Yes, this is my life

This motto is widely used in the Marines. It's something I really paid little attention to before Mike died. He took it seriously. In fact, I am certain that is why he took his life. The circumstances leading up to his passing support this too. The days prior to his death he took down all his military awards  plaques memorials and photos from his garage. When the SWAT team made entry to the house that night he was found in his gym shorts. In his pocket was only his drivers license. Now, anyone who knows a Marine knows they have their military ID on them always,  he didn't want to be identified as a marine after taking his life. In his eyes, suicide was a sign of weakness and Marines weren't weak. I spent eight years trying to convince him to get help and when he finally realized it he decided he'd rather die than dishonor the cherished Corps. Because he never sought help I am now repeating history trying to convince the VA he was sick. It's like Deja vu. It'

Last night we were shopping for a Ford F-250 to pull a fifth wheel. We've been looking for weeks. We finally found one that was not outrageously expensive, had the features we desired and decent milage. We were all super happy driving off in it. Everyone was smiling and excited for all the great adventures we will have as a family in the rig. We love camping and traveling so it really was a big moment for us... Even though my heart was filled with such joy and excitement on the way home as I trailed behind in the Volvo watching the kids stick their heads out of the quad cab windows letting their hair blow like puppy dogs...a sadness came over me. Mike really wanted this truck. It was all he talked about for 6 months before he passed.  He searched online just as we have been doing trying to find the perfect one. I wished for a moment I could have gotten him that truck. I won't fool myself into thinking it would have saved him but he would have momentarily been as excited as we

For the first time in a very long time, when it's quiet and my day is done, after the kids have gone to sleep I am content. For the past 13 months I have dreaded nightfall. At night when my chores were done and my body would rest my mind would run wild with anxiety and fear, sadness, emptiness, longing with a sense of just being lost. I have noticed the past few nights that I am at peace. I feel accomplished by day's end and can sit with myself in silence.  I really hope the feeling stays. I think I like the new me. I don't want anything, I don't need anything. I'm not too hot or too cold, lonely or frustrated. My hearts not racing. I'm not mentally preparing an escape route should disaster strike. I'm just enjoying the softness of my favorite throw blanket on the couch, the breeze flowing in from the patio. The chimes jingling.  The anxiety is slowly starting to let up. I haven't needed my sleep medication for 6 months and I haven't need the kolonip

Twice today I have been told something along the lines of " suicide is the most selfish act imaginable". I understand why a person may think that but I disagree and I have been teaching my kids otherwise. I will tell you why: A person who is suicidal is unable to think rationally. They really honestly and truly believe life would be better without them around. We know that's not true but we aren't the ones who are sick. And that's exactly what I've taught my kids. Their dad didn't make a conscious selfish choice. He felt he had no other choice. He didn't abandon them. I believe that whole heartedly. I don't believe people who are contemplating suicide have the reasoning and rationally required to be selfish.  When you take that factor out of the equation there is no resentment, only empathy for the person no longer with us. I'm not angry, I am doing my best to raise his children to not be angry but instead to understand the deep depression as a

I have been very vocal about our experience, the struggle both before and after my husbands suicide. Mostly because I know it's not uncommon but no one wants to talk about it. No one teaches us how to cope, how to help our servicemembers with PTSD and suicide prevention.  I wonder sometimes if I share too much. Do I bore people with my thoughts feelings and experiences but then I get a message like the one I got tonight from a random Facebooker and I know people are connecting, understanding and needing to hear it. As painful as private as raw as it can be...it's working. Thank God! 

My first experience with PTSD was as a child. At the time my grandparents lived with us and my uncle was returning from the military after being in long before I was born. Both her and his brother, my other uncle served in Vietnam. My uncle was going to be living with us until he got settled. Before he came my grandma sat us down for some very specific and serious rules. I had no idea why but if my grandma made her serious face and said it...it was the law. We were told to never ever wake him up by shouting and shaking him, the way we did to each other. No reason why was given. We didn't ask. We were told when we woke him up to open the door, flip on the light and say his name from the door. We were instructed never to never try to jump out of dark corners and BOO! him. The way kids do in fun. Never try to startle him. Again no reason was given but we didn't ask either.  I learned later why. His natural reaction was to defend. In startling him, he could accidentally hurt us in

I finally watched the movie today. It reminded me how cruel like can be.  Hazel said "you gave me a forever within a number of days and for that I am forever grateful. I love you so much" I don't know if it's worse living a length of time knowing you're dying of a terminal illness or having it all taken away in a blink? I guess we all know were dying. It's inevitable. But would we live differently if we knew it was coming soon? She said no pain in her cancer battle compared to the loss of her loved Augustus. She was even able to tell him everything she wanted to say before he passed. I think that's the worst part. There are so many things I never got to say. Just like the novel Hazel was obsessed with our story ended in the middle of a sentence.  No pain compares to how my heart feels every minute of every day. Grief is like emotional cancer. I take the medication, have a great support network, talk talk talk about it and still it doesn't get better. I