I cannot remain silent

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.  ~Martin Luther King Jr.

It's been a long time since I've posted... a REALLY LONG TIME.



I backed down and out of blogging for a while because people I knew in real life were getting weird about it and it was affecting my kids.  I never want anything to affect my kids.  If I can't legitimately make a difference by what I say, I won't blog.  I need to post what matters in my heart.

Why am I breaking my silence?

THE WORLD WE LIVE IN!

I can't sit by and keep my mouth shut.  I can't do nothing.

This will be a long post, so buckle up.

I'm mostly watching the world through the big screen in my living room, thank you COVID-19, and I cannot wrap my head around what is going on in the world.

The hate and violence need to stop.

I first want to say that I fully support law enforcement.  I don't believe that good, innocent people need to be murdered because they are cops.  Not all cops are bad cops.  Many of our friends are or were cops and I love and respect them.  If this was their fight, I'd stand shoulder to shoulder beside them.  They have been zapped HARD by those despicable individuals in Minnesota who stood by while George Floyd was being murdered by a bad cop.  They don't all deserve the hate thrown at them - but this isn't about cops right now - good or bad.

Right now ALL people DO need to stand up and agree that BLACK LIVES MATTER!

Yes.... All lives DO matter, but that is not the platform.  Put it away.

The best quote I saw on this was, "If you went into a Breast Cancer rally, you wouldn't stand up and say ALL CANCER MATTERS" - you'd support the breast cancer cause. 

Keep reading please....
No matter what you think about the rallies, the protests or the rioting - you need to pay attention.

This isn't about cops.  This isn't about All Lives.  It's about hate and racism, plain and simple.

I'm an educated, middle class, hard working white mom and wife.  It wasn't always this way.  Well, yeah - I've always been white - but I didn't grow up in the lap of luxury.  I worked my ass off for everything I have.  I am a white woman who had no idea what white privilege was, or that I actually had it.

Over the years I have asked many of my friends of color what white privilege meant, probably at the wrong time in the wrong setting (because I have no filter), with no answer.  I get it, it's an uncomfortable topic.  It could cause disagreements, but I wanted to know.  I needed to know why I was told I had white privilege.  I did not grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth.  I had a shitty childhood.  People referred to us as "white trash."  My parents were mostly absent for one reason or another.  Surely this didn't apply to me.

Ya know what I learned?  White privilege has nothing to do with any of that. 

Pre-Clifton days, I lived on the border of Totowa and Paterson.  Totowa kids weren't always so nice to me and told me I lived in Paterson.  Fine by me, I walked right across the street and hung out with my Paterson friends, who were mostly of color - friends who lovingly gave me the nickname "stupid little white girl."  Don't be horrified.  That was NOT meant to be mean or demeaning - it's genuinely who I was back then and they said it with love.  My dad was all peace, love and tie dye.  He very specifically taught me to never see color in people, only their hearts.  With that, I never saw color.  I went where I wanted, when I wanted,  with whom I wanted.  That often did not bode well for me.  I often had to be "rescued" from situations that could have gone very bad for me.  I was rescued by my friends of color.

I know what you think you're seeing here....  Of course it would it be "bad" for a little white girl to be in a "black area".  I didn't see that.  I saw my friends.  I saw their hearts.  I saw people who genuinely loved me and looked out for me when others couldn't be bothered.  They stood beside me.  Their moms fed me.  They made sure I got home OK in the dark when they knew getting back home for them might be a little tricky.  I saw them.  They saw me.  Period.

I want to share some of the things I personally lived throughout my childhood that I will never forget.  There are contrasts of good and bad - but I hope you will see my point.

First I'll start with a very basic, and true, illustration of racism from my childhood.  I'm only in my 50's.  By rights, this stuff should never have existed in my childhood, but please read on.

When I was younger, my mother sent my brothers and I to our grandparent's house down south every summer in lieu of day care or camp that she couldn't afford.  It was mid to late 70's almost a decade after segregation should have ended.  We were dropped off at the town pool every day that it didn't rain.  Being who I was, I gravitated to the children of color and played with them in the pool.  I never once noticed the "Black Area" signs that should have been removed decades prior.  I'd never seen them before and paid no mind.  I clearly remember walking over to sit and play with my new friends and their moms looking to me nervously.  I didn't understand.  I was from Jersey.  I knew nothing of modern day segregation.  Finally, one of the moms whispered to me, "Sweetie, you can't be here.  We are going to get into trouble."  I obeyed, of course, even though I didn't understand.  When I addressed the situation with my grandparents, they told me that "the coloreds aren't regarded much" in that area.  I was heart broken.  I never forgot it.

