Many of you know that I have delved into the world of advocay of all kinds after Jesse and Bella died. I did not want their deaths to be in vain. Recently, I have been struggling with it though.

I am not always fantastic about boundaries, I am a type A, give 100+ percent of myself when I commit to things. I was taught to not do something unless you give it your all (and by the way, do it well, thanks to a dad who was in the military). I don’t do things half-ass. After Jesse and Bella died, I had to do something with my grief, I did not want them to die in vain, and if I could prevent somehow another senseless death, by golly (I am trying out not cursing as much, it probably won’t go well), I would.

I was told once that I had the fire inside to do this work. Advocacy is not easy, especially in the mental health/suicide prevention/suicide loss arena. I have met the most dedicated and amazing people over the last five years, all of us trying to move the numbers the other way. I have had to learn how to balance the advocacy, which is almost all volunteer, with my acupuncture practice, and my family. Oli has needed a lot over the last couple of years, and that in itself feels like a full time job at times.

What does the advocacy look like? I have spoken at the American Association of Suicidology’s conference for the past few years on murder suicide, at the Dougy Center, at the National Alliance for Grieving Children’s conference, in Massachusetts and Oregon at various conferences, a member of the Impacted Family and Friends Division at AAS, and am on the Oregon Alliance to Prevent Suicide, which I am on two committees that meet regularly. I have testified on several bills in Oregon related to suicide prevention. People often say, it must be nice to only work two days per week. Hmpf. Yeah, I would not know about that. Yes, I am at my acupuncture practice two days per week. At some point, when I have some dedicated time, I want to write the book that is inside my head.

I often struggle with feelings of self-worth within the field. Most of the people I work with, this is their job. I have not studied suicidology, I have not studied mental health (though I know a lot now), I am not in a research or clinical setting, don’t work for the government, nor a crisis line. I am someone who has struggled with depression my whole life, who has had a horrific mind bending loss via a murder suicide, and now struggle with ideation, anxiety and PTSD. I want to share my experiences because apparantly I am able to do that in a meaningful way that can help people. I often wonder, am I making a difference by telling my story? I am reminded in the moment, whether I am in front of one person or five hundred, that I am making a difference. The challenge is the space in between.

The other struggle that has really come up over the last year especially is the striving to find balance in my life, and this has shown up in many ways. Again, this is almost entirely volunteer, every once in awhile I get paid to do this. I have looked at the time and money I have spent over the past five years to do this advocacy, and I am very much in the red. I sadly can’t keep doing it for free and have had to learn to say no, which is really hard, because I don’t want to and am really struggling on how to continue to do this work, because frankly, there are not many people who are able to talk about murder suicide.

Last week I had the opportunity to go to the Oregon capitol in Salem for AFSP’s advocacy day. This was to support the efforts AFSP and the Oregon Alliance to Prevent Suicide to find a champion for a bill to mandate continuing education for health care providers in suicide prevention. I have testified on two separate occasions over the past few years in Oregon to get this passed, and it has yet to pass. Don’t get me started on that, the trying not to curse will go out the window. It is times like last week that remind me that I have something valuable to contribute and it gives me a huge sense of purpose. I got to meet the governor briefly, two Representatives, and a Senator. I am reminded that when I share my story, people listen. I bare my heart, and share on that heart level what I am trying to do, which is to save lives. And as important as the numbers and stats are to get things like this done, it is the stories like mine that remind legislators why they do what they do. It is that heart connection. And that, I can do in a way not many people can.

I will continue this work as much as I can. I want to. And, I have to. It gives me that sense of purpose I so desparately need, and that need to not let their deaths be in vain. I need to help and am grateful for every opportunity to do so.