changes

okay, so it is cliche, but we can all agree that the one constant in life is change, yes?

the changes that have been happening to me because of the changes that were manifested (through lots of prayer and conversation with god) and then acted upon, in regards to my career, are changing me in ways that were not fully thought out. i mean, how can you really think through something entirely that hasn’t happened to you yet? some of the changes are very welcome- i feel myself resonating, vibrating, with a much slower, and relaxed energy. the difference between two minutes being too long to wait for something a patient needs and two hours being a fast turnaround for a request. the difference between having to clock in and clock out and being salaried. the difference between chest compressions and a caring conversation.

sure, there are lots of reasons that my new gig is challenging: politics, learning the tactics needed to move a large bureaucracy toward the changes it says it wants, but that all actions suggest otherwise, the inefficiencies of a clinic workflow that have gone unchecked for years. not to mention adding a new specialty area to my repertoire.

and it would be a lie if i said i didn’t miss the OR.

but this new work that i am being called to do, the new spotlight on the areas of my self, of my soul, of the way i walk through the world, it is intense. i feel directed to lean in and do some hard work on how i interact with my environment. to look at the root cause of my impatience, to explore the deepest, darkest parts of my personality and draw those places into the light.

to surrender to the imperfection, acknowledge it, and love it anyway.

and, i think my very favorite consequence of my new job is that i am really sleeping again, dreaming again. when oscar died my sleep left. don’t get me wrong, i still slept “well” because i’ve always been a strong sleeper, but i didn’t dream and explore as much in my sleep as i did before he died. that has been my very favorite change. and one i think comes from my heart being satisfied that i am on the right path.

like my nurse navigator mentor told me yesterday, “you have the heart of a navigator”. that resonates so deeply with me; i feel that. ultimately, it will be my heart that keeps me pushing forward on this new path. and, truly, i would not have the relationship i have now with my heart if i hadn’t spent the last year of my OR career working in open hearts. beyond grateful for my experience in the CVOR.

so, i choose to keep rolling with the changes. learning from life. open to the challenge. baby steps.

countdown to 5 years

So for the past few weeks I feel like I have been getting ready for a storm.

This has meant going through a sort of temper tantrum about my living space and feeling like I needed to move. That was an interesting weekend. I was so upset- I felt like I needed to stretch and I was being held down. I was ready to move! To get out of my current living space. I looked through pages of rental homes looking for a better fit than where I am now. I had an impassioned conversation with my folks and my Lane kids and Grant about it. I was truly angry for about 24 hours that no one but me thought we should move and then I emerged on the other side of all that goofy pain and decided to redecorate.

There was a lot going on right about that time. I was more and more sure that I had made a mistake trying to have a romantic relationship with Grant again, my Lane kids and I found one more of the boxes from Nick in the basement that was full of memories of Washington, and I was still trying to get my self-care routine back on track.

Back in 2016, when Nick left Washington, he had packed up several boxes and taken them to my folks (this was right before they moved back to KC from WA themselves). Nick told me that said boxes had “everything that was important” in them. Those boxes went straight to my basement and I didn’t start unpacking them until this summer.

Nick died nearly 2 years ago. He died on the same day that Oscar did, but his body wasn’t found for 5 days. So this countdown to 5 years since Oscar’s death is also a countdown to 2 years since Nick’s death.

I thought we (me and my Lane kids) had been through all of the boxes that Nick sent, so you can imagine my surprise when we uncovered one last box. And not the good kind of surprise, but more of a deep dread. I briefly acknowledged the feeling as it occurred, looked at Pierce and said, “let’s do it, let’s get this done.” So we did. And in that box were so many of the most precious memories. Nick’s wedding ring (that he told me he threw away), the lock of Oscar’s hair that Nick had requested from the funeral director when we had our viewing of Oscar’s body (I thought Nick had it with him when he died and that it had gotten disposed of with the rest of Nick’s belongings because of the smell), and the hospital ID bracelets from when the kids were born. My heart broke a little more.

The strangest thing about all of that was I wasn’t able to talk about it for days. That is not like me in my grief. I am able to talk about things and get them out in the open right away. This was decidedly not like that. Thank goodness I had a sympathetic ear at work who I was able to confide in. She actually noticed that I had been a bit off and asked me about it. Grateful for her.

Since I realized I needed to redecorate I have been super diligent and focused on revamping my living space. I am happy to say I am almost done with the major transitions. The space feels amazing. I believe the changes I made have helped clear energy blockages that have been keeping me in old patterns and dysfunctional rhythms of behavior. That is probably the most exciting part of preparing for the coming storm.

