Hi All,
Well, 11/22/13 came and went. I didn't work. I kept busy, sort of. Spent time talking about my favorite topic: my kids and tried to find the balance between honoring my Dad's life on this first anniversary of his death and still functioning as a sane person. Mostly, I foud I just thought about doing a lot of different things. Here are the things I thought about doing most (not in this order necessarily): buying a bottle of Jack Daniels and drinking all of it while painting my nails black and smoking a pack of American Spirit Menthols in a shitty hotel room that I would pay for in cash and hide in forever or until all of the money ran out, making a mural of photos of my Dad's life, lighting candles and making an alter to him, praying, drawing pictures of my feelings, picking up my kids from school and making them stay home with me, finding lots of pot and smoking it all while playing with my kids (would they like me more?), calling my therapist, calling any number of old friends and crying, playing John Denver, playing Neil Diamond, sleeping all day and letting someone else do everything, hiding, eating only sugar all day, drinking another pot of coffee, running at the reservoir while having a mental memorial of my Dad's life, setting up my own Suicide Survivors walk, becoming a spokesperson for survivors of suicide, never identifying with Suicide Survivors again, calling the therapist who discharged my Dad to say "hi", picking a fight, crying all day.
Needless to say I did not do any of these things. I ate breakfast with my mother in law. I cleaned my house. I looked at old pictures from my Dad's house that I never get time to check out. I notice how much I look like my Dad's mother. I spent time thinking about my Dad as a man and not as a person who killed themselves. I spent time thinking about who he was before. How much I liked him when he was funny and healthy, how much he made me made, how much he loved me and often he was able to tell me and show me that.
Then, of course, I thought about last year. At 1:30pm I looked at the clock and knew that this time last year he was already gone. I had lost him already this time last year and deep down, even then, I knew it. I thought about how he left me and how I left him and how scared I was the entire time. I thought about what it means to show up. I thought about how some people close to me have told my husband that they hate my Dad for what he did to me. Their hate does not make me feel better. I get it but it makes me know that they don't get it. I know that they have not seen what I have. Th depression, the pain, the hopelessness, the inertia, the thick blanket of nothing that fell over my Dad over and over, without warning, for over 30 years. I know you wont believe me when you read this but he kind of was a survivor, he just ran out of steam and so did I. I wish I had known then some of what I know now but, well, I guess everyone feels that way.
I haven't listened to my voicemail in a while. My one last saved one. Ask anyone who has lost someone suddenly, they have one. Mine is long and at the end my Dad says, I love you...I love you a lot. The end. xxK
Well, 11/22/13 came and went. I didn't work. I kept busy, sort of. Spent time talking about my favorite topic: my kids and tried to find the balance between honoring my Dad's life on this first anniversary of his death and still functioning as a sane person. Mostly, I foud I just thought about doing a lot of different things. Here are the things I thought about doing most (not in this order necessarily): buying a bottle of Jack Daniels and drinking all of it while painting my nails black and smoking a pack of American Spirit Menthols in a shitty hotel room that I would pay for in cash and hide in forever or until all of the money ran out, making a mural of photos of my Dad's life, lighting candles and making an alter to him, praying, drawing pictures of my feelings, picking up my kids from school and making them stay home with me, finding lots of pot and smoking it all while playing with my kids (would they like me more?), calling my therapist, calling any number of old friends and crying, playing John Denver, playing Neil Diamond, sleeping all day and letting someone else do everything, hiding, eating only sugar all day, drinking another pot of coffee, running at the reservoir while having a mental memorial of my Dad's life, setting up my own Suicide Survivors walk, becoming a spokesperson for survivors of suicide, never identifying with Suicide Survivors again, calling the therapist who discharged my Dad to say "hi", picking a fight, crying all day.
Needless to say I did not do any of these things. I ate breakfast with my mother in law. I cleaned my house. I looked at old pictures from my Dad's house that I never get time to check out. I notice how much I look like my Dad's mother. I spent time thinking about my Dad as a man and not as a person who killed themselves. I spent time thinking about who he was before. How much I liked him when he was funny and healthy, how much he made me made, how much he loved me and often he was able to tell me and show me that.
Then, of course, I thought about last year. At 1:30pm I looked at the clock and knew that this time last year he was already gone. I had lost him already this time last year and deep down, even then, I knew it. I thought about how he left me and how I left him and how scared I was the entire time. I thought about what it means to show up. I thought about how some people close to me have told my husband that they hate my Dad for what he did to me. Their hate does not make me feel better. I get it but it makes me know that they don't get it. I know that they have not seen what I have. Th depression, the pain, the hopelessness, the inertia, the thick blanket of nothing that fell over my Dad over and over, without warning, for over 30 years. I know you wont believe me when you read this but he kind of was a survivor, he just ran out of steam and so did I. I wish I had known then some of what I know now but, well, I guess everyone feels that way.
I haven't listened to my voicemail in a while. My one last saved one. Ask anyone who has lost someone suddenly, they have one. Mine is long and at the end my Dad says, I love you...I love you a lot. The end. xxK
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