Our world is broken

Our world is broken.  We have kids with PTSD from stepping over the blood of their precious classmates in school hallways, we have the leader of our country name calling on social media - setting examples for our youth which say, it's okay to pitch a fit if you don't get your way.  We have families sitting at the dinner table staring at cell phones instead of interacting with one another.  We have a suicide rate which is climbing year after year.  Every 12 minutes that ticks by, another life is gone.  45,000 people in 2016 experienced the mental anguish of seeing no way out of their torment.   A 1-800 number is not going to solve this problem.  It is bigger than a hot line.  We as human beings have to communicate with one another.  We have to know it is okay not to be okay.        

Recently, a handful of people asked me one word which completely threw me for a loop.  The word was "why"?  Why did he take his own life?  What was the catalyst?  I wanted to scream!  In fairness, I've only been on that side of the fence, the suicidal side.  I haven't been the devastated friend or family member asking why.  What I will say if you ask me why I overdosed, why I took pills, why I became a survivor of suicide, I do not have a clear concrete answer for you.  I did not have a particular "trigger" which caused me to pick a random Friday afternoon in March 2014 to want to end it all.  You see, that is what depression and mental illness is all about -- a tortured mind not thinking rationally.  Depression is many things to me.  Depression is a disconnect from reality, it is keeping things bottled up with a tight lid, it is not texting a friend back, it is the fear and assumption something bad is going to happen, it is crying for no reason, it is laying in bed craving sleep for an escape only to be kept awake by racing thoughts.  

I understand hopelessness.  
I understand darkness.
I understand despair.

But more than these 3 things, I also understand life, love and joy.  I am committed to recovery.  

My biggest hope, wish and prayer is for our society to try to understand mental illness.  Keep the conversation going.  With each sad story in the news, I am seeing somewhat of a #metoo movement if you will.  On twitter, there were so many courageous people coming forward talking about their depression and struggles after the deaths of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain.  I felt so proud to be able to reply to people giving them resources which help me continue my journey of recovery and life.

For those of you who have lost a family member or friend to suicide, it is never one person's fault.  Not yours, not someone else's and not the suicide victim's.  Instead, the fault belongs to the natural forces that create the potential for suicide, which many times include mental illness.  The forces of suicide cause irrational thoughts.  They rob the person of the ability to see any possibility for change.  They connive and plot to make the person believe that suicide is the only way to end their pain.  Usually it is not just one issue, but instead a multitude of problems, that lead to suicide.  There are no simple explanations.  Be compassionate to yourself in your grief.  The below link is an article more eloquent than I could ever write.   All friends and family should read this who lost someone to suicide.  It is raw, real and compassionate. 



https://psychcentral.com/lib/an-open-letter-to-children-who-lose-a-parent-to-suicide/

Finally, I want to share these tweets which I feel explain so much. 

@caissie So many messages telling those who are struggling to reach out.  Fair enough, but part of what depression does is mutes your ability to reach.  If you are NOT depressed and you see someone struggling, YOU reach out.  If you don't see someone who used to be around, YOU reach out.  

It can be kind of scary to a regular person who thinks they don't know what to do.  It is certainly awkward as hell.  Who cares, thought?  Ask, "Are you ok?" Say, "I am worried about you." Ask, "Can I get in tough with someone for you?"  Even here on twitter.  Don't mind your business.  

DON'T TWEET, DO SOMETHING!

I am saddened by the events of this week in Florida.  I'm even sadder to learn there were so many other school shootings since January and I wasn't even aware of them all.  Are we becoming immune to our children being shot in what is supposed to be a safe zone for them to learn?  Are we really there as a nation?  Is this our new normal?     

I am also saddened that I am a part of a group of people who are being blamed for this gun violence against children.  I have a mental illness.  My heart hurts and my body recoils every time I read or listen to a blanket group of people, the mentally ill, being blamed.  

In the wake of a deadly school shooting in Florida, President Donald Trump called the confessed gunman "mentally disturbed" in a tweet and vowed his administration would "tackle the difficult issue of mental health."

Finally, a DJT tweet I can relate to.  I welcome this from our current Administration.  Our family is involved with NAMI (Natl. Alliance of Mental Illness) and my husband facilitates a monthly group locally and has been through extensive mental heath training.  He sees and hears first hand how broken our system is and how hard it is to receive the appropriate mental health care.  

Paul Gionfriddo, president and CEO of Mental Health America, said the country needs to rethink its approach to mental health entirely. Suicide rates keep rising as the mortality rates of other major killers like cancer dips because the nation invested in early, preventative care to catch symptoms early, he said.