Big changes this past week, especially. I was finally able to come to the conclusion that Grant will not be able to give me what I need or want romantically and that is okay. Many different things have helped me reach that conclusion. The therapy that we did together was key- listing my expectations and the realization that even when we want to be on the same page we can’t quite get there. It is like we can both be looking at the same color but he sees violet and I see purple. It is sort of maddening and maybe a bit hard to explain. My individual therapist also helped me realize and understand that my attachment to Grant is our son, Phoenix. I had an excellent conversation with another friend who helped me understand that I have been clinging to Grant from a place of fear. Base bottom line is that I need to stay true to myself and what I need to take excellent care of my soul. (Also sex is not necessarily needed to have a great sex life!)

I am excited to date again and I am hopeful that through the work I am doing to understand myself better that I can experience a healthy romantic relationship for the first time in my life. Wouldn’t that be grand?

I understand my grief well enough to know that this next season, the Fall, will be somewhat unpredictable as far as my emotional response to life. I have already started feeling the subtle ways that grief f*cks with me- not noticing details, lack of consistent short-term memory, having to really search for words- all of these symptoms remind me that my grief is right next to me and ready to overwhelm at any moment. The only way at this point in my grief journey that I have found to strike a balance with her is to focus on being kind to myself through excellent self-care and the occasional doughnut and warm blanket.

I used to keep Oscar’s ashes in the hand-me-down hutch that I had inherited from my folks who had inherited it from my mom’s mom. It wasn’t quite the right fit for him, but it was all I had energy to figure out until this year. The featured photo is his new digs and the following photo is of the hutch where I used to keep him.

for the mouth speaks what the heart is full of

Right now I feel like writing all the time. Certain topics seem to bubble up more easily than others. I know I need to keep writing about my time with Nick, but every time I think about it or look at it I think about how drained I was after the first, and only, time that I wrote and I push it away. Writing about my dreams was as close to writing about Nick as I have come since that first installment of my not-a-memoir. The blog that I wrote about those dreams helped me quite a bit. Mostly reminded me that I need to give it up to God. Turn it over as I first heard in 12-step. So I started praying about it. And I feel better. I felt a little bit self-conscious about my last post. What keeps resurfacing for me is that blogging is apart of my process, I find it cathartic, and transparency is one of my hallmark personality traits. I do question, though, whether or not my blog could be considered gossip. I didn’t understand until very recently that gossip is a sin. And I have been a gossiper my entire life. I had no idea that what I was doing was a deep sin, but now that I know that to be true, I can see how this part of my personality must be surrendered to God. I know Jesus will help me to understand where the line is if I can get quiet enough to hear Him. Also, I am not making anyone read this stuff.

Lately I have been thinking a lot about Oscar’s death, well I always think about it, it is hard to explain, but lately it has been surfacing in a more vibrant fashion. It ebbs and flows, like all things in this existence of ours. The thoughts have mostly been details about finding his body. And my screaming. I have never screamed like that. I hope to never again. Blood curdling, “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO,” as I was pumping on his chest too fast for CPR because my adrenaline was hurling through my veins. My sweet, beautiful boy. I remember his eyes after he died. How badly I wanted life to flicker back into them and for him to gasp for air and say, “Mom, Mom, I am so sorry, thank you for saving me.” Alas, that was not my reality that fateful morning. My experience finding Oscar dead has been kind of on a constant playback in various forms and various intensities since it happened. Visions of the basement and how it looked. What he was wearing. The way his body was positioned. It hurts. It is the deepest, darkest pain that you can’t ever imagine. I still cry a lot, well, at least I think it is a lot. I remember when I first saw his body lying there and immediately thinking, “Oh honey, I probably won’t be able to get you out of this one.”

I have been off my self-care game lately. I had gotten into this amazingly vibrant routine that included running at least once per week, but when I was really on it I was running three times a week three miles per run, regular journaling and reflection with my Silk + Sonder, reading my bible daily (my mom and I are reading an incredible plan by the BibleProject that will get us through the entire book- you can find it on YouVersion), and deeply studying the bible at least once or twice a week. And by deeply studying I am referring to a mix of weekly online church services at Vineyard Overland Park, Vineyard Institute classes, Esther Dorotik materials (this is where my focus on gossip has come from, I have deep gratitude for Esther, I am sure I will mention her more in future posts- you can find her shop, EstherDorotikShop, on Etsy), and a program called Churches That Heal by Dr. Henry Cloud. I have been generally surrounding myself with Christian resources- I even joined Nurses Christian Fellowship. These activities have become my spiritual foundation. If I take good care of my spirit I can take good care of my life. When my self-care routine is not on point my spirit suffers and so do the people I love most.

