And Then...

Source - I couldn't find a picture that spoke to me.. so again I used my own photography.

At Camp Widow, Michele did an amazing keynote.

It was about finding our “and then.”

My “and then” started 12 years ago. I was happily married to my husband Seth. 

And then 7 years into our relationship, bipolar stepped into my husband’s soul.

And then… my husband took his own life.

And then… that was the end of our life together. And what I thought was the end of my life.

And then… I was left walking in a strange land. Where everything was wrong. Everything was terrifying. Everything pissed me off. Nothing helped my pain. All I could do every day was drag myself out of bed and go to work. That’s all I had to give to this strange land.

I felt like an alien. I felt like my body wasn't mine anymore. I was trapped in a body that didn't belong to me. Where the hell did I pick up this altered version of myself?

Nothing fit in this new world.

I felt like I had this huge puzzle with a million pieces missing. How would I finish this puzzle I call my life if the pieces are missing?

I remember I was about a year into my widow journey. I was completely devastated and trying to get out of the hell hole I call depression. I remember thinking what will make this life.. my life.. worth living?

It was then that I took a look around... took a look at things that kept nagging at me.

My mind kept taking me back to my struggles I had within the first year. Struggles with depression, in-laws (out-laws) and struggles with keeping my job through my husband’s death.

That’s when my FMLA (Family Medical Leave Act) petition dawned on me (see it here).

Through my petition I found a small piece to my “and then.”

It gave me purpose. It gave me something to focus my energy on. Something to drown myself in.

Shortly after starting the petition, Michele came knocking. She asked me to write for widow’s voice. To share my story, struggles and joy. To write about my experience as a suicide widow.

I remember the morning after she called me I stood staring at myself in the mirror. I was of course crying, because that’s how all my mornings were back then. I wondered how I would ever share my story. For so long I hid my thoughts in my personal blog. Where very few people knew it was my writings and they defiantly never saw pictures of me or my husband. I pondered how I would share something so personal, gruesome and tragic for complete strangers to read?

How would I write so honestly about my life, without hiding behind a fake user name?

That’s when I found another small part of my “and then.”

Sharing my story, with my name and my pictures was a relief. I didn't have to hide my story anymore. I could scream my story and there were people to hear me. There were people that understood my pain. There were people that were just starting this journey and people that were years into this journey.

I was no longer alone or hiding my story.

Sharing my story so honestly has given me another small piece of my “and then.”

I realized one way to help myself... was to help others..

I didn't want my husband’s suicide to be in vain. Through sharing my story I could possibly help someone on the verge of suicide or a widow that just needs someone to understand their pain.

My petition, my writings and helping other widows has given me purpose. Has given me hope. And gave me small pieces to my “and then.”

I left Camp Widow thinking about how I have picked up pieces of my “and then” without even realizing I found the pieces.

How did I pick up these pieces without noticing the movement I had made to get there?

I couldn't stop thinking that my life is still missing some of my “and then.”

What is my “and then?”

I don’t know. I’m still wondering what or where it is.

I realized I won’t see my “and then” as it’s happening. It will be something that I look back on and realize a certain person, memory, movement or even a thing or place… was my “and then.”

And then – I realized I still have work to do.

I still have pieces of this puzzle to find.

I still have pieces of my “and then” to find.

I left camp with hope.

Hope that one day… piece by piece, little by little, I would find my “and then.”

To Be Proud? That Is The Question

Source

For some reason, this memory was lost in the chaos of my mind.

And for some reason I remembered it this week and have been thinking a lot about it.

When I went to Camp Widow West in August, I went to host the suicide round table and to spread word about my FMLA petition.

I’ve written about both before, so I will skip forward to my forgotten memory.

As I was flying home from Camp Widow, Ironically sitting a crossed the isle from me was Supa Freshwidow,

“Your name is Melinda right? You are here for your petition, right?”

Taken a little a back, I say “Yes”.

She introduces herself. Even though I have followed her facebook and blog for a couple years now, I didn't recognize her. I somehow missed her through the weekend at Camp Widow.

And here we were, flying from CA to UT, sitting a crossed from each other.

She asked me how the suicide round table went, and I explained that it went really well, and I was proud of myself. That hosting the round table helped me more than I expected it would.

She asked me about my petition, and if I was proud of myself.

I had to actually think about that one. “Am I proud of myself?”

After some thought, my response was “no”.

She looked at me like I was kinda crazy. And said something along the lines of “How can you not be proud of your petition? You can potentially help a lot of people!”

I again had to think about it. “I guess I’m not proud, because it’s something that just has to be done. The laws have to be changed.  It’s hard to be proud of myself when it’s just something that has to be done. It’s not like I came up with the cure for cancer. I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

She again looks at me like I’m crazy, and then says “You know it’s OK to be proud of yourself, right? You know it’s OK to toot your own horn, right?”

Me “I guess I don’t realize it’s OK to be proud of myself.”

This memory was locked away in my brain. I don’t know why.

I have thought a lot about this memory this week, and found myself asking “Are you proud now?”

The answer is no. (Yep, I said it).

I still feel like I’m just doing what needs to be done. I don’t feel like I have made some major change or discovery that will help all mankind.

Sometimes things just need to be done.

Like if I saw someone in distress, I would help them, just because it needs to be done. It’s something I wouldn't put much thought into; I would just reach out and help the person in distress.

I guess I’m not proud, because my job isn't done.

The petition is exhausting.

When I started it, I never thought it would be as hard as it is. I never thought I would be so emotionally involved with it that I would lose mass amounts of sleep over it.

It is mentally and physically exhausting.

Especially when I see someone who is newly widowed, having to go back to work immediately.

The laws haven’t been changed. I still have a long road ahead of me. And as long as I am on this road, I have to watch newly widowed people struggle with the exact laws I am trying to change.

It’s like a kick in the teeth. Knowing that the laws are flat out wrong and I can’t get the laws changed fast enough to protect newly widowed people.

I realized that not feeling proud of my petition is kind of like grief.

I don’t see the progress I have made. I just see that I haven’t reached the finish line.

Same goes for grief. I sometimes see small glimpses of my grief progress, but often times feel stuck and ashamed that I’m not “further along” in my grief. I haven’t reached the finish line in my grief.

I’m starting to realize with grief, there is no finish line. It will never end and my grieving will never suddenly reach the finish line.

Even if you can only see small glimpses of your progress, it’s OK to be proud of yourself.

It’s OK to toot your own horn. And to shout from the roof tops “Look, it’s been 29 months, and the monthly anniversary almost slipped by without me noticing!”

Be proud of where you are. Because if you are reading this blog, you have made progress.

You have stepped out, and looked for support.

That is a huge step.

Be proud of that.

Be proud of yourself!

(You can read my petition here and you can follow the faceboook petition page here - I post where the petition is heading and what support I need.)