Back home in Jersey, one spring day my younger brothers and I took our brand new bikes and rode to Kennedy High School to hang out by the very first submarine, which at that time proudly adorned the property.  Two young boys of color asked if they could ride our bikes.  Being the "stupid little white girl" that I was, we said sure.... Yup, they stole our bikes.  Wait....DO NOT JUDGE.
My brothers and I ran and chased them across the Great Falls bridge and down to CCP (Christopher Columbus Projects).  We lost them.  So here we were, 3 little white kids deep in the projects.
We walked back without fear, crying because we'd lost our bikes.  Several cars drove by us full of white faces we recognized.  No one stopped to see why these 3 little (white) kids were walking along the road crying.  Let me be a little bit more clear....we were 11, 8 and 5 year old LITTLE KIDS.  Not one person stopped.  We continued to walk toward home and an older black gentleman stopped us on the street as we walked past to see if we were OK.  We were not.  He was a worker at the dog pound.  He kindly showed us in.... noticed a pile of dogs that were recently euthanized and quick covered them to not upset us further.  He showed us kindness.  He turned to me and asked for our home phone number to call our parents to pick us up.  HE WAS THE ONE TO RESCUE US.  Not the (white) family from our school who saw and drove right past us on the road, the black stranger.

A stranger of color stepped up to help us.  He could have lost his job for bringing 3 little white kids into the city dog pound.  He put himself  and his job on the line to help US.  He didn't have to.
I'll never forget him.

I know it's hard to tell... this is NOT me and my brothers, but this is the submarine that used to be at Kennedy High School

Another time, I was with my friends - not in the projects this time, but in an apartment complex.  There was a knock out dare in progress that I was unaware of.  I was the lucky recipient of the knock out punch by a young black boy.  He hit and ran.  I, of course, hit the ground while my group of white friends laughed.   The woman who ran the kids off and came to care for me was a black woman I'll refer to as "Miss Shirley" for privacy.  She made sure I was OK.  She gave me water and sat with me until I was picked up.  Not my white friends, the black woman who didn't know me helped me.
I'll never forget her.

I'm guessing the "stupid little white girl" picture is making more sense to you now.

I love and respect the memory of these people.
All they saw was someone needing help and they stepped up regardless of their personal circumstances, potential outcome or because we were white.  They saw a human in need and stepped up.

Isn't that what we should all be doing?  Stepping up for our fellow humans?

That's what we are, you know... humans!

We need to stop doing nothing.  Stop "minding your own business."  Stand up for what is right.

We need to stop seeing color and realize that good and bad happen in every color.

Am I horrified by George Floyd?  Yes, I am!  Honestly, I'm more offended by the Ahmaud Arbery incident.  (click on his name for background if you don't know about this incident)
A black man can't take a JOG without being assumed to be "high tailing it out of there" and be shot dead by two white men???  Is this really what the human race is made of?

He was taking a jog, not breaking laws.  Are you outraged?

Think about that, taking a jog.  Now put yourself in that position.  If you are white, would you EVER expect to be shot dead or suspected to be "high tailing it out of there" for taking a jog?
NO, you would not.  I wouldn't either.

This is where white privilege comes into play.  Growing up as I did, I didn't think that phrase even sort of applied to me.  I had no privileges....

Until I thought about this:

When was the last time you had to tell a young child that they shouldn't (not couldn't) play with your children because you / they would get into trouble?
When was the last time you were asked where you're going when you were leaving an upscale area?
When was the last time you were shot at for taking a jog?
When was the last time someone took a few steps back when you were standing next to them?
When was the last time someone assumed that because you were there a crime may be in progress?

This is where our white privilege lies - not by how much we make or what we do or don't have. It's the privilege of not being unfairly judged in advance based upon the color of your skin.

Is this really the world you want to live in?

It's not the world I want to live in.

Agree or disagree.  That's your choice.


I don't want to live in a world of hatred.

I don't want my children learning hate.

Black lives matter.

Until Black Lives Matter, All Lives cannot matter.

Stand up or shut up.

Learn to love and stop the hate.  Be a part of the solution.

This world will never find peace until we learn to love each other and accept each other's differences.

Thank you for reading my blog.

Peace,
Jenn

The long term effects of suicide on those left behind

These are my actual, real life experiences.
I am always appreciative when my posts are shared and I'm always hopeful that these posts will help another person. The one thing I ask, please, out of respect to me and my personal experiences - please do not take this blog piece and re-post it as your own.  We are all in this together.  Thank you ~Jenn

This post has been in writing for more than a month. It is very difficult for me to get through because these are my truths.

I ask for a pardon for any grammatical or punctuation errors - this is totally unedited due to the nature of the post & where I had to go within myself to put this out there.

As always, I hope this helps even one person struggling with depression and / or suicidal thoughts.

March 28, 1984 - The day my father left this planet at his own hand.

That date is one I will never, ever, ever forget. Really, how could I?
That is the date that most important man in my life, at the time, left me - without warning, without saying goodbye, without an explanation.

I was 18.

For YEARS I had the exact same re-occurring nightmares of my father's suicide. Not the actual suicide, per se.  Luckily my dad did not die in our house, nor I did not find him or see him in that state. I, instead, dreamed of the article of his death written in the local newspaper.

The article that laid it all right out for me and created a mental picture I didn't recover from for years.

Hawthorne Man, 42, found dead.  Self inflicted gun shot wound to the head. Victim found slumped over steering wheel of his 1982 AMC International Scout.

That's not the article verbatim - but that was what formed the template of the nightmares that ensued for more than 20 years of my life.

The same dream, every night, of walking up to my dad's truck and seeing him slumped over the steering wheel, lifeless, bleeding from the wound to his head. Feeling scared, helpless, distraught, out of control, traumatized.

I don't have enough words to describe every single awful emotion I experienced. I always woke in a pool of sweat, crying, shaking, terrified.

