Yes, this is my life

I have really bizarre dreams when I don't have nightmares. Mostly my recurring dreams take place in high school. It's usually the end of my senior year. I cannot remember my locker combination or where my classes are and I usually find out I don't have enough credits to graduate so I must return the following year to finish. This dream has been happening for 20 years now as I graduated high school in the late 90s. My own son will be a junior in the same high school I attended but I digress... In this dream I was getting on the bus on my first day of school. By the time the school bus got to my stop it was already quite full with students. I got on and looked around for an open spot. Toward the back I saw but one seat available. As I walk to it the boy seated next to me refused to make eye contact. I know he could see me and I smiled as I got closer but he just turned his head and stared out the window. I remember feeling awkward and wondering if I had offended him. I heard

Since losing Mike many other survivors have came into my life. All at varying points in their journey. I have helped many and many more have helped me. Supporting others is a delicate balance between being a soft place to land and being brutally honest. You have to know when to hug a person and when to tell them to get their shit together. Sometimes...no most of the time when you have to do the latter it causes tension, outrage, defensive insults but in every case I've had to do it, after the initial shock wears off they reevaluate things and have thanked me later. No one wants to hear it but if you expect others to be honest with you it must be done. It's never done as insulting. It never comes from a place of anger or emotion. It's part of being a truly supportive ally. Today I had to do it and it was met with much hatred and anger. I knew the true frustration she felt was within herself so I  didn't take it personally. After she posted a scathing reply to me and del

I didn't not have a traditional childhood. We moved quite often, for one reason or another. I didn't go to school at any particular school for two consecutive school years until I was in the 7th grade. After my parents divorced we laid stakes in a small Missouri town an hour outside of St. Louis. Ofallon Missouri. I consider this to be my home town because we lived there from the time I was 12 until I was 22 years old. I had always been an outsider. I never really lived any where long enough to develop close friendships. Although it was difficult to be introduced into communities where strong bonds had been already forged the experience allowed me to adapt easily and gave me skills that many don't possess. I had met many people, from many different backgrounds. Although we never moved outside our state there is a huge culture difference in the city and farming communities just miles apart. I think this aspect of my childhood was a gift and as much as I hated it as a kid it

I'd be lying if I said Mikes death didn't change me. Not bad, mostly good actually. I was more angry, resentful, isolated and lost before he died than now. I had absolutely no control. I could not help him and he could not help himself. He just kept slipping deeper and deeper into the darkness. The air was thick, our lives became a struggle to make it through the day. I guess people don't understand that suicide from his illness is not sudden. It can be like suffering from cancer. Sometimes it can take you quick but like in Mikes case it started with a few symptoms here and there, then progressing for years. I was literally watching him die and he was refusing any medical intervention. This was one of the most frustrating aspects. I HD to constantly remind myself he wasn't well. He wasn't intentionally hurting us but that constant debate in my head became louder and louder as time went on. It pissed me off that he couldn't see it, or admit it. That he was put

It was very emotional exhausting having Mikes death rated service connected but there was so much more going on since the moment Mike died. EVERYTHING THAT COULD GO WRONG DID. The VA didn't know of course, that's not their job. They can't take my hardships into consideration. They have a process and although I think it needs major improvement, I guess they did their job. I owe great thanks to my VA Rep Bob. He cared. That's so rare. Let's go over the unbelievable things that occurred in the wake of Mikes death: He did it in our home, with my children, my nephew, sister, brother in law and myself present. The coroner's office released my husband's body to the wrong funeral home. Apparently they do have to show paperwork or anything. Someone shows up and they just release them to whomever. His body was lost for about 12 hours. When the proper funeral home was in custody of his body the wrong funeral home TRIED TO CHARGE ME FOR ILLEGALLY TRANSPORTING HIS BOD

I found out this week that after two years fighting for Mike's suicide to be ruled "service connected"....the VA granted service connection officially. I screamed, I cried, I thanked God. I felt relief for the first time in a very long time. I honored my late husband. My final act of love and devotion to the man I'd loved since I was 14 years ago. I set the record straight. I wanted to give up a million times but something inside me said I couldn't. It was the right thing to do. I knew him for 20 years and personally witnessed his decline. I am now and was then certain his death was connected to his sacrifice to the country. His ultimate sacrifice. There were several reasons I stayed committed to taking this all the way. The most important reasons were Kira, Mason, TJ, Jimmy, Ron and Jan. His family. The one who created him and the one we created together. You see, my kids spent most of their life only knowing the illness. Not the true him. The man I knew who s