Yes, this is my life

People keep asking me if I'm mad at Mike or at God and I am not. I know why. I understand the illness. I feel is emptiness and sadness. I feel as if literally a part of me is missing. Sometimes I feel grateful for the years and love I was given but honestly right now I just feel scared.  Scared to death. It's officially New Year's Eve. Tomorrow I start my first year without him since 2002. I did many deployments and long training trips without him but I wasn't scared. I knew it was a mutual sacrifice we made for each other and the country. Now I know he's not coming back to me. Tomorrow I have to say I lost my husband last year. My children lost their father.  But despite all the loss and sadness, because of him I felt for the first time what it was like to be a complete family. A mom and dad, three kids a dog and two fish. I was given that gift. Not everyone gets that. So I can say I am lucky for that taste of a real family....the kind I had longed for my whole lif

Thinking about having to move on has me thinking about what do and don't want in a mate. I'm compiling a checklist of sorts. I'm not going to settle. Life is too short. So here's what I have so far: I want him to look at me like the most beautiful girl you ever saw--the wayJay did. I want him to make me laugh like Tony did.  I want him to make me feel safe and protected like Mike did. I want him to respect me the way Tony did. I want him to fuck me the way Mike did. I want him to stimulate my brain the way Jay did. I don't want a sugar daddy. I pay my bills. I don't need a daddy for my kids but he will be a good role model. I don't want a man who can't find the irony in life. Life is, if nothing else...hilarious. I don't want anything to do with men in relationships. If you'll cheat on her. You'll cheat on me. I want a man who's good with his hands.  Creativity is a turn on. I want a man with a passion. Anything, just something he loves.

The only thing keeping me going now are my kids. I'm drowning in the sadness and grief of his loss. I want to let go and surrender to the darkness. My heart literally aches. I go through the motions everyday. I'm here but I'm gone.  My fear is that I will never feel the love we had. No one will love me the way he did. I can never give myself to another man.  I'm dating, I'm trying...it just doesn't feel the way it did. I was robbed of my one true love. He was not perfect but he knew how to love me. As a matter of fact he once gave me a Tim McGraw song that describe it. http://youtu.be/ucvbc8t56Aw It's Christmas. I want to be with him. I want him to hold me and tell me we will make it through this....I'm alone. So empty. 

My husband committed suicide on Sunday September 15 at 11:19pm Before daylight I notified my boss of the situation and that I would be off for a bit to arrange his service and take care if his affairs. She was understanding. My entire department even attended his funeral.  I attempted to return two weeks later to work. I just couldn't do it. The noise of the sales floor, the loud banging the people everywhere. Something just wasn't right. I spoke to the general manager through tears and explained I just wasn't ready. He told me to take as much time as I needed.  I ended up checking into a psychiatric unit and was diagnosed with PTSD which explained my odd reactions to noises and crowds. I called work and let them know. We kept constant contact throughout the ordeal.  One day two weeks later my boss called me and her tone was different. She asked how I was and I told her I was doing my best. She explained she couldn't just hold my job open indefinitely. I told her I woul

I guess the only way to describe my feeling today is resentful. I was watching some stupid TV show and a couple was out walking by the ocean and he got down on one knee and proposed. They were both crying. She said yes and they kiss and hugged and it was beautiful....and it pissed me off.  I don't even know why. I don't love anyone enough to marry them. I don't know if I ever even want to marry again. I just want the love back. I would have done anything for him. He had my whole heart. I could look in his eyes and see my whole world. I'm starting to date again but it's not the same. I'm trying to keep my heart open.  I desperately want to be loved so unconditionally again. I want to love.  Happy couples just make me angry today.