"We never did that with mental illness. Here, we wait, and we wait, and we wait until we have crises," Gionfriddo said. "The lesson of yesterday is not what we’re going to do about the shooter, it’s what we’re going to do about all the victims of the shooting: Three thousand people in that school — they’ve all experienced a profound trauma, and yet we have no level one trauma centers for mental health in this country. We have no plan."     

We all want to blame somebody for this brokenness.  I am inspired to see and hear discussions by our children on TV this week.  It is indeed a combination of both sad and wonderful when our children make more sense on the national stage than our own elected leaders.  

In summary, I do not claim to have the answers or a solution to fix these tragedies.  However, I do know whatever we are currently doing is NOT working.  I don't care what side of the aisle you are on, the answer for you as a legislator is clear - You must do SOMETHING!  

https://www.nami.org/Press-Media/Press-Releases/2017/NAMI-Statement-on-the-Parkland-School-Shooting

The "Januaries"

This month is cold, dark, post UGA loss and holidays.  An old friend of mine coined the term "the Januaries" and it sums up the feelings I have pretty well.  The last two mornings of college football news cycles have gutted me.  Two suicides.  Two 21-22 young men.  Two families, universities and friends struggling to find out why. 


Washington State quarterback Tyler Hilinski found dead from an apparent suicidePULLMAN, Wash. (AP) — Washington State quarterback Tyler Hilinski has died from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Grandson of K-State coach Bill Snyder, son of Sean Snyder dies at 22

WHY?  This word is what compelled me to finally blog again.  I fear these poor families may never find the answer they are so desperately searching for.  When experiencing severe depression, your entire world is distressed and there is no door to escape.  This makes suicide almost seductive, because it seemingly offers an available escape option.  Unless you have experienced these feelings of despair, it is impossible to comprehend why.  How do I know this?  I know this because on March 7, 2014, I was that girl needing an escape.  Fortunately, my story includes an amazing Psychiatrist, therapist, husband, friends and medicines, which have all been good to me.  

Did you know that in a recent study, 1 in 5 Americans suffer a mental illness each year?  This isn't referring to a sadness you feel from a break up, this is referring to the thought of feeling like lifting an elephant may seem easier than getting out of bed.  I long for the day when discussing Zoloft and Prozac to treat your brain are no different than discussing Amoxicillin to treat an infection.  I long for the day depression shows up on an MRI or an X-ray.  I long for the day mental illness isn't surrounded by stigma in America.  

If you went to the grocery store today, you were surrounded by someone in mental pain.  Be kind.  Smile.  

If you got together with a group of friends last night, it is likely that one of them was suffering mentally in some form.  Be kind.  Listen.  Take the time.  

If you are feeling sad, lonely, depressed, dark, grey - seek help.  It won't be a quick fix; however, I promise it will be worth all you have to do to feel normal again.  I used the word normal intentionally becomes when it comes to mental health, it should be normal to discuss.  A list of help outlets are below:

text HOME to 741741 to text with a crisis counselor.  
Suicide prevention hotline 1-800-273-8255

In closing, I read this in an article and found it so meaningful. 

"HELP."  Four letters, one syllable.  It's the most profound prayer of all.   

Life and Elevators

The ups and downs of life sometimes are so hard to understand.  I've been thinking an awful lot about my grandparents lately and craving the simplicity of swinging in the wooden homemade swing and picking tomatoes from the garden.  Our world feels so complicated today and I often could use a gentle reminder of gentler times.  Life is a lot lighter of a load when you remember the good stuff.  

When scrolling through instagram I saw this elevator meme and it stayed with me all day long on into the night.  It's painful watching our people get off along the way and sometimes unsettling when new ones get on.  The thought of the door closing too fast combined with getting stuck with no escape is chilling for me.  My problem is trying to pack my elevator with everyone I meet along the way and you can't possibly fit them all in.  You may have to leave some on different floors and truthfully, some may need to be left in the basement.  If your elevator is filled with negative people bringing stress to your life, push the button, stop and let them off.  It never hurts to put on some new music either.

The beautiful moon shines on us all tonight and it reminds me that we rely on each other when we can't do it alone.  May your elevator play the tunes you like all the way to the top floor!

The Voice

I’ve been feverishly trying to figure out why I’m so exhausted this week, why I don’t want to get out of bed, why I have been taking naps every day during lunch, why I didn’t drive to Griffin today, why I tell myself, “I’ll run that errand tomorrow”.  