I blogged about it my first blog back a week or so ago, but the reason I am currently off my self-care game is because Grant, Phoenix, and I spent most of June together. Since Grant decided not to move in and we have started couples therapy I suggested that we go back to following the parenting plan and slowly start seeing each other more, but with stronger intention of actually seeing each other, as in on dates, instead of him and Phoenix spending loads more time here like he has already moved back in. There has been some discomfort around my insistence on this tack, but I feel really good about it because I am getting my alone time again! Oh how I missed taking good care of myself and my spirit. As we continue to heal our relationship we will need to find ways for me to consistently and regularly get time alone to spend on journaling, exercising, and bible study. I think finding alone time is a common problem for mothers today, but in my case it is absolutely devastating if I do not get the time I need for self-care. It just is. I think those of us who have a strong and prevalent history of trauma need more time for self-care. Looking back over the past nearly five years since Oscar died all the times that were the most chaotic and turbulent can be directly correlated to a lack of consistent and regular self-care. It just is.

If I don’t take care of myself with a diligent self-care practice my heart fills with the dark memories associated with Oscar’s death and with Nick’s death, for that matter. Grief begins to take over my path. I have been working hard for the past almost five years to be able to walk next to my grief. It has taken a lot of effort to deeply understand that even though grief will be a constant companion for the remainder of my life, it does not deserve to overwhelm my life.

This is the statement that Jesus made at the end of Luke 6:45, “For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.” The entire verse is as follows, “A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.” This is such an amazing observation, isn’t it? This is the kind of stuff that makes me so excited to understand the bible better and to become closer to Jesus. I love this idea, that the mouth speaks what the heart is full of. When I write about my grief experience and the memories that fuel my negative reaction to the events that have happened in my life, like my memories of finding Oscar dead, it is because that is what my heart is full of. Sharing my experience helps to release it from my heart and actively hand it over to God. I also hope and pray that through sharing my experience as a bereaved mama and a suicide loss survivor others will feel less stigmatized to share their experiences. We need to open up about suicide and suicide loss in our culture. We need to make this conversation that nobody wants to have into a conversation that can be easily discussed. It is simple to share our truth, not easy. I want to encourage all of my fellow suicide loss survivors to share the truth of your experience!

The picture is of me and Oscar I think about two years before he died. My sense of time since 2012 is a little skewed, and it is hard for me to remember when certain events occurred. We were at my parent’s house on Foster in Bremerton, Washington. I miss those big eyes. You can see how sad he was. Looking back with hindsight being what it is I wish I had done so many things differently. I pray a lot about those things and the only relief I have is when I let God carry it for me.

let’s get into it

For real I keep dreaming about Nick. I really don’t understand it. I know there is a lot that I still need to process about our abusive marriage and it is a lot different working through it while he is dead, but seriously, what gives? My psychologist and I spoke about it a few weeks ago. I told her that I keep dreaming about him and I know I need to work through some of the roughness between us, so she suggested that I write about it. She suggested I write him a letter, which is so cliche, but it is a very common tool when you are working through problems that you have with dead people, I have discovered on my grief journey. Kind of funny, right? But, hey, it must work, or it wouldn’t be a cliche. I know after Oscar died I wrote a letter to him almost immediately. I was so distraught and raw. Just raw. Nothing felt like I thought it would. After Oscar died it was like my feelings got turned inside out. Completely strange how deep grief changes you. Anyway, back to Nick. I keep dreaming about him. I dreamt a lot about him when he first died. I actually dreamt that he died before I knew he was dead. That was weird. And we’ve had other dream time sessions, too. We made quite a bit of progress, actually, but now I feel like we are stuck. So after my psychologist recommended that I write to him, I actually started just writing about what happened between us. A historical account. It is funny because during my session when my doc and I talked about this I immediately said, “Oh, it could be the start of my memoir!” Goes to show you how I am always trying to make something out of nothing. She brought me back to reality by reminding me that I just needed to let it flow. After that first (and only) time I have written about my life then I was so exhausted!

