Wishing you courage

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying 'I will try again tomorrow'."
- Mary Anne Radmacher

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

This is a nice post :)

My local SHARE group is having it's annual candle lighting and tree decorating ceremony. Each of us brings an ornament to decorate a tree that is then donated to a local hospital in remembrance of our babies. It's a really nice night.

So this morning when the snuggle bunny says that he wants me to come back after work and stay another night at his place, I tell him that I need to find an ornament for the meeting. He said that he would help me find one and this evening we went ornament shopping. I had a few ideas of what I was looking for, one of which was a cute ornament that a little boy would be attracted to. Surrounded by ornaments, SB suggests that we find something that Toren would like. HE SAID HIS NAME! SB remembered and used the name of my son! Wow.

My ex, Toren's father, never would have helped me find an ornament and he only said his name one time, that I can remember (when calling the hospital to get Toren's measurements when I was crying over not having found out how big he was).

Anyway, I selected a dinosaur ornament. And I bought two of them and explained to SB that last year I only bought one ornament and once it came down to placing it on the tree I couldn't do it! I need one to share and one to hoard for my son's memory box.

It's so sweet and so complex. I am so lucky to be spending time with such an awesome and thoughtful guy. But why couldn't my husband show some concern for how much I loved our son? Why didn't he love us?

Someday those painful thoughts will not cross my mind and I will simply marvel at displays of kindness.


On another, bitter, note, I have some gossip that is so shameful that I can't tell anyone that I personally know. Anyone need a distraction and want to hear about the "adventures" of people you don't know?

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Getting here

For the last week and a half I've been watching my body heal from an unfortunate moment of unbalance that ended with me sprawled on the asphalt.

Healing is not pretty. Exposed, weeping wounds become covered with crusty scabs which protect those tender areas as new skin grows. Over the days bruises dawn and darken and turn sickly colors before fading away. Joints at points of impact stiffen and now I gently try to coax a normal range of movement out of my knee and hand.

Besides keeping the sores clean and preventing infection or further damage, there's not much you can do to speed the process along; healing takes as long as it takes.


Over the past two years since Toren died did I do enough to prevent "infection"? Did all of that alcohol work as an internal disinfectant? Did my brain shutting off and the mental numbing and the dissociation give my soul space to heal, free of external stimuli?

Could I have healed faster? Could I have done anything other than shut down and sit with my grief? Surging forward, determined to succeed and excel would have only been a lie and may not have led towards actual healing.


One year ago today I was preparing to kill myself. On the 16th I would end up in the ER, drunk and having swallowed every pill in the medicine cabinet. From there I would be transferred to a psychiatric inpatient hospital in the back of a sheriff's car. My journal entries from those days are very difficult for even me to read now as they document the shift from feeling desperately lonely, utterly hopeless and completely heartbroken to being at complete peace with not having another moment of this life.

Day after day, page after page of last Autumn, over and over I wrote about how lonely I was. When my husband said he didn't want to be with me anymore I was sure that I would never find another partner who would put up with me. If the person who knew me best couldn't stand to be around me what hope could I have for the future?


Today my home is filled with 3 women, 2 cats, and one dog. I'm here half of the time, the other half is spent with a guy who likes having me around. Today I slept in late and had breakfast made by the snuggle bunny. We showered, went back to bed, went for a walk, went out for lunch, went back to bed, and all day we laughed. Back at home this evening, housemate L.'s laughter bounces off the walls through the house as she laughs at a TV program. Housemate C. laughs at her cute dog. My house is full of life and animals; the driveway is full of cars. Tomorrow night I'll be back with the snuggle bunny for a night out and then peace and quiet at his place. Tuesday night, who knows!


I've had little to say about the second anniversary of Toren's birthday/death day, but I've been doing a lot of thinking. The day of his second anniversary was lovely and I want to tell you about it soon, but already it's taken so long for me to write this much. It's really incredible... in the months up until October 30, 2007 I was joyous and expectant, last year, completely destroyed, and lately, I'm still living with the sorrow of being without Toren but I smile everyday. How do you find words for this sort of journey?