Recently I've had to put seriously thought into who I really am. This is what I know: I hate breakfast food, but love breakfast for dinner. I adore vintage pinup. I'm the biggest romantic ever. I am addicted to claw machines and scratch off tickets. I am sad every time I look into my childrens eyes knowing they will grow up without their father. I don't think I will ever be loved as deeply as Mike loved me. I feel hollow most days but somehow stay positive. I love Eddie Vedder.  The Crow and The Notebook are my favorite movies. I read a lot.  When I was a teenager I read Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil and ever since I've wanted to live in Savannah GA. I have read every Dean Koontz book. I'm terrified of broken glass.  I love to sew. I love being domestic. I loved being a wife, mom and family. I love strong manly, hardworking/talented men. I want to travel to Ireland, Rome and Italy. I like fast cars but my heart belongs to a 57 Chevy. American Muscle turns

Today is the 15th. That's officially 3 months he's been gone. Some days it seems like time is moving so slow. I can't even describe how I feel. Sad, empty, anxious, nostalgic... I can't seem to really get anything done today. I just stopped trying. I thought about going to visit his grave today. Maybe I still will. It's just a shiny rock with his name on it. However, as his wife I feel obligated to go and make sure his area is tidy and looks nice.  I just don't know if the pain will ever let up. So many things I want to tell him. So many things we had planned for the future. I'm trying my hardest to move on and build a life. I just never imagined a life without him in it. Where do I go from here?

For the past week my sleeping has really been affected. I think my body is getting too used to the Minipress. I wake up in a complete panic and I'm covered in sweat. Sometimes I'm freezing because my hair and clothing are soaked.  I'm not sure why I'm panicked. I can't remember the dream. Sometimes I'm crying, others I'm breathing as if I had been. It's not the best feeling in the world. I think I am going to have to talk to the doctor about it. My waking hours are ok most days. I have fewer breakdowns. My patience is steadily returning. I'm not startled by every loud noise. It's not all bad. Just these damned nights.

There are things that people probably don't know about Mike. We spent nearly 11 years married and 20 years friends. He was a private guy. He got the nickname "Big Evil" at work because he spoke so little. The truth is he was a very sensitive guy under that. I only saw him cry a handful of times and nearly all of those times were tears of joy. He felt deeply but had a hard time verbalizing it. In those moments of tearful joy he didn't need to say anything, I already knew. The night we got married as he said his vows he began to choke up. He made me cry in doing so. I jokingly whispered under my breath "OMG! I fucking hate you!" It became code for "I love you" for the rest of our married life.  When I went into labor with Mason we arrived at the hospital ready to meet him, only we learned he was breech, couldn't be repositioned and I had to have an emergency c-section. I could see the panic and fear in Mikes eyes as they wheeled me into the OR. A

After an exceptionally trying day with the kids, I decided to take a long hot bath. Pandora playing Willie Waylon and Johnny. It was my moment of zen. Or I thought. After I got out of the tub I dried off and grabbed Mikes green undershirt shirt. It was up over my head, not even fully on when his scent hit me and without so much as an exhale I crumpled to the ground in tears. I held the shirt to my face and bawled, a loud ugly cry. I don't know why exactly. I can't even describe the emotion. I have washed this shirt 2 dozen times since he died. I guess wearing it daily for 20 years leaves a permanent trace.  Like his scent on the shirt he's left a mark on my heart. I will never fully be over him.  I take two steps forward and one back.  My heart is open to new possibilities but as long as there is a scent on this shirt I will be holding on to the past. My rational brain says I need to toss it. My heart says keep it by my face when I sleep tonight. Just one more night.

I was told to brace myself for the holidays that they would hit me like a ton of bricks. The magnitude of my harsh reality would knock me down. So, I took that advice. I prepared myself.  This morning I woke up with all my children, my sister and her child and my brothers children under my roof. I'm not sad. I am proud. I am so thankful to have all my babies together. This is something I've longed for, nearly 11 years now. This moment.  Instead of counting my sorrows, I'm counting my blessings. I have everything I need and most of what I want. I have amazing family and friends. I have healthy growing, thriving, funny, beautiful children. We have much love and laughter.  I have a home, food, my bills are paid and I have security. These are things that some people struggle to have a lifetime. I've got it. I appreciate it. Yes, this year has been a hard one. We have moved cross country, changed lifestyles, new home, schools, jobs, lost Mike and are now rebuilding this new