And I keep dreaming the same sort of dream. We are together, even though we shouldn’t be, and he is his happy-go-lucky-I-want-to-have-fun-and-get-laid self. Nick loved sex. It was one of the things that kept us together for so incredibly long even though the abuse and dysfunction was so uncomfortable. It isn’t like we did too much that was wild and crazy, we just had a routine that worked for both of us that we would always fall into. And when we first met it was like fireworks between us. Our chemistry was like no chemistry I have ever felt before or since. That is what I though was love between us. We didn’t really know how to love. On my journey following Jesus (this is sort of new- it has been a push pull my entire life, it is just that about three months ago I finally really committed to Him) I have learned that love is so much more than a feeling. It is an action. A choice that you make to accept someone despite all of their faults and do positive things for them. Nick and I had trouble with that. And he would sometimes seemingly flaunt his faults. Looking back with what I know now and my own experience with grief and how incredible hard it is for me to maintain my okay with a lot a lot of self-care I can see how grief shaped Nick into the reluctant-to-change addict that he was. He used to tell me that the deaths of his brother and sister felt like emotional amputations. I was so cruel. I would tell him he needed to make a choice to move on and get healthy. That is so easy for someone who had never been bereaved to say. I have learned through my own grief that you never really move on. There is always a piece of you that is in the moment that someone you love dies. You are changed irrevocably forever. For the duration. Never the same.

In my dream that is the same, yet slightly different every time, Nick and I are together and we shouldn’t be and we are hiding out from our families trying to have sex. There is always some reason that we need to hide. In the dream I am always adamant that no one see us or know that we are together and he isn’t really worried about it at all. He is so focused on taking my mind off of being worried so I can relax and let him have his way. Our marriage and our home life was a lot like that. We hid our drug use from a lot of people. I wanted to quit from the time that we got pregnant with Oscar in 1999, but he plain told me that he would never stop using, that it was a deep part of who he was and how he managed to deal with the trauma that he had packed away. What would have been more accurate would have been for him to say that his using kept him from having to deal with the trauma that he had packed away. He stuffed it deep down and avoided it for as long as I knew him. It was so rare for him to talk about Jimmy or LouAnn. He was always passing me a beer or a pipe and telling me to relax.

That was what I needed to see. In my dreams Nick is trying to get me to relax so he can have his way. There is something he wants to show me. And here I thought that he was the one not letting me get through to him. I wonder if the next time I dream about him if I can let myself go back to the Jes who would let Nick completely dominate her? That is a scary thought. Makes me want to run. If I can just sort of allow myself to go down that path enough with him I wonder if we can get to the deeper level we need to get to in order to sort through some more of the rough between us?

Working through issues with dead people is hard.

too long

THERE IS SO MUCH!!

It has been way too long since I have written. I feel like I have been through at least two lifetimes in the past few months. My new job is pushing me to grow in ways I didn’t realize I needed to grow. It is interesting, as I have been adjusting to my new unit and the culture there, I have been turning inward. I have been reluctant to share my inner journey with you, which had become such a big part of who I was and what I needed to do to stay healthy before my transition to the CVOR.

After my therapy yesterday with my treasured psychologist it became very clear to me that I need to reach inside and determine what I need to do to stay healthy and then do those things. I need to fiercely guard the time I need to do those things. I am saying that as if it is some incredible realization when really it is a well-known fact, the problem is simply that if I spend too much time away from what I need to do to keep myself healthy my grief comes out sideways.

This is what I have been doing too much lately and not paying attention to myself because of: healing my relationship with Grant. There, I said it. Well, not to mention Covid-19 (learning how to live the new normal with the rest of the planet). Grant always pushes me to be so quiet about what we have going on with each other, and I get it, he enjoys privacy, but I am not a quiet person when it comes to my life. I like for things to be out in the open. Transparent.

I lived a long time in the dark during my youth. I really had two lives then: the life on the outside that looked mostly okay to everyone looking in on us (the mask) and the one at home that was full of anger, alcohol, and marijuana with an abusive husband who had me convinced if I tried to get help for my addiction he would lose his job. Back then I was just trying to keep it together enough to get through school and maintain a job. I have started a writing exercise that my psychologist recommended might help me integrate those traumatic memories. It takes so much emotional energy to do it I can only face it in small bits.

Right now Grant and I have reached a point where we want to live together again but there are some major issues that need to be figured out. The first is that I get virtually zero alone time when we spend a lot of time together. This is because Phoenix prefers my care to Grant’s care when the two of us are together. I have been encouraging Grant to try being more assertive and maybe that will help if I also stop stepping up right away. This kind of change takes time when you are working on this sort of reintegration. Another issue is that we do need couples counseling. And, of course, we seem to be attracted to completely different types of therapists. Of course. Another big issue is our motivation: are we doing this because we are in love with each other or are we doing it for Phoenix?

Another big issue that Grant and I have is our reluctance to share our journey with our friends and family.

I can only speak for myself here, but I feel like we have been through so much and reached such a very low point together that our friends and family were very happy and relieved to see us separate when we did. I mean we went through the whole deal for a proper separation with lawyers and parenting plans and all of it.

Since I started working in the CVOR I have changed in ways I didn’t predict. I have been through some major ups and downs during my transition to my new unit and I finally have started to feel like I am finding my place. This is great because for a few days there I thought I had made a big mistake! One of the things that has come out of my experience caring for this patient population is a renewed and deepened Christian faith.

