If Heaven Had a Phone...

I would call Thomas and talk to him about the daily struggles his kids are facing. I would ask him for advice on dealing with his son's anxiety, because he, too, struggled with panic attacks and general anxiety. I could ask him to talk to Destin, and let him know he really isn't having a heart attack every time he has a panic attack. I would ask him what punishments he thinks are appropriate for the things that have happened lately. I would ask him to talk to Destin about drug use and all of the problems it caused him and his family. I could have him explain to the kids that he became such a different person when he became a father, and that he wasn't like all the druggies in his family anymore. He could reassure me that he is happy that he was able to work enough that his family receives his SSI, and allows me to provide for his kids no matter what. He would tell me that I need to stop feeling guilty and I need to remember to forgive and not judge.

 I would be able to talk to him  about his nieces. I would tell him how we were right, that their step-dad was sexually abusing them. I would tell him how they moved in here, and the oldest one attempted suicide several times while she was here. I would tell him that the younger one is pregnant. I would tell him about all of the late night calls, and hospital stays, the talks about the horrible things they have endured and how sad I am that we didn't do more. I would tell him that the older one is such a beautiful caring person who's pain runs so deep that she can't even see her own beauty. I would tell how the younger one is so beautiful on the outside, but is living in a life if denial, that makes her ugly inside. I can hear him laughing when I tell him that she hates me, because we both know that there is always time for healing and forgiveness.

If heaven had a phone, I would call my mother and ask for her advice. I would ask what anyone could have done to prevent her suicide. I would ask her what I can do to help save my nieces life. I would update her on all of her grandkids. I would ask her why she left us. I would remind her that I forgive her and tell her how much I love her.

If heaven had a phone, I would call my Grandma and tell her I understand what she meant when she used to tell me she is so tired, she wishes that she could just lay down, close her eyes, and never wake up. I would wait for her kind, warm, words of wisdom, and soak up her beautiful voice. I would ask her if she is caring for my little Arianna, and perhaps she would tell me my grandpa is holding her right now. I would ask her for her choke cherry jelly recipe and tell her how much I wish she was her to show me how to make it. I would talk to her about how angry I am with my step- grandma for forcing me out of our home after grandpa died, and how I haven't been in the house for almost five years. She already knows about everything, and she would remind me that harboring anger only hurts me, that I have all the great memories of that house, and that I should practice forgiveness to free my soul.

If heaven had a phone, I would talk to my grandpa and tell him how scared and alone I feel sometimes and he would tell me to quit that nonsense. I would tell him how sorry I am that I didn't listen more. I would tell him how lucky I was to have grandparents, and how bad I wish my kids had grandparents. I know he would tell me that when he was raising me alone, he had to be my mom and grandma and dad and grandpa, and I would remember that he did a wonderful job. I would remind myself that I need to forgive myself, and keep doing the best that I can do.

Who would you call if heaven had a phone?

Who I Am

I am so many things. A woman, mother, survivor. My life has had so many experiences and it is mottled by so many stereotypically "bad" things. Today for the first time I have realized that long ago, I mastered defining myself. Is the definition complete? Of course not. Do you see me as I see myself? Probably not.

Take for instance, one recent aspect of my life... my chronic binge drinking. Do I call myself an alcoholic? no. When my life got out of control with an addiction to meth, did I call myself an addict? no.

There are always aspects of my life that are out of control, yet I still remain strong and I am able to proceed with this certain confidence that I can do anything I want to. Why? because I genuinely believe it.

I don't believe in God. Haven't for a long time. I believe in the good of all people and I believe there is good energy, beyond what we can see, that can be felt and can be harnessed, but I do not believe in some judgmental guyish type entity that has control over anything or that has expectations of me or that will punish me if I do not act accordingly.

I also do not believe there is a conscious existence after this one, so I really do make the most of using my consciousness :)

I know I haven't been around in a while. To try and explain all of the missed events would take entirely too much time and most of all energy for me to relive so that I could type it all out.

Today I spent the better part of the day looking for blogs on eating disorders. My niece is bulimic and she has been staying with us for awhile. When I haven't been reacting to a suicide attempt, panic attack, or sitting in an emergency room or psych hospital, I have been trying to understand the pressures that could lead to such self destructive behaviors.

The big thing that is missing, is self acceptance. As I read blog after blog, no matter the subject matter, there is a consistent theme of people who do not accept themselves. Fear that their appearance is not good enough, belief that they are unlovable, pain that they do not see themselves as capable of curing- whether it be emotional or physical pain.... and even worse I see so many people using one substance or another to try and feel better.

