I am holding immense sadness that is threatening my grasp on holding it together, a smidge of overwhelm, and gratitude. I am two weeks from the 4th anniversary of their death…
The immense sadness comes and goes, this time of year, more acute and sharp in its presence. As I lie in bed this morning, slowly adjusting to the day, I caught up on news, and then saw a Facebook memory of Bells playing catch the balloon with Lily, our darling little boston/pug mix. F came in to say goodbye and found me still in bed with tears streaming down my face. I showed him the video and he held me tight. I said, when I filmed this, I had no idea she would be dead in two weeks. Sunshine trapped in a human body, radiating out love, laughter, and joy to all she encountered. This is a link to that video https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=659523440751561&id=100000817325372
The sadness is not pervasive, taking up each moment of everyday now. It is always there to some degree, and again, this time of year it reaches out more often from the sub-conscious depths that lurk always, waiting for a turn. I hold that box of grief tucked next to my heart while life goes on, the good and the challenging parts. I had a sadness last night creep up, and went out and weeded taking in the last bits of a beautiful day while numbing my mind with a tedious, yet necessary project. Today, I feel like my mind and body are floating outside of itself, which does not lead to me being as productive as I need to be. I understand the whys though, and attempt patience.
The overwhelm is catching up from being gone last week and now opening the box of prepping for my keynote in Boston in 9 days. I am both excited and terrified. I know I know how to do this, and the terrified is not really that much, but the anxiety dreams all last night give testament to its presence. I have it written, and want to tweak it here and there. I know murder suicide is a difficult topic to hear about, yet so important, especially because no one is talking about what the reality looks like. I am re-assured I weave in hope within it, and I was told last week that just me standing there is a testament to that. I am grateful for the people who believe in my ability and passion to share my story and are bringing me out to do so.
I will be in Boston from Tuesday, get back Friday and we leave Saturday at 5am for Costa Rica for the get the hell out of Portland for the anniversary trip. Looking forward to does not encapsulate that enough. And. There is a ton to do between now and then.
Gratitude. I had the honor and privilege to go to Washington DC last week to present three times at the American Association of Suicidology’s Annual Conference. I remember the first time there, three years ago, still fresh from losing Jess and Bella. That year, I made connections, I met a new family. For me, it is a family like no other, a family that understands (almost) the loss I have had, a family that embraces me, a family that respects me and the knowledge and passion I bring forth in the advocacy work I do, a family that shares that same passion in various ways. We do it simultaneously with humor and with a seriousness that is laser focus in its goals. I am grateful for the old, along with new connections that I look forward to seeing every year now.
Gratitude. For my husband. Who supports me in my day job as an acupuncturist, which I am passionate about. Who supports me in my advocacy work, which I am also passionate about and takes me across the country several times a year while he holds down the fort, caring for Fi, and all that entails. Who loves me and holds me tight when I worry endlessly about the things Fi is going through. Who loves me and holds me tight when I have tears streaming down my face missing my sweet girl Bells. Who is one of the most supportive, understanding, grounding, loving, and kind men I know.
In DC