by Lori Dwyer on February 11, 2011 · 99 comments

I spoke to a grief counselor, the other day. He spoke about age regression, how everyone regresses in age during grief.

He asked me, what age do I feel, most of the time, right now?

Fifteen. Fourteen, maybe, but I think 15 was worse.

Remember, being a teenager? Being fragile like that? Every slight, joking or not, was a major blow to what little self esteem you had. You were all wrapped up in yourself, insecure, and hurting a lot of the time.

Or maybe that was just me. Is just me. Because that’s how I feel right now. Fragile. Sensitive. I really just want someone to wrap me up and tell me it’s OK.

A male, as I’ve said before. Females, I love them and they are my nurturing, holding community at the moment. Women are good at this stuff, better than men. But I need a bloke. Not like that, not to kiss me, or touch me. Just to protect me, for ten minutes, from all this awfulness.

I’ve been so strong, now, for over a month. I miss my Tony, my soft place to fall. I need the next best thing.


I cut myself, when I was fifteen. I’ve been meaning to blog about it for a while now. I carved tiny words into my hand. I burnt myself, with a lighter, all up my forearm. and slashed myself, repeatedly, to watch myself bleed.

I was in so much pain, when I was fifteen. And I felt so worthless. And that’s how I feel now. I cut myself, then, because it all hurt, everything hurt, and no one seemed to care. Maybe if I was marked, physically hurting on the outside too, someone might pay attention.

It hurts even more, when you bleed, when you scream, when you beg for help; and the help you need, the things that will stop the hurt, aren’t given. Aren’t there.

I’ve been tempted, to cut myself now. I always am, when I’m in pain, and no one seems to be listening. The funny thing about it is, it wouldn’t be enough. No matter how much I cut, or how much blood I shed, it wouldn’t be even near to enough right now.

There were almost 200 000 hits on this blog last month. That scares the crap out of me, and I almost weep with gratefulness at the same time. The irony. Is this not what every blogger wants? But what a way to get it.

I’ll swap you, what I had, my 6000 hits a month, for my life back. My purple life.



I’m grateful. Grateful that what I’m saying is being read, I think it’s important. But I never meant it to be this. I didn’t mean to be some kind of warped advocate for mental health. That’s not why I spoke.

I just need to write. And this is where I do it.

But I’m glad you’re all here, reading. Sharing it, the pain, letting it seep out into the world through my keyboard.. it helps. Just a fraction, just a bit. To take the edge of the very, very rawness of this agony.

I’m fifteen again. I feel like weeping, most of the time, and a lot of the time I do.

Calm… gentle… nice. I just need people to be nice to me.

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{ 99 comments… read them below or add one }

Lil June 20, 2011 at 10:25 pm

Lori, i have been following your blog for a little while now, i am hoping you are now in a better place but just wanted to share a little trick of mine… elastic bands… rubber bands are the best. Just place one on your wrist and when the 15 year old in you's feeling comes out just flick it. The sting is a shock but it can sometimes be enough to relieve the ache for pain. Big freaking hugs for you girl xxx :-)


JallieDaddy February 18, 2011 at 11:07 am

Still here, still listening. Good to know it helps, even if it's just a tiny bit.


scone February 16, 2011 at 4:29 pm

At 15, I was the same. I blurted out one day, in the heat of an argument in the car with my mother, what I was going to do (geez, I can't even bring myself to say it, and you're living it ! xx)

I started to collect quotes (of all things) in a word document and the one that stands out – for so many reasons is : "Sometimes I wish I were a little kid again, skinned knees are easier to fix than broken hearts."

I know that probably doesn't help. So I'll offer a great big blogger hug to you. xoxo


suburp February 15, 2011 at 10:23 am

I've read in the context of my own trauma that certain strong emotions, either felt over a long period of time or through a sudden event, can halt your development or literally set you back or even catapult you to a (mostly teeanage) mental age. you will still be able to function as an adult but you have to (re)learn certain social situations, the appropriate attitudes, feelings, responses etc. your counseler might have talked to you about that too..
I am still somewhat of an angsty and easily angry teenager, but it's getting better. I still struggle with consistent social contacts and feel overwhelmed by what seems to be expected of me, but i cling to being a good mother and am thankful that indeed, a new man has brought so much balance in my dysfunctional life. i wish you all the best on this journey now.. take good care, ok. xxx