I guess that the big difference for me is that I learned to accept myself. I have also abused substances, but I abused them for the immediate gratification of whatever effect they caused and not to numb any type of emotional pain. When I abused meth, it was because I was recovering from a physical dependency on prescribed pain medicine and I liked the energy and alertness it gave me. My addictions were more of a physical and chemical relationship and when the risks outweighed the benefits, I quit. It was so easy because I did not have emotional dependencies on the substances.

It seems like such an aha for me to realize this for myself, but also as it applies to anyone else who is suffering. The key to overcoming an addiction or self destructive behavior or disorder is self acceptance.

Ironically, I did not master this until I had gastric bypass surgery because I was miserable in my 360 lb body, lost 200 lbs, had a body lift and got boobs, and realized that I could change my packaging all I wanted, but all it really changed is how other people saw me. What this taught me, was that what really mattered all along is how I saw me. How could I have ever thought that someone else's opinion of me trumped mine? How could I have ever thought that any one individual life was more important than another. You need to matter to you. You can be the best you and honor the good in you through self acceptance.

Where does this leave me today? That is the question I am asking myself. I haven't quite found my place in society, but I secured my place in the Universe from the start. I am not sure I want a place in society. I don't look too highly on fancy houses or cars. I only get out of my pajamas if I have to! None of my possessions define me and to be quite honest, most things in my house are purely functional, nothing impressive.

I took back control of negative and positive energy in my life when I realized nobody deserved to cause me pain, and that I have a right to decide what and who I want in my life. So yes, I have amazing emotional control over my life. I do not have any of the typical things that people usually associate with happiness, but I have myself and I happen to like me, so I am happy.

In any given situation in my life there is always one constant, me. If I don't like me then there is always going to be negativity in everything that I do. If the negativity got to be so constant and overwhelming, I can see why I would use other outlets to try and bring positive in or get the negative out... such as needing a codependent relationship, a substance, etc.

Some people have religious beliefs and they believe that the only constants are themselves, God, and Satan. I don't like that equation because it gives away too much. I like having control over how much negative is in my life and I don't like writing off certain behaviors as godly or evil. I believe everyone is capable of making their life something that they love. I just don't know how to help someone else to believe in themselves.

I've been lying to you...

... actually I just wasn't telling the whole truth. Over the last couple of months I haven't even thought of writing. Why? The events of my life have been too chaotic and have taken up all of my energy.

I am on a new path of self discovery, but it is only after I confess something, that I can feel that this new path can begin here. So here it is.... since before I even began this blog, I was an alcoholic, and so much of what has been written here was done so in complete drunkenness.

There I finally said it!

When I started writing here I was in denial. I thought I was just socially drinking and having a good old time. I was so proud of myself for beating meth that I justified a 2+ year long alcoholic celebration.

I don't know how many times I thought about mentioning it, but I was afraid it would take away my credibility. I was really enjoying being a supportive voice to other addicts and their parents. I had not accepted that drinking to the point of blacking out everyday was a problem.

My guilt really started to accumulate when I started to see a pattern of out of control spending on alcohol and not enough money for necessities. I knew that I could easily turn to many of my online friends for support, but the truth was, I just wasn't ready to quit. I didn't know what to replace it with.

So here I am, slowly taking steps forward on life's uncertain path. My life did not spiral out of control the way that it did with meth, but I realized I was taking a wrong turn and headed slowly back in the wrong direction.

It feels good to have many consecutive sober days, to be without the daily need of alcohol, and to remember going to bed at night.

Sometimes I would write here on this blog, while I was blacked out, and it would be like a little surprise to get up in the morning and see if my blacked out mind matched up with my sober one.

It is never too late to start taking steps in the right direction.

Calm acceptance and moments of contentment, despite my daily struggles

My head is swirling with thoughts and ideas. I haven't found where I want to be in life, but somehow, I feel for me, that when I have, that will actually be when my life is literally over.

Everyday I have a new idea, new insights, and new passions that guide me. I ALWAYS have more questions than answers. I have a semi-conscious voice that reminds me of what I "should be" doing on a regular basis. When I drive down our street of lower-middle income houses, down to the only duplex at the end of the street, that we only rent, I long for home ownership. I briefly envy the newer cars, the boats and RV's parked beside these homes. I imagine the professions these people have in order to allow these luxuries. I imagine houses full of family and love, and many good times shared, and for a brief moment it feels like the only way to have these things is to own a home, a nice car, some toys, and a mentionable profession.

