teaching position. I can let the stress rattle me or I can embrace it and keep on doing the best I can in the situations I find myself in.
I’ve learned…a lot
I’ve worked hard…to be a healthier person mentally and emotionally
I’ve changed…because I had to
I’ve gained new strength…because the worst happened

Small house big memories

The house we have lived in the last 15 years will have new owners next week. This little house that was too small for us when we moved in became even more crowded as the years rolled by. But boy, did we make some memories here!

Those memories are running around in my head tonight. There’s not an inch of this place that I don’t look at and recall laughing, crying, kids playing, baby crawling, movie nights, sleepless nights, good food, bad food–nah, always good food, holidays, birthday parties, company coming, good days, great days, bad days, dark days, decisions made, moving on…

The little house that holds so many memories has become a place that is lost and empty. It’s looking for a new family to fill it with memories. The little house we’d race to get inside–last one in is a rotten egg, first one in has to eat it–now the keys are lost and the door impenetrable.

Voices echoing from the corners, “Hi honey I’m home, Bubba let’s have a light saber fight, Who spilled dr. pepper all over the new carpet?, God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for our food, Mommmmmmmy, Daddddddddddy, Who wants devil muffins?, I don’t want to go to school today, I love you, I don’t want to go to work today, Daddy read me a book, what’s for dinner?, Mommy let’s snuggle, I’m gonna get you, I’m gonna get you–tickle, tickle, tickle!, ABCDEFG…, Go to your room, Deep and wide there’s a fountain flowing…,let’s go to Sonic, We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, Barn Cat what are you looking for, My buttons, my buttons, I have to work tonight, somebody bring me some toilet paper, doodle bug, pumpkin head, I’m sorry, Patrick bath time!, You’re getting so big!, Mom look at this drawing I made, I want to help, I’m so proud of you, I don’t want to put my clothes away, ugggg, yay!, Daddy’s home!, family hug time, …and let him have a good and happy day tomorrow Amen.”

I hope the people moving in make as many happy memories and get to have as much fun as we did!

Getting to Acceptance

http://secondwindmovement.com/grieving-process/

Most of us are familiar with the grieving process. We’ve seen that list. Some are a little more detailed but they all show the same numbered list. Shock, denial, anger…and eventually acceptance. Until we experience loss, I believe, most of us think that the grieving process starts at step 1 and ends with acceptance and life is wonderful again and you’re done. Oh, how wrong that line of thinking is!

I like these pictures because they demonstrate what grieving looks like. There are no steps to follow. You will experience all the stages. I’m pretty sure I experienced all of the stages in one day on some days! Grief is horrible. It ties your body and mind in knots. It’s like that horrible task you put off until the last minute and then you dive into it thinking you can just get in and get it done, but you can’t. First, you have to find all of the knots, then start untying the knots, and putting things back together, except now everything goes back together in a different order.

Grief turns your world upside down. Everyday is a battle over your thoughts and feelings. My own personal experience with grief has proven to me time and time again that I can have what is now known as a perfectly good day and go to bed happy, only to wake up the next day in a completely different place. A place where I have to force myself to get out of bed and face the reality of loss all over again–where it feels like I only lost Patrick a few minutes ago.

I don’t have a consistent sleep pattern. It started before Patrick died and has deteriorated since then. Sometimes though, during those weird awake hours I have my best prayer, thinking, planning, writing inspiration, and ideas that I can take over the world(insert goofy smile here).

This morning I was awake around 3:00. As usual I was thinking about Patrick. I missed him. I missed him sneaking in into my bedroom and snuggling up with us. I think he had gotten to the point of never really waking up from the walk from his room to ours. It was such an automatic thing. He knew exactly where to walk, where to climb into our bed and where to snuggle up. If I was awake when he came in I’d watch him and most nights he never even opened eyes.

In all of this missing Patrick and wishing he was there to snuggle up, a peace came over my mind and body. I was at peace that he wasn’t there. That he’s never going to crawl into my bed at 3:00 in the morning and snuggle. That I’m not going to see him grow up. That we aren’t going to go to Target and analyze every lego kit until I give the 1 minute warning. That he’s not going to sit next to me at the table and eat dinner. That he’s not going to show me some new dance move or sing his favorite song for me. That I’m not going to hear him say something funny or ask me to play knock-knock jokes with him. That I’ll never hear how his day was and who he played with at school. That I’ll never hear him beg for 5 more minutes before bath and bedtime. That I’ll never see what he’ll look like as a teenager, a young man, or even an old man. But there was peace. While I’ll never be ok with Patrick not being here, I was at peace and I thought…maybe… this is the beginning of accepting of it all…

Is God Still Good?