Bexxx February 15, 2011 at 6:00 am

I have been reading for awhile now, afraid to comment. I lost my Mother to suicide when I was 13. While I cannot possibly comprehend the pain of losing my Husband the way you have, I do understand the deep and unending pain, and the emptiness heart and soul. I wish I could take it all away for you, but the best I can do is to tell you that you are more than welcome to email me anytime, and that you are in my thoughts and prayers daily. I am sending you a great big, giant hug. ~Becky


bekkles February 14, 2011 at 1:43 am

I have a wee girl, she's 3. I think sometimes about when she is 13, 14, 15. I hope upon hope that I can make those difficult years a bit easier. I hope that making sure she knows that home is a safe place filled with love no matter what will help.
Lori, I hope upon hope that we can make the blogosphere a safe place for you, filled with love. And I hope it helps


KiTx February 14, 2011 at 10:53 am

keep breathing and keep writing, Lori. we're all here to be the best virtual hug we can be. a million hugs and positive thoughts for you and your little ones from Texas.


mummabear1970 February 13, 2011 at 10:59 pm

Lori, I thank you for continuing to write. No, you didn't plan to become an advocate for mental health, but you have opened so many people's eyes, especially mine, about suicide and what the family left behind goes through. You are brutally honest, you are real. Your pain slaps me in the face & tells me not to take my life for granted. I cannot thank you enough for that. I wish your purple world hadn't turned upside down. I wish your Tony was still there with you. I wish your nightmare would go away. Take positive energy from all the messages being left from us, your bloggy readers. We are (I should say "I am" becuase I shouldn't speak for others) blessed that you are so open with your emotions. You must be helping so many people with your blogging Opening up conversation between partners. Be proud of surviving this far. We are here to help you continue. Write, not harm. xx


robyn February 13, 2011 at 5:10 pm

I just wanted to say Thank You for being so honest. You really are doing a great job. I don't think there is a 'right' or' 'wrong' way to cope after you've lost someone as close as you were to your Tony. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and keep breathing in and out. And know that we are loving and praying for you.


River February 13, 2011 at 4:25 pm

I thought I'd left a comment…
Please don't cut yourself Lori, please please please, just keep writing out all your pain and anger here, we're all listening.


Nadine February 13, 2011 at 1:25 pm

Hi Lori,
Just wanted to let you know that Im reading and so desperately wanting to give you a big cuddle. And even though you may not feel it, please know you are doing so well. Im so proud of your strength and humanity.
You sound like such a swell lass and I desperately wish that you weren't going through this.

Love Nadine xx


mi3centsworth February 13, 2011 at 11:22 am

Hey Lori, I'm "new" to the blogging world. I stumbled upon your story from another blog. Just wanted to send some love your way. I will be including you in my prayers tonight.


THE Bird February 13, 2011 at 8:42 pm

without a doubt, my man has a mental illness… I have been with him for 3 years now & it is just getting worse.. It is cyclical, so now, I can see it coming…
Tonight, he had a major melt down, Flick! Went the switch in his head. He snapped, yelled at me, rang one of my friends, intimidated & yelled at her….
I have known for about a week now, that an episode was imminent… So, for probably the first time, I didn't bite back.

He pushed & he pushed. I got a little upset, but stopped. I calmly started to make dinner for him like nothing had happened…

He snapped. He stood over me, yelled & glared. His anger black & palpable, wrapped around him like a cloak. I said nothing.

He packed some clothes in a bag & drove off in his car, like like Fangio….

I don't know where he is going, or who will cop the full force of his nasty toxic anger.

Tomorrow, it will be like none of this ever happened.

…Until the next cycle….


Anonymous February 13, 2011 at 1:17 am

Lori, you are amazing. Please don't question yourself and don't stop writing. I think of you all the time; prayers of peace from a woman/mother/wife/daughter/friend you will never know.


Michelle February 13, 2011 at 12:25 am

Hi Lori

Hugs for you.

I know you probably feel like you are walking in quicksand, not getting anywhere. Living in limbo.

But you are moving forward, slowly, step by step and we are here with you.



Helena February 12, 2011 at 9:42 pm

*ah hem* i love the fucking shit out of you.
14 was my Year Of The Blood.
No advice, no judgment; just love. Take care of yourself Lori.


Rebecca February 12, 2011 at 8:56 pm

I am one of the newcomers also. I keep coming back because you express your pain so eloquently and make me appreciate my own life and everything I take for granted.