I had that nightmare almost every night for more than 20 years, until I had a procedure called EMDR to make the nightmares stop.  (If you are unaware of what EMDR is, you may click on the link above to give you an explanation. Please note:  This link is not meant as an endorsement to any particular agency and is meant for informational purposes only.)

That treatment DID stop that particular dream, but it did not stop all dreams related to my dad's suicide.

More than 30 years later, I still miss my dad every single day.

Yes, I know - people miss people who've passed all the time.
I've lost others close to me in my life, either naturally or due to sickness or tragic accidents. Some were old, some were young. I think of them and I miss them. I'm not minimizing any loss.

Loss by suicide is different.

If I could express one thing - any thing to someone who is suffering from depression or suicidal thoughts and thinks that if they just die they will stop being a burden, you are so wrong.

I've said so many times - if you are a person struggling and just want the pain to go away - please KNOW the pain is NOT going away. All it is doing is magnifying and moving on to those you love, who are left behind to try to make sense of it. Your family, your friends will carry this forever. They will never make sense of it.

Trust me.
There is NO CLOSING that gaping hole that is left behind by the suicide of someone you love. It is NOT the same as someone dying because they're sick, or because they've been in an awful accident, or it was just their time. It's awful. It's traumatic. It's life altering. It's a permanent hole that never quite heals.

It's been a long time since I've had one of those nightmares that I did the EMDR treatment to stop -  but I do still have those types of dreams. I think I always will.

"It happens as usual, I'm lying in my bed asleep, when I realize that my dad isn't home.  I get up out of my bed and I wander around my house looking for him.  In my confusion, I realize that nothing looks the same.  I hear the television in the other room, it's my husband watching television - but it's almost like I look through him.  I'm confused wondering where I am, where my dad's room is.  Why does everything look different.  I go lay back in bed thinking, wait - why am I sleeping in my dad's bed?  I need to go to my own bed.  I continue to process the confusion - then I realize, it's not my dad's bed.  It's my bed.  I'm in my house, not the house I lived in when my dad died - and that my dad is gone.  Then the pain hits.  He's gone.  I cry myself back to sleep."

It's been more than 30 years since my dad passed. I still dream of him, both happy and sad dreams. I still miss him. I still feel the pain and trauma of the loss.  It never goes away.

The feelings of confusion and fear have not completely left me.
In my awake state, today, I can remember all I felt during my dream last night. I can remember wondering where my dad was. Why didn't he come home? Where is he? Where am I? Why did he leave me alone here?  Fear.

You see, the pain of this loss - it never leaves.

...and it has a way of permeating a family.

My brother, Eric, took his own life - the same way as my dad - in 2007.

Suicide hurts everyone.

Neither my dad or brother said goodbye.
-A good bye would not have been better.

Neither my dad or my brother left a note.
-An explanation would not have been better.

Even if they did, it would not change the fact that someone I love left this place at his own hand, and I was powerless to stop it.

Please, I ask you - I beg you, if you are someone who is struggling with the pain of depression and/or suicidal thoughts - PLEASE reach out to someone.

Yes, I know you feel no one wants to hear it or is tired of hearing it.
Talk to someone else.
Yes, I know you feel no one will understand how you feel.
Someone may not completely understand, but they will try.
Yes, I know you feel that you would be burdening someone with your problems.
Someone will gladly want to help.
Yes, I know that sometimes you don't care about anything at all.
Care anyway.

Don't drown. Ask for help. Reach for a life line.

Please know;
Someone DOES love you.
Someone WILL miss you.
Someone WILL suffer every single day of the rest of their life if you leave.

Please stay.

Please reach out.

Someone WILL reach back.

It does get better.

You are loved.

Thank you for reading my blog.

~Jenn
My Daily Jenn-ism ~ March 2016

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline  1 (800) 273-8255

In loving memory of the very first man I ever loved - my daddy and my younger brother, Eric.
Missing you both forever <3

Related Posts:

How Suicide has Affected Me - My Real Life Story
http://mydailyjenn-ism.blogspot.com/2012/11/how-suicide-has-affected-me-my-real.html

Let's Talk Taboo
http://mydailyjenn-ism.blogspot.com/2012/06/lets-talk-taboo.html


Follow my blog with Bloglovin'

Things I wish someone had said to me at 16 years old

I'm not sure how much I've shared on here about me... ya know, besides everything.

For the past 9 years until this past November, my husband and I were foster parents.


We've had the opportunity to have many children of different ages and backgrounds pass through our home. Each one more heart breaking than the next.  Some great outcomes, some unknown.

It was in fostering & volunteering with teens that I got to take a really good look at the life of sixteen year old girl from another angle besides the one I lived.  I can see so clearly now the things I wished that someone had told me.

At sixteen, everything seems so desperate and serious.  Love, life, everything.  They need it all to happen RIGHT NOW.

The one thing in common is that all they wanted was to feel loved, whatever that means.

True, some sixteen year old girls are very well adjusted or more well adjusted than others. Many of the girls we've helped lived lives that were far worse than anything I could relate to at that age.  I wanted to save them all - but I couldn't.  I could only say the things that had been said to me, or that I wish had been said to me.