Goodness: the quality of being morally good or virtuous.
Good: possessing or displaying moral virtue
Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever .
1 Chronicles 16:34

“God is good all the time. All the time God is good.” Have you ever sat in church where that is recited over and over again? I grew up in churches and attended churches as a young adult where that phrase seemed to be the mantra of the day. Every service started and ended with those words.

Do Christians agree God is good? Yes, overall I think they do. But when they say God is good, what are they really saying? Most of the time, and I was guilty of it as well, we equate God’s goodness with something exciting happening in our lives, getting some long desired for item, surviving a terrible diagnosis, or escaping or missing some hazard that would surely have killed us had we been there only seconds before it happened. That’s where we mess up, because when the shiny wears off, or the excitement fades, do you believe that God is still good? When your world comes crashing down and your 7 year old is killed in a freak car accident, is God still good?

The concept of God’s goodness is one that I am still struggling with. I still argue with God on a daily basis about His love for me and his goodness. I want to know that God is good without my inner dialogue arguing, ‘if God is good then Patrick would still be here, alive and healthy.’ Because I keep attaching my definition of what I think God’s goodness should be. I want things to be good on my terms. I want the ‘make 3 wishes and ta-da all is good in my world’ kind of God. But…that’s not God. That’s a genie and a magic lamp…

Yesterday, I was reading a few scriptures about God’s goodness. None of them said anything about God’s goodness meaning life turns out perfectly, that you get the most loving family, that you are always surrounded by great people and loving friends, that you have the perfect job, house, car, financial status, and that basically, things always go in your favor and nothing bad ever happens to you. Nothing that I read about God’s goodness yesterday said that.

The verses I read talked about God’s mercy. His generosity for mankind. His grace. His righteousness.

And they sang responsively, praising and giving thanks to the Lord: “For He is good, for His mercy endures forever…” Ezra 3:11

The Lord is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works. Psalm 145:9

He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord. Psalm 33:5

Be thankful to Him, and bless His name. For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting. Psalm 100:4-5

The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; and He knows those who trust in Him. Nahum 1:7

Hear me, O Lord, for Your loving-kindness is good. Psalm 69:16

I’ve sat in a room of grieving people. I’ve been to countless funerals in my life. I’ve been with friends that have endured very scary situations. In all of those situations the number of people that continued on with God is good, lived it, and proved it everyday are minimal. Everyone else has admitted to doubting or being angry with God or losing all hope that God is good. Most people, I have noticed, do come back to a place of believing God is good and He does love us. But it takes a lot of work sometimes to get back there and truly understand the definition of God’s goodness.

I struggle daily to change my mindset about the goodness of God, to be thankful to God, and to praise Him. I want to get back to always believing God is good. I will… because everyday whether I realize it in the moment or not I am experiencing God’s goodness and His mercy.

Note:  This post is a little different than what I normally write about but it's been on my heart and mind for awhile now.  'God is good' and 'God knows best' are probably two of the worst things you can say to a grieving person.  It does not help! The next time you are with a grieving person don't offer those empty words, 'God is good', because the only thing it does is makes us feel like we did something wrong and God is punishing us.  Show them God's love and goodness.  Think about it when you tell someone God is good--what are you telling them?  Are you truly showing them that God is good, loving, righteous, and merciful?

Closing of a Chapter or the Turning a Page

Passion: a strong liking or desire for or devotion to some activity, object, or concept

I love books and reading. I’ve always pictured my life in the form of a book, pages flipping by, the end of a chapter and the start of a new one, sometimes the beginning of a whole new volume. Some pages are full of happy days, my best days, the days (if given the choice) I’d relive over and over again, and others are painful, crushing memories that I want to bury deep and never bring to the surface.

This past week I could see pages filling up quickly and moving to the next one. I could plainly see my book and the completion of a chapter was taking place. I felt at peace with the twists and turns in the latest pages of my story.

Even with the loss of Patrick and other sad events that have taken place in my life, I still believe I have so many more joyful and carefree pages in my book than sorrowful ones. My favorite pages are filled with being a mama to my two boys, being married, and becoming a stronger person than I ever thought I could be. These pages are filled with my passion–my family.

Another part of my book is filled with a secondary passion. Teaching! Oh how I love to be in the classroom! After Patrick’s death, I learned about secondary losses. The things you lose along the way because of a traumatic event. I didn’t lose my job in the typical manner. I wasn’t fired or laid off or dismissed. I resigned. I have struggled with that resignation on and off since I submitted it. When I talk about teaching I get excited–electricity runs through my body, my eyes dance and shine, and I can talk about learning as long as you can keep up, because the more I talk about it, the more excited I become, and the faster I talk! I have great ideas, I’m good at teaching, I want to help shape the future, I want to inspire and challenge my students, and all those other things that you hear good teachers say. Teaching in the classroom is a secondary loss for me.