I wish I could do something to help. I assure you that I am going to make damn sure I ask my husband how he is – how he really is.

Take care of yourself and know that you are making a difference and probably saving lives.



Andrea February 12, 2011 at 8:09 pm

I'm here too, another bloggee sending ((( Hugs))).
Here and listening.


Anonymous February 12, 2011 at 5:28 pm

Dearest Lori
I am one of these people that have looked and followed your blog after Tony's suicide. You are one strong amazing woman Lori. I won't go into details but a friend suicided leaving behind his wife and two small children. Bloody hellish is all I can say but she too survived because she had the two kids that she had to get out of bed to everyday. He also didn't seek help and no one know how bad he was. Four years on she is happily remarried. Hang in there Lori.


lori February 12, 2011 at 1:45 pm

Don't cut – just write. We love you and we're here listening. And we'll all be nice, we promise.


Anonymous February 12, 2011 at 9:08 am

Lori, as all the others already said: I wish I could do something else to help you, but the only thing I can do from here where I am is let you know that I am reading your posts and that I think you are a wonderful and strong person even if you might not feel that way a lot of the time. To have the guts to share personal and intimate experiences and thoughts apparently helps other people. And although, of course, this is not the main reason why you do what you do, knowing that perhaps can help sometimes a little bit.
I wish I could be nice to you personally. I hope that perhaps for some seconds our comments help, too….

Lots of love


Barbara February 12, 2011 at 4:35 am

(((((hugs))))) Lori, and my thoughts and prayers that you stay safe and as strong as you can be right now.


Anonymous February 12, 2011 at 1:56 am

one more try…
(((( HUGS ))))


Anonymous February 12, 2011 at 1:56 am

< >


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 11:54 pm

just hold in your heart that there are 200,000 people that care and are thinking of you and are coming here daily like me,to check how you are even though we don't even know you.Your words and honesty have made me care about you.


Claire February 11, 2011 at 11:05 pm

I only started blogging in January and I choose people to add by stumbling upon people in reader lists or links from other people. Although I didn't come across your blog until 'after' I have looked back at your life 'before' and I love your honesty and humour, you are a wonderful writer. It is a privilege that you allow others a view into your pain at the moment although your intention is to write for yourself not for others. I, like your other readers, will still be reading in the future when you have a return to brighter days. Until then we are here to hold your hand and be nice to you xx


Jodie February 11, 2011 at 10:27 pm

I'm a new reader to your blog, and I am grateful that you continue to write. Your honesty helps me to open my eyes. I can't imagine the pain you are going through… and I hope that one day you are able to write about happy things that happen. But it's early days…. and you need to grieve. And I glad that you have this blog to release your emotions. Thanks Lori. Best wishes to you. xxx


Victoria February 11, 2011 at 9:39 pm

I was the same at 15, I still get the urge every so often but distract myself intensely.
You are in my thoughts.


MaidInAustralia February 11, 2011 at 6:40 pm

I really don't know what else to say except that you are in my thoughts. xoxo


deardarl February 11, 2011 at 6:16 pm

I hear you. Every word.


Hear Mum Roar February 11, 2011 at 6:01 pm

Oh babe, you're writing now, maybe that can replace cutting? It's definitely a lot healthier. ((HUG))


triminded February 11, 2011 at 6:01 pm

When my best friend died in a traffic accident and I first walked up to our best mutual friend at the scene, my words were "It's just going to hurt, a lot, for a long time." We couldn't make that change. That was 16 years ago and it still does, but not as much as that first year. I woke up crying every morning for weeks. The worst experience of my life was waking up fresh with a clear happy mind – and then remembering anew what had happened. The brutal torment of the contrast of having that tiny second when I had forgotten the horror, to the next second when it was there with me again.

Keep seeing your grief counselor. They know good stuff that can help you.

I have spent the last 8 years reading popular psychology for my own journey's sake. The penny only dropped in this last year. The psychology profession has much to offer if you let it, and if you take the long slow road. I like Muriel Jones' work, but it's maybe a bit clinical for you right now.

Be affirmed. Watching you now is like watching a train wreck in reverse. It at its worst right now, a disastrous tangle of wreckage. As the years go on the wreckage will untangle and slowly slowly life will pick up. One day in a decade or two, if you do nothing more than just keep walking along this terrible road, you will slowly slowly become ok again. And if you seek good counsel you will find a little peace that you could never dream of obtaining at this broken time.