If I could be the person speaking to myself, I'd speak the same words as I've spoken to these girls and let them know that it really is, and really will be OK.  They are loved.  They are deserving of love and they WILL have the right, special someone to love them forever - ONE DAY.

No bueno

I'm not a prude at all - so keep that in consideration when I say that modesty is OK. You don't have to dress like a nun - but cover it up.  You don't need to show it all off to get the attention of a boy you like.  Dressing inappropriately will attract attention all right - all the wrong attention!  If a boy likes you, you'll get his attention without all of that - don't you worry.

Hormones are flying all over the place - yours and theirs.  It's like a hormonal airport & everyone wants to come in for a landing....

Screeeeeeech..... slam on the breaks, girl.  You've got plenty of time for all of that.  Really.

Not everyone is ready, at the tender age of sixteen, to jump on into a sexual relationship, and it is OK to say so.

If a boy really likes you, he will respect that.  Really.  Yeah, he may be pissed - but he'll get over it.

On that angle, it's important to know the things my daddy (and my step dad) drilled into my head constantly - "Boys will tell you whatever you want to hear to get into your pants."  Honestly, hearing that over and over again really messed me up, but they were right.  Remember those words.

That doesn't mean that you're not lovable or deserving of love.  EVERYONE is worthy of love.  Not everyone is ready to love you the way you want to be loved.  That's learned through maturity.

If you find yourself in a bad situation - FIND AN ADULT YOU CAN TRUST!  Not every sixteen year old is close with or comfortable talking to their parent.  There is always an adult you can talk to - not all of us "adult" people suck.  We've all lived through what you're going through right now and as long as you're not a danger to yourself or others, we can pretty much keep our mouth shut if necessary. Do not try to handle things on your own.

Back to the boy thing....  Know this.... if a boy forces himself on you or takes advantage of you without your consent - he does NOT care about you.  If a boy truly likes / loves you, he will protect you.  He will respect you.  Even in this day and age of punk ass little teen age boys - this will always be a fact.  No one gets to hurt you.  No one gets to disrespect you.  No one gets to take what you're not prepared to give.  Know that - live it.

You many not be a full fledged adult yet, but you are human and deserving of basic human kindness and respect.  That you need to believe.

You are allowed, as your own person, to set boundaries on what you will and will not accept.  Not everyone will like that.  Too bad.  Not everyone matters.  People who genuinely care for you will respect your boundaries.  You deserve respect!

I know that it is absolutely, positively heart wrenching when the boy that you really like does not like you.  Even worse, pretends to like you and then treats you badly.  I promise you, there IS someone out there who will be absolutely, positively in love with every single breath you take.
That person is out there and that person is worth waiting for.


You deserve respect.  You deserve love.  You deserve compassion.  You deserve kindness.

All of this is temporary.  YES, all of it!  In 20 years, this will all be a mere blip in your memory bank. The good stuff will stand out and make you smile.  The bad stuff will still hurt your heart, but you will NOT remember it all.  It will all pass.

In the mean time, 
Be happy!  Be smart!  Be sixteen!

This time only rolls around once - live well without regrets.

You deserve that!

Thank you for reading my blog!!

~Jenn


Follow my blog with Bloglovin'

What is Self-Harm? Another Mom's Story

As I continue through Mental Health March, I'd like to once again thank the bloggers AND non-bloggers who've stepped up and offered to share their experiences.

I am humbled and grateful to these wonderful people for opening up and sharing themselves on something so personal.

I've got some AMAZING guest bloggers lined up.

Today, I give you Jen from I Know Where the Village Idiot Resides.

Here is Jen's experience with self harm.

I am again, 

humbled.

Thank you, Jen.  

What is Self-Harm?

I can give you a generic answer that lists a myriad of activities or I can give you the interpretation that comes from my soul; the very core of my being. 

Yes, THAT deep.

This topic hits really close to home for me. I know people that have self-harmed; I even tried it myself when I was a teen (I’m 38 now). 

In this post, I'll be talking about the day that the world as I knew it had changed forever...

It was summer-time and my 14 year old daughter had just gotten home from cheer practice.  I looked over at her and noticed a mark on her upper arm.  It struck me odd, but I knew the signs - so I asked her about it. 
“Are you cutting?”
“No mom.”

I began to notice her wearing real rubber bands around her wrist and thought to myself “that’s odd”.

Rubber bands are a coping method for cutters.
In theory, when the urge hits they don’t cut.  Instead they snap the rubber bands. Have you ever felt it? It stings. The harder you snap them, the more it stings. 

I thought to myself,  “but She said No”.


Later that day in the drive-thru at a local burger joint, she said, “Mom, can I talk to you for a minute?” 

That’s all I remember because what came next rocked my world. 

She WAS cutting.  The beautiful child that I carried for 38 weeks inside my body was hurting herself and bleeding on purpose.

WHY??? 

This happens to other people.  Not parents like us.  We are awesome. We provided the right balance of attention and rewards (laptop, phone, ipod, etc).  How could this happen in our “normal” family?  We don’t even yell in our house unless it’s me yelling at a cat.  It truly is our kids’ soft place to fall.

Little did I know that behind that behind the evil bedroom door, bad things were happening.  I never once heard her cry. 