This is an issue for Grant because he does not vibe with Christianity. He also tells me that he doesn’t think I will maintain my Christian faith for long. I have tried explaining that this has been a lifelong dance and I have finally reached a point where I am comfortable in it and so I am feeling the strength to own it and ground myself in it like I never have before. This will be a sort of living amends for me to Jesus. And time will tell. I will say that a very beautiful realization and discovery has come from my renewed faith: chaplaincy. Becoming a healthcare chaplain as my long-term career goal makes sense and every time I think about it I feel deep peace.

All of this and the churning of difficult times of the year for my grieving soul: Mother’s Day, Pierce’s birthday, Father’s Day, Vivian’s birthday, Phoenix’s birthday, and on Friday, Nick’s birthday.

Here is the good news: Grant and I settled on him not moving in for at least six more months and I am refocusing on my alone time. I think it is best for us to honor our parenting plan and spend time alone together on dates. Certainly, plan time to spend together with Phoenix and my Lane kids as a family, too, but mostly focus on alone time getting to know each other more intimately. No more spending time together like we are living together. There are too many unhealed hurts and I need to spend time alone doing things like writing updates to my blog.

No more hiding.

 

Suicide Grief is Complicated Grief

Well. Here I am on the other side of Thanksgiving. Many wonderful things have happened to me in the past week. I met someone. (I met someone!) My Lane kids and I celebrated Oscar’s birthday in a natural flow. It was truly a joy-filled day, which feels so good. I love that I was able to celebrate Oscar and all of the things that made him so incredible, so special, and not be completely overwhelmed by grief. Thanksgiving was unconventional and very chill (this was due to me being so focused on exercising healthy boundaries in all of my relationships this year). We had a day filled with meeting our new dog (who is also a suicide loss survivor- I am sure I will talk more about her at a later time) and eating fried chicken for dinner before I spent a few hours in the later evening with my new love interest on a very unique first date. We vibe on so many different levels, even the really deep ones. It is a new feeling to be truly seen by a man who is interested in me romantically. I have hope for this budding new relationship, but I am also scared. Scared because I don’t have a track record of positive outcomes in this arena for various reasons, not the least of which is grief. Which leads me to last night.

Through a set of circumstances and motivation that was of purest intent, I found myself listening to live music at a bar. It was so much fun to see all of the people up dancing and having a good time, so many smiles. I found myself smiling and bopping around in my seat, which was enough for two different older gentlemen to ask me to dance. I accepted, mostly because I wanted to allow a full experience of the environment, but also to get closer to the stage in order to see the musicians with increased clarity. I danced two or three times with the younger of the two gentlemen to the point that he wanted to start a conversation. He started that conversation by asking my age. Then he told me he was fifty-two. 52. That’s how old Nick would have been if he were still alive. The gentleman asked if he could sit with me and I politely declined, telling him I was with someone. (Working those healthy boundaries again!) We had a bit more conversation. He told me he doesn’t ever go out, but he did tonight because when he got home from having drinks downtown with friends he didn’t want to be home alone, that he lives just around the corner, but he never comes here and he should come here more often. Then he sat back in his seat, which was just in front of me. And I couldn’t help but watch him drink beer after beer after beer. I did what I could energetically to surround myself in a shielding bubble and send whatever energy-sucking tentacles he had sunk into me back to him, but it was too late.

My world began crumbling into a wave of grief. Nick would have been fifty-two if he were still alive. I haven’t quite learned how to negotiate my Nick-sized grief. Our relationship was so incredibly dysfunctional and he was abusive. Terribly abusive. I have just begun working through that in therapy. I feel like sometimes with the grief that I feel as a suicide loss survivor I cannot help but feel a glimpse of the pain that my loved one was feeling when they died. And that really hurts. That is hard to allow. It is very difficult for other people to be around, as well, when I am feeling that way.

There is so much in that environment- the bar- that I haven’t really dealt with, as well. I haven’t been to a bar since before Oscar died in 2015 and even then I was going to the Green Lady Lounge to listen to jazz, which is a much different environment. Nick’s natural environment was the bar. I remember when we first met he was a regular at the Manette Saloon. Everyone knew him. Everyone called him “Nicky the Mayor”. The mayor of Manette. That was the little neighborhood we lived in East Bremerton, right down on the water there. Looking back, hindsight being what it is, that should have been a red flag for me- that he was a regular at the local bar, but his charm and his smile and his eyes outweighed any red flags you could throw at me. Even the shower of red flags that happened the night before we got married was not enough. There was something in Nick Lane that wrapped itself up tight around my heart and my soul. I fell deeply and madly in love with him.

