Yes, this is my life

Since Mike's death I have been committed to not allowing his death be in vain. I promised myself that I would make a difference. I would help others feel not as helpless and small, confused and alone as I did. I would share our story in an effort to try and prevent other veteran suicides and comfort the survivors too. What if I cant? What if am just not equipped to truly do anything? I will never ever say he died for nothing. If nothing else I have grown as a person, as a mom, as a woman and as a member of society. I am more patient with others. I am more kind. I ask how others are doing and genuinely care to hear their reply. I hug my kids more. I value my relationships. I know that all connections with others must be fostered. I work harder to show the one I love how important they are to me. What if that's all there is to it? What if that's what I am supposed to take away? What if my difference is less of a roar and more of a whisper?  Should anyone really ...

No matter how far I come in my waking hours it's always my dreams that remind me how far I have to go. Last night in my dream I was in the car with the kids. I was speeding down a windy road but I wasn't going forward. I was going in reverse. I was doing my best to avoid oncoming traffic knowing full well the danger we were in. I couldn't change the direction of my car and was accelerating by the second. The next thing I knew I was blasted in the back of my head. I saw stars. I went blind for a few seconds. I remember telling myself I had to stay conscious. I had to remain calm and awake to protect the kids. I asked them in my daze did they hit me. They all said no. They were ok. It was only me who had been hit. It made no sense and caused more panic. The pain was excruciating. I was the only adult in the car. No one was there to take the wheel. I fought the loss of consciousness. Everything went black and I woke up.... When I began to calm down I asessed the dream and k...

E Tu Brute?! In mythology Ceasar and his wife both woke the morning of March 15th with dread. Both suffering nightmares through their slumber. It's said that his wife begged him to stay home that day. She had a gut feeling that something bad would happen I'd he left. He left anyway and she was right. He did not come home again. I think it was Shakespeare who coined the phrase Beware, The Ides of March! And E Tu Brute!? The story goes that he was rushed by several towns people one being his best friend Brutus. In the story his last words were that of disappointment to see he was participating in his own murder. Betrayal. Heartbreak. He was stabbed 22 times by the men and once by his closest confidant. 22+1 (that's ironically the vet suicide rate reported) I woke today from a terrible dream. In my dream Mike reappeared. Told me he had a girlfriend and no intentions of remaining a part of my life or our children. I was crushed and mad. I screamed at him until my throat was...

I've come to accept my reality. I have made peace with Mike's death. After nearly three years though, I constantly relive the night he died. I go over every detail leading up to his death. I wonder if there was something I overlooked. Could I have stopped the events from unfolding? Had my choices that night been different would he be here today? I remind myself that it was God's will and Mike's, I had little control. When he said "you called the fucking cops?!" Did he feel I  gave him no other option? Did he feel I backed him into a corner? Had I not called 911 would he still be alive? Would he have unloaded the rifle and put it away? Did my gut instinct to protect the family push him past the point of no return? I beat myself up daily, in my mind. Mulling these things over and I always come to the same conclusion.... That night, for the first time in 20 years I didn't care what he did to me or himself but I was not going to let him harm our family. My k...

I've been asked that alot since Mike died. Am I angry at him or God for his death? I have fleeting moments of anger. For the situation but never at him directly or God. My faith has actually become stronger since his suicide. If you knew how much he'd struggled in the years before his death. If you'd seen how hollow and detached he'd become and how beat up by the illness he'd endured...you couldn't blame him. Am I mad that he was sick? He's no more responsible than if he had cancer. He didn't make himself sick. He didn't cause this to happen if you see the whole picture. If you look strictly at the manner of death you could find fault but what CAUSED it was out of all our control. In that respect you can't fault him. And...maybe that's my own personal way of justifying it. But I find a peace in this way of thinking. He didn't abandon us. He didn't leave. It wasn't a lucid consideration in his death. He died as a result of his ong...

5:38AM That's what time my phone said it was after I woke up bawling this morning. It was still dark. I don't remember the details of my dream only it was about Mike and it had me upset. I rolled over and reminded myself it was just a dream and that if I tried I could sleep a bit longer before getting up for work. This is common lately. I have two types of dreams. The ones where I wake up crying or the ones where I wake up defensive in panic half convinced I need to run. Where? From what? What brought me to tears? I can't recall. All I can clearly remember is the feeling the moment I wake up. Once upon a time I could remember the dreams so lucidly. Every single detail. I could tell you every word he said. How he smelled. The lines in his face. Now I have no recollection. Not even fragments. However, the feeling it brings seems to linger all day. Always present in the back of my mind. On these days I have a harder time. Everything seems to remind me of his death. Of my l...

I don't know what the professionals call it or if it's even really been discusses but there is a period of time when a person dies in which I refer to as the "novelty period". Most people are well meaning, some people just like to be involved in whatever is popular. There is a certain self gratification people get by consoling the bereaved. It's hard to explain this strange behavior. People come out of the woodworks. It's positive and helpful at first. You really do need support after losing a loved one. But then after a while it just stops. Maybe they think you've "gotten over it". Maybe someone else has died and they've moved on. I don't really know but I distinctly remember the deafening silence that came then. It felt like an oxygen pump was shut off. It sort of takes the wind out of you.  I have helped many families since my own loss and learned it wasn't just something that happened to me. It seemed very common. So much so tha...