My navigation through grief has brought me many blessings in the form of human and metaphysical connection, much softness in my empathy and compassion toward others, and much hardness in my steadfastness in boundary setting and keeping and willingness to speak my truth. It’s not all rainbows and unicorns of course; darkness precedes light, and I am likely somewhere in the pre-dawn/dawn stage. Where I am is unimportant though. What’s important is that I am here.
My search to live in my own truth and authenticity
Has been a timid one
First, I rebelled loudly
Not authentic
I turned my back on loved ones
Not authentic
Raged against previously set expectations
Not authentic
Choosing an identity like I chose outfits
Changing both often
Not authentic
Sacrificing myself repeatedly
Not authentic
No regrets
A beautiful sunset signaled an end
And the next sunrise
The gift of a new day
My firstborn son
Requiring me to stand
To find authenticity
No regrets
Through time
Focus blurs and sharpens
Go this way or that
Guided by outside influences
Wrong turns
Corrections
Over-corrections
Calm waters
Typhoons
Presence
Avoidance
No regrets
The darkest of nights
My firstborn crosses into the next realm
I’m lost
I wail from somewhere foreign to me
A deep crack in my soul’s core
Authentic
The mothers ahead of me hold me
Giving me space
Holding it and me
I take their hands
Their energy courses through me
My eyes look into theirs
Truth
Authenticity
My grief map
Offers a key and tools for understanding
My map belongs only to me
It is part of a larger map
The map to self
The fire of grief
Burns fear of authenticity
No longer time to hide
I am willingly and willfully standing
In my truth
My authentic self rising
No regrets
Belonging to a family
Does not require alignment of belief
Belonging to a family
Should guarantee unconditional love
No need to rebel or rage
I can love
Be authentically me
And be loved
Today
No regrets.
I had no plan of what to write when I sat down this afternoon. I’ve been acquiring tools for sometime now. I have crystals, candles, tarot, sage, oils, journals, books. I know about the power of meditation. I hold these tools for healing in sacredness in my mind. I read and learn more. I have been frustrated with my lack of action. It feels like a block, and deep down I know. These things, this belief, does not align with the teachings that were heaped on me through childhood and adolescence.
Yesterday I bought a book titled Prayers for Honoring Grief by Pixie Lighthorse at a local apothecary shop. The herbalist working at the shop led me to it. I opened it and used my tools this afternoon. The first prayer is for honoring awareness, using these words and phrases: overcome my fear, calm my uneasiness, soothe my desire to numb out, activate my miraculous systems for coping, untether me from my illusions of safe harbor, the earth anchors me, I didn’t come this far to abandon myself now. The whole prayer is included below. I think the abandonment of myself happened first, and my adulthood has been a steady return. The loss of Blake and the wave of grief forcefully dislodged any illusion for a need to pretend .
Page 7, Prayers of Honoring Grief by Pixie Lighthorse
I’m not exactly confident in my practices, but I’m willing to listen to my heart and tap into resources and Source. I used my crystals and set up a grid for awareness.
Beginnings are equal in importance to endings, just as light is equal in importance to darkness. The cycles are separate and intertwined, one grasping onto the next and the one that came before.
Last year at this time, I was so scared to leave 2019 behind. I had this ebbing pain that came with the loss of Blake – this fear that turning the page to a new year and a new decade would somehow separate us even more. What I’ve learned is that while time measures how long we’ve been physically distant from each other, my heart cannot read a clock or a calendar. I know there are hundreds of mothers joining the club of mothers who have lost a child to substance use disorder/overdose/poisoning every day, and we should all be alarmed. We should all rise up and demand better from our systems, our communities, and each other. What I would tell these mothers though, is that you will always love your child. You will think of them every single day, every waking hour. Look for them, they are with you. Look for them in the good times; and be aware of their encouraging presence during the challenges.
This past year has been a mixed bag for me personally. I entered 2020 knowing that I needed to take some time for myself. I had been showing up to do the work of my previously unbroken heart during the months since Blake’s passing, smiling pleasantly for the children, trying to be present for them, all while carrying this immense weight that I could not let them see or feel. This made me incredibly tired. I also felt guilty because I knew that they were not getting what they deserved. I saw a doctor who granted my request for a medical leave of absence for the month of February.