Our first date was a drive to the ocean. He used to tell me that he could see how incredible I was and he knew he would have to plan something really really special to get my undivided attention. We had such a whirlwind romance. He sucked me right into his orbit. He was so smart. I used to tell him he had a sexy brain. Our good times didn’t last long. His true colors came out the night before our wedding. Then the next thirteen years of my life were spent trying to figure out how to get out. We had three beautiful children during that time. I’ve talked before about how each pregnancy I had hope would be catalyst enough for him to change, to quit using and get healthy with me. It was never enough. He only had glimpses of recovery after our divorce. The pain of the grief that he carried was too much for him and he died of suicide just last year. Just last year. That first wave of holidays was tolerated on a wave of adrenaline and shock. This year it is settling in.

So this is the grief that I carry that is Nick-size. This grief doesn’t feel like an old friend yet. This grief feels like unresolved business mixed with deep disappointment and the only truly madly deeply romantic love I have known to this point in my life mixed with the stark realization that it was a farce. Truly madly deeply romantic love does not verbally, emotionally and sexually abuse you. This grief that I carry surrounding Nick is forever complicated. If I have learned anything about grief the past four years I have learned that the only way to accept it is to allow it. Pain like this is hard to allow. Especially this time of year when we are supposed to be joyous and happy, always looking on the bright side. I wish it could be different, but it isn’t. This is my journey. And I will honor it to the best of my ability. I will keep talking and I will keep sharing. I will continue to have the conversation that no one wants to have, the one about suicide.

September

Oi vey. September. Here again already.

September used to be my favorite month. When asked my favorite season I used to say fall. When asked my favorite time of year I used to answer with September, the month of my birth.

When Oscar died September 11, 2015, that all changed. How could it not?

This year over the deathday week I am taking my Lane kids to the Pacific Northwest, where their lives all began, to bury the ashes of their father, Nick.

Last year, on September 16th two Overland Park police officers knocked on my front door with the news that Nick had died. It was revealed the next day when I spoke with the detective assigned to his case, that he had died of suicide.

We believe he died on Oscar’s deathday, September 11.

It took the better part of six months for Nick’s family and I to decide what/ how to best honor his memory. At the end of April, we all finally came to an understanding that his memorial service needed to happen during the deathday week- it was my suggestion that we honor him on the deathday itself. Since then all of the arrangements have slowly been coming together.

We are attempting to frame this week not as “grief week” but instead as “healing week”. The Lane family is going to once again attempt to put the “fun” in “fun”eral…

I have felt myself pulling way way in over the past several weeks. It started at the first brush of cooling fall air on my skin during August. This round of grieving has once again made it clear who is with me and who is against me. That is an extremely simplified expression of what is a somewhat complicated human response, but it seems fitting to me. When someone tells you that “you are smarter than that” when it comes to having your grief hijack your emotions it seems fairly obvious that the person is not with you. Truly that last thing you need to hear when you are suddenly overcome with grief is that you should somehow “know better”.

Grief is a visceral response to an impossible change in your reality.

There is no thought involved whatsoever.

That experience has helped me, though, once again, to understand myself alongside my grief with a touch more clarity. This is truly something that I feel my way through. And I feel that I am becoming a little bit better all the time at navigating it.

I have been focusing on my self-care more than usual. The basics: exercise, eating nutritiously, sleep, prayer, meditation, bathing regularly. I have also started a new course of mental wellness products which are focused on balancing the Gut-Brain Axis. I think they are helping because instead of feeling completely emotionally spent with zero energy constantly (which is usually where I live this time of year- all the way through until after the New Year) I feel… okay.

Feeling okay is a miracle.

This year I am giving myself permission to enjoy Fall. It is worth a try.

 

16

Wow. Pierce just turned 16.

Oscar died about 2 months before his 16th birthday, so this was huge.

Nick wasn’t here. Nick’s death from suicide in September 2018 has completely thrown me out of orbit. Any of the patterns or rhythms of living that I had just started to re-establish since Oscar’s death in September 2015 were all erased when those two police officers rang my doorbell.

I have had so many difficult emotions since May 23rd, which is Pierce’s birthday. I want to be happy and celebrate and feel joy for Pierce that he made it! He did it! Look at what a strong, beautiful, and amazing young man you are!! He had straight A’s this semester and he aced his pre-calculus final. And I couldn’t share that with his brother or his dad.  I know, I know, they are here even though we cannot see them and sure, we have my folks, and they are wonderful support. They encourage and nurture and teach and set excellent examples of how to be successful in life.

