Monthly Archives: May 2016
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Soul Cancer.
It Won’t Happen To Me
It Won’t Happen To Me
In an act of serendipity kicking my bum, I happened to be offered to write a post for the Quit campaign just a few days ago. It coincided beautifully with this comment, and writing this post.
Heh. Some days, I think the universe may be trying to tell me something. Quit smoking, Lori.
If I’m totally honest, most warnings from the universe, the Quit campaign and my mother fall on my willfully ignorant ears.
“If you keep smoking, you will die.”
The big problem with that is, you see, that I am not exactly afraid of dieing right now. Yes, it would break my heart to leave my children. But I’d get to see my husband again, and I can’t perceive that being a bad thing.
But I guess the kicker here is that… I might not die. Certainly not straight away. I might live for years, in pain and unable to breath, a burden to those who love me.
Because that’s what emphysema does. In fact- lets look at hard facts here- emphysema rots your lungs. And I’ve probably already got it. In fact, if you’re a smoker, then do you.
Not that you believe that. Because one third of us smokers actually think the effects of smoking are over exaggerated.
Uh duh. I hate to say I’m included in this not too-clever group of people. I live in denial of how much I smoke, how bad it is for me, how that cough never quite goes away. How nice it’d be to be able to go for a run without gasping for breath. How old my lungs feel compared to the rest of me.
But I ignore all of that. Because, after all, it won’t happen to me.
How many smokers think that?
Me, of all people…. I should know better.
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Blog This Challenge- Reflections – RRSAHM
Blog This Challenge- Reflections
Hiya,
Another Blog This Challenge. They come on thick and fast.
Ever look at a photo and get the feeling you’ve seen it somewhere before…?
Never mind that. This is my favourite piccie of me- mainly because you can’t see my face, so it makes me all mysterious-like.
And, before any bright sparks ask the inevitable, the answer is yes- the mirror was already broken before I got there. Boom-tish.
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{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
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February 26, 2010 at 5:03 am -
a shattered relection….well shot!
- February 24, 2010 at 7:45 pm
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lol, very cool photo
- February 23, 2010 at 1:00 pm
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that photo is really cool. i love the mystery of it all.
- February 22, 2010 at 3:12 pm
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love it! looks awesome! xx
- February 22, 2010 at 2:39 pm
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I like it, took me a minute to realise the glass was broken and it wasn't just the light.
- February 22, 2010 at 8:41 am
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WOW fantastic pic
- February 22, 2010 at 3:36 am
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Great photo!
- February 21, 2010 at 9:55 pm
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Great photo, like Christie I want to put it all back together.
- February 21, 2010 at 7:31 pm
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What a great challenge entry – well done!
- February 21, 2010 at 4:38 pm
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Great photo! Love it!
- February 21, 2010 at 2:33 pm
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I like……the photo & your blog.(Sarah sent me.)
- February 21, 2010 at 1:54 pm
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That's a great photo, it makes me want to keep looking until I've figured the reflection out…which I still haven't completely!….so I'll get back to it now
So, What Do You Do…? – RRSAHM
So, What Do You Do…?
“So, what do you do?”
How often do you get asked that question…? Every time you meet someone? Me too. It’s not definitively a bad thing– it’s a social nicety, an opener to further conversation, one of the qualifiers we use to box people… age, gender, weight, job, and so forth. (Tell me you don’t, and I say– liar. Maybe you don’t even ask that question, but I’ll bet you still put people into categories and boxes, line them up so you understand them a bit better. It’s human nature. Everyone does it. You might be aware of it, and not let it influence your decisions or actions, and that’s awesome. But you still do it.)
I never mind being asked the question. But I’ll confess that it bristles me to have to answer “I look after my kids”. Not because I have a problem with it… it’s just the reaction I tend to get. And I know that’s not unique to me either.
It’s the roll of the eyes, if people are rude enough. If the person you’re talking to is polite– and not a parent themselves- you’re likely to get the literal cold shoulder– a polite smile, then that slight shift in body language that indicates you have been ‘boxed’– a parent, full time. At best, nothing in common and nothing interesting to say.
I’ve gotten so used to it in four and a bit years that it barely registers anymore. The only thing that’s bought it to my attention again is the way I seem to be an exception now- because my children’s father is dead, it’s OK to be at home with them full time. It’s excusable.