If you have a male relative or super-trusty friend who's got a good heart and a steady head, go get that big big hug.

mere male


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 5:58 pm

Cutting. Trying to get the pain from inside to out. I understand this. But don't. Keep on thinking, writing… lick your wounds. You know what to do. Your grief counsellor sounds good, alerting you to this. Think of it this way, too. You have been wounded. You need to retreat into your lair to do what you need to do to recover. Perhaps your lair is writing? Perhaps something else. You owe nothing to us readers. Nothing!!


SJ February 11, 2011 at 5:15 pm

Here and listening Lori. Share out the bad shit, we can all take a little away…. Sarah


thepixiechick February 11, 2011 at 4:50 pm

I just wish there was something I could say to ease your pain and make things better. I wish you could find the arms you need to hold you to make you feel safe. I think that everyone who has commented here, and many more who have just read, in the last month has wished they could take this away and give you back your purple life. I know that this is not the way you wanted to hit the top of the blog charts, not the way anyone would want to. But your writing at the moment is so incredibly, can't-tear-my-eyes-away compelling. It's painful to read but
You have been so strong, you are so strong. Hope you can get a break from needing to be strong, and have some time out to be young, to be vulnerable, to be safe, to be taken care of, to be whatever you want or need to be.
Love always xoxoxo


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 4:44 pm

Hello Ms Lori,
I think that you are a wonderous advocate, but not for a cause, for yourself(and this is GOOD), and we, your devoted bloggee's, will continue to seek sisterhood, commonality, a bond. It is in our nature to connect and to help if we can even if it is by writing a few words of encouragement to a you, a special lady. Remember to breathe Ms Lori and please take good care of yourself.


Von February 11, 2011 at 4:37 pm

Dear Lori,
I began my message to you late last night, when my home was quiet and I could think. I spurted out inadequate "stuff", words that wanted so badly to let you know how I have felt as I have absorbed your thoughts, feelings and words. But they they werent enough, they didnt feel enough to give to you. So I decided to wait until the morning, just to give my brain some time to become articulate enough to find better words. When I got back to my computer this morning, the words I had written last night had gone. The computer had shut down and those words went with it. But now I can see why, the purpose of me waiting and the losing of my written words … I have just read your post for today.
I cant even remember how I stumbled across your blog a month ago …but at the time it felt like it had landed in my lap. It was while Tony was fighting back for his life/your life in ICU.I dont make a habit of peering in on others pain (I have enough of my own), but there was this instant 'something' that made me stay and want to share the burden you are carrying.
As you have waded through the pits of mud and the gentle flowing streams of your relationship with Tony, then and now, your strength and bravery have shone through with each and every blog you have made. You may not feel strong and brave, but someone who isnt would not have allowed others to share in such a personal, life altering and heart shattering time in their lives. You have consciously decided to write as honestly and frankly about your husbands suicide and of the tsunami of waves that have followed. You are giving people that you dont even know the opportunity to TALK, to their friends, their families and their partners about issues that are ignored more than acknowledged. You are giving those who are reading your blog, the incentive to speak up and get help for themselves or someone they love before another person dies senselessly.
You are taking your devastation and using it for good … you are STRONG and BRAVE.
Your 15, is my 14. A time when I couldnt have been more alone and injured, pain was something I was so use to and yet 14 broke the camels back. So 14 became 15 and 15 became 16…they were some of the darkest days of my life.
So when you spoke of your 15, you struck another chord …something that speaks loudly to me. You have kept your head above water before Lori and you can keep your head above water again this time. The virtual world might not allow you to feel the hands that are extended to you, or the shoulders that sit here waiting for your tears. But they are real and sincere and will be waiting for you, for when you need them. Make sure you accept the offers you need Lori …make sure you do.xx


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 4:30 pm

I kept thinking of your story when I was watching Australian Story on Monday night. You can watch it online. There are so many parallels and I think it may give you hope. The episode is called "Man on the Mantlepiece".


Brenda February 11, 2011 at 3:37 pm

Love and so much love to you my dearest.xxxx


Firball February 11, 2011 at 3:25 pm

Your honesty is incredible. As someone who found their way here "after", I can tell you that I've gone through to read your "before" too. Yours is such beautiful writing with honesty and spirit.

Hoping that each day is better and brighter, bringing you peace and everything you need.


