today is my birthday

September 11th came and went. The five year milestone has come and gone.

And now the next biggie day during full on grief season: my birthday. This day has been absolutely miserable for me since Oscar died. It just has. There is so much there and I think the main point is how can I still be here and he is dead? Out of order death, especially from suicide, is one of the hardest to bear. For whatever reason the reality and truth of Oscar’s death is especially stark on my birthday.

I have realized since the 5 year milestone that I am ready to start talking more about other things in my life and not focus so much, completely, entirely on my grief and how it has changed everything.

And this morning, miraculously, I woke up feeling grateful. My heart was full. I have an amazing family (my kids are beyond incredible), I have super supportive parents who only want to see me doing the best I can (whatever the best I can is), I have an amazing career, I have a beautiful home, a new car, I have a vibrant dating life, I have a truly fabulous support system of friends and colleagues, the list goes on and on. I love the path that I am on. I am grateful for my journey.

I am grateful I have been doing the work with consistency to stay healthy in my body and mind leading up to this grief season. I have been very focused on exercise, writing, eating well, and sharing in everyday conversation when I have the energy to share. Another fabulous healing modality that I have utilized with regularity leading up to and into this grief season is massage. The energy work that I have been doing has been on a deeper level than I have ever been. And, man, it has been so enlightening!

September 12th I realized exactly what I want to do with my career. I want to work part time in the OR and work part time in private practice as an Integrative Health Practitioner. I am in the process of applying to a graduate program through Drexel University online that would have me beginning my Master’s of Science in Complementary and Integrative Health the Fall of 2021.

Since I had this realization, it is like I have felt a great sigh of relief from the universe. I feel my path aligning for my higher purpose; my ultimate opportunity to give back to the community.

42 isn’t looking too bad.

Every year I relive Oscar’s last year

Facebook. Thanks to Facebook each and every year I relive Oscar’s last year through reminders of memories.

The cycle of my grief has hit a rhythm that I seem to be flowing with fairly well these days. I have begun to feel gratitude for my experience as a bereaved mother (that is a place I never thought I’d be). This morning on my drive into work I listened to my Calm app daily meditation, which I have been doing for the better part of the past year. It helps. There are many cliches and platitudes that I don’t buy so easily since Oscar died. Sayings like “there is always a silver lining” or “everything happens for a reason”. It so happens that the daily meditation today was about resistance and how our suffering increases as we resist things in our lives, especially the things we cannot change. Okay, I can vibe with that (which is progress for me, by the way). Then at the end of the meditation the cliche was dropped about seeing the silver lining in each situation that we cannot change. Just a few short weeks ago I would never have been able to say that there was a silver lining to my son’s death.

Even now it feels sort of uncomfortable admitting that I have reached a point that I can see a silver lining out of what I hope was the darkest time of my life. What is the silver lining? The silver lining is that I finally went back to school and finished my BSN. I had no plans to go back to school before Oscar died. I was making as much as I could make in my nursing career as a staff nurse in the OR. And I loved my job at KU. But after Oscar died I needed to feel like my voice carried more weight. ADN wasn’t enough anymore. I also wanted to do it for him. In his memory. So I did.

Today’s Facebook memory was my excited and hopeful declaration that I finally had full custody of all three of my kids. My heart is breaking because I had no idea what 2015 had in store for me and my family. No idea. I completely trusted God to care for all of us and show me the way to heal all of my beautiful children, especially Oscar. I am finally to a point in my grief journey where I am beginning to open back up to healing my relationship with my higher power. It isn’t easy; it is simple, but not easy. I am trying to allow myself to feel comfort in faith again. And trust. Trusting is the hardest.

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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Christmas 2018

Christmas sucks.

This is Christmas number four without Oscar and Christmas number one without Nick. There was no way I could bear the thought of being at home today, so a few weeks ago I did what Nick would have liked for me to do: book a room at Great Wolf Lodge. We have an incredible room! We got an upgrade, so I have my own room. So wonderful. I am so grateful to be able to do this for the kids and for me. But this is one of the conundrums of grief: feeling two opposite feelings equally as strongly at the same time. I am grateful for the now, spending this time with my kids and having a break from it all, but the pain of loss is especially poignant right now.