February – Blake’s birth month, and the first birthday that we would spend without his physical presence on Earth. While he spent his 22nd and his 28th birthdays in in-patient treatment, and his 27th in sober living in Los Angeles, this new separation was final. We were navigating a new normal. It just so happened that his actual birthday was Advocacy Day at the state legislature, and I was offered a platform to speak about my heartbreak, as a mother who lost her child to substance use disorder. The afternoon before the event, I sat in the passenger seat and wrote, as Thom drove us to Salem.
The next day, we got up early. I put the final touches on my poem that I would read on the steps of the state capitol, and we found our way there. It felt good to keep his memory alive in the presence of so many who understood, and to speak with legislators about what this disease is doing to families and communities and what is needed to make positive change. I made lifelong friends that day – other mothers who know and understand the pain, whether their children are with Blake or are still struggling to break the chains. By the end of the day, I was tired. Thom and I stopped at a favorite sushi place that we both frequented with Blake when one of us would take him to his monthly appointment with his Suboxone doctor in Portland. The sushi didn’t taste near as good that night.
That weekend, we celebrated Blake’s birthday with a couple of Blake’s friends and some new friends of ours, preparing some of his favorite foods. This is often a question from moms newly on this journey, “How do you get through their birthday?” What I’ve learned about myself, is that I must intentionally grant myself time to just be with him. After I’ve done that, I can emerge and give myself to the needs and attention of others. On this day especially, I need to love and care for him. I need to cook for him and share him with others.
The next week, I spent two days at La Pine High School, speaking with youth about the realities of substance use and substance use disorder, using my story, and Blake’s story, in an effort to normalize what so many are struggling with, whether it is them personally, a family member, or a friend. I can definitely see myself doing more of this work, perhaps while RVing throughout the United States.
Thom and I ended the month of February with a retreat to Ashland, where we lazily walked through the park, shopped downtown, ate some really good food, and even found and walked into Tunnel 13, the site of the country’s last train robbery. That was a fun hike, but it was admittedly also kind of creepy. We returned home, somewhat invigorated, and I returned to work on March 2nd.
I worked for two whole weeks. I can’t say that I was upset by the news that spring break was being extended by a week, and then a month, and then the rest of the school year. I was suddenly forced to sit my butt down and be still with my grief, and I felt grateful. I settled into a pattern of more rest, more exercise, more cooking and reading, and learning about and doing yoga. I took care of my mind and body and paid attention to my needs. I soaked up the sun, raked our yard, and painted my kitchen.
Blake’s one year angelversary, July 23rd, found us taking a trip to Eagle Point, where we spent the day with him at Lost Creek Lake. We saw him everywhere and could feel the magic of his presence in nature, his favorite place to be.
By August, I felt an ominous cloud hanging over me in regard to the impending return-to-school date. I really didn’t know what to do. What I wanted to do was sell the house, buy an RV, and hit the road. I still want to do that, but it’s not quite time – yet. I had been watching various job sites, and I was struggling with the pros and cons of leaving my 20 year career in education. What I knew was that the stress of the pandemic and the uncertainty that it brought to the daily lives of all I would be involved with would be too much for my mental health. That was the bottom line. I responded to a job posting for a paralegal after researching the firm. Almost two weeks later, I answered a call from an unfamiliar number and passed the initial screening for the paralegal position. The first interview was set and then the second. The job offer arrived in my inbox within the hour on Friday afternoon – two and a half days before I was scheduled to report back to school. Happy dance with tears!
I started my new job on August 31st, shortly after Thom’s dad’s wife passed away. Throughout September, Thom helped his dad settle his affairs in Boise. By the beginning of October, Thom moved his dad into a travel trailer on our property. There is challenge and reward in this transition. Overall, I am happy to be in a position to be able to have Thom help his elderly father. It is challenging to watch the effects of physical aging and to accept the reality of the continuation of the process, both the known and the unknown.
Also in October, Lucas, our youngest son, and his fiance, Kristen, (yes, he proposed in September, and she said YES!) took a long vacation to Montana, where her family lives. I had a suspicion that this vacation would turn into something more. Sitting together at the table, after eating Thanksgiving dinner, it was confirmed. Lucas and Kristen were planning to move to Paradise Valley, Montana at the beginning of 2021. The next day I put a deposit on a puppy.
