Yes, this is my life

My husband's suicide is not the reason I'm a damaged person. That began long before his death. Statistically I was more likely to end up in an abusive relationship because of my childhood. It's not something you consciously go out and look for either. It just happens. Like attracts like. I thought back then in my 20s if I got far enough away from the chaos and addiction and bad environment I could have a chance at "normal". I didn't realize then that what I was running from already lived inside of me. The damage was already done. I just went from one unhealthy environment to another. Neither better or worse, just different. It wasn't until after Mike died and I began working on myself that I learned I will always be this way until I address the issues inside me. It doesn't matter where I go. Just being away from a bad situation won't fix it. I would always end up with the same or similar outcome because it's me that's broken. I'm not

I've been asked how a friend can help someone who makes suicidal suggestions, threats or promises on social media...especially friends who are not close in proximity. Even friends you don't know location. How can you get them help if you don't know where to start? The first and easiest is to send me the persons name and what you know about the situation. If I'm friends with them especially and this method happens most often. I've now prevented suicides from happening in Florida, Alabama, Louisiana, Indiana and Colorado from my home in San Diego. I've also stopped them here and in my home town but those were easy to hunt down. Everyone who posts on social media give a plethora of information about their life whether they realize it or not. If you are actually paying attention to what your friends say you pick up bits and pieces of their lives. If your friend posts something concerning or uncharacteristic you feel it in your stomach. It just drops to your knees.

I'm going to do my best to express what happened today and how I feel right now and I hope it makes some sort of sense. I'm shaking, so wound up. My head is spinning and I doubt I will sleep tonight. I was told I saved another life today. I've done it before...stopped a suicide. Up until now it's always been a stranger or a friend of a friend. This time was too close to home. This time it was a childhood friend. We went to school together. His brother and I were pretty close in middle school. I remember having a huge crush on him back then. He was tall and dreamy and had perfect hair. We grew up and moved to opposite parts of the country. Me in California and they in Indiana. We still kept in touch through Facebook. His brother later took his life. A few years later my husband did the same. We became very close in that shared pain. Today was the anniversary of the brothers suicide. He posted a "good bye" on his Facebook page and a mutual friend saw it and to

Sometimes when the house is very quiet and I'm alone I ask Mike to appear or give me a sign he's around. It never happens and I am completely aware it sounds crazy. I used to feel him around me. I dreamed about him. I could swear I smelled him randomly here and there. Now it is as if he's gone for good. Not that he wasn't gone for good in 2013. Maybe it means he's found peace and crossed over to heaven or maybe he was never around at all. Maybe that was just my grief-stricken imagination. Maybe it was a way to deny his absence. To fool myself into thinking he isn't REALLY   gone. I don't know.

Yesterday I got a notification from twitter that one of my "contacts" joined twitter. The name made my stomach drop. He's not a contact anywhere I can find. He's a mistake I made and just seeing his name makes me feel bad. He's a boy I dated for a couple of years when I was a teenager. We had a very dramatic relationship. He would probably say it was our magnetic chemistry but in hindsight it was because he was a raging alcoholic and when drunk did incredibly stupid things. I was his designated driver before I even had a drivers license... Although we dated for a few short years he's always managed to randomly show back up every so often in the 20+ years since. When I was first married to Mike and Mike was in Iraq he showed up at my apartment drunk around 2AM, pushed through my door and tried to put his hand up my shirt. He was a bit too eager though because I stepped slightly sideways and he fell on his dumbass face. I asked him if he had someone to pick h

Has anyone ever told you to "just leave the past in the past"? I could be wrong but every time someone says that to me it's as if emergency bells lights and alarms go off in my head. In my experience people who refuse to talk or even think about an event, period, or person in their lives are doing more harm than good in this practice. They refuse to reflect on the shame or blame of choices made or traumatic experiences. They may think blocking it out forever is a good coping skill. If you don't think about it...it'll magically disappear. That's so far off. Not resolving whatever has effected you so deeply that you can't even say the words out loud is harming you even if you don't notice. You probably aren't consciously making a choice to change your behavior or attitude but denying and repressing feeling and memories can only work for so long. At some point you're going to be like a tea kettle on a hot burner. There is not time line when you

On Veteran's Day I was sent a screen shot of a vile Facebook status posted under the name Tiff Reina. I have attached it here to help you understand my concern. I was not mad. I was hurt. I took it quite personally because my husband was a Marine. He did have PTSD and he did "put a bullet in his head". I couldn't understand how the presidential election, veterans with PTSD and the mocking of mental illness could be both connected and evoke so much rage. I posted the screen shot on twitter and it's as close to viral as anything I've ever shared. The response was so much that the notifications drained the battery of my cell phone. After I picked my jaw from the floor I began to recognize why I couldn't make sense of it. It's because I have seen this disjointed incoherent rambling before. It's very similar to someone who personally struggling with their own mental health. After that it was very easy to forgive her. I don't fault people with menta

