It's been a while...

I haven't felt an overwhelming urge to blog lately.  Kids have been sick, as have I.  I have been dealing with relationship issues with unfortunately more than one person in my life.  A lot to handle. 

Thanksgiving was....nice.  Different...but nice.  This was the first Thanksgiving without my dad, so a lot of mixed emotions there. 

I feel like I'm going thru a phase whenever I think of my dad I immediately try to push the thoughts out of my head.  Thinking of him tonight though...pushing the thoughts out of my head is simply put not an option.  Tried going to bed, but couldn't stop thinking of him so thought this was a good time to get up and write.  Even though it is 12:45am and I'm exhausted I can't seem to calm my nerves and racing thoughts.  Hoping this will help a bit. Kind of like an outlet to release my emotions.  Bleh....

I went to Dad's grave last week.  First time ever by myself.  I woke up early last Monday.  It was Thanksgiving Day and I woke up needing to be there, I couldn't get there fast enough.  Kids were taken care of, so I gave myself permission to go.  I took an orange, yellow, and red plant to place on his grave.  Colors of the fall, which brought a smile to my face. 

I thought it would be nice to call my mom in Regina on the way there.  It was Thanksgiving and I knew it would be hard on her to be alone for the first time on Thanksgiving.  However, as soon as I heard her voice, a lump formed in my throat and I could barely speak.  I managed to tell her where I was going, but that's all I could get out.  She asked me if I was ok.  I sobbed no.  Told her I would call her later, and I was sorry.

I'm not sure why that suddenly happened.  I was fine until we started to speak.  I think sometimes it's too hard to talk to her because she reminds me of my dad.  She's all I have left for a parent.  Speaking to her reminds me I can no longer speak to him.

There I was thinking I would phone her and support her on that day, but turns out I'm the one that needed the support. 

Once I got thru that morning at his graveside, I went home and put on my happy face for my kids and cooked a wonderful Thanksgiving meal.  It was a nice idea, but my heart wasn't really in it.  I felt....numb. 

It comes and goes.  At this moment, it's here, and hopefully I pray that when I attempt to sleep again it'll go.  Tears have fallen down my face as I typed about Thanksgiving here.  Perhaps that is the release I needed.  I think I'll try to go to bed again and get some rest....  kids have school and it'll be here before I know it.

My kids...

It's late, I'm tired.  Just tucked in the last of my four babies.  Ok, they're not all babies anymore per say, however I will always consider them to be whether they like it or not! ;-)

Going to watch a movie now I think.  Before doing so thought of my blog.  Thought it would be a nice touch to put a picture of my kids on here.  So here they are...In order from left to right - Evan, Emberlyn, Cameron, & Kaylyn.

Plan on writing tomorrow about dads marker that was delivered to the cemetery on Monday.  Just don't have the mental strength to get into it now.

Until tomorrow....

Tripping over kids...while mourning...

TRIPPING OVER KIDS

(while mourning the loss of someone to suicide).

There are four of them, and only one of me. I am outnumbered on a regular basis. I am speaking of my four children under the age of ten years old. Anyone who is raising kids on their own knows you feel alone even though your children are with you, but like the weight of the world is on your shoulders as the responsibility for those little people rests upon you. It can be overwhelming and sometimes even unbearable to cope with the stress of it all.

Now I am a single mother of four children trying to cope with the loss of my father who took his own life on May 3rd, 2009. Yes, “SUICIDE” and the stigma that goes along with it. Something that I never thought I would have to deal with, and certainly not involving my dad. I have come head to head with my biggest challenge yet. Funny, I always thought my challenge is to raise my four active children!

My dad had Bipolar Disorder (manic depressive illness) is a mood disorder with extreme mood swings. Only a few family members including myself were aware of his illness. He had been struggling for the last 4 ½ years with the illness.

He chose to hide his struggles as best he could. He wasn’t honest with his doctors, therapists, or my mom for that matter about what was really going on with him. He often changed his medication without telling my mom. When she would find out he claimed he changed it because he was feeling better and didn’t need the meds anymore.

He didn’t make the connection that it was the medication that was making him feel better and that he should continue to take it. Feeling more like himself, he opted to not take them until mom told the doctors and they urged him to continue. This was an ongoing battle for years.

I knew of this struggle, and dad would usually call me to confide in me what was going on, although I know he did not share everything.