Knowing that they were getting ready to move out of our home and out of the state, I poured every ounce of myself into the Christmas holiday. We hunted for the perfect tree with Lucas. I scoured the Internet, mostly Etsy, for heartfelt gifts. I shopped downtown stores for local items. I created our breakfast and dinner menu and grocery shopping lists. Right in the middle of December, I picked up my new love, Sarafina. On Christmas, we celebrated a perfect day, our family, as it is, the end of a chapter, and the beginning of a new adventure.
The day ended with a phone call that my PawPaw had passed from COVID, a month and a day shy of his 98th birthday. He was my maternal grandpa. He had been in a nursing home for a number of years, as he had debilitating arthritis, among other ailments. Having not had a close relationship with him, as my mother prefers to deny my existence, I was more happy than sad, that he was not in pain anymore and could now dance on the Otherside. In the days ahead though, I was reminded, once again, that my mother does not consider me to be part of the family that is indeed mine, and I felt the stabbing of her dagger in my heart. I cried that night and rose the next morning. Driving to work, the full moon still in the sky, Blake seemed to be deejaying the radio station. First Train and then G. Love and Special Sauce. I don’t know if Blake ever heard the song “Diggin’ Roots”, but it always makes me think of him when I hear it.
With everything that has happened, especially in the last quarter of 2020, I have neglected my physical self-care, which is tied to my overall well-being. I enter into 2021 with a bit more anxiety and knowledge that I have work to do. That is a constant though. I always have work to do. I am willing to do it. Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back. 2020 was a year of huge evolution, a year of experiencing love to and from the Otherside, a year of realizing that sorrow and joy can co-exist, a year of understanding that life is about more than meets the eye, and a year of courage. I am and will remain curious and resilient. I will take courage with me and develop it further, as I carry it into unknown places and spaces. I will take intentional steps to manifest the future that I see, which starts with a recommitment to my physical health, a Zoom meeting with Anna B. David on Tuesday afternoon about writing a book, an 8-week “Sacred Time – Space: Grief and Psychic Phenomena” course that begins in three weeks, and research into starting a non-profit..
I know it’s been a minute since I last wrote, but you and I know we talk every single day. I try not to take up too much of your time, because I know that I’m not the only one who needs you or the only one you want to hang out with.
So what’s been happening since Mother’s Day? Wow! Where to even start…. COVID is still a thing, but that’s kind of boring, and a lot of people seem to like to argue about it, so we’ll just skip that conversation. It’s summer. We love summer!!! We haven’t had many lake days this summer, but the days spent at lakes have been beautiful. We’ve been to Crescent Lake and South Twin near home, and we spent a day at Lost Creek Lake and another day at Willow Lake near Eagle Point, Oregon. Lucas and Kristen joined me and Dad at Crater Lake, and I think we’re going to do that annually in remembrance of you near your angelversary. I’ve spent a couple of afternoons by the river at Cline Falls State Park and many many afternoons in the backyard in or near my inflatable pool. Books have accompanied me to all of these places.
I’ve done a lot of introspection, and there have been some authors/teachers, through their books, that have found their way into my heart exactly when I needed them. This grief journey is no joke, but I feel like I’ve grown considerably in my own journey to self actualization. I will say that the time that COVID has allowed me has been a gift for my healing. I’m realizing and accepting that I’ve been holding myself back, that I have not been allowing myself to live to my full capacity, out of some perceived or self-imposed responsibility to invest in others or perhaps out of fear of losing or failing. This is not good or bad. It just is.
In addition to the books, I met with a shaman three weeks ago. Can you believe we worked together for five hours? I think I’m still processing, but she affirmed a lot of what I already knew. This gave me confidence to believe that my feelings are valid. I know they’re valid, but sometimes it’s hard to believe they’re valid. She offered clarity that it is time for me to claim my life. She said that in terms of wisdom, I know a lot, but that I’m not applying it to myself. She said “You have all of this information and all of this knowledge, and if someone sat down in front of you, you’d say blah, blah, blah, blah. Apply what you know and what you believe and your intuition to you, to your current situation.” I can feel that you agree.