My depression has a voice.  Sometimes I push the mute button and don’t listen.  I didn’t listen this week.  Today, I pushed play and realize why I feel so sleepy I barely can function, while simultaneously I feel ashamed and guilty for not having more energy to wrap the presents, go to the bank, go welcome my Dad back home, return texts and calls.  It’s my clinical depression.  It’s kind of an Aha! moment for me to realize this and really a comfort to not have to wonder what else it could be.  What has consoled me is to remember that setbacks are not permanent conditions. Relapses don’t last into infinity. The perspective I have in the midst of my intense struggle insists that I will feel this way forever. However, my track record for getting better is 100 percent. So is yours. 

Relapse teaches me over and over again that life can’t be wrapped up and put into one single box like a Christmas present.  As hard as we try to control all the aspects of our mental health, those of us who have suffered depression in an acute way will most likely run into relapse more than once in our life. These setbacks, as painful as they are, teach us invaluable lessons, like how to accept messiness, frustration, and uncertainty with grace. They teach us, like SNL’s Gilda Radner once said that “some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end.  Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.”

Remember, it is okay to not be okay.  Don’t suffer in silence, you are not alone.  Be kind to yourself and others.  There is a whole lot of love out in the world for us all.  

    

A Better Place

October 13, 2016

The day was warm, the tall grass wet our shoes in the old southern memory entrenched cemetery at Midway.  Michael was there in his simple, yet rich looking wooden box while his family surrounded him.  For me, it was something out of a movie - heartbreaking, yet when I blinked, I could see it was also beautiful and full of years of rich stories, kisses, songs sung, hugs, trips, steaks, baked potatoes, games and laughs.

Before Lynn, JT and I left for our final farewell, we received a blessing I'll hold with me forever.  The house was quiet.  A faint song could be heard in the background yet no radio or tv was on.  We couldn't find where it was coming from.  We searched until we found my phone across the room untouched and turned up the volume.  The song below was playing.  It was Michael telling us through his love of music that he was okay, he was in that better place.  I'll never believe anything different.    

A Better Place - Glen Campbell

I've tried and I have failed Lord.
I've won and I have lost.
I've lived and and I have loved Lord, 
sometimes at such a cost.  
One thing I know, the world's been good to me.
A better place, awaits you'll see.

Some days I'm so confused Lord, my past gets in my way
I need the ones I love Lord more and more each day.
One thing I know...
The world's been good to me.  
A better place, awaits you'll see.

A better place.

We all asked God to heal Michael in prayer over and over physically.  In the end we all finally got what we wanted -- spiritually.  Michael beat cancer because cancer cannot follow him where his is now, in heaven.    

Below is the eulogy JT spoke at his service along with happy memories and Michael's voice singing.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLcC-rvwlqc

Thank you all for coming today to support our family during this sad time.  It truly is a testament to my dad, and all our family, that you all came to show your love and support.

Michael Turner was a son, a brother, a husband, a cowboy, a lineman, a builder, a biker, a boater, a traveler, a musician, a singer…but above all to me…he was a Dad.  He was my Dad.  He was my hero.  He showed me that people can change…that there is always hope…that I can always be better.  I could talk forever about what he was to me, but today I wanted to share this…

There are three things I will always carry with me that my Dad taught me.

1.  When I would go to Michael with my troubles, whether it was venting about work, or money, or any of a host of problems…my Dad would listen.  He would offer advice sometimes, and sometimes he would let me figure it out on my own.  Inevitably, at the end of our conversation he would say….Remember son, millions of people would line up right now to trade places with you.  In other words, we are blessed.  God has blessed us immeasurably.  Look at all the people here to pay their respects, to show their love and support for Dad and our family.  I feel blessed…and Dad taught me to appreciate that.

The second thing my Dad would say is…..

2.  If you show me how worrying will help, I will start worrying.

My Dad was not a worrier.  He just wasn’t.  He realized that worrying did not help the situation – it only made us stress even more.  Now, that isn’t to say he didn’t care – I think some of us often get that confused – but he was good at realizing what he could control, and what he had to leave in God’s hands.  To let go and let God.  Even in the deepest depths of his struggle with cancer, he wasn’t worried.  He knew things had gone past his control, and it was in God’s hands now.  He knew his place in heaven awaited.  That was a comfort to him.  A comfort to his family.  He didn’t worry – he just didn’t.

The third thing my Dad would say to me, and the most important one of all is…..