My daughter and I talked about why and it’s all a big jumble but it all boils down to her week-long visit that past summer with her bio dad, the feeling of rejection, weight issues and normal teenager stuff. 

I got her immediate therapy and she was lucky.  

Unfortunately, it didn’t last.  The medical facility that I used for her therapy was changing owners and had let her therapist go. How do you tell the kid that the person that she had grown to confide in was leaving?  My daughter took it in stride and we moved on to the next.  Again, the therapist was let go.  This time she had enough.  She said “No more!”  I have to say that I couldn’t disagree with her. I would have probably been pissed off too. 

Fast forward to winter 2011. 
She had been taking an anti-depressant for a couple of years but had stopped it due to the side effects.  She was almost 16 and was having some issues that caused her to start cutting again. 

All of those scars were literally and physically re-opened. 

It got so bad that the child begged me to hospitalize her. 

You know it’s serious when someone asks to be placed in a mental hospital.  I took her immediately and she was admitted.  Her meds were changed and she received intensive therapy.  She was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, a blanket diagnosis given to kids under 18.

I remember crying so hard -  and often.  My heart was broken. 

It's been a long road.

My baby will be 17 on Friday.  She has come such a long way and I am so proud of her.  The scars cover both of her arms. 

Some day we will shop for a wedding dress and those scars may show.  The scars that will still be there, because they are a part of her forever.

In this I learned that no matter how good of a parent you are, you can be blindsided in a heartbeat.  (Clothes lined comes to mind). 

My daughter said every time that she cut herself, she felt like she was letting me down.  The only thing that saved my daughter was communication and sheer willpower. 

One could even say my awareness to ask the question in the first place had something to do with it.

What I DO know is I love that kid with every fiber of my being and will always fight for her.  She has become a pretty cool teenager and I am enjoying this different phase of parenting.

I still advocate for self-harm because it feels like it’s the least I can do. My kid made it and I am so lucky.  This I know.  I hope my experience helps you, or someone you know to see the signs and help someone you love.
Thank You,

Jen

Thank you again, Jen, for sharing something so close to your heart.

If you or someone you know are harming yourself in some way, please don't suffer in silence reach out!

Please call the Self Injury Hotline - SAFE at:

1-800-DONT CUT   (1-800-366-8288) 

You may also visit the website:  www.selfinjury.com

Thank you for reading my blog!

~Jenn

Ran't on Can't

Yes, I did that 't on Rant on purpose.
It gives it a little flair, don't you think??

OK - fine it's an attention getter for my fellow grammar / spelling Nazis out there.
You're welcome.



I've become increasingly annoyed by the amount of people who throw around the "I can't" line lately.

Really? Can't?
Ever heard of Oscar Pistorius?  Maybe he's a bad example being in prison and all, BUT stay with me a moment, will you? His pending murder conviction aside, this man is a DOUBLE AMPUTEE, former Olympic SPRINTER hopeful. The loss of 2 legs did not stop him from running.  He didn't "can't" - at least not in this instance. (hard to be delicate when you use a poor example).

Clearly my blog posts aren't all well thought out and mapped out - they go from brain to finger - so ride along with me further, won't you?

The hubs and I are foster parents. In truth, which he will agree, I do all the parenting work. In any case - I get a lot of "I can't" from some of these kids about themselves, or their parents. The "they can't" nonsense. No - they/you CAN - you just choose not to. They CAN work. They CHOOSE not to. You CAN read a book. You CHOOSE not to.

Can't doesn't fly with me. It never really did. Mostly because I suffer from a long stream of "I wants" (working on that) and I am ultra persistent (read pain in the ass) and I don't generally stop until I get what I want, I take a break or I don't want it anymore. Can't has never really stepped in front of me because I kick it out of my way. Maybe that's just me.

It's a choice - Crawl under a rock or claw your way up.

Is anyone else out there feeling me on this?

I don't accept "I can't" from my kids. I push the "CAN" and "WILL".

Isn't that the way things should be?

Shouldn't we be pushing our kids to dream big?  To go get what they want & bring it home to mamma for a big GREAT JOB, and to ride that into their future?

When did things get so lax?
When did it become OK to sit back and wait for someone to give you what you need instead of getting off your arse and getting it yourself? When did "can't" become the norm and people responding to "can't" with rewards?

I don't get it.

For me, it will always be can and will.
I will teach my kids the same.

Am I crazy?

Thank you for reading my blog!

~Jenn

 Follow my blog with Bloglovin'

How'd your dad / brother die? Oh, they committed suicide....

It never rolls off your tongue just like that...It doesn't.

It's more awkward.
No, it's not just awkward it's totally uncomfortable to wonder how to just spit those words out.

What do you say? My dad & brother shot themselves. They took their lives. My dad & brother committed suicide. What do you say? It's been more than 30 years now. You'd think that 30 plus years would set things little at ease.

They do - the 30 years, that my dad has been gone have gotten easier. The thoughts are always there. Just not right smack in the front of my mind like they used to be - but the reminders are everywhere.
This past Saturday was my dad's birthday.
The 27th is the date that Eric will be dead for 8 years.
Yeah, I think about it. It's there. It's always there.