Then I pull in to my front "yard" that is really an asphalt blacktop with scattered weeds. I get out of my wrecked minivan (only had liability when we were rear ended in a hit and run) and I walk up to check the mail, in the mailbox that is about ready to fall off the house, and I settle back into reality.

I walk into my poorly cooled house, settle into the recliner that is next to the window AC, the one that has a view of the street. It is the place that I sit anxiously, when my kids are gone, either at school or playing, anticipating their safe return.

Today I sit and I daydream about my goals... My unfinished degree that was sidelined by my drug addiction... All of the things I once had to "show" for my accomplishments... The new furniture I bought on my own, while supporting my kids and going to school... The Tahoe that I was almost done paying off... The drastic weight loss and plastic surgery that left me looking completely normal, if not even "hot" not so long ago... The credit that I was so close to repairing, after ruining it once before. A lot has changed since then. I do not have any of those things anymore. I lost them all to drug addiction, but the important part for me now, is that they got out of the way, so I could see ME.

The me on the inside is better now, even without all of those things. I think often when people around an addict first assess the situation, they see a loss of "things" and that really drives the pain deeper to the addict, who has likely already lost themselves inside. By the time someone started to take notice of my deteriorated emotional state, I had already heard over and over all of the monetary loss I was causing myself and others. My self worth had already been diminished to that of a societal burden.

It was when I stopped expecting myself to contribute to society, or to the economy, or to the "insert any other person or group of people here," and I realized that I had to contribute only to making my own life work, that I was able to start forgiving and loving myself.

I may never own a house or a camper or a boat. Even though the pain is never completely gone, I have accepted my past. I have accepted the past I had no control over. I have accepted the consequences for the choices I made in the past. I accept my life as it is, even if it is one day at a time and my goals are more dreamlike at this stage in the game.

I choose not to hide behind the things that keep me from seeing me, and so I believe I will have just as much as I need, when I need it.

I may never have a fancy new car, or a perfectly manicured lawn (ha or a lawn at all), or high achieving kids,  but I have people I love to share my time with. I have love to give. I may not have recreational vehicles, but I still have recreation (even if it is a free movie at the park) with the people I care to have in my life.

I still have a lot of work to do to work past a lot of the trauma that life has dealt me and that I dealt myself, but for me, the important part today, is that I am still here for the journey.

12 year old Suicide and my Son's drug use

Unfortunately I am not referring to a suicide that took place 12 years ago. On June 19th, a beautiful 12 year old girl that is a part of my extended family, succumbed to the injuries she suffered days earlier, when she hung herself and her mother found her unconscious and nearly dead. This has hit me on so many levels and I can't seem to push through it.

For one, my son is 12. I cannot imagine him feeling endless hopelessness at his age. For two, I don't understand how in this specific case, everyone missed all the signs. It is such a tragedy.

I had intended to come here to blog about my son for some time. I fight to be aware of what is going on in his life on all levels and to stay tuned in. He has made new friends in this neighborhood that we moved to over winter break. They are different then his usual crowd. His grades and his interest in school plummeted. He changed his hair and dress style. He started caring less and less about consequences and more about "hanging out" and sleeping.

I knew something was up. Being that we drink, and there is alcohol in the house, and Bryson smokes, we decided it was time to take inventory and start counting/marking the bottles inconspicuously before bed. The first day Bryson woke up and everything was accounted for. he went to work and I left Destin and a friend at home while I ran some errands with the girls. When I came home the boys were gone and I decided I better check again. One beer was missing. I was furious. I called over to the friends and they were there. I told Destin I was coming for him immediately and that he better be able to tell me where the missing beer was by the time I got there.

He denied it even being gone initially. I told him I was taking him to the police station for a Breathalyzer and that if it came back positive then social services would probably get involved again.  His final story was that he let the other kid take it but he didn't drink any of it and that we could go do the Breathalyzer because he really didn't drink any. After a very long conversation about why he no longer had any privileges, or the trust of either of us, and how that was going to change our relationship, I decided that I would let him suffer through the guilt for awhile alone in his room.

I was reeling at Bryson about it and it occurred to me that it was highly unlikely this was the first or only incident. I went back up to his room where I found him sitting on the floor twiddling something in his hands. I sat on the floor next to him and told him we had more to talk about. I told him that I was going to Walgreens for a drug test and that he needed to tell me what I was going to find out before the test did. I couldn't believe my ears when he started crying and said he was so scared to tell me the truth, but that he really wanted to. The truth that he had been smoking cigarettes since he was 10 and had been smoking weed since we moved here in December. I cried. TWO YEARS?