So much of what she said aligns with the literature I’ve been reading. I could and probably should do a complete annotation of Seane Corn’s book Revolution of the Soul. Reading it with a highlighter in hand was good, but I need to digest each morsel of wisdom. I related to her description of being “scared for the wounded little girl in me. Because of my fears, . . . I couldn’t truly serve them.” She was speaking of youth she was serving in a detention facility. When I look through that wounded little girl lens, I see things as I am, not as they truly are. She quotes Carl Jung, who said, “The best political, social, and spiritual work we can do is withdraw the projections of our shadow onto others.” I know that I have developed resilience, but I acknowledge the wounded little girl, and I think her existence is okay, because without her, I would not be who I am today. And today, I am not her. This is what the shaman said:
You literally have to become someone else with no diagnosis, no illness, abuse, trauma or neglect. You have to release the programs of trauma and sickness, and the back story and the personality that goes with it otherwise the future will just look like and become a record of the past that progresses in severity.
We don’t say this to be dismissive of Blake or your past in any way. It’s not about erasing or forgetting but rather allowing yourself to build a new identity without them because they are no longer present and you cannot pretend to be your old self when so much of your personality, habits, beliefs and actions were linked with them. Now that Blake is gone you have no idea who and what you are without his presence and all that you said or did to keep him alive and yourself sane while he engaged in his self destructive behaviors. [Self destructive behaviors are an outcome of Substance Use Disorder.] It’s not just Blake that is gone but also the personality you adopted to cope with his life.
I’m sure you know these things. I know you did not want to burden (your word) me with your problems because you loved me, and you knew that it would hurt me. Perhaps you also didn’t want me to see you as broken – maybe the way I saw myself.
It’s time for me to break up with the identities of the wounded little girl and the mother that sacrificed herself to keep you alive. Those identities served a purpose but trying to hang on to them traps me and blocks me from my current purpose. I will continue to use my pain as my purpose and the empathy that I’ve gained as a result of my journey because I do know “the ways in which the other person wants to run, hide, sabotage, and resist.” It’s wondrous to me that purpose can come from pain, that living life on purpose is dharma, or the soul’s work. Seane quotes Deepak Chopra as he describes dharma as “the ecstasy and exultation of our own spirit, which is the ultimate goal of all goals.”
I intentionally trudge through the muck giving myself grace and patience. I show up for myself and reach for nourishment. I’m opening myself to possibility. The work that I’ve done with youth has allowed me to heal the wounded little girl. She remains as a scar, a beautiful badge of courage, a reminder that I can do hard things. And let me share what else the shaman told me:
Life is just not the same without Blake and you don’t know how to be the self you recognize. The version of you that was so driven to help youth included Blake from the beginning. That teacher, healer, counselor and motivational speaker persona was all wrapped up in Blake. His presence motivated you to change your life so that his life would be better than yours. You both had rough childhoods through no fault of your own. You both made choices that would have led to self destruction. Blake’s conception and your commitment to keep him was a catalyst for change for you. His life changed your momentum and inspired you to change your thoughts, habits and beliefs so that he would not have to suffer the same fate. He was your inspiration and motivation that led you to working with youth with trauma. You were drifting, but all that changed when he came into the world. He was intrinsically tied to your life purpose and now that he is gone you have to ask yourself if your purpose has changed.
Remember when you told me that if something happened to you that it would not be anyone’s fault? I told you that if something happened to you that it would change me in a way that I could not know. But I knew in my gut, as I spoke those words to you. I knew that it just might change the way that I am able to show up for youth. And I was right. I went back to school last fall. I went through the motions, but my head wasn’t in it, even more, my heart wasn’t. I had a complete lack of initiative. I would get upset with myself for not being emotionally and mentally present, for not being committed, for running short on patience.
I ran the tape in my head, ‘this is what I’ve spent my life doing,’ ‘this is what I went to school to do,’ ‘I’ve invested my life in this,’ ‘I have 5 more years to have 25 years in the PERS system,’ ‘I need to stay in public service because of student loans,’ ‘It’s just grief, it will get better.’ All these things, and not one time was it, ‘I love what I’m doing, and I’m going to continue.’
I wondered if Seane Corn was advising me to stay, to lean in, when I read, “So serve where you are called. Serve in a way that is sustainable. Be open to what presents itself. Service may look completely different from how you thought it would look. Serve anyway. Just give of yourself in benefit to the happiness, good will, safety, abundance, and ease of others . . . and watch your own heart open in unimaginable ways.”