But I really missed Nick yesterday during our family dinner. Because I had gotten used to the idea of not having Oscar at these events, but this was the first big event that I really missed Nick. He would have had a sparkle in his eye and that goofy grin on his face- so proud of his living son. See, in my hopes after Nick moved here when he had hit what I wanted to be his rock bottom in 2017, I saw a future where he was in recovery from addiction and we had made amends to each other and we were co-parenting Pierce and Vivian successfully. So he would have been invited to Pierce’s family birthday dinner.

That isn’t my reality, though.

My reality is that half of my family is dead from suicide. First my oldest son, Oscar, on September 11, 2015, and then his dad, my ex-husband, Nick, on September 11, 2018.

Since we set the date for Nick’s memorial, the burial of his ashes, on September 11, 2019, I have been slowly processing what it is going to take for me to get through that week clean. I have been in recovery from addiction since February 20, 2012. I haven’t been back to the Pacific Northwest since I got clean in 2012. I will be faced not only with impossible grief when I am there, but legal marijuana and lots of old friends who I used with. I am aware enough of how addiction works to know that is a recipe for relapse.

The past year I have not been actively going to 12-step meetings or doing what it takes to really work my recovery. I have been staying clean, focusing on group grief therapy for suicide loss survivors and talk therapy with an amazing psychologist. I have been working full time, in school part-time and figuring out how to be a single mom with the complex emotional needs of my two older children and a very physically active toddler who is nearly two.

As I have turned my face back toward being active in recovery all sorts of things have started to happen. I have spoken with the woman who was my sponsor more than I have in over a year. We are not formally in a sponsor-sponsee relationship anymore, but it is nice to just be speaking with each other again. I have re-connected with some wonderful women who I know will be key in my network moving forward. I have gone to two meetings in the past week. I picked up my black key tag for the 7 years that I celebrated on February 20th.

All of this because I sent a Facebook message to an inspiring man a week ago today after he posted a picture of himself on Facebook graduating from college. We met around the time that Oscar died, he was new to recovery and had just moved back to KC. I have been making an effort to be active on Facebook as part of building my networking skills to help me grow my business. I have been sending messages on Facebook to people I haven’t spoken with in ages to reconnect.

He has been an amazing addition to my life this past week. Usually, people shy away from my pain and my grief and end up relying on platitudes that just make me feel worse. As a response, I shrink away from interaction with them. Maybe because he has had trauma in his life and he carries his own heavy grief he seems to always know what to say.

When I was having a hard time shopping for Pierce’s card (since Oscar died I have not put so much effort into these types of seemingly mundane tasks that make up the little- read that big- celebrations that we take for granted in life) I texted him and he said of course you are feeling pain, you are growing and you know as well as I do Oscar is right there picking that card out with you. No one says things like that to me! It was amazing. There are so many other little ways he has been an amazing support for me over the past week and I am grateful.

This is the other side of 16. Life keeps on going whether we want it to or not. As much as I would love for time to just pause, just for a few minutes, it is not going to. I have almost become a graceful expert at choking back the tears. There were a few times last night that Pierce and I met each other’s gaze knowingly and our hearts acknowledged each other and how incredibly difficult it felt to move forward. Those are the moments I live for now.

As I discover my new pattern of recovery and I begin actively applying the principles of the program to my life it won’t be easy- the program is simple, not easy. I have fear about how the intimate awareness of my character will intertwine with my grief. The steps are in the order they are in for a reason and if I let myself go at the pace my heart dictates and I don’t use, no matter what, everything will be okay. More than okay.

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Health care policy and reform- this is what I am doing this AM

As I have said before, this blog is not just about the pain and grief of being a bereaved mother and suicide loss survivor, but it is also about sharing my thoughts on the research that I do as I go through finishing my BSN. I have been a practicing registered nurse since 2006 with an Associate’s Degree in Nursing, but after Oscar died I felt that the only way my voice would truly carry and give strength to my opinions regarding health care reform is if I had a Bachelor’s in Nursing. So, in Oscar’s memory, I started back to school the fall a year after he died and I am on track to finish after fall semester this year. It has been a long, hard road, especially now that I am newly grieving for the loss of Oscar’s dad, my ex-husband, Nick, also to suicide. Here is what all of my research and thought processes keep boiling down to: we need universal health care and a universal electronic medical record. Period, end of story. I wrote the following paper for my Public Health Nursing class this morning and I wanted to share.