I wonder how long this is going to last? I'm not at my darkest, not in denial, not consumed with grief but still having a hard time letting him go. I still feel a constant dull pain in my heart. An emptiness within. I feel a bit frustrated with myself.  It's almost December, the holidays are coming up and it won't be our first Christmas without him but it will be our first Christmas since he's passed. I made the mistake of saying "chicken butt" today to Kira and immediately cringed. Instead of making her sad, she smiled and closed her eyes saying "My dad used to call me that!" I have been avoiding words and phrases that we have always used with them because I was afraid to make them more upset. I realized in that moment that they need them. They want to hold on to those memories. I want to as well. What do I keep and what do I let go?  When will I feel whole again?  When does the hurt stop?  I've let go of anger, resentment, rage, denial. But I s

A psychic contacted me recently and told me she was compelled to share a few things about Mike. Most of which were not surprising. The thing that stuck out most was she said Mike didn't originally intend on committing suicide. That was not his immediate intent. And this is something I really wrestled with. When I called 911 that night he got to the first landing, holding a loaded rifle. He looked up at me and said "you called the fucking cops?!" It just seemed so odd to me. So unusual.  The question in my head was what was his immediate intent? Was he just trying to scare me? Did my calling the police make him feel as if he now had no choice? Was he planning on something worse? After all these thoughts I relived the last few moments of his life, every detail. I know now that I wouldn't have changed the way I handled it. From the moment I heard the bolt of that gun click and knew he had a loaded weapon in the house I had a duty to protect my children. They are first ab

When he died it wasn't just the loss of his physical life it was the death of our life as we knew it. I am learning this more as time goes on and the reality sinks in. I was speaking to a friend this evening and he mentioned he bought an older house. I said that was a goal that Mike and I had before he died. We wanted to buy an old run down house and completely rehab it ourselves. We had all if these plans...ideas...dreams.  When he died so did all of those dreams. All of the vacations we planned taking the kids on, places we were going to travel. He was supposed to take me to Ireland. We were supposed to have a recommitment ceremony after he retired since we ran away to Vegas all those years ago. We wanted all our friends and family around to celebrate with us. I've accepted that he's gone. I now have to make peace with the fact that all our dreams must be let go too. I have to make my own way, goals and dreams. I am not the same person I was two months ago. 

Today I felt a sense of closure in seeing his headstone. I was more proud than anything really. He served his country proudly. His children will know he was a hero. We can now let go of how he died and remember how he lived. There is no longer anger, resentment, guilt or shame...only sadness for my family and every one who loved him. It will never go away. It will always be there.  I will honor him in my work with veterans and their families. Sharing our story and saving lives. I know I cannot change what happened to him but I can try to prevent it from happening to others.  ...and nothing else matters....

I'm not angry, or resentful, or in denial. I've fully accepted he's gone but I just miss him. I'm lonely a lot even in a houseful of people. It's just this emptiness. I went from being with Mike for 11 years to being so terribly alone. I have plenty of friends and my children to keep me busy but it feels like I've left my house without my purse everyday.  I miss him. I miss how no matter where he or I was going I would always kiss him good bye. Even if I was just running to the gas station.  Every night at bed time Kira had to kiss her dad first and then me. Always in that order. I miss watching him play in the floor with the dog and the kids. I miss cutting his hair and making him supper. I still have to stop myself from grabbing him a doctor pepper when I stop anywhere. He loved chocolate cake and chocolate frosting. His favorite meal was Lasagna. He drank Jack and Dr Pepper. He loved the Walking Dead and woodworking in the garage. Of I gave him an idea for so

http://m.stltoday.com/news/local/metro/invisible-war-mounting-toll/article_1012a40a-7fdd-5ac6-bfd6-c31025ae110c.html?mobile_touch=true Our story hit the Sunday edition of the St.Louis Post. Front page and three pages total.  Tomorrow is ironically the Marine Corps Birthday. We are also coming up on two months since he's been gone. Besides the article in the Post I will also be a guest on a radio program tomorrow morning. It will be to share his story and promote awareness.  I would rather have him remember for who he was not how he died but I must sacrifice that in order to help others. So many are suffering. It's not a cake walk for us. It IS getting easier to manage everyday. The kids behavior has changed. My beautiful sweet and always easy Kira has taken to throwing tantrums of epic proportions. The blow ups come out of nowhere. Mas and Tj are still being defiant and testing limits. I'm short tempered and hate noise. It's a blast. It will pass. I'm getting out a