Christmas used to always be proceeded by a sleepless night for me and Nick when the Lane kids were all little. I remember Nick used to say, “Christmas should be a good time for us, we deserve to have one good time a year, Jes.” And so every year we would splurge on the kiddos. So many gifts! The tree would always be bursting and the stockings overflowing with all sorts of fun stuff. We went broke each year a little more at Christmas, but the smiles on the kids’ faces were so worth it. I didn’t know that then. The crushing debt was one of the issues that broke our marriage. There were lots of reasons we were dysfunctional and needed a divorce, don’t get me wrong, but the debt added a level of stress that was smothering.

This year, since Nick died, I have been struggling. Truly. Just to see what his death has done to our kids and to feel that heartbreak and also my own in a world that will. not. give. has been exceptionally exhausting. All of the same levels and types of emotion and pain as when Oscar died, but without any grace. None. The world shrugged it’s shoulders and laughed while saying, “let’s see how you make it through this one.” So many emotions. How do you stay focused on the good in a set of circumstances like that?

Lots of ways. I see Oscar everywhere, and this helps me. Sometimes it is unbelievably sad and painful, but mostly it makes me smile and fills my heart with warmth. I stay connected spiritually by taking care of myself. Aromatherapy every single day if nothing else. It’s funny, I take that shit to work and sometimes I feel like I am pedaling drugs because I offer to share my aromatherapy with co-workers who are stressed out. Lately I have been taking aromatherapy and a crystal of some sort to work. And it helps. Oh does it help.

I have also been working with my shadow self to understand what she needs. First I had to free her (see my starsprae intuitive healing arts blog for more about my day to day healing work). Now I am working with her to help her find her voice again. Lots of years of suppression has not worn well on her. She is wild and free, full of inspiration and amazing life. I have seen glimmers, we are working to make it easy for her to be seen. A morning routine of a tarot reading has been part of my healing process for about a month or so now. I love tarot! It is fun and intuitive and it is helping me stay focused.

The hardest work I have had to do recently is in the area of romantic relationships. I think Nick’s death has influenced this quite a bit if I am completely honest. Since he died I have been mourning the loss of so much- the potential of a healthy father for my older children, the only other parent to Oscar (all of those memories that Nick was the only other person who was apart of!- now I am the only bearer of them), the potential for healing our relationship- I would have liked to be friends with Nick again. The feelings are complicated and deep. It will take quite a long time to get through them. Years and years. All of this has made it harder to tolerate relationships in general, let alone the romantic relationship with my youngest’s father that I have been trying to heal. I gave myself permission to set a healthy boundary with him a couple of weeks ago. I could hear Nick’s voice in my head- “The timing, Jessica, the timing! You always have the worst timing!” Yes, just a couple weeks before Christmas and I set a strong friendship-only boundary. I cannot try for anything else right now. I need space.

Space to remember. Space to be the mother to my children that I feel I need to be. Space to grow my talents as an energy healer. Space to make my own home. Space to spread out. Mostly space to remember. So much remembering lately. I love my psychologist. At our last session she encouraged me with this idea, “You are ready when you are ready.” This applies to so many different things! I am ready to remember. I am ready to let myself go to those spaces. I am ready to stand up for my needs. I am ready to forgive (even though that is going to take me a long time to do completely, Nick!) I am ready to live as who I am.

I cannot believe we have to do Christmas this year without you, Nick. I do wish you were here to spoil the kids and share your jolly Christmas spirit with them. It was the one time of year that you always made into the best for us, for them. I know you tried so so hard.

Oscar, there was a three pound Hershey chocolate bar at Walmart this year! I would have bought it for you if you were still alive, no doubt! I miss you so so much. You would have been on your first winter break from college. I wonder what you would have been studying? You would be here with us. On the pull out sofa. Ready to splash and play and have fun with your brothers and sister. You were always my mother hen. Taking care of everybody. I wish I could have done better teaching you to take care of yourself. I know you are still here with us, I feel you here with me right now, but that doesn’t change how much I miss you.

Christmas sucks as much as it is wonderful when you are a bereaved mama and divorced widow.

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poem

yearning to hear his voice

smell his skin

touch his face, his shoulder, his hair

look into his beautiful eyes

his eyes like rare jewels with a spark of knowing

always with a hint of mischief

i want to say the words one more time

so he can hear them

oscar i love you

you are my life, my soul, everything that is good about me

my reason for living

my first baby

you have taught me everything about life that is worth knowing

please don’t go

please stay

but it is too late for all of that

he is already gone

he has already left

the pain i feel cannot be defined by words

every single moment i feel his absence

whether waking or sleeping

i feel his absence

my life is now defined by the death of my oldest child

his death from a disease shrouded in taboo

and not understood

largely because it makes people uncomfortable to speak the words

pediatric suicide