We cried together for a minute. He hugged me and said he was so sorry but also so relieved and that he wanted to quit because football this fall was so important to him. He also said that he doesn't drink because he is scared since drinking is what caused the illness that took his father's life when he was 4. It took me a  minute to compose myself and I decided this was the best time to tell him my own truths so we could start working on that open and more adult-like relationship that I feel is going to be crucial for him during his teen years.

I told him of mine and Bryson's meth addiction. I told him about all of the things that happened because of it. I was actually shocked that he had no idea. He was in second grade when they were taken away from us. I also talked to him about all of the risks of different drugs and them being cut or laced. About overdosing and about legal consequences. I had plenty of family who have lost their kids or are in prison to use as examples. I talked about more immediate possible consequences, like Social Services getting involved or him starting out life with a juvenile record like my brother did. Consequently my brother is in jail right now at the age of 21 because he never stopped making those same choices. He is also well aware of Uncle P who was just paroled here, proceeded to get arrested after a month, and is now facing 4-12 years in prison because of drugs.

I told him that he had no choice but to quit. Honestly I was more upset about the cigarettes. Marijuana is legal for medicinal use in CO and is growing in popularity as a "healing herb." I don't condone it, but I also realize that with it available on every other corner in dispensaries, that talking responsibility is the key.I tried to talk more about how he needs to be of legal age before he chooses ANY legal habit (drinking, smoking, weed) and that he also needs to have the means to support his own habit without stealing. He said he would get the cigarette butts left in Bryson's ash tray. He told me who he had smoked weed with and who had supplied the weed and the paraphernalia. He also said he had stolen some from Uncle P. I am not naive enough to assume I got the whole truth, but I know enough to change the options he has.

I enrolled him in an alternative school, with very small class sizes and much more available guidance throughout the day, for next year. The kids in this neighborhood are off limits for now. He will have to reconnect with church friends or kids from our old neighborhood that I trust. He can no longer be left alone with his friends and no adults. Bryson is now soaking his cigarette butts in water so there are none available here. He isn't allowed to leave the house without us, so no walks looking for butts either.

It has been 3 weeks since I found out. The first week Destin was an irritable, grouchy, shaky mess. We encouraged him to talk about how bad he felt and be honest when he was having cravings. He said going without weed din't bother him, just without cigarettes. We encouraged him that he would feel better and that it would pass. He is uncomfortable around other people smoking in public and says he feels good that he did it. He even said he feels strong that he quit smoking when Bryson can't ;)

I didn't think it would happen so soon, but I was sure experimenting would be a part of his life. I know I can't hold his hand all of the time and there will be plenty more opportunities where he will have to choose what he is going to do. I have to equip him with education about the dangers of drugs and hope he will make good choices.

I was feeling overall confident about how it has played out thus far until the death of this little girl rocked my world. Obviously kids can have completely separate lives from what their parents ever see. Her parents say there were no signs. I saw several status messages that referred to her committing suicide and that no one would care. Even worse, out of her over 100 friends on there, not one commented back that they did care or suggest she talk to someone or tell her parents! Why wasn't anyone paying attention?!?!?

I am into what my kids are doing to a fault. I am on their myspaces. I have their passwords and I do check their phones. They have to ask for permission to be on the computer and I have parental controls that limit what they can do. I also check the browser history to see what sites they go on. Amazingly they don't seem to mind. They ask for my help to do their backgrounds and we look at their friends statuses and pages together. I have always told them they do not have a right to privacy over safety and that I care enough to know what they are doing. Is it enough?

I'm sure I will have more to say on this. I am overwhelmed with it all right now.

I am helping to participate on a facebook group that focuses on childhood bullying and depression and am speaking out in Brianna's honor. Hopefully the loss of her life can save another. I know it will help me to be even more increasingly aware of what is going on in my children's lives and take the time to talk to them and show them I care. I had a really awesome talk with Destin about depression and suicide last night and even how drugs can lead to either. We talked about how friends come and go and that if anyone is ever making him feel worthless he needs to talk about it. I showed him pictures of Brianna, and all the things that her friends are posting in the group, that I know they wish they could have said before it was too late. Drug addiction, depression, and suicide run rampant in our families, and I am not going to sit idly by and lose my children to any of them, if I can help it.

I would like to share the link to Brianna's page as well as her memorial fund. If you can show any emotional or financial support to the people that are grieving an unimaginable loss, it would be appreciated. If there is someone that you can share her story with that it may help, please do.

In Memory of Brianna: Let's put an end to bullying

and

Forever Brianna