I don't think anyone who's been through suicide ever forgets. You remember. Everything. Every.Last.Detail. Every.Last.Second of Every.Single.Thing that you did when you heard the news.
When the phone rang. When the police showed up at the front door. Every song. Every smell. It stays with you, and you remember how it felt to not know how to say how they died.

...and you worry.

Will it happen again?

I haven't written in a while. Mostly because I didn't think I had anything to say. Then I opened my Facebook news feed and saw that someone else that I know is struggling, in the same way that I did, to not know how to say that their family member took their own life. Died by suicide.

It was at that moment that I decided to write for her and others like her. Like you. Like someone else. Struggling for the words to say - they died by suicide.

To say that they just couldn't take one more second of pain.

As always, with these types of blog posts - I implore you - if you are suffering - PLEASE - do not suffer in silence. Someone will listen to you. Someone DOES care. Someone DOES love you. Someone WILL miss you. Someone WILL struggle with the words - they died by suicide.

Please reach out.

You are loved.

Thank you for reading my blog.

~Jenn

Follow my blog with Bloglovin'

Facebook... To Connect or Disconnect. That is the question.

I can remember hearing about Facebook for the first time.
My husband and I had been new volunteers through our area chapter of Young Life.


Our volunteer position was to pick up a high school girl and bring her to and from Young Life group meetings. We loved hearing her stories about school, and friends, and her college preparations.  It was in this discussion that she mentioned Facebook to me as a site that helped college kids meet others, etc.  I thought - wow, pretty cool and I never thought of it again.

I never thought of it again UNTIL my young son became a teenager.

When he first started out it was MySpace. Like any over protective mom of a teenaged boy who likes to step on the line, I also got an account. He accepted me on his friend's list and I kept an eye on him. All of the sudden, the page got really slow. He was "hiding" on me, but WHERE the HECK was he hiding...FACEBOOK!!

So I joined Facebook and he became my friend on Facebook as well. His friends also became my friend on Facebook, ya know - since I was the cool mom (insert eye roll here.). It was still handy in keeping the kids out of trouble and communicating as I or they needed to. I didn't bother much with it until I learned that people I hadn't seen in years might also be on Facebook too!! I'd dabbled in Classmates.com and I tripped over myself on MySpace. I was totally weirded out with Facebook until I learned that there were long lost people EVERWHERE in there! I thought, wow, this could REALLY help me to connect with people I'd love to be in touch with again. Friends that live far away. Family I hadn't seen in years. I was hooked!! I LOVED IT!! It all seemed so WONDERFUL!!
Until it wasn't.

I'd recently heard and read via other media sources that Facebook has been thought to cause depression because some people couldn't handle seeing other having better lives than them. Again, can I get an eye roll here....Sheesh.

On that level, I think it's totally ridiculous.
Who the hell cares what other people are doing? If you are so unhappy with your life that you can't stand to see others having a good life - you need to do something about that and maybe get the heck OFF Facebook.

On another level...I can totally see it.

Have you noticed how absolutely MEAN Facebook is making people?

It's as if people actually believe that they are entitled to "say" mean things to people just because they're typing the words and not actually speaking the words.

The Facebook society seems to have created this "it's all about me" mentality.

I sort of get it...Facebook IS a solo sport. I mean, really - it's you and the computer. If the computer screen isn't talking to you, than who the heck is it talking to??  And DAMN that person who posted that comment. HOW DARE THEY?

I get it, but I don't.

I recently put up a random post on my page. I didn't think it was a big deal.  It was an opinion thing, run of the mill, nothing controversial. This post incited so much anger in one person, based on another person's opinion. This other person completely internalized the comment and flat out attacked this other total stranger.

This isn't just my issue. I see more than a fair share of page administrators stating how they have to ban and block people constantly due to mean or even threatening comments based on a silly post.
Yes, of COURSE we want feedback and reactions! Do we want people attacking other people or us? NO.  For the love of all that's holy, IT'S FACEBOOK! Get a hold of yourselves!

I wonder, if this were a face to face conversation or a conversation overheard from one table to another in a diner - would this person EVER have the nerve to react in such anger toward another?

The meanness on here is relentless.

I had once been accused of being a keyboard coward, which I took with a grain of salt due to its source. Truth be told - if I have something to say, I don't hide behind my keyboard. I say what I have to say to the person.
May it come out in my blog as well?  Who knows...If the situation could help someone else - yes.  I don't feel guilty because I've already addressed it. I try to NOT do that, but if I do and you think it's you...ASK. It's probably not.

Anyway, I'm getting off topic.

The point is - that if you heard LIVE AND IN PERSON one stranger saying something to another stranger that offended you or that you didn't agree with, would you ever have the nerve to flat out blast them? Most people would not. I would not.

I don't know what gives the people the idea that it's totally OK to say the meanest things possible to someone else based on what they do and do not agree with, just because it's being typed instead of spoken.

I'm not claiming innocence. I've had my share of things that I've typed in words. In my defense, I do actually have conversations and speak the words if I'm upset or angry about something. Have I been guilty of a "poison pen" email?  Um, yes I have. In some cases I've been absolutely remorseful about what I'd said, and apologized. Other times I'm so thankful that I finally had a chance to say what I had to say without interruption and be done with it.

Does that make me better? No. As I said, I don't claim innocence.