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 2:26 pm

Your honesty is so jarring. Your hurting so evident and your sweet tenderness seeps through it all. From thousands of miles away, wishing you friends and loved ones who come through for you.


Ms Styling You February 11, 2011 at 2:11 pm

This blog is part of your step forward … it will be what it will be. In the mean time we are here to love and support you. xx


x0xJ February 11, 2011 at 1:22 pm

Oh how i just want to take you in my arms and wrap you up from this whole world!
Sadly there is far too much to your posts that are familiar with my life.
Hoping that you feel 16 soon, and just that little bit better and you can see just how wonderful you are.


Jo Jo February 11, 2011 at 1:20 pm

I read your post, I wish I had know about them before, but read them now anyway, in someways you help me, crazy I know but reading you blog helps me, I have crazy thoughts, I have bad hurtful thoughts, but reading your blog helps me, for this I thank you, I thank you for still writing though all you hurt, I wish I could pay you back, to talk to you, to help you too… your pain is so raw, all I can say is breath in and out each day, do what you can each day, give yourself all the time you need, dont let anyone let you think you should be getting better, you are you, and can only do what you can…
sorry just writing out loud…
your in my thoughts offern..
{ hugs }


Sarah February 11, 2011 at 12:59 pm

Lori, I think about you every day. Keep going, keep writing, one step, one day, one night, one post at a time. There's so much love out here for you :)


Kim February 11, 2011 at 12:51 pm

Sending you support, good thoughts, much love.


Leanne February 11, 2011 at 12:00 pm

Oh Lori,

I will be nice to you. I am weeping with you, I cannot imagine your pain, but I wish I could take some of it away from you. Even for a minute.

Go gently, Lori.

Leanne xo


Jacki February 11, 2011 at 12:00 pm

I can completely understand that you need people just to be nice to you. You need to be treated gently. I was sorry to read of the cutting, I don't know much about it but it signifies a need for help, in my opinion. Did you mention it to your counsellor? Thinking of you Lori.


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 11:36 am

This is my first comment to your posts Lori, but I have been reading religiously with so much pain for you, for what you have been through, for what you have been left with, and for your heartwrenching sorrows. You blow me away with your awesome strength, insight and incredible stamina – but at the same time you are so allowed to be weak, feel vulnerable, and wanting for someone to take away your unbearable pain. The cutting and burning thing I truly understand. A practice known to me, my scars today a constant reminder of how bad life was back then, just how much I longed for the blood and blisters to ooze my crap feelings away, for someone to take notice and know there is something truly wrong. In fear my long comment will take away someone elses space, I could go on and on, but I will leave you Lori with the knowledge that all of us so wish we could simply make things better, turn back time, and hold you so that purple still had a place in your life. xx


Kel February 11, 2011 at 11:32 am

It takes awesome strength and self knowledge to not go back – and you are wonderful for not going there, for not letting the pain beat you and drive you to hurt more. We are all here and we will continue with you however you need x


Marianna Annadanna February 11, 2011 at 10:53 am

Please know, Lori, that those 200000 hits are not just in the After, not just in the 'this is fucked'.

They're in the Before too. Reading about you and your family. Trying to know the happy days as well as the shitty ones. Hoping against hope that you may get back to some glimmer of that happiness again someday.

I know you'd trade the 200000. We would too.

If writing helps, keep doing it. We'll be here.

Sending you love, and STRENGTH.


Bec @ Bad Mummy February 11, 2011 at 10:49 am

You're a fantastic writer Lori, you deserve 200,000 hits but not because of this :( You should be incredibly proud of your ability to write, I agree, it's so important for people to be reading this.

I'm so sorry you're hurting so much, I wish there was something I could do to ease it.


Parent with Potential February 11, 2011 at 10:22 am

Lori, You don't have to be an advocate if you don't want to. You are just being you and it is real and confronting and inspiring and that is why people are following now. You were obviously never afraid to hold back (as I've been reading your previous posts) and what you have is courage. I know you would swap anything to have your purple life back but I have no doubt that the future will be bright for you. Thinking of you daily…


Maxabella February 11, 2011 at 10:10 am

Are people not being nice to you, Lori? What are they doing that is hurting you?