As I watched the pages flipping by and that chapter coming to an end, I noticed that I felt okay with not teaching. There was even some kind of relief that I will not be heading back to the classroom in a few short weeks. Do I miss the classroom? You bet! Will I still get excited when I talk about teaching? Always! Will I get excited when someone reminds me that I am a truly gifted teacher? Yes, without a doubt! Will I ever teach again? I don’t know…I can’t wait to turn the page and start a new chapter.

The Beach

I’m writing this post from my phone so bear with me on typos and other mistakes 😉

I wrote this earlier today. I like to write when the inspiration hits because I feel like my writing and thoughts are more authentic at that point in time. I ran to the truck to find a pen and paper. I didn’t have my purse with me, but I found a pen and I had a birthday card envelope…now back to the beach!

I go to the beach to get away from it all. It’s my happy place. It’s a rest for my body and soul. It’s where I go to find peace when everything else is taking up too much brain space.

I used to see God in my everyday life. That stopped when Patrick died. I’m sure God is still there and in my heart I know He is there. But, I dont feel God. I don’t see God. I don’t hear God, nor do I look for Him all that much in my day to day life. I believe this is just part of my grief. When something horrific happens, some people become stronger in their faith, some people forsake their faith, and some wander around for a little bit, still believing, but shaken, and wanting answers to the hard questions. I fall into the latter category.

But at the beach is where I meet God again. I see. I feel. I hear. I know. God is with me or rather I’m with God. The beach is where I realize that regardless or what has happened or what will happen in my life God is with me. I feel loved and taken care of. I don’t feel left out or abandoned by God.

When I sit with the wind blowing, waves crashing, sand in my toes, pelicans and seagulls flying above me, I come to some kind of understanding about Patrick’s death. Then I know God is with me. My body, mind, and soul are at peace. I can breathe easier, the tears are different–not the hot, burning, tears of grief–but tears of renewal, gratefulness, and maybe even a little bit of contentment. At the beach everything is okay and peace floods my soul and I know then that I can keep moving forward.

Summer is my own…kind of…

I realized the other day that this is the first summer in a very long time that is my own. I say,’kind of’ because there are a couple of things going on that I have no control over and my time and attention is required to deal with them.

This is the first year that I am not working on the next school year in some capacity. I’ve been teaching or working in the public or private schools, homeschooling, or being a children’s librarian for the better part of last 15 plus years. Summer has always been a time of preparation dotted with some downtime and summer fun.

I love teaching but at the same time I am grateful this summer to be on my own schedule. I’m happy to not be planning and writing lessons, waking up at the crack of dawn to head to a hopefully well presented, I’m going to learn something new, professional development. I’m not missing the excitement of a new class roster and calling parents and introducing myself as their child’s teacher for the new school year. Believe it or not, I’m even happy that there are not packages being delivered everyday with new school decor and classroom goodies! If you know me, I’m sure you probably almost fell out of your chair reading that one! I can relax. My time is my own, more or less. I can do something different this summer and take my time to really enjoy it. I do not need to be rushed by the words ‘teachers report back to school…’ I can make plans on my schedule. I can focus on taking care of me right now. I can dye my hair every color of the rainbow and keep it that way without worrying about being professional by the first of August.

Do I miss teaching? Do I miss loving on those sweet kiddos? Do I miss the light bulb moments? Do I miss the sweet conversations? Do I miss the day to day interactions and the family that room 213 becomes throughout the school year? Do I miss my team? Do I miss introducing a new book to read after recess, that moment when 22 kiddos are completely engaged, relaxed and begging for one more page, because it’s truly the best part of the day? Unequivocally YES!

I am getting better(some days are better than others) with this new normal stuff. I have to remind myself a lot that there are still good days to be had. My ability to live life and enjoy it, my worth, and my identity are not determined by a career or even by being a mother that lost her child. It’s summertime. It will be ‘beautiful and epic‘.