In May my mom came to visit my grandparents on the Sunshine Coast for a couple weeks. Her and my dad discussed it, and it was decided he was going to stay in Regina to continue work while mom took the time off to visit her parents who were ill. My parents worked side by side for years doing drywall. Mom was to spend a week on the coast, then visit the kids and I for the remainder of her time in BC. Only I got a call on the fourth day she was on the coast.

She called Sunday night asking if I could pick her up at the ferry the next morning. Despite mom saying everything was ok when I asked her what was going on, I knew it wasn’t. I thought about my grandparents, had something happened? I prepared myself for the worst and set off the next morning to the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal with my 18 month old daughter in tow. My three older kids were at school.

Mom didn’t really say anything, so I assumed maybe my grandparents needed a break from company as I had been warned they sometimes do. Upon arriving back home we had lunch, and afterwards I sat down on the living room floor to play with my baby. Mom sat on the couch across the room and watched us quietly. Something was wrong. I could now feel it in the pit of my stomach that was now filled with knots. She was quiet, and watching us intently. Something was clearly on her mind.

My mom suddenly sat down on the chair close to me grabbing my arm moving me closer towards her saying “I have something to tell you.” My stomach went into my throat and I swallowed hard as if to push down the lump that was forming there. My mom’s eyes filled with tears, and she whispered “Dad passed away yesterday.” My dad…as I’m typing this, my stomach goes into that familiar knot and suddenly the words on my screen are no longer eligible.

Mom did not have all the information at that time, including how he died. We didn’t say the words in that moment, but deep down, we both knew he had died by suicide. Our worst fear was confirmed later that evening.

Some of the memories of that day are clear, most are not. I remember after she told me, I remained on the floor sobbing uncontrollably into my hands. My 18 month old baby walking over unsteadily to see what was wrong with her mommy. I hugged her, I hugged her hard. I thought of my other children. Someone needed to get them from school. They were to be picked up in 45 minutes. I knew there was no way I would or should even attempt to drive to get them, so I called their dad. I’m not sure how I managed to get the words out but I did. Sobbing, I told him I just found out my dad died and he needed to take the other kids. I called my boyfriend (my youngest daughters dad) telling him my dad was gone and he needed to come to the house to help with the baby.

Once I knew they were on their way for the children, I gave myself permission to feel everything I was feeling. I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

I remember sitting in my baby’s room at some point between the rocking chair and her crib, but I have no memory of how I got there. There, my youngest daughter hugged me, clutching her little arm around my neck. She tried to maneuver her way onto my lap. I remember holding her and crying so hard I thought I might scare her. She held on to me, as if her own life depended on it.

I know my mom was in the room. I remember hearing her voice, but I do not recall everything she was saying. Something about calling an ambulance for help, and telling someone “she’s in here.”

I remember my boyfriend showing up and pulling our daughter away from me in an attempt to give me space thinking it would be better for both of us. That she shouldn’t see her mommy in such a state. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. I heard my baby’s howling and crying for me in the hallway after they pulled her from me. He and my mom immediately realized she needed to be with me, and boy did I need her. As soon as she was taken from my grasp I started to hyperventilate. When they returned her to me still wedged between the chair and the crib, she calmed down and so did I. I will never forget the power of that moment with her. How much we needed each other. I don’t think I can even put into words how those precious moments were during such an excruciating painful time. It is indescribable.

It has been five months since my dad made the decision to end his life. Since that first week of his passing, I have gone back to Regina to see him one last time. I drove the long, narrow road in La Fleche, SK he took when he decided to take his life in a baseball field there where he used to play ball as a child.

I stood in the middle of the field, my dad only gone for five days. I closed my eyes, felt the cold wind on my face. I could hear birds singing, it was peaceful there though my heart was broken. There was nothing in sight but an old battered concession stand and bathroom if you can call it that. As the sun set, the sky lit up with pink, yellow and red I thought to myself "This is it. This is where my dad took his last breath." I felt calm whereas I thought I would be a complete wreck being there. It just wasn't the horrific picture I had in my mind when I thought of my dad all alone that day. I have no regrets going there, because somehow I managed to find temporary peace with what I saw. I will not wonder where he was, or what he saw in those last moments because I gave myself permission to see it too.

We buried him on Mothers Day in a little cemetery next to his parents who passed away long ago in La Fleche, SK. I brought back some of his ashes with me as I knew I wanted to have him here in BC with me, where he raised me. I buried him again on July 27th, 2009.