I’ve always justified myself, I can’t help it. It used to be with a weak “I used to work at so and so….”. Now, in the After, it’s more akin to “I am all my children have got. After what they’ve lost, what they’ve been through… It’s so much better for them, to have me at home. They deserve to be my full time project, for the next few years at least.”
How freaking stupid. I hate myself a little bit every time I say something like that, and I’ve fallen into a habit of doing it more often. It’s Pavlovian and I feel powerless against it– the positive reinforcement kicks into those subconscious social skills (which I seem to run on a lot these days) and I repeat that explanation, that justification, over and over.
Because, shamefully, people seem to have more respect for what I do– being a full time mother to my children– now that I’m a sole parent than they did when I was part of a couple.
It’s not that what I say isn’t genuine. Its truth– I do feel, having only one parent, it’s only fair that if I can stay at home with them, I do. And they are my full time hobby and occupation. I blog on the side, but most of my time and energy goes to my children. But that’s ridiculous, and I know it– most parents spend all their available time and energy on their children, whether they’re at home or not. Aren’t our children always a full time occupation? It’s just that little ones are so much more so labor intensive.
It’s the way people’s reactions have shifted that bothers me. I wish I were imagining it, but I’m so sure I’m not. People have more respect for me, as a stay at home mum, now that there’s a ‘legitimate’ reason behind it– my children’s father is dead. Not ‘just’ because I want to, or I’m able to, or I think it’s the best thing for them and me, or because they’re only this tiny once. None of those reasons ever seemed good enough.
As I said… it’s ridiculous. I do the same job now that I did in the Before… but the respect I get is far more palpable in the After.
What’s with that?
***
And on a totally different note- this stuff is awesome.
Trilogy Helping Hand Wash smells divine- lavender, geranium, rose and frankincense- and profits raised go to the Child’s iFoundation, which is helping to end the tragedy of baby abandonment in Uganda.
I think I’ll just leave you with that one. Baby abandonment.
At $19.95 for one glorious smelling pump pack, that’s money extremely well spent.
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{ 21 comments… read them below or add one }
- February 21, 2012 at 10:05 am
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I can identify with this, Lori. That Pavlov response… it won't always stay with you. And it may morph into something equally as positive (what's wrong with that??) but maybe not so justifying in its subconscious intent. I used to find myself saying "I decided, after what happened to us and how long it took to get just one child here, that I would commit myself to raising her until she reached school age." Well, I did it and dayam… I almost irreversibly altered my mental health by sticking to my guns about it! Because I am stubbornly well-intended. Even when there is great risk to my wellbeing. Not a particularly comfortable or fun pozzy to be in. But hey. I'm sure you're no stranger to the silent scream inside your head.
Hope you're doing ok. I'm sorry I haven't checked in for so long xx
- February 21, 2012 at 8:33 am
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Do you have some tips to talk to SAH mums or dads if they tell you they are a Stay At Home parent? I genuinely like talking to parent, but as I don't have kids, I tend to get a bit stuck and get a bit nervous and try real hard not to talk to much about myself if asked what I do, as I feel embarressed that I haven't asked enough about that persons life. I guess I could ask about where they live, I don't really remember small talk as I have a bad memory for names i.e. songs, celebrities, movies etc.
- February 20, 2012 at 7:30 am
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Oh yeah, totally relate. I wrote a post about how I was asked at an appointment if I worked http://blog.mummybrain.com/2012/01/do-i-work.html
- February 18, 2012 at 8:19 am
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Great timing on this post. I am getting ready to have to leave my job to take care of my six year old who has to have brain surgery and chemotherapy. Like you, I think that she needs me, her mom, to be there more than we need money, or I need to do something outside the house. You are a great mom, Lori.
- February 18, 2012 at 2:09 am
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I so understand that question. Then the justification comes, I used to do this and was really important at my job. I think you have beautiful kids and so do I, so we ROCK at our jobs!
- February 17, 2012 at 2:13 pm
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Just saw this today on FB…
A man came home from work and found his 3 children outside, still in their pyjamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn around garden, The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and no sign of the dog, walking in the door, he found …an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, the throw rug was against one wall, In the front room the TV was on loudly with the cartoon channel, the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing. In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door. He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened. He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls. As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pyjamas, reading a novel… She looked up at him, smiled and asked how his day went. He looked at her bewildered and asked, 'What happened here today?' She again smiled and answered, 'You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world do I do all day?.. ''Yes," was his incredulous reply.. She answered,. 'Well, today I didn't do it.