I kept this in mind as I was confronted with a recurring question in her book and in “Signs, The Secret Language of the Universe by Laura Lynne Jackson and “Finding Inner Courage” by Mark Nepo. I applied the question to making a decision about going back to school this fall. I asked myself, “Are you making this decision out of fear or for love?” All of the authors counseled that all decisions should be made for love.
Laura Lynne Jackson told a story about a woman named Amy who was unexpectedly pregnant. Her story reminded me of myself so much. Laura is a psychic medium and she met Amy for a reading. She told her, “You have to make the choice, but you have to make the choice independently of your boyfriend. The baby is linked to you. If your boyfriend steps up, great, but if he doesn’t you need to understand this is not about him, it’s about you and the baby. It’s about how your souls are connected.” Wow! Right? This gave me goosebumps. She said, “Amy needed to ask herself what was motivating her choice. If it was fear, it would always lead her down a lower path. But if she followed a path of love, she would find her highest path.”
Mark Nepo starts a chapter entitled “Loving What You Fear” with an except from one of his poems:
Go outside and let the sun spill into your heart.
There. Can you feel it? It’s the quiver of your soul.
It makes you vulnerable but it will never betray you.
Now you and I know that I have no fear of the sun. In fact my doctor just advised me on the proper use of zinc based sun protection. I interpret this as being open, not doing something out of fear of not doing it, but doing it because it exhilarates me – makes me feel alive. Sure, it might be scary, but stay in that space. I labored over the question of fear versus love, and in the meantime, I kept my eyes open for different career opportunities. I applied to a couple and didn’t hear anything. I emailed our local district attorney, as I felt like I could be of value to a law office, serving as a paralegal and possible resource for those struggling with substance use disorder. I was on the right path.
The following week, actually it was the day that I had the meeting with the shaman, I submitted my resume, cover letter, and references to a law office looking for both a receptionist and paralegal. I told them that I was seeking a career change back to the field of law. I explained that I’ve spent the last 20 years working in roles supporting education. Almost two weeks went by. I nearly forgot about this, and the clock was ticking, with just a little over a week until I was to report back to school for the 2020-2021 school year.
Last Thursday night, I was about at my wits’ end. I had so many ideas for how to go forward, and nothing seemed to be working out. I had just finished reading “Signs.” Laura said, “You can ask for help too.” So I said, “Blake, I really need some help right now. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but I need your help. Please help me.” I went to bed and you came to me in a dream. I don’t have a vivid memory of the dream, but I know you were in it. When I woke up, I felt calm. Two hours later, I got a call from the office manager of the law firm, and we talked for fifteen minutes just setting up the interview, which was set for the following Monday.
This week, on Monday afternoon, I had an awesome interview with the Office Manager and and the Client Relations Manager. By the end of the day, my second interview was scheduled for Thursday, yesterday. It was the best interview I’ve ever had. Everything just clicked, the desire for empathy, resilience, respect, being a community asset, work-life balance, self care – everything. I was so happy when I sat down for the interview in front of my computer. I was only slightly nervous. I felt confident and excited. By the end, I could not stop smiling. Just over an hour after the interview, an Offer of Employment for the role of Family Law Paralegal landed in my email. The feeling? Complete exhilaration! I could not sit down. Tears filled my eyes.
I’ve thanked you out loud, and I heard you, “Have faith mama, I got you!” Thank you my dear angel. I’m learning how this works, how we get to have this healthy relationship, how the love will never die. I do not like being unable to hug you and being unable to hear your voice (outside of recordings), but I know you’re safe and healthy, and we still have each other, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. I’m also grateful that I’m gaining the courage to grow in the grief, and that I get to take you with me.
Sitting on my father’s knee prior to my fourth birthday, I told him that if he kept living his life as he was, he would get curses. Of course I don’t have a memory of this conversation, but I have heard the story proudly recited over and over throughout my life, as if my young self was capable of connecting the dots between ‘bad’ behavior and negative outcomes, or that I was some messenger delivering a sacred warning. It is far more likely that I was repeating what I had heard spoken in hushed voices. It could have even come from the children’s bible stories that my grandpa read to me each night, or the discipline that came about as a result of my own infractions. It was probably a combination of all of these things. The point is, I learned early that if you do ‘bad’ stuff, then bad stuff happens to you.