I took care of the paperwork regarding his death for the first week after his passing. I wrote his obituary that would be placed in several different newspapers, rifling thru pictures of him that would be suitable for the newspaper. I wrote his eulogy that I was to read at his funeral in Regina an exact week to the day he passed. Through all this I was trying to maintain my composure in front of my kids, trying to portray like I was ok, when in fact I was not.

I have attended an eight week Suicide Support Bereavement Program, two alumni meetings for the group, and a dove release on Father’s Day.

I have planned and arranged two balloon releases. First one was with my children, for my children. They did not go with me to Regina, so they had no opportunity to say goodbye to Grandpa and I had not yet made the arrangements for him to be buried in BC.

I had the kids draw pictures and write Grandpa little notes and attached them to the string of the balloons. We released them on the beach in White Rock on Father’s Day. I remember it was cold and windy that day, similar to the cold windy day on the baseball field in La Fleche where I stood remembering my dad. Now here I was with my kids on Fathers Day, they knew and understood why we were there. I am blessed.

My 8 year old son asked me as we watched the balloons being carried swiftly to the skies above “what happens if Grandpa doesn’t catch the balloons because they’ve flown to space?” I told him “that won’t happen, Grandpa will catch them before they get there.” It was one of those rare moments that my pain was slightly eased. I looked at my son, and he wasn’t sad watching his balloon being carried away by the wind, he was smiling, thinking of Grandpa up in the heavens waiting to catch his balloon note. I gathered up my kids once the balloons were out of sight, and we drove to where the dove release was being held. It was a long and emotional day, but worth it. My kids were able to say their goodbyes to Grandpa in two different and special ways.

I planned and arranged a Celebration of Life for my dad in August. It turned out better than I could have hoped for. Thirty family and friends gathered. That was the day for the second balloon release. We stood in a circle gathered in my aunt and uncles backyard. Each person had their own brightly colored balloon. I asked that everyone say something about dad and when they were done they let go of their balloon. It was my second balloon release for him and it was beautiful. It was a lot more powerful than the first, perhaps because I was surrounded by so many other people who love him. At the same time though, I remember being extremely angry that day.

The only time I was somewhat civil was when my children asked me something. I had to constantly remind myself to keep my emotions in check so that the Celebration of Life was a day to actually celebrate him, rather than be angry at him. It was difficult beyond words, and when it came time for me to release my balloon for my dad, I was sad again, remembering him and just how much I love and miss him.

On September 10th, I attended the Suicide Prevention Day event held at the facility I went to for the support group. I was frustrated and disappointed to learn that night, there is no National Suicide Prevention Strategy for Canada in place. There is such a "stigma" about suicide it's overwhelming.

I have spent countless hours researching suicide, signing petitions, reading books, attending meetings and events, just trying to make sense of it all. I simply can't. Nothing works, however some of it has helped. I know I am not alone. I am grateful for the support group I found and the friendships that developed there. So many people have and continue to go thru the exact same thing I am. I remain frustrated that my dad is gone no matter how many venues or things I try to get thru this.

Where I once wore a silver bracelet on my wrist, I am now sporting an orange rubber suicide prevention and awareness one that I picked up at the suicide prevention event last month. I’ve dyed my hair from blonde to brunette because that’s the color my dad always preferred as it is my natural color.

It amazes me the things I am doing to try to feel connected to him. I am forever changed by his decision. I am everyday painfully aware he is gone, and the knots in my stomach linger, some days more than others. I know that for some people they look to their faith for support and guidance. I’ve learned that I don’t have to look far as I look into the faces of my four innocent children. With them, I can get thru anything.

A friend of mine gave me a refrigerator magnet a couple years ago that reads “I can survive any crisis, I have kids.” I’ve always chuckled reading it from time to time as it has remained on my refrigerator door, and it is meant to humor people. Now I look at it in a different light. I still chuckle, but now I give a knowing nod and remind myself “yes, I really can survive any crisis.” Thank goodness I do have kids, without them, I would be grieving differently.

I’ve chosen to be open and honest about my dads' death. What I’m feeling and what I’m going thru with whoever asks as it is vital to talk about your feelings. When I’m crying or just down, my kids now have a better understanding as to why. I often say my dad took my happy, but my children bring it back simply by being them.

I hope and pray this has taught them to be open about their feelings as they know Grandpa wasn’t about his. I hope and pray they will remember seeing me in this kind of pain so later in life if they ever have the feelings my dad did, they remember the pain that was inflicted on those who loved him by his decision, and to always know to ask for help, and there is nothing wrong in doing so. These lessons I feel I have already taught my children, but maybe, just maybe this particular subject will hit home even more for them when they are old enough to really understand it all.