Grateful for…

Being grateful is realizing you have more than you deserve
Amy Morin

So one of the ways to turn things around is to be grateful. Seems like writing or saying things you are grateful for should be pretty easy…but…today I still had to fight that nagging little voice that comes up with some crazy one-liners. Those secret hidden thoughts and words that I don’t share. Those thoughts that if people really knew what I was thinking they’d start running the opposite direction. But…I made myself stop and stop and stop again and rethink and re-frame my thoughts. It wore me out.
I’m thankful today that:

I seemed to have some kind of(better)control over my emotions
I laughed. Someone has to laugh at my husband’s jokes! He did make me laugh this evening with his silly antics.
I had energy and the ability to get things done that needed to be done
I felt productive
A lot of things that belonged to Patrick are still being enjoyed and put to good use.
I got to sit outside in the sunshine and read
I have the best people in my circle
I had money to put gas in the car, pocket money to spend on fun stuff, like a coppery, cold drink tub for the back porch of our new house
I got to eat fried mushrooms on an impromptu date
ALWAYS for air conditioning, running water, electricity

And it was worth it…

You need the hard stuff

“God told me to smack you up side the head too, but I talked him out of it.”
a friend of mine, it’s been so long I forgot who actually said it

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.”
Maya Angelou

No, no, not this hard stuff:

I’ve let myself get into a good depression, had a pity party because life is not turning out the way I planned, and I’ve just been plain disappointed with the direction some things are going right now. So today, I’m starting over again…

Nothing is going to bring Patrick back
Just because I’m not working right now doesn’t mean I’ll never work again
I may have lost some friends along the way but I’ve never been without a handful of really good friends
It’s not the end of the world because I chipped the new fingernail polish from Thursday’s manicure. Okay, that’s really not that big of a deal, but the way I’ve been feeling everything has been an extreme, but I thought I would go ahead and include it, too.

I refuse to become a person that I don’t recognize and I refuse to become a person that I don’t like.

Yes, losing my child is the worst thing I will ever experience. Yes, the days are hard to get through. Yes, everything from here on out will be different. Yes, people will act weird around me. It is easy to sit and let the world spin around. It is easy to disengage and check out. It is easy to pull the covers over my head. It is easy to have the excuse, ‘but my child died.’ It is easy to take offense to the smallest misinterpretations.

Sometimes you need the hard truth. The hard truth is that I do have control of my emotions. The hard truth is my thoughts control my feelings. The hard truth is I am still here and I still have a life to live. The hard truth is Patrick would not recognize his mama or her actions. The hard truth is I really don’t know how to take care of myself. I’ve spent the majority of my life taking care of someone else. The hard truth is grief is hell. The hard truth is I am the one that has to make the changes so that I can heal.

So, in the next few minutes, days, weeks, months, and years I will do my best to turn my thoughts around. It doesn’t mean there won’t be sad days. It doesn’t mean there won’t be difficult days. It doesn’t mean that grieving is over. I doesn’t mean that I miss Patrick any less. It means that I am in charge of my feelings. It means I am going to choose to live my best life. It means I am going to find some little bit of happiness or humor everyday. It means I am going to make the changes I need to keep on keeping on. It means I’m going to take care of myself and I’m going to be okay because I’ve got family and a handful of good friends that love me, care for me, and will give me the hard stuff when I need it.

I didn’t give permission

We live in a world where we grant permission or consent for everything…well in a perfect world, we do. We sign forms for our kids to go on field trips. We give permission for our doctors to give information or keep information private. There’s a privacy policy for you to opt in or out of for every account you have. No detail spared. It’s all been accounted for and you have decided whether to give out or deny your intimate and private details. But really has much control do you have? Just about every day we hear of a new security breach. Someone’s, anyone’s, everyone’s, even your information has been compromised. You signed for your privacy, you signed up thinking every thing would be safe and secure, right? But now you’re in the middle of checking your credit, getting new cards, notifying companies, changing information so that hopefully all of your bills will be paid on time next month.

On that day I did everything right. By the end of the day everything was wrong.
I didn’t give permission for Patrick to be hurt so badly that he’d never recover from his injuries. I didn’t give permission for the devastation our family would face. I didn’t give permission. I didn’t give permission to end my career. I didn’t give permission for our finances to be so jumbled up. I didn’t give permission to pay the price of being in a no-fault accident. I didn’t give permission to the invasion of privacy. I didn’t give permission for stress, anxiety, and depression to invade my life. I didn’t give permission for the thoughts of and begging for my own death to pervade my mind.

We teach children and we remind ourselves as adults that we can’t control what other people do, but, we can control what we do and how we do it. So many little, bitty, broken pieces… I didn’t give permission for them to be flung all around the room. I can’t control who threw them. I can’t figure out why they were flung around like this and I can’t control where they land. I can’t tie this one up and put a pretty little bow on it. I don’t want to try and put the pieces back together. My mind is stuck. My heart wants Patrick. I don’t know how to fix it.

I don’t remember giving permission for this.