Maybe I'm searching. Maybe it's just wishful thinking but he's with me everywhere I go. I get little signs. Little reminders of us. We were in IHOP this evening waiting for our carry out order when our song came on the overhead speakers. Manda Kira and I stopped for a minute and just smiled. I looked up and a customer came to the register to pay wearing a Marines hoodie. He looked at me and winked. We are nowhere near a base. Seeing a hoodie is unusual. Not like Camp Pendleton. The nearest base is 3 hours away and it's Army. It's just little moments that keep happening. We were together 11 years so maybe I can connect anything. Maybe I'm losing my mind. I don't know.  I miss him. He was intolerable sometimes and drove me nuts but he was MY grumpy husband. For better or worse, sickness and health. Until death....maybe even after?

Kira and I were sitting on my bed playing with her new toy and she asked if tomorrow was a school day. I told her yes but it's the last day and she has the weekend off. She told me she wishes it was 6 days. I told her she had to wait til Thanksgiving. Then a spark lit in her eyes. She said after that is CHRISTMAS! I started to ask what she was going to ask Santa for.... ...I knew the answer before it came from her lips and I felt my head pound and heart rate jump.  ...she wants Santa to bring Daddy home.... I had to tell her the truth. He can't do that but I miss him too. We all do. We talked about him and what we missed. Mas came in followed by Lu. We sat here on the bed and talked about how last Christmas Daddy spent all Christmas Day building all their gifts. It wasn't sad. It was a happy moment. I think we are going to be okay after all.  

Every morning I wake up and open my eyes, roll over and realize it wasn't a nightmare. He's dead. Not deployed. Not at work or in the bathroom. He's gone forever. It takes me at least 30 minutes to come to terms with it before getting out of bed. There was a rumor going around that my inlaws suspected me if killing my husband. I know I did not pull the trigger but I do feel I killed him in not saving him. If I could have stopped him, I would have. I'm incarcerated in my own mind. Locked up for not making him better.  Doctors call it "Survivors Guilt" I call it the lowest I've ever felt in 34 years.  Every morning I wake up and mentally walk into my prison cell. I've myself now been diagnosed with PTSD. The difference is I WILL get better. I am getting grief counseling and medication to overcome or at least catch up to this. Someday once the fog burns off I feel pretty good. Somedays I just stay in bed. Everyone is worried about me. They ask what I need

Now that I'm good and buzzed I'm going to take minute to be completely honest. I don't care what anyone says or thinks. They can fuck off.  You've ruined my life. I don't care that you were sick. I tried to get you help. I begged and pleaded with you to see a doctor. You took the easy way out and literally left me here to pick up the pieces.  I gave you 11 years and two kids and you and you threw it all away. You abandoned us. The gunshot will never leave my memory. Hearing the police tell me you were deceased rings in my ears. I am so incredibly pissed and sad. We will never be the same again. We have to go on with our lives knowing you're gone. I have to hold the kids when they cry for you and hide in the shower to cry for me. I'm empty. In one shot you took it all away from us. I forgive you but I will never get over this.