They say suicide is a selfish decision, a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I feel like it is a lifetime sentence to those who are left behind. Thru this, I have met dozens of people who are still attending support groups after losing someone to suicide up to over 40 years ago. It changes you. You do not fully recover, you just learn to deal with it better over time.

I sincerely encourage others to look within your selves for strength. We are all stronger than we realize. I especially learned just how strong I can be for my children, and that the answers I seek to make sense of what has happened is an attempt for closure – it is a journey, not a destination. It will take time to walk the path toward healing…there is no timeline, it will happen as it is meant to as we all grieve in our own time and in our own way.

So each day as I’m literally tripping over kids, in their attempt to get my attention, I am reminded that they need me to. I am still here. It is my dad that is gone. I cannot let my dad’s decision to take his life consume mine, take over and affect the people I love that need me healthy and happy as I continue to live my life. I believe in the power to choose…I choose to live, no matter what crisis is thrown my way.

Written by Tera Williams in loving memory of my Dad, John S. Moore.

Please visit www.nspscnd.epetitions.net to support A National Suicide Prevention Strategy for Canada.

Feeling out of sorts today...

I can't seem to calm my nerves, and stop my eyes from tearing up today. Thoughts of my dad racing thru my mind as I think about the fact that I will never see him again.

It's been a month and a half since we had a Celebration of Life for him. Only today did I get around to writing the Thank-you cards to people who attended.

We took a group photo at the Celebration and I made copies for everyone and enclosed it with the card. Thing is, the copies of the photos were done weeks ago. The thank-you cards purchased weeks before that. The copies of the memorial CD I created that I played at the celebration were made a short while ago as well. I just haven't been able to bring myself to put it all together. I even feel an overhwelming anxiety about getting the right size envelopes to send them.

I wrote on the thank-you cards. Some I knew what to say, others I did not. What do you say? I mean, I feel it is important that I acknowledge the people who came to remember my dad, but I had no idea that even that would cause so much grief, and anxiety and be so very difficult to do. In some ways, I am paralyzed by my grief. I just want my dad back...

My oldest child is home from school today. Thank goodness he is closed in my bedroom totally engrossed with a movie, breathing in the medicine from the vaporizer that will help his congested chest today. My youngest (22 months old) is napping. Neither child is around so I'm free to cry and wish with all my heart that I can change things...knowing full well, I can't. My dad chose to take his own life, and now he is gone.

Looking at the clock on my computer shows me that it's lunch time and I have to make some chicken noodle soup for my son. The baby will be up shortly as well. I must close, but wanted to get how I was feeling off my chest. *Sigh* I feel better, sort of....

Introduction...why I'm here beginning this blog adventure! :-)

I am a single mom of four children under the age of 10 years old. I’m not as single as one would assume when I use the term “single”. However, I simply do not know what else to call it. I am still legally married to my older three children’s dad, so with him the term “legally separated” is used. I am currently in a relationship with my youngest daughters’ dad, but we do not live together. I see him mainly only on weekends. That of course, is for another blog entry. *wink*

There are so many things I would like to talk about. I’m sure all people who ‘blog’ say that right? Friends and family often comment my life is like a soap opera…ha ha! Funny thing though, I often feel like it is. So much drama!!!! My mind wanders to questions like does everyone have this much drama in their lives? Is this normal?

I don’t know. I guess with the events that have happened in my life to date has led me to this venue. Friends and family who know my story have always commented saying I should write a book. I of course, laugh it off, but deep down have had the feeling that maybe I shouldn’t. I’ve often questioned myself if I would even be able to. Wondering how to go about it, and how does one get published? I’ve experienced anxiety at the thought of writing a book, and where I would start, how long it would take, and especially not knowing if I could even do it, and furthermore if I did how to get my book published has stopped me from even trying. At the same time, it is very much on my mind, and I feel a little giddy at the thought.

If I write a book, if not just for the reason to have accomplished something so fantastic, but if I could inspire, help, and/or guide just one person who has or is living a similar life to mine, then that is something I could be forever grateful for. My email responses to my friends and family are so long, it is often joked that I have written them a small novel.