- February 17, 2012 at 4:54 pm
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I did go back to work, but after my kids started school. My kids hated me not being able to pick them up & having to stay with grandparents while I worked. So, I stayed home. I tried part-time work, but that started to invade my "kid" time. So, I stayed home. I tried part-time work again, but my kids were learning to drive & needed someone to supervise. Needless to say, I stayed home. I am now retired. My kids drive themselves. We all have wonderful memories of spending time together. I was once asked "What do you do?". My reply, "I'm a residential manager". (I refuse to be a domestic anything). His response "Who do you work for?". He was in real estate. Ha ha – caught out. Turned out his wife had not worked a day of their marriage. I didn't have to feel bad at all. Did he judge me, of course! Did I judge his wife? I was too pissed off at him. As mums, we're damned if we stay home, we're damned if we work. Heads I win, tails you lose. We all have to do what works for our own families. So Lori, next time you're asked what you do, I'd go with Kim, (just leave out the word "domestic"). "I'm a world famous residential blogger. Haven't you heard of me?". Sounds pretty good to me lol.
Love your two kidlets – they are gonna be heart breakers.
Take care, enjoy the time NOW!! (X) - February 17, 2012 at 3:44 am
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I can't actually imaging abandoning babies. After my struggle with infertility, that's just about a foreign the me as the moon.
I like that what you're doing is actually the opposite of child abandonment, being there for them. I keep wondering what I'm going to do when my baby is born. Should I stay home with her from the start, or should I go back to work while we try for a second (to help pay for the fertility treatments) and THEN stay home with them? Should I try to find a job that I can do from home, or what? These are really tough questions, and I have come to respect anyone's answer to them.
- February 17, 2012 at 2:59 am
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"I'm a full-time domestic engineer and part-time world famous blogger. You haven't heard of me?"
THAT'S how you answer that question!
- February 17, 2012 at 12:03 am
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And what gorgeous little munchkins they are too! Well done, you!
- February 16, 2012 at 10:25 pm
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I totally agree with the previous commenter who works full time – it doesn't matter what you say – the judgement rains down … I always feel like people are looking for a way to feel better than me – rather than finding away to connect with me.
- February 16, 2012 at 5:40 pm
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My fave one is, 'what do you DO all day?' or, 'don't you get bored?'
- February 16, 2012 at 3:27 pm
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I've been a stay at home mother for almost 16 years. I had odd jobs here and there for a few months and once tried working out of the house for 2 years while still being a full time mother and all the joys that go with it.
I have to say I get the opposite reaction that you get in your "after" then I have in my "after". Even though I'm now my childrens only parent and I answer that question with "stay at home mother" I have a worse reaction…like I'm not providing what I need for my children.
Don't let anyone's opinion's or reactions to what you do affect you in any way. You do what is best for you and your children, no one else knows better then you. Take care and thanks for all the wonderful posts, I feel like I sometimes have a twin on the other side of the world with our lives. - February 16, 2012 at 2:48 pm
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You totally don't have to justify yourself – in the Before or the After – because being a parent is a priviledge. Full stop. You're sculpting people! I think that beats any boring arse job, including mine! lol If you're able to stay home with your littles, why wouldn't you? I'd much rather be at home with Miss 3 than going to work every day, but we gotta do what we gotta do in this world.
Screw the eye-rollers…how can you look at those 2 gorgeous littles and not want to be with them??
x - February 16, 2012 at 12:34 pm
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OMG best reply ever! Thank you!
FMIDK - February 16, 2012 at 10:22 am
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Amazing Lori, I experience the exact same thing to you and I work full time! I get… Why did you bother having children if you can't bring yourself to raise them or that working full time is a form of ‘Child abuse’… I feel as if working mothers cop a lot of flak because they don’t stay at home and care for the children…
This is a huge world we live in, why can’t we all do what works for each individual person and family without being made to feel guilty and persecuted for the decisions we have made. As long as you and your children are happy, what does it matter? - February 16, 2012 at 9:39 am
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It sucks. On so many levels. I'm a single twice married stay at home mum… You should see the looks I get when I share that little pearler. No sooner have the words left my mouth and I can tell I have been nicely compartmentalised into 'that' stigma. Cest le vie … I just add to to the other stigmas attached to me… You know, the mental health ones… Actually that is probably a whole other compartment… Crazy single stay at home mum…
Having said all that, while lunching with my best friend yesterday, who is a full time working mum, she was discussing the angst and guilt that she feels for being a full time working mum…
Maybe if we ,as in the collective 'we' stopped giving ourselves and each other such a hard time about the choices we make, and instead supported and upheld each other we wouldn't feel like we have to justify anything.