Your longing is heartbreaking, my friend. I hope you are taking time to exercise, to pound out that longing with something physical. Anything but cutting! Anything! x


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 9:58 am

I am not going to offer you words bashed out online. I am in melbourne so can't really offer my physical presence but I can lend my voice. Lori you don't know me but if you wake in the middle of the night and need someone to howl to pls call me. email me on and i will email you my ph number. I don't know shit about what u be going but I don't flinch from expressions of pain.


Being Me February 11, 2011 at 9:58 am

I had a bout in 2009 where I looked around in alarm at my kitchen and thought, "I feel like I am 9 years old. How can a 9 yr old run a home?" My husband, my child, felt like too much for me to organise. And I had to. For several days. Feeling like I was 9 again. For me, it's 9. Every time. When the abuse came up and choked the life out of who I had been for the past 9 years. But I was also able at that age to look my predator in the eye after 3 years and say "No. It stops now." The new me emerged and took over my life.

Lori, that last sentence is so short and simple but it's profound. It says it all. The weeks and months after Ella, I just wanted a bed of cotton wool. And as I woke up more and more out of it, I got angrier at those around me who expected me to do any more than I was doing – or that if I laughed one time on any given day, I was ready to be 'up and att'em' when I wasn't. Not even nearly close. Guess what I'm trying to say is, I hear you loud and clear.


Veronica February 11, 2011 at 9:57 am

I don't think grief made me regress, instead, it felt like I'd aged 10 years in 2 minutes.

15 is a shit age to be and I can imagine just how fragile you're feeling. (((hugs))) lovely.


MultipleMum February 11, 2011 at 9:46 am

I can think of nothing worse Lori. Dealing with all that you are going through AND feeling like a teenager again. Nothing worse. x


Rebecca February 11, 2011 at 9:26 am

Please Lori dont start self harming because it wont change things and honestly wont help. If anything it will make things worse. How do I know? I self harm. My last time was last month and nothing came out of it. Please can you write a written agreement that you wont resort to self harm and lists steps in which you will take to avoid it. I hate the urge to self harm. I get it even when I am happy and it sucks. I did a written agreement and it seems to have helped a bit.
We may feel that it helps let out the pain as the blood comes out but honestly it doesnt.
Writting helps let out the pain so keep it going.
Massive hugs and wish I could do more.


Torkona February 11, 2011 at 9:10 am

no matter what yuo do, if you keep writing posts like this you'll (unfortunately?) will get traffic.

but to be 15 again? i'd wish. youth may seem fragile. But when i was 15, I thought I was invincible. perhaps try and remember, when u were young u could do anything…

keep at it!

– tork
This Aussie Expectant Dad got a blog


Potsy mummy February 11, 2011 at 9:05 am

I dont know what to say. Dont want to turn this comment into all about me when what Im trying to say is about you.
Im going through a whole heap of shit at the moment, nothing in comparison to you but over the last few years its been hard, damn hard. Self harm is a scary bitch and why must it rear its ugly head when times are tough?
I never self harmed as a teen, but started as a nearly 30 yo mummy. Fucked! Lately things have been really bad and im ashamed to say I did it again. I dont cut though. No-one here IRL cares. No-one. Your right its a plea for help. Anyone please support us when its this hard. right! Why cant people see that were reaching out for help.
Hang on to that "anyone" you've got. No matter who they are if they reach out to you IRL hang on.
Your a strong woman whos inspiring a lot of other people also going through tough times. Thankyou for sharing so honestly.


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 8:27 am

You've hit home here in many ways on here for me.keep your head up and know that we 200k plus are following along, supporting u. <3


Lucy February 11, 2011 at 8:26 am

I hear you. Thirteen for me. Every time.

Be nice and gentle and calm to YOURSELF too.



Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 8:04 am

Dear Lori
You never have been, and you never will be, worthless. We're all still here, listening, praying, caring and loving you.
I hope that soon you will feel the comfort of being held in a man's arms. That you will feel safe, even if it's only for a few minutes.


Glen February 11, 2011 at 7:56 am

sounds like a fair swap to me. You have had it tough mate. truly


In Real Life February 11, 2011 at 7:56 am

*HUGS* I am sitting by my window, up in Canada, looking out on the snowy landscape, and thinking nice thoughts about you, and hoping that you have some calm and peaceful moments today.


THE Bird February 11, 2011 at 6:32 pm

Lori says: "But I need a bloke. Not like that, not to kiss me, or touch me. Just to protect me, for ten minutes, from all this awfulness."