I loved being married. I enjoyed all the domestic things I did everyday. I kissed Mike goodbye when he left for work. I had lunch ready when he came home everyday. I made sure the house was clean and dinner was cooking when he walked in the door after work.  I only cooked for him. The kids would be completely content with ramen or a bowl of cereal for supper if they could get away with it. I got really good at making amazing dinners for him to try. He would tell me it was amazing and thank me even if he hated it. My favorite time of night was the quiet time just after the kids went to bed. Usually we would be playing our respective phone games but we were there together.  It was a mundane routine life but I was content. Even on the days his temper was short, he was moody and just really hard to please. It was our life. All I ever wanted was to be a good mom and wife. I tried my hardest to make great memories for our family. Don't get me wrong, I had flaws. I was unorganized. Easily

At 11:17 tonight it will be a month he's been gone. I am not angry today. Sad, lonely and feeling abandoned. His death has had an effect on me in so many ways. My self confidence is at an all time low. I tried so hard to help him.  My rational brain says he was sick and it wasn't my fault but my heart says I should have been a better wife. I should have given him more of a reason to stick around. There was no goodbye. No chance for me to plead with him to stay. He left no note. No closure at all. I was married to him for almost 11 years. He and the kids were my life. I dropped everything to follow him, happily, wherever the Marines sent us. Now, there is no kiss goodbye every morning. I don't make him lunch. I have to stop myself from making purchases for him at the grocery store. I still pull a plate  out for him at dinner time.  I've never been alone. I don't know how to do it. I've never made a choice without considering his opinion. I feel empty.  The season

It's been a month since he died. I can't remember dreaming since. Last night was the first dream I can recall and it was a doozy. I dreamed that the whole experience, his death, the way he died...it was all a dream. Mike was laughing at me for being so hysterical. (Which is so him btw) he said "I didn't go anywhere. I'm right here!" I woke up rolled over and there was someone next to me. For a split second I though it was all a dream! I looked closer. It was my 14 year old son. I got out of bed made a cup of coffee and had my morning cry. I think I'd rather not dream at all. 

Read Me First On September 15th at 11:17pm my husband committed suicide. I was standing just on the other side of the garage door when it happened. The shot rings in my ears even as I type. I knew it was a close range shot. There was no echo just silence. For a moment I froze. Time stood still. My kids were asleep just ten feet away from the door. It was a great Sunday, I made a Fall wreath for the front door, baked a fabulous chicken. Just a usual Sunday, really. Except Mike seemed a bit off. Anxious. More than his usual. That evening after the kids went to bed my sister and I were doing facials in her room. Laughing and goofing around as we do. When my clay mask dried I went into the bathroom to wash it off. Mike paced in and out twice before I asked him if he needed anything. He looked at me with a stare that I didn't recognize and said "I want you and the kids to have a beautiful life." He walked across the hall into our room and closed the door. I was puzzle

So you wanna be a hipster?! It's all the rage these days. I don't blame you at all. But where to start? How can you achieve the style you might wonder. Never fear, I'm here to help. Follow my carefully laid out recipe and you'll be just as annoying as all the other hipsters. You are but steps away from complete douchebaggary! I can feel your anticipation. Here we go.... The first step is to refrain from showering for at least a week. You want to look as clammy and exhausted as possible. Style your hair with baby oil. By style I mean throw it in there run your fingers through it. Don't bother looking in the mirror. Mirrors are so mainstream.  That should cover hipster hair and skin care. Second, clothing. We will make it simple and go one clothing item at a time with examples of how to obtain these items. The main clothing highlight in this style is to choose the most ill fitting ensemble you can find. And it doesn't matter in which way either. The clothin

Dear loved teenage girl in my life, There is something I want to share with you. Recently I got some new that disappointed me but mostly scared the hell out of me. It brought back memories of when I was 15 and in your shoes. I dont want to yell at you but I want you to understand why I am so concerned. I want you to listen to my experience and know it is a cautionary tale. I was an average 15 year old girl as you are today. It is so common to struggle with the temptations in life at your age, you dont know if you are a woman or a girl. You want to just hurry up and be an adult. But the fact is you are not. You are not emotionally capable of acting like an adult. No one expects you to. But at the same time I do want you to make the best choices you can so you will make it to adulthood to have the choices. Drinking is an all around bad idea at your age. Not just because I said so but because I had to learn the hard way. Let me explain... When I was 15 I met a boy who was 22. He hung