What I am saying is that I can totally understand why Facebook is making people feel bad.

Someone will post something totally innocuous (and this is NOT just my experience, though this has been my experience in the past) and five people will decide the comment is about them and either flat out attack them on their page, attack them on their own page or attack them in real life by spouting off to others what they took the remark or shared post to mean.

I have been called negative. I have been called hypocritical. I have been called things I won't even say on here - when the fact is that sometimes I just see a post that I like for one reason or another and I share it. If it is an emotion I'm feeling at the moment - whatever. That doesn't mean it's open season on Jenn, or that I'm inciting some sort of secret battle with another. Sometimes it just is what it is - a random post.

Will I post something that can be construed as mean, or something I think is funny that others won't - yes. I probably will. Not everyone going to love everything I share or post, or even know my state of mind at the time of the post, and that's OK.

I am putting this onto myself at the moment because I can relate - but also because it's a topic that I've seen people discuss over and over and over again - shutting down their Facebook accounts because it's just so mean and petty some times.

I totally get it!

I often think, "Is it even worth it to have a Facebook account?"

Then I realize that I can't control what other people think or feel. If I don't want to see the negativity other people post, well - I can control that.

I stay because I blog. I stay because I believe that some of the things that I have to share might actually help someone else going through the same stuff, and if the crap I've been through can help someone else - great. I also like to see the lives of my friends and family that live far away. I stay for some of the reasons I had when I first learned about Facebook. To connect with the people I love and care about.

I'm not going to let the negativity of someone else take that away from me.

...instead I choose to disconnect from the drama that others seem to thrive on.  I choose to disconnect from the people or things that will hurt me or people I care about. I choose to disconnect from the meanness that I don't want in my life.  I don't see it, so it doesn't exist.

You can disconnect from all of that as well.

I wish you peace.

Thank you for reading my blog!

~Jenn


Follow my blog with Bloglovin'

Please don't leave. If you don't think you'll be missed, think again...

Every year around this time I get all blah...

Not only is seasonal depression still lingering, because Mother Nature can't figure out which season should be in play - I'm also rolling into the time of year that I lost my dad.


It's been 31 years.  I still miss him every day.

I'm not 100% sure this blog will be well put together or easily flowing.  It is totally unedited and will be 100% my feelings, my thoughts, my ramblings as they come out of me today - 31 years (tomorrow) after my dad killed himself.

For those of you reading for the first time - on March 28, 1984 my dad took his own life.
It's a day that is etched so far into my mind I can still close my eyes and see/feel every single moment as if it's happening over again.

Because of what I've been through, I take this time of year to tell my side of it as a way to help others who may be suffering from depression or suicidal thoughts to realize they do mean something to someone, no matter how you may feel - AND to help people like me to know that it's totally OK to still feel the pain and still not be able to make sense of any of it.

If you want to read "My Story" click here:   How Suicide Has Affected Me.  My Real Life Story


I am LUCKY to have gotten to where I am without depression, without suicidal thoughts and without full on self-destructive behavior. (though I definitely walked the line.)  I am thankful every day that I am not someone who suffers from depression.  Thankful!

I was 18 when my dad died.
Even though it's been 31 years - that's 31 years of stuff that he missed.  That I missed having him here for.  Do you know how much happens in 31 years?  How many things you're forced to figure out for yourself as a child of someone who committed suicide?  Yes, he DID miss them.  I don't want to hear that he "Didn't miss anything, he's been right there watching."  Those are the nice things people like to say when someone is mourning.  While it may be true - my dad wasn't HERE WITH ME because he CHOSE to leave - and that is what's different.  That's where the anger, sadness, pain come in.  Because he CHOSE to go.

My family life wasn't all sunshine & flowers.  I lived with my dad.  So when he was gone, it was just me to figure it out.  And it's the words of another that forced me to figure it out...

The words I'll never forget that were spoken to me.  Words that both tore me down and forced me to build myself.  "Just because your father's dead, don't think you can move back in with me."
At the time those words terrified me.  I hated and resented those words.  The felt vile and completely unloving.  My dad was all I had and he was gone.  What now?

Whatever the sentiment behind those words at the time, I'm grateful for them now as they forced me to figure it out for myself.  Those words created the survivor that I am.  I figured it out for myself because I had no choice in the matter. I'm a better / stronger person today because of those words.

Do you know what it's like to be 18 and alone with no guidance??  How about dropping some insurance money into the mix?  That alone was a recipe for disaster.

I was LUCKY.

I didn't have my dad, the perpetual voice of reason, guiding my steps.  Steering me out of trouble in his own way.

I was only 18 years old when my father committed suicide.  I'm not saying that I didn't know my dad. He was my dad, of course I knew him.  I just didn't KNOW him as one adult knows another.  I knew him as the little girl I once was.

Yes, I know... many kids lose their parents.  Losing your parent to suicide is a whole new ball game.  You don't know how to feel.  You don't know what to say.  You don't know if you should feel embarrassed or brave or protective or victimized.  It's like being naked in the middle of a crowd.  You're completely vulnerable.

I both lost it completely AND totally held it together at the same time.  Sometimes I think I still do.


Right now, I am older than my dad was when he died.  When I think about that alone, it saddens me how much he lost.  So many things he missed.