In the 20 years my husband was a Marine there was never a question of who's job took priority in our home. It was he who had a contract with the government. His commitment to the country came first above all other matters in our home. He was dedicated and obligated to serve as the Marine Corps saw fit and it was understood by us both. That does not mean I was thrilled when the Marine Corps plans ruined the family's plans but we became accustomed to this unique way of life. He made many sacrifices in those 20 years and although he was living his dream it still took a toll on the family. As a Marine's wife we were taught early on that any sacrifice we made paled in comparison to the Marine we married and to complain of our struggles was blasphemy. Marines are sleeping in sand pits, ducking fire and watching their comrades die while we bitch about them not being able to attend our child's birthday party or something "petty". I believed it too. I did my patriotic

On Halloween you pointed your gun in my face. I heard the click and prepared for the pain that would follow but nothing happened. I want you to know who you nearly killed Monday October 31, 2016. My name is Misty. I'm the widow of a Marine who died just three years ago in September. We have three children. Two of which stood on the balcony of our home and witnessed you pull the gun on me that night. Had my life been taken my children would have been left orphans. They are just 9, 11 and 17. They would have had to bury both parents before they were even out of their childhood. This wasn't the first time I have been the victim of gun violence. My husband of 11 years took his own life in front of me with a rifle. A rifle he recieved for Father's Day. A rifle he was trained to use for 20 years in the Marine Corps. Had you killed me both parents of my children would have died by gun violence. Watching my husband take his life gave me PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The

Monday was Halloween. It was a good one. The kids had their bounty of candy and I'd finally got them settled and ready to tuck in for the night. Sean and I plopped down on the couch exhausted and started to watch a documentary about Richard III when Mason came down and said there were people all over our front yard and hiding around our vehicles. So naturally we walked out to see what was going on. I had heard partying at our neighbors house since before sun down and assumed Jeff, our neighbor was having another holiday party. He was notorious for hosting great shindigs. But as we walked out we noticed the people were all young...teenagers. they were walking both toward and away from his house. I couldn't really figure out what was going on so I walked toward his house to find him. I came to the door and his son Sam stood there looking scared and mortified. I asked where his father was and what the hell was going on. He said his dad was out of town. He invited just his basebal

I missed you today. Well, I miss you everyday but this morning more than usual. I found my first ever GRAY HAIR. I plucked it out and stared at it forever. I thought about your reaction had you been here. I know you would have had a ball with the news. You'd say something like " you don't know it's your first ever. You've been bleaching your hair since we were teenagers! You'd give me shit about getting old and I'd give you the look that you know means you better run. I'd chase you down the hall, though the kitchen and dining room, the kids join in the attack as surely as we made way to the living room and at the foot of the stairs you'd toss yourself on the steps and the kids would jump on you like spider monkeys. My minions. I'd declare myself avenged and tell you that I might have a gray hair but I'll always be younger than you! At some point I know I'm going to need to stop imagining what you'd say to things if you were still he

I'm sure by now you've read that I have chosen to go the medical marijuana route for my anxiety and insomnia. Because of it I have been able to stop two prescribed pharmaceuticals Kolonipin and Trazadone. I've been on it for just over a year now and overall I'm very happy. I use it in the late evening and it really does what I need. I've been educated on the strains sativa, indica and hybrids. I know now when to use what and for which symptoms to switch. Before this I didn't even know there were different types of marijuana. I thought it was all the same. I never really used it even as a teen. Maybe a handful of times total in my life socially. Never actually purchased it personally. I had always had such a negative view of it. I lumped it in with any other illegal substance. I'm probably the last person you would think partakes. I'm a convert, it's true. Because it's made my life so much easier. With THAT being said...and with my commitment of

I spent this past weekend at the National Suicide Survivors Seminar given by TAPS where I'm a proud Peer Mentor. I'm not just a member of a group but a part of a family and this is so good for the soul. It was in Florida this year. The resort was beautiful and the company I was in...top notch. On the last night of the event I walked out to see the most brilliant sky. It was literally and symbolically breathtaking. We don't get clouds like that here in southern California. As I was snapping a few photos it occurred to me that this phenomenon could perfectly describe the way PTSD and Vet Suicide progress. I stood there nearly in tears considering the fact. This is a visual example of something that many of us understand but few can put into words. This is an exerpt from an email I sent earlier in which I do my best to convey how PTSD progresses with time. I hope you can connect. Maybe it can help you understand your own struggles or those of your loved one: These people do