Of course, there is always one of my favorite shows that inspired me to maybe do something like that as well. Even if at this point, it is only a dream. The TV show Sex and the City. Yep, the character Carrie played by Sarah Jessica Parker who wrote her articles, memoires, that later she turned into must read books by single New York women all from her lap top in her tiny New York apartment. Yes, it inspired me to think I could do the same. Yet here I am, blogging for the first time long after Sex and the City was cancelled. I never even thought about it before today. I believe there is a reason for everything. If we don’t know the reason now, we certainly will in the future.

I have written in journals all my life. Journals with lined pages purchased from the local dollar store. Growing up, my mom always ensured that I had a journal to write in, and I am so grateful for that because I truly believed writing all those years saved my life. More on that at a later time. 

As I got older and was blessed with having children, I wrote journals dedicated only to my children when I found out I was pregnant with them. I wrote 8 months of entries to my unborn babies. I wrote letters to them after I experienced giving birth to them. Then I wrote to them about their milestones, or simply just because. I wanted them to one day read what I experienced as they entered my life, and for them to know without a doubt how much I love them and how special and unique each and every one of them is. I want them to always know my love and devotion to their health and happiness. Perhaps I may be oversensitive based on my own upbringing.

Admittedly, I am overwhelmed with the way my life is. The dynamics of my relationships, the relationships that my children have, and I guess like everyone else…life in general. I do not know about other people, but I know for myself…it consumes me, and I am afraid one day it will grab a hold of me and swallow me whole, I guess in all I believe I suffer from a lot of anxiety, tho I have not been “diagnosed.”

Thoughts constantly race thru my mind. Thoughts that never let my mind rest, especially when I’m trying to sleep. That seems to be the worst time. As I lay my head down on my pillow and close my eyes to welcome a good nights sleep, my mind immediately races with thoughts of my children, relationships, friendships, my to do list, and as I mentioned earlier life in general.

I am overwhelmed with thoughts of things I should have maybe said to my children that day. Things I should have said a long time ago. I am constantly thinking about what I could have done or said differently and how I can make the necessary changes to accomplish what I want with the people who are in my life. Then my mind wanders to my kids school, their friendships, and their relationships. Should the boys do sports for extracurricular activities? Should my daughter be enrolled in some kind of singing program because she enjoys singing so much? Most importantly…are they all happy? Healthy? I think they should eat more vegetables. I should look into some new recipes.” Things like that. I can barely stay on just one topic of worry. The fact that I can’t…worries me! *sigh*

I talk to my friends and family “a lot” about how I’m feeling, and what is going on in my world. I keep telling myself that they do not need to know “everything.” I know I am an open book. Sometimes being an open book leaves your friends feeling like enough is enough already! Not that they have said that (well ok, one has), but even I feel like I should stop complaining and make a change for the better! Complaining, holding grudges, being angry all take so much time and energy, it hardly seems worth it. I feel like I should try to edit what I say, yet a lot of the time I can’t stop myself from spilling the beans. That’s where journals have come in handy. Truthfully though, I haven’t written in mine for months. I haven’t been able to write about my feelings since my dads’ death in May this year…it least until now. Writing has always got me thru the tough times and I was reminded of that on Sunday.

I attended my Suicide Bereavement Support Group Alumni meeting. Wow, that’s a mouth full! Anyways, it was the second alumni meeting I attended. This time the meeting would include having a speaker. A woman who has lived with Bipolar Disorder for 40 years! My dad had Bipolar. See? Even as I’m typing this I feel a knot take hold of my stomach, and I begin to tear up. My dad….I miss him so much. The pain is sometimes unbearable. I thank God for my children as I find comfort, and support when I look into their innocent little faces. What in the world would I do without them? I know if it was not for them, I would be grieving differently.

I have been a somewhat functional wreck, and without them I know I would have been as dysfunctional as they get. I know because it was my self talk telling me to get out of my bed in the morning to fix them their breakfast these last four months. I have had countless conversations with myself reminding me that they need me, and whatever it is I’m going thru I’ll get thru it…for them. It is a struggle. There are a lot of times I wish I could be alone with my thoughts but that time of the day only comes at around 9:00pm after I’ve put the last kid to bed for the night. Only then is my house peaceful, and I can think, relax, breathe, and just…be.

I'm new to this whole blog thing. Thought I would give it a try. This is going to be short but sweet. A brief introduction if you will as I am just setting all of this up. I have so much to say, but so little time to say it in. Three of my four kids are watching TV as my littlest one is having her nap. I should be playing with them, however they are "in the zone" of watching tv as they are off school today (already) for a PRO D day.

I will write more later after they are "all" in bed for the night, and I won't feel guilty for sitting here at the computer.