I carried this forward in my own parenting – planting, watering, and fertilizing the creed that “You get what you give.” I do believe there is a certain amount of truth to this principle, but I do not believe it is absolute, or that it exists in a vacuum. Is there a measurement of ‘bad’ that produces negative outcomes, like a behavior chart in a classroom? You do x and your name goes on the board, y and you lose your recess, z and you get a phone call home? Life is not that simple.
This whole concept became an obstacle for me when Blake passed away. Combined with the triggered grief over my biological mother’s abandonment of my toddler self, I carried the burden that I somehow brought these events on myself. A few months ago, I cried out, “What in the hell could I have actually done to bring these painful events, this incredible suffering, on myself!?! Am I such a horrible person, either in this life or some previous life, that I deserve to endure this pain?” These thoughts played over and over in my head. When I finally said them out loud, my husband just looked at me, astounded. He reassured me that my actions had nothing to do with these events.
As we talked, or processed out loud together, I came to the conclusion that the idea that I could even have such power to cause events like this is a narcissistic-like thought process. While we are all connected, and actions have ripple effects, my actions did not directly cause my mother to turn her back on me or my son to become addicted and to suffer a fatal overdose. Living in a society that promotes individualism infers a sense of responsibility when something good, or bad, happens, like we somehow bought the ticket for the outcome we are experiencing. Rather than it being solely my actions or carelessness, these specific outcomes are more likely the result of decisions, deeds and misdeeds, and disregard spread over a period of generations throughout society. Sayings like ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’ are grossly inaccurate and harmful.
I see this whole concept of karma and receiving blessings or tribulations, not only as individual benevolence or immorality, I see it, more than ever, as outcomes of the whole. One person can toss a stone, maybe even a large rock into the water, but when all of society is contributing, the ripple goes further, the splash is bigger, and more people get wet. It doesn’t matter their role. They may have tossed a pebble, a stone, or a rock. They may have stood by watching or just been passing by. They may have had a loved one who was involved in some way.
We are all obligated to ourselves and to each other. We get what we give. We reap what we sow. Does that mean that you can slack, or I can give up because someone else does? Absolutely not. In fact, it means that you and I have to give more, that we have to try harder, that we need to find out why our neighbor is struggling. While we are responsible for ourselves, we are also responsible for each other and for future generations. We teach this by living it. And when something bad happens to us, we suffer the consequences – together – and hopefully we try, with deep conviction, to fix whatever it is that brought us to this place.
It’s been so hard for me write to you, to write about you, to write about my journey as I learn to live with you in my heart only. There is never silence, even though there may be no words to be read. I’ve started a number of stories, a number of grief shares, and I walk away, unwilling or unable to complete the process. I wonder why. I wonder if I’m keeping you for myself, if I’m closeting the pain, and then I accept that I don’t need to understand or explain. I’m just feeling the way I’m feeling, and it’s okay.
Today is Mother’s Day, and I want to acknowledge you, because you were the one who made me a mom first. I think I’ve always been a dreamer, but you gave my dreams purpose. You lit the fire in me to bring some of my dreams to reality. You gave me courage to find my way and confidence to walk steadfast in my beliefs as I discovered them. As I looked at the world through your eyes, doors were opened to curiosity and new ways of thinking and seeing. All of the becoming that I did from the moment I knew I was pregnant to the moment I said good-bye, cannot be erased with your physical absence – because you always will exist in my heart. I wish that you could have seen yourself through my eyes the way that I came to see myself through yours. But that was not to be.
I want to share a little bit of some of my journey over the last few months. You know we made it through Christmas and New Year’s, what would have been your 29th Birthday, Easter, and Lucas’s Birthday. You know I took the month of February off to concentrate on healing. During that time, there was quiet chattering about an impending virus, but not something to which I paid much attention. Just over a week before spring break, all Oregon schools were closed until the end of April. Since that time, it has been decided that schools will be closed for the remainder of the school year. And the closures don’t end with schools. There are no haircuts to be had and no going out to eat, although there is take-out with curbside pickup. Many people have been sick, and as of today, nearly 80,000 people, in just the United States, have died from the virus called COVID-19. Also, many, many people have lost their jobs and many will lose their businesses. There are theories, conspiracy theories, blame, shame, chaos and confusion – and fear, probably the biggest reason for all of those other negative outcomes and behaviors.
