How do I even summarize the last week? Whiplash. I had arbitration last Wednesday and Thursday on Jesse and Bella’s case from the car accident in 2013… Continue reading
Whiplash
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Tag Archives: pain
My thoughts as a loss survivor to Chester Bennington’s death
My mind has been going non-stop since last week when I heard of Chester Bennington’s death. I watched and read as my suicide prevention community lit up Facebook with heartbreak and further resolve. Continue reading
A Sense of Purpose
Thomas Joiner, MD has an amazing book called “Why Do People Die by Suicide.” He proposes many theories on the why. People who die by suicide have a desire to die and have overcome the natural instinct we all have for self-preservation. With that desire, he found two things often occurred: there is a perception of being a burden to others and a social disconnect to something larger than oneself (a sense of isolation). Combine that with an acquired capacity, learned ability, or fearlessness, you have someone with a very elevated risk of suicide. Continue reading
The Vault – Where you put the grief for your child
I saw “Arrival” last night (if you have not seen it, there are some spoilers, not many, but some). My dear friend of course “prepared” me as much as possible, as she often does. Any time I am about to see a movie that she has seen that has potential triggers for me, she gives me a synopsis for which I am grateful. It does not mean I will not react, but at least there is some preparation, some walls that I can put around the over-reactive trauma that lurks in my brain, waiting to pounce at any given moment. Continue reading
Pain. And grief/trauma/depression/PTSD.
There is a pain so utter that it swallows substance up
Then covers the abyss with trance—
So memory can step around—across—upon it
As one within a swoon goes safely where an open-eye would drop him—
—Bone by bone
~Emily Dickinson
To experience pain, one knows they are alive…I either came up with that or read it somewhere. Continue reading
Risk
I feel. So fucking much. All the time. And I so wish I didn’t. Because it really fucking hurts sometimes. And I gotta say, I am really fucking sick and tired of my heart hurting. I wish sometimes I was not that which I am. But try as I might, I cannot be anything else. Continue reading