Yes Lori, you want a bloke to cushion your fall, tell you that you are safe, make everything ok….

BUT, if a bloke were to present himself & offer you that haven you so desperately crave…
I BET YOU, 10 to 1, you would tell him to 'BUGGER OFF'!!!

You are looking for Tony. You are looking/ craving for the safe, happy, warm, secure, purple place that Tony made, just for you….
It is a case of 'just any 'ol bloke WILL NOT DO!!!!'


Donna @ NappyDaze February 11, 2011 at 7:26 am

I understand you, its like if there is no physical scar then there must be no pain, right? Wrong.

15 sucked for me too. It was actually one of the blackest times in my life, all that teen angst etc.

It will never be enough but we wrap our arms around you from afar, always wishing that each second some how creeps closer to a time when you will smile again. You are teaching us, and healing us as you try to heal yourself. Your wisdom is endless, just like your possibilities. You will do great things with this message Lori, you will save lives x


Princess Andy February 11, 2011 at 7:20 am

i am so grateful to have found your space…even with the horrible circumstances which made you available to all of us new readers.

as a person who has self harmed, and still gets the urge under the right circumstance, that was real fucking brave of you. seriously.

i am so sorry that you are going through such an awful experience.

but know that there are thousands of people out here in interwebz-ville holding you up and lending an ear.

love and kindness,


Langdowns February 11, 2011 at 6:21 am



Langdowns February 11, 2011 at 6:21 am



Christie February 11, 2011 at 6:07 am

Lori, you are in my thoughts today. Keep sharing. You are being heard.


Melissa February 11, 2011 at 5:56 am

You are so beautiful. Kind. Funny. Talented. You are so very strong. I'm here. I'm a real person – just a mom like you, wishing there was something I could do to ease your pain. Please keep writing here – I'll keep coming back. If you need anything tangible – just ask – we'll get it done. Hang in there.


Kelloggsville February 11, 2011 at 5:53 am

I understand exactly what you are saying about female support but needing a man right now to say "it's ok". The support you get from each is different, I too need that man thing and I know what you mean about it's not physical. Maybe it comes from our relationships with our fathers as girls and the way that means we seek that male support mechanism. Whatever it is, I think its ok to want it and I hope you find it because if you feel you need it, I'm sure it will help you. Self Harm is a bit like bulemia, when the stress is high, when everything falls apart you sort of fall back onto it. Why? It can't possibly help anything but that urge returns. Yep I'm about 15 too.


Caz (The Truth About Mummy) February 11, 2011 at 5:14 am



Breanne February 11, 2011 at 3:29 pm

Hmmm, when I was 15 all I could think about was being excited about getting a driver's license and getting a car. I think for therapy sake you should get a new driver's license pic taken and go car shopping. Sounds like fun, right?


Mommisaurus Rex February 11, 2011 at 3:54 am

Warm thoughts and hugs, wishing there was more that could help you through this.


alltheshinythings February 11, 2011 at 3:38 am

It's so frustrating. We are taught from a young age to be self sufficient, but still rely on others. To lean on them, expect someone to help us take the pain away.

But the only way the pain can go away – or at least be dulled – is by going through it. Acknowledging it, feeling it and going through the rawness that is in it. It sucks because every time you think you got through the worst of it, something new is there to remind you how far you have to go.

Maybe by sharing your pain here, allowing yourself to feel it and others to see it you'll move through to the other side more quickly.

That's my hope for you.

So much love and strength to you!


Michael February 11, 2011 at 3:23 am

Yeah. That. I know that feeling well- the rawness, feeling like you are turned inside out. I wish you peace, for five minutes, or even for five seconds.


flask February 11, 2011 at 3:18 am

not so hard to do, this sitting here and reading you and keeping you in prayer and being nice from a distance.

what i really want to do is bake you up some fresh hot bread or whip you up a nice little ice cream or something good and flavorful.

it's not what you really want, but it's the best i have.


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 3:03 am

Your words, are our words… the reason so many of us are drawn to your words is that they are the words we have not dared to utter in the face of our own devastation and pain.

I read and follow your words… and with each one send hope and love back to you, in the hope that you may feel that in your loneliness and pain you are not truly alone.

I don't know you, I've never met you. But like many here, I think we wish we did know you so we could help, could be there for you. I'd lone you my brother (he is amazing at being comforting). you could call me at 2am. I sit here reading your words in the hopes that my number, with the 200,000 others reading your blog, will show you that you are loved, you have value, and there are people here for you… only wishing there was more I could do to help.