Day 1 Friday September 30 Flight arrived on time in Tampa. Picked up my rental car and drove to Tradewinds Resort in St. Pete. This resort is huge. It's humid as shit. The weather is going through menopause. Hot and humid one moment...raining the next. Five minutes later hot again with no evidence it even rained to begin with. Rinse and repeat. The Gulf of Mexico looks a lot like the Lake of the Ozarks. I registered as instructed. Ran to the Pavillion to eat before next scheduled event. I got my plate at the buffet and purposely found an empty corner table. I sat quietly enjoying my meal. This was my quiet before the storm. I relished in the few moments recharging, looked at my phone, noticed the time and jumped up to rush to next event. As I turned around I was met by another TAPS member with a Team Leader shirt on. She asked me if I was ok. I was puzzled. Asked why? She said she saw me eating alone. I giggled. I told her that was intentional as I am trying to get "me ti

What I've learned above all since his death is suicidology . Not just the sterile clinical study of what causes suicide but rather, the raw ugly reality of how the mind of someone considering suicide really works. It can't be summed up in meaningless often misleading statistics. The focus has been so firmly sighted on the number 22 that it's completely lost its meaning. The public has forgotten that those 22 were fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters sons and daughters. They were people who were loved and people who are sorely missed every minute of every day. Suicidology isn't just the study of what causes suicide and the prevention of a death...it's giving a suicidal person hope and the tools to tackle their demons. Preventing a death isn't good enough...not with out the understanding and trust that it can and will get better. It's not just prolonging a life...afterall, you can stop the suicide today but if they aren't given the proper skills and resou

I am 100% convinced that the partner I have chosen in this leg of my journey has made it possible to heal and love again. I owe him a debt of gratitude for allowing me to come to terms with my reality as a team. He shares in our loss and is patient understanding and humble. Losing your spouse especially at a young age is incredibly difficult. On one hand you're expected to grieve "properly" and the other: to "move on". Both are unrealistic expectations by friends and family...a society really who do not truly understand this grief. There is no proper way to grieve and you never really move on.  These things are myth. Being a majority belief or concept doesn't make it the right belief or concept. That is a hard road for us. Just knowing that these beliefs are expected by others but that we don't have to give the people what they want. By nature we want to please those around us. Pleasing others will not help us ultimately and many of us learn that the ha

This is my "introduction" for new Mentees and maybe just for those of you just beginning to read my blog. There's nothing really unique about me or my story. I'm just an average 37 year old mom of three in most aspects. I guess the only difference is that I became a widow at age 34. That is a very young age to lose your spouse. My husband and I grew up in the same subdivision in a small town outside of St. Louis, Missouri. Our brothers were both named Jimmy/Jimmie and the same age. They were friends first. I met my husband Mike when I was a freshman in high school. He had just graduated and enlisted in the Marines. So I guess you could say I'd known him pretty much my whole life. We were in each others lives in some way or the other for 20 years when he died. We were married for 11 of them. Friends first, partners for life. We got married in Vegas. In a Drive Thru. We were married in January of 2003. Two weeks before the war was officially declared in Iraq. He

Natural Disaster and Post Traumatic Stress are not that much different. What could they possibly have in common? They don't discriminate. I've often compared our traumatic loss to a tornado ( I grew up in Missouri so that's the natural disaster I know best. Could be any one of them) . It blew through so fast and furious, leaving such annihilation in it's wake. PTSD and a Tornado are alike in many ways. There is no way to tell which person or which home will be destroyed. All they require are the right conditions. You can have two houses standing side by side on the same street in the exact same tornado and one will be ripped from the foundation as the other stands completely intact. PTSD works exactly this way too. Two people who experience the exact same trauma can have completely opposite outcomes. There really is no way to predict who when or where exactly. Just like a natural disaster. We can identify warning signs for both. But even a siren won't determine ex

Every year around this time I get sick. My immunities are already weakened and the stress, lack of sleep and depression wreak havoc on my body. I've got my signature sinus infection. It's that time. I've accepted it. I'm not super thrilled. I'd prefer to not be Ill but I know why and I just expect it. This year I've noticed things are a bit different in my grief. I'm not sad for me or longing for what could have or should have been. I'm just so incredibly sad with his absence on this Earth. The void is overwhelming. He had so many plans. He had dreams. The thing about loving someone is when they achieve their dreams it's as much a win to you. I'm sad he didn't have the chance. He wasn't a perfect person. Not by any means. He was flawed and toward the end I don't think he even recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He was a stranger to us both...but I knew his hope and dreams were still in there. It was just buried undernea