I think that's one of the things those who are suicidal don't get... the tomorrows that they will miss.  I can't say for sure as I'm lucky enough to not suffer from suicidal thoughts or depression.  Even though I've lived through the deaths of both my father and brother by suicide, I'm no expert on the subject.  I can only speak of my thoughts, feelings and the things told to me in grief counseling.

It was said that a sad person can still function.  Still cares about the day to day activities, those who need to be tended to.  A depressed person still cares, but does only what needs to be done.  If the house is on fire - they'll burn with the house.  That's a lot to take in.

All these years since my dad died, I often think about the things he's missed.  I think about the mistakes I'd made because I didn't have my dad to ask me what the hell I was thinking.  He was good at that.  He'd never tell me what or what not to do, but he'd steer me.  He was the only one that could do that.

For those of you left behind - I get you.  I feel how you feel.  Lost for answers.  Even if you got a "note" (I didn't) you still don't totally get it.  All you feel is the pain, the loss, the anger and the confusion.  I know.  It's 31 years and typing this mish mosh of feelings - I still don't get it.

If you are someone struggling, some one who thinks they won't be missed - I have news for you - YOU WILL BE MISSED.  In that split second between life & death where you make your decision - make it be the decision to live - to go on - to fight.  There is another tomorrow to figure it out.  Tomorrow may not be filled with all you've dreamed of - but if you keep dreaming, there's the next day and the next day.  One second, one minute, one hour, one day - one breath at time.

It's OK to be sad.  It's OK to feel like things just totally suck.  It's NOT OK to quit on yourself and everyone who loves you.  Just because you're not getting what you want at this second - doesn't mean the next second won't get better.  Stick around to see it.  Please.

Don't leave someone you love left behind to wonder WHY?  To be alone.  To feel the pain.  To feel the loss.  To feel the anger over and over again of the decision you made to check out.

Please talk to someone - anyone.  SOMEONE will listen.

Choose life.

Thank you for getting through this mess of feelings.

Peace & Love,

Jenn

Follow my blog with Bloglovin'

When you're not coping with the loss of a loved one

I talked to a friend the other day who's been through some pretty tragic losses one right after the other.

Their life is almost on hold because of these losses, as if what was lost no longer validated what still is.

I was without words.  I got it.

That was me not too long ago.

My brother has been gone 7 years 5 months and 2 days at this writing.  Suicide.  I remember it as if it were yesterday.  I remember how I felt hearing that he was gone.  I remember how I felt for days, weeks, months - and yes, years after he died.

I was changed forever.

I know I'm not the only person on this planet to suffer great loss.  I know so many others have had so much more and sometimes worse.  I never want to feel that pain.  Never.  I can only speak of my own.  The hole in my heart that, as I said - changed me.

That pain turned me from someone who was secure in who I was - to being somehow needy.

I was always afraid of the "who's next?"  I didn't form close attachments, because they'd leave anyway and I did my best to push (or scare) away anyone I felt close to so that I was doing the leaving.

I got caught up in behaviors that were bizarre, then I got sick.  Stress was a major factor in the Lupus that was always underlying, but I never knew was there.  Stress flared the Lupus - making me so sick.  This brought on other problems and it snowballed.  My normal was abnormal.  My world was upside down in so many areas.  I'm so thankful to my husband for not only sticking it out - but kicking my ass back into shape.  I'm also thankful for this blog and those of you who read regularly.

THIS was the perfect way to process everything.  (without therapy)  The good, the bad, the ugly and the absolutely bizarre.  Many posts I've taken down - because WHAT THE HECK??  At the time, though - I needed to say whatever it was I'd said.

Most people I surrounded myself with didn't know how badly I was struggling.  I'm not even sure my husband knew the extent I was struggling.  I talked to NO ONE about how I felt.  I surrounded myself with people who didn't really care all that much.  I mean I didn't, so why should they?  I began to accept treatment toward me that I would have never previously accepted as OK.  It wasn't OK.  On the outside - I was fine.  I could hold it together in group settings (unless there was alcohol involved).  No one saw the dark and twisty that was inside of me.    It took a while for me to realize where I was with ME, what I expected of my life and what I expected of those in my life.  I finally began to see things as they were.  To realize that real friendship shouldn't be such hard work.  It should just be and to start fresh.  Forgive what needed to be forgiven and file the rest.  Not just with others, but with myself.

It was a long road.

Looking back now - and putting this out in print and reading it - I can't believe it was so long.  I can't believe how little I cared for myself or how much damage I did to myself in so many ways when all I really had to do was ask for help.

Never once did I ask anyone to talk with me about what I was going through.  I was ignoring it.  Trying to push through the pain.  Brave.

If you are here - don't be brave.

Don't let YEARS of your life go by in grieving.  TALK TO SOMEONE.  ANYONE.

Don't be like me.

I regret nothing in my life.  I look at everything as a lesson or a page/chapter in the book of me, but honestly - reading back, I wish there were more entries of joy and happiness than sadness and pain.

I want your pages to be filled with joy and happiness too.

Because what's gone is gone.  Truly.

Love with all you have and you will never have any regrets.

And if you're sad - talk about it.

Thank you for reading my blog!!

~Jenn

 Follow my blog with Bloglovin'