Amy Jo February 11, 2011 at 3:00 am

I have never commented and did not follow your blog until "the after", but I want you to know that you have inspired my husband and I to communicate 'better'. We both struggle with mental illness and by reading your posts we have found that it is almost easier for us to talk. And if I have learned anything from reading, it's that talking is so crucial.

Your strength is unbelievable and every time I read your posts I can see that you are handling your grief the only way you know how. Keep writing…..and we will all continue to keep reading and supporting you! Virtual hugs to you and your children


Apfel February 11, 2011 at 2:28 am

I am speechless, as always. I go numb and out of words every single time I read your posts. Hugs. Please take care of yourself, Lori. We are all here for you. Anytime, every time, at least a few of us will be here, waiting to read from you. Lots of love.


k February 11, 2011 at 2:05 am

You write to let it out.
We read to let it in, to bear witness to your pain, to ease it, to take it for a stranger that we feel so close to and who we have never met.
There is sacred in exposing your soul. You are loved.


bloodsigns February 11, 2011 at 2:04 am

I'm here. I want you to know that I have a feeling we would have been friends at fifteen. Be assured there's a person out in the world here — frozen and waiting for spring — who is holding you and yours in her heart.




Angie February 11, 2011 at 2:01 am

I would be nice to you. And I would lend you my boyfriend to hold you for those 10 minutes.


Cricky February 11, 2011 at 1:35 am

I, too, wish there was a way to remove all this muck and return you to your happy purple life.


Teacher Mommy February 11, 2011 at 1:27 am

I've been there, with not knowing how to cope with the pain, with resorting to those destructive methods to deal with it. I wish I could say it was a long time ago, but it wasn't. I understand at least that much.

We're here, and it's not enough, I know, but we're here.


april February 11, 2011 at 1:25 am

never meant to be like this. I share your fifteen hon. Gentle hugs. I get it. You are a brave and strong girl for not going there this time.


Anonymous February 11, 2011 at 1:20 am

I read what you have to say, and my heart bleeds for you. I wish there was something I could say, something that anyone could say that would make it better, make the pain go away. But there isn't. All I can offer is to read what you have to say, and let you know that many people are thinking of you.


cassey February 11, 2011 at 1:08 am

Like Duly Inspired I don't have anything to offer to help, but listening/reading.


Misfits Vintage February 11, 2011 at 1:03 am

Like Duly Inspired, I am here too, just reading and listening. I am nobody. I am somebody. I am here.


Duly Inspired February 11, 2011 at 12:54 am

I keep reading your words and thinking how I have nothing to offer, to say, that can possibly make you feel better. So, I simply say that I am here, listening, reading. I'm here.


Farmers Wifey February 11, 2011 at 12:31 am

Aww lovely, no it wasn't meant to be like this, I'm so grateful you are still writing xox


Good Golly Miss Holly! February 11, 2011 at 9:57 am

Everytime I read your post, I get to the bottom and I am at a loss on what to write. I feel I have to write something though – To let you know that I am reading, to let you know that I am thinking of you every day.

Love to you sweetheart x


Mrs Woog February 11, 2011 at 7:16 am

Being 15 can suck. I want your purple life back for you two but things have changed and you cannot go back. Just forward. One day at a time.

Love you girlfriend



Miss Angela Solo February 11, 2011 at 4:54 am

I am grateful to be able to read and have you put in words, what I and others have suffered without words. I dont think it has every been written, like this. Not that I have found, in my search for common souls.

I so wish the sheer WILL of your longing and everyone who reads here could get you back your purple house.

You are in my thoughts Lori

(and I am 12 – in grief)


Kim ~ One Nutty Mama February 11, 2011 at 3:44 am

I'm sorry for the pain you are experiencing.
As one of your more recent followers, I feel almost guilty reading your pain. Know that your blog being read by so many is because it has struck a chord deep inside so many. Everyone knows someone who's life has been affected by suicide. To read the words that echo in the surviving loved ones heart is powerful.


Toni February 11, 2011 at 1:57 am

There are so many of us who would give you whatever we could in a heartbeat, to ease the pain. We're so willing. We're so ready. And the bitter irony is that we can't make it stop, no matter how much we wish we could.
You do and say and be what you have to, hon. We won't leave you.


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