3.  I love you son.

Most that knew Michael I think would agree that he was indeed a man’s man.  Rugged, tough as nails – but he had the heart of an angel.  Dad did not shy away from expressing his love – and also to show it.  My wife said on Monday – every time I was in a room with Michael, I felt his love.  And oh how he loved his family.  I watched him, and even when cancer had riddled his body, and was weakening his mind, every time Lynn would help him…he looked up adoringly at her and said…”Thank you, baby”.  The love in his eyes and voice…you could see it and even feel it.  Even then…his love permeated the room.  And he loved his sons and daughters…me, CJ, Jessica, Natalie and Rebecca - titles like step and in laws were words that didn’t apply in Michael’s world – just family - we were his sons and daughters.  And we were his grandbabies.  How he doted on his grandbabies…Dustin and Josh, and Skylar and Logan.  From the moment he first held them, to driving them around on hayrides, to singing Great Balls of Fire and Fire on the Mountain to them and with them – he cherished them.  And they loved The PawPaw. 

And in his later years, Dad’s love often leaked out in his tears.  He showed me that a man could cry.  Some of you may not know it – but Dad was a crier.  A trait, as you all have plainly seen, he passed on to me.  And I’m ok with that.  I’m proud of that.  For I am my father’s son.

These are just a few of the things my Dad taught me.  I am not yet the man I wish to be – but I am a better man because of my Dad.  He made me a better man.  And isn’t that something?  Isn’t that something?

I’d like to leave you with this poem I found.  I think it captures Michael’s spirit and his wish.  It’s called:

I wish you enough.

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how grey the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.

Good bye Dad.

Once again, on behalf of my Dad and Lynn and all of our family – thank you so much for coming.  It means the world to us.  And to each and every one of you….I wish you enough.

Hope and Help

It is hard for me to express the sheer pain and grief I feel when hearing about a suicide.  The closest thing I can equate to it is how PTSD must feel to people. The tears flow and my mind swims back to March 7, 2014. Mental illness survivor's guilt perhaps?  Why did I survive and they didn't?  My biggest prayer today is that people will try to understand how depression envelopes your brain and incapacitates you and controls every aspect of who you are. Untreated, every single day is a battle to live, to cope, to get out of bed.  

Huff Post:  "It's not even just sadness, it's physical pain and passiveness. The world around you keeps moving and you are there, remaining still and lethargic. That's the thing about depression -- it's silent, and it doesn't care if you are black or white, male or female, rich or poor. You can be standing on a train next to someone reading a book and that person could be screaming inside, clinging on to their last hope of life."

There is hope and help.  I am living proof of this hope and help.  
Reach out.
Be a friend.
Send a loving text.
Care.

In closing, I wanted to repost JT's blog he wrote because I think it is important for people to understand just how difficult mental illness is to see in others.  I pray for this family to feel wrapped in God's love and understanding as they grieve.  

I understand.

That two word sentence is the biggest lie I ever told my wife.  The biggest one I ever told myself.  I understand.  No, I didn’t.  No, I don’t.  No, I’m not certain I ever fully will.  Because I didn’t understand Depression.  To me, it was simply a word…a feeling…it passes, right?  Heck, they named the illness after an emotion…how stupid is that!?  Perhaps that alone made it difficult for me to understand.  Perhaps it is my thick-headed, stubbornness.  Perhaps it is a combination of things…but the fact remains I didn’t understand what my wife was going through.  Oh yes, I said I understood…and maybe I even thought I did.  But that was akin to me sticking my toe in a freezing pool and saying it was cold…while my wife was immersed in the deep end.  Like me opening a cellar door and stating how dark it was…while my wife was enveloped in the darkness.  Like me trying to pick up a heavy weight…proclaiming how heavy it was and putting it down….while my wife was dragging it around.  I never understood.  I couldn’t possibly, because I wasn’t living it.  I realize that I may never truly understand it…because I believe that in order to truly understand…one must live it…not stick their toe in.  I didn’t realize she was freezing, in darkness, and carrying a heavy load…with no one to help…because I wasn’t there.  A guilt I will carry…but that’s a story for another time.  For this time, it is simply one point…I now know I didn’t understand.  My wife suffers from Depression.  So to me, while technically I do not ‘suffer’ from it…I deal with it.  Because I am in this with her…together we are in the deep end and swimming to shallow waters, leaving the dark for a brighter place, helping each other to carry the heavy loads.  I want to understand…and I can try to do that better…but I also think that may be missing the mark just a bit.  Maybe it is not about me fully understanding.  Maybe it is about something else.  Maybe it is not “I understand” that she and people that suffer from Depression need to hear.  Maybe it is not hearing anything…but more seeing and knowing…

I’m sorry.  You are not alone.  I am here now.