 

The recent article I found is, “Rebounding with Medicare: Reform and Counterreform in American Health Policy,” by Paul Starr of Princeton University.  From my research on the topic of universal health care in the United States, it became clear that Mr. Starr has a strong voice on the matter with a history of several articles and books pertaining to the subject of health care reform in America.  Mr. Starr proposes that we have an opportunity to expand Medicare through a program he refers to as “Midlife Medicare” in response to the Trump administration’s recent setbacks on our progress to provide every one of our citizens with basic health care.

My personal experience as a suicide loss survivor and my professional experience as a registered nurse inform my passion for health care reform.  One thing has become clear to me as I grapple with the disabling pain of suicide loss- our health care system is the root cause of our ills.  And how extremely infuriating!  Here we are in one of the world’s richest countries and we cannot afford to provide universal health insurance for our citizens?  Mr. Starr analyzes the history of health care reform in the United States and notes that all important reform has been made on the rebound from the failure of more progressive proposals.  He acknowledges that the Affordable Care Act (ACA) has had very limited success in fulfilling its goal of ensuring all American citizens have health insurance.  The ACA has been a downright failure in some respects.  It has forced the price of premiums up while not guaranteeing basic coverages to patients.  In other words, just because someone is insured doesn’t mean they can afford to get care, which does nothing to solve the problem of health care for all.

The devastation of not having health insurance or not having adequate health insurance is heart breaking.  There are so many stories to illustrate the social injustice that not having universal health care causes.  It seems that each of us has been directly affected or is only one person away from being directly affected.  The implications on nursing of universal health care are tremendous.  I believe that the positive effects of universal health care are all encompassing.  If we had universal health care, as a nurse and mother, I would have been able to get the care my oldest son needed without traumatizing him with mental health hospitalization.  I would have been able to guide my ex-husband to the care he needed so he could have received the care he required for the treatment of Crohn’s disease without worrying how he was going to pay for it.  I believe, deep in my heart and soul, that if I had been able to make those two interventions my family would still be complete.

I have thought a lot about how to help our citizens who die unjustly, and I am not just talking about suicide, I believe that many deaths in our society happen that could be prevented with adequate access to primary health care for prevention.  My thought processes always boil down to two issues: universal health care and a universal electronic medical record.  At the core of these ideas is patient safety.  Patient safety is the heart and soul of nursing.  I appreciate Mr. Starr’s work and am grateful I found him.  His suggestion of “Midlife Medicare” as a rebound reform to our health care system is right on target.  A positive step in exactly the right direction.

 

 

Starr, P. (2018). Rebounding with Medicare: Reform and Counterreform in American Health Policy. Journal of Health Politics, Policy and Law,43(4), 707-730. doi:10.1215/03616878-6527996

 

 

 

 

daily grief

Even though I don’t talk about it as much as I used to, my grief still looms large. I really like the grief model with the idea that you learn to grow around your grief. I resonate with that fully. I feel that at first my grief was my entire existence. Slowly, ever so slowly, I started learning how to allow myself to feel other feelings alongside the grief. Over the past 3 years since Oscar died I have become so much bigger than I ever was before- energetically. I feel like my energetic footprint takes up at least twice as much space as it did before I began to grow around my grief.

Doesn’t change the fact that sometimes, some days, there will be some sort of catalyst event and I am moved straight to tears. My grief swallows my energy and I am in that darkness without. The sucking without-my-beautiful-boy darkness. I love Angela Miller (A bed for my heart) and how she speaks strongly about how, as a bereaved mama, you learn to mother not only your living children, but the ones who have died, as well. I deeply resonate with that truth. Every. day.

Yesterday, at lunch, in the middle of the employee lounge, I am eating my leftover hungry root (just started that meal delivery service and so far it has been an excellent experience- I’ve tried many and this one is my favorite) focused on staying balanced and focused with my Kangaroo totem energy and the green calcite in my pocket along with my doTerra Citrus Bliss mixed with Frankincense aromatherapy and I open Facebook. There is a memory from 6 years ago of my sweet sweet daughter, Vivian, and her pink kitchen. Her pink kitchen was her very favorite toy for about 3 years or so and when we moved from Washington to Kansas it was a very very big deal when it was finally shipped to us. It was about 6 months after she moved down here that she was reunited with it. Of course I took a picture of her with it as soon as it was unpacked! Well, there was a comment from her dad. Grief started rolling in. There was a like on the comment and I clicked to see who liked it. Oscar. The tears just started. Just like that. Thank God my dear friend, Emily, was sitting at the same table. I showed her what was up and she scooted close to me, gave me a big hug and I had a few seconds of sobbing. My grief overwhelmings don’t usually suck as much time out of my day as they used to, but only because I have learned how to breathe through them. I breathe through them, feel them and consciously shield them with my entire self. It has taken a tremendous amount of diligent spirit work to get to where I am in my relationship with my grief.

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