I think there are no coincidences in life. Everything happens for a reason. I don't always know the reason until I'm meant to know. I am okay with that. When you are of the opinion that nothing is chance the world seems a bit magical and situations can even be divine. Perhaps it's my convoluted imagination or simply wishful thinking. Does it matter? Nope. I'm not hurting anyone or myself in this thinking and it makes me smile. I will give you an example of this occuring:  Tuesday after school I took the kids to Del Mar Beach on base. It is the ONE place where I can almost always feel Mike's presence. It was our place. It's where we built sandcastle with the kids, jumped waves and had several family photos done. It's so strong, this feeling that it brings tears to my eyes just stepping in the sand. So, back to my story...we went to the beach this week. As the kids are jumping in the shallow waves I walked along the shore line. As per my usual I began to tear

I don't think Mike had any idea how far wide and deep his suicide would touch. It was much like a domino effect. It didn't just change me, my kids, his parents and siblings. His snap decision. His warped notion he was doing us a favor was so far off. The three year mark since his death is in a few weeks and the gloom is upon us. I thought it was just me but I'm realizing so many people were negatively impacted by his death. My sister who was in our home the night he took his life is also feeling the heaviness. I have so much sadness that she her son and husband were witness to such horror and my husband was at fault. It makes me at fault by proxy.  For the rest of my life I will worry this event will cause a relapse in her sobriety or other issues. I held my breath in the years since he died because I know this sort of trauma can be a perfect storm. You may or may not know that my husband killed himself in our garage. It was a Sunday. By the time we were able to go it was

Next month is the 3rd year mark of Mike's death. I can already tell it's taking a toll on my body and mind. I don't even realize it's happening until it's already happening. What I mean is I can prepare myself as much as I try and it subconsciously occurs anyway. My anxiety is pretty high. I'm not sleeping again. I am more startled by visual stimulus and have the obsessive repeating thoughts of the night he died. It's like it's on a loop in my brain playing over and over. I go minute by minute though the events that unfolded that night with a fine tooth comb in my mind. The look on his face. The sadness in his voice. The gun in his hand. The terror I felt when I heard him rack the rifle. The fear paralyzed me. I didn't scream. That lone gunshot. The silence that followed. My confusion. Irrational as it is, I continue to relive it. Every day in the weeks leading up to the "anniversary" my thoughts are filled with so many emotions. Every day

All loss is hard. There really isn't such a thing as an easy death or easier grief that follows the death of a loved one. I have lost many loved ones in my 37 years. The loss is different each time but I can't say any of them were easy.  The deaths most profound in my life were the one l heald closest bonds to naturally.  My best friend died in a drunk driving accident when I was 16. My grandmother died when I was 25. My favorite aunt died when I was pregnant with my middle son. My grandpa died the following year. My husband died in 2013. Like I said, none were particularly easy but of the losses I have experiences the traumatic/sudden/suicides hit me the deepest and took the longest to come to terms with. By the time my husband took his life my best friend had been dead longer than she lived on this earth and I was still not "over" the loss. I knew when Mike died that feeling would be as much or more. Just anticipating the pain coming was unbearable. I knew from my

**Disclaimer: This blog post may trigger your PTSD or make you sick. Just a warning but I've got to get this out.** I was lying in bed listening to 20/20 almost asleep. My body was relaxed. My eyes were closed. Sleep was coming. But then, in the program there was a reenactment of a police shoot out. The gun shots rang out. I began thinking the sound of the gunshots in the program sounded nothing like the shot that Mike died from. The shoot out on TV took place outside and from a distance. There were echos with every shot. Little ripples as it tore through the air to its intended target. There was no echo when Mike pulled that trigger. I suspect it was because it was a close contact shot and his body absorbed the shock and provided a damper for the sound. It was more like a Black Cat firework I remember from my youth. Just a loud pop. I then began thinking about the night he shot him self. How exactly did he manage to turn a rifle around and shoot himself? Aren't they long? W

There are many aspects of my life that fascinate even myself. Since losing Mike I've spent a great deal of my time reprioriortizing and reaffirming my connections with the people I love. I've been on a quest to find out who I am and where I am from in order to rebuild my life. Part of that was getting knee deep in my DNA and family tree. I have so much more of an understanding of what I'm made of now. I have amazing stories of ordinary and extraordinary ancestors and one day I will share them. There was still a huge void though. When I was about 15 or so my mother was on the phone with Child Support Enforcement inquiring about our case with the state. The representative gave my mom the wrong information in error. She got off the phone looking rather shocked. She relayed to me that my father apparently had another child...and in Washington State across the country! They would not give any other information as they weren't even supposed to say that much. My jaw dropped..