While the world around me seems to be going mad, I’ve largely enjoyed sinking into a cocoon of sorts. Outside of going to the store and delivering food and school-work to students at my school twice a week, I’ve been staying home – since mid-March. I could have never imagined this in my wildest dreams. First that I would live through a global pandemic, and second that I would be home for this long without needing to feed my deeply engrained wanderlust. But here we are. Sometimes I wonder how this would be impacting you if you were alive today. You were such a sensitive person. I run different scenarios through my head: what if you were in recovery when this started and you and everyone around you lost their jobs, what if you relapsed, what if you got sick, what if, what if, what if. I know I would have wanted to get you home as soon as possible. I know that would have changed the dynamics in our home. If you arrived here in recovery, the stress might have triggered a relapse, and if you arrived in active addiction, I would have been frantically trying to help you find resources. And then I take a breath, and I am grateful that these what ifs are just that and not what is. At first I thought it was strange that I found relief, but so many other mothers of children lost to addiction have expressed the same relief. I got to hold your hand. I got to kiss your forehead, trace your eyebrows, and tell you all about my love for you and my appreciation for you. So many people who currently have sick loved ones, whether hospitalized or separated by distance, cannot physically be with them.
One of the amazing things I’ve been doing during this time is yoga. I’ve always known that it would be good for me, but I’ve always really struggled with the lack of movement, the lack of a fat-burning or cardio heart rate. I felt like, with so little time, I should focus my attention on the health benefits of more physically demanding workouts. So yoga – brought to me through Callie, a woman who I met because she asked to share my physical transformation picture on her social media page in September of 2018. When I looked at her page, I noticed that she taught yoga at a recovery center where you had been a patient. I even talked with you about her. I just don’t think this was a coincidental meeting. Callie and I met in person within just a couple of weeks after your passing, and I really felt a connection. When everyone was forced to stay home, Callie started offering yoga sessions through Facebook Live, and I thought, ‘What the heck!’ I have learned so much over the last couple of months. The biggest thing that I’m learning is that the poses practiced on the mat are just a small part of yoga. A big lightbulb moment for me was something Callie said during one of the early sessions, “What happens on the mat is a reflection of what happens in life.” My understanding of that was that I don’t give myself enough intentional time and patience, because when I’ve done yoga before this, I just wanted it to be done. I arrived with an attitude of ‘Okay, I’m here, let’s get this over-with.’ Now I arrive with intention, and my intention is expanding. It’s not always perfect, and it doesn’t have to be. That’s the big picture, I think.
I want to share this picture that I took the other day. I was on the mat Thursday morning. I was nearing the end of my session with Callie, and we were in this pose where we were sitting with legs crossed and knees stacked. This is a hard pose for me because of my knee issues. I wanted to see myself doing this, so I took my phone and set the timer, and I took some pictures. The next night, I was looking at the pictures and I was playing with the color on this one. I really like it because of its intensity and reverence. I sent it to Callie. Then I was scrolling through Facebook and I came across this meme that my ‘mother from the other sister’ posted. These words spoke to me – clear through to my soul, and I instantly knew that I wanted them on that picture. I think this is my why. Putting these words on this picture was an exercise of affirmation, just in itself. I wrote the first paragraph, changed the font style, added another paragraph, changed the size, only to have the first paragraph disappear. Over and over and over. You get the idea. And I realized and accepted that this was exactly the process I was supposed to have, because these were and are and will be very important words – a very important reminder and affirmation. And the only way I was going to believe these words about myself was to constantly read them, to constantly recite them, to constantly type them, over and over again, until I believe and become – and that means getting on the mat and walking through this life – doing and practicing yoga.
It is Life. It is love. I wrote the other day that being a mom is more about giving life than giving birth. As you know, my biological mother gave birth to me. I am grateful to her for my beating heart. I am blessed to have a couple of other beautiful mothers that filled my heart with life, love. I hope that I was able to do both for you. If the way that you poured love into so many around you is a reflection of my birthing and pouring life and love into you, I think I can say, I did a good job. I am proud of you, each and every day. I know you would tell me Happy Mother’s Day and bring me the most interesting and beautiful flowers if you were here. The orchid that I bought for your birthday is still alive and blooming. I’ve never had one last this long, and I think you have something to do with that. Thank you, thank you, thank you – for everything.
“If you’re true to yourself, your life will bring abundance.” ~ Suzy Amis Cameron (Oprah’s SuperSoul Conversations 10/15/19)
Abundance, faith, & family – these are the first three words that I saw this morning in a 2020 Energy Predictions word search puzzle. These words are supposed to describe my 2020. I know these social media games are for entertainment; however, when a theme is repeated in a short period of time, I tend to pay attention. The universe may be sending me a message.
One characteristic of my personality is control. I think I can rationalize Blake’s passing. I can reassure myself that he’s free from the chains of addiction and the self-loathing that it brought to him. I can remind myself of the desperation that I heard in his voice in the months before his final overdose. I can remember that Blake was proud of me and that he would want me to continue living, despite his physical absence. I can recognize that he might even be frustrated by my tears. But that doesn’t stop them, nor does it stop the days where grief’s tantrum holds me in a trance.
Control and grief are not friends. In fact, even though control does everything it can to distract grief, grief is oblivious to control’s existence. This is what is particularly infuriating to me. On a couple of occasions, I’ve felt grief begin to well up inside me and taken a day off from work to rest, believing that doing so will prevent the overwhelming feelings that grief brings. This might work sometimes, but just when I think I have the upper hand, grief reshuffles without permission.
Because of control, and perhaps self-discipline and determination, cousins of control, I’ve been able to accomplish a number of positive things throughout my adult years. I brought Blake into this world and attended college as a single mother. Together, with my partner, I’ve bought homes and moved to another state. I’ve made career moves that have fulfilled me and benefitted my family. I’ve endeavored to improve myself in every way, finishing my M.Ed. in 2016 and vowing to reclaim my physical health in 2017. There have been many sink holes along the way, but I’ve managed to emerge from the grime, brush off what I didn’t need, and claim victory over the obstacles – because of control. Feeling a lack of control over myself is foreign to me.
As Rumi said, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.” This quote resonates with my soul. Pain and becoming can work together for growth, although sometimes lately, this pain seems too big. The amount of light that could enter through the gaping crevice that is exposing my soul is unimaginable. And honestly, I don’t really care to imagine it. That I could become a better version of myself, as a result of my son’s death, is not something I want to consider.
But isn’t our purpose here to become our best selves? And don’t we, more often than not, do this through experience and overcoming adversity?
I didn’t ask for Blake to be afflicted with debilitating addiction. I didn’t ask for this disease to take his life. I do have to figure out how to keep living without him here. I have to learn how to face and give in to grief. I have to let grief teach me, and the only way I can do this is by giving up my perceived control, because really, control is only imaginary.
A question that has been sitting with me though is: ‘how can I just go on with life as it was before Blake passed?’ It feels like there should be some big shift, because there has been. Not that Blake’s passing should come to define my existence, but it is and will forever be a big part of who I am. It can make me, or it can break me. Maybe that’s where control comes in, in the deciding. I think this control is in allowing grief to exist instead of trying to shake it off. Perhaps it’s even more than allowing, but actually leaning into it, experiencing the uncomfortable-ness of it, listening to it, and letting it guide me.
Lately, I have an urge to run away. I know running won’t change anything that has happened, but it would bring a shift. I need to reconstruct, like a city or town does after a major weather catastrophe. I need my family of people to help me, with time, shoulders, and Kleenex, in place of the hammers and nails used to rebuild places that have suffered devastation. And faith…funny that word should emerge too. Thank you Blake for leaving me with that word in our last conversation. I need to have faith that the abundance of life will come through being true to myself, and at this time, through my grief.
That silly word search this morning was really not so silly. I saw the words I needed to see. Those words, coupled with the podcast that I chose to listen to on my way to work, provided me with encouragement and a desire to be introspective and contemplate where I am now and how I want to get to wherever I’m going and who I’m becoming.
What three words do you see?
I don’t know who to credit, but I did not create it.