The best words I have ever heard were from someone who after relaying the story of how she had set up a little bed in her bedroom for her 4yo daughter to sleep in, so that they could all get some sleep…her her husband and the baby…, when ther person she was telling her looked aghast and said I don't think that is a very good idea, she replied do you live in my house? No? So how does this affect you?
- February 16, 2012 at 9:25 am
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I've never understood why anyone would judge or look down on someone that has dedicated a significant portion of each day and their lives to raise children. My ex-wife worked with and raised our children at home. And I know from personal experience, on the occasion she went out of town, how much concentrated effort and hard work that entails. Honestly, I always felt like I was the one getting off easy by working an office job.
- February 16, 2012 at 9:19 am
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Being a stay at home mom is the best job in the world. If you aren't one, you believe you aren't important and other people can raise your children as well or better than you can. I have more respect for stay at home moms than working women.
- February 16, 2012 at 9:12 am
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When I answer that question with, "I homeschool my kids." 99% of the time, I get an automatic horrified expression and the almost defensive response, "I could NEVER do that!' – it irks me!
Gorgeous photos of your children, Lori!
- February 16, 2012 at 9:40 am
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Yes THAT question. Its not the question so much but the responses i get that peeve me. I find its often other mothers that are the most judgemental on this topic. I had a fellow mum say to me not long ago "i really admire you for being able to stay home with your child, not many people can do that". Ive just recently become a single parent so really looking forward to the judgement!
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Crowning.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: In The Powder Room
Oh, lookie lookie at my pretty new blog! – RRSAHM
Oh, lookie lookie at my pretty new blog!
Hi all,
Well, with thanks to the lovely Sarah, with her awesome blog http://www.hawkercentral.com/sjh/, I now have a ‘proper’ blog- and wow, is it pretty Maybe having a proper one will inspire me to write in it even more- or maybe not, you never know 
For those who are following the cloth journey, my stash is expanding rapidly and I’ve only used one ‘sposie a day for the last three days (while I’ve been waiting for the others to dry). yay for me! So far, so good, and I very proud of myself.
Unfortunatley, my darling little Bump (that’s her there ^ Bet you think she’s cute, huh?) is going through that fantastic stage of sleep regression- you know the one. They hit for monthys and suddenly they can’t keep their little possum eyes shut for long enough to sleep. The tiniest noise- ds breathing, or perhaps a dust mote falling on the carpet, snaps dd into what we like to her Esme Mangel Sticky Beak mode, and suddenly her head is swinging around like it’s on ball bearings while she tries to see what is going on. Yesterday, I had dd screaming in the hammock, ds screaming at me (because… well.. he could) and the only option I could see was to be the one who yelled the loudest After that little episode, it was well and truly nap time- the kids went to bed, and mum went out the back for a cigarette (or three).
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Random Ramblings of The Chop and The Bump: Is It Possible To Love A Bank? – RRSAHM
Random Ramblings of The Chop and The Bump: Is It Possible To Love A Bank?
Annnnnnd… bang. We’re back to real life here, people.
More holiday photos and whatnot coming tomorrow. Meanwhile, think of this post as your equivalent to my travel comedown. You’ll still get to look at the happy snaps… but real life and all it’s mundanity await.
I’ve been asked to participate in a BOQ campaign. I thought long and hard about this one. The word ‘bank’ generally leaves a dirty taste in one’s mouth, after all.
Then I decided I can be down with the BOQ Love. Because they actually look a little bit like they care. And they’re not one of the Big Four banks who seem to be so cold and morally bankrupt.
But, really, how does one go about loving a bank? It’s, quite possibly, the ultimate dysfunctional relationship.
If you wanted to live your life without being directly associated with a particular bank, your options are limited. Burying your money in the backyard or keeping a few grand stuffed under your mattress has become largely socially unacceptable. Then there’s that annoying phenomenon of your workplace refusing to pay you in cash at all.
Within this dysfunctional bank-customer relationship, banks can be supremely narcissistic. The perception is they only ever think about themselves.
The BOQ, however, want you love them. BOQ want to prove that is possible to love a bank, their staff, and their all-new customer service model, where you actually talk to a person.
They’re making it so you can have a healthy, functional relationship with your bank. They’ve promised to end the emotional abuse. To stop the narcissism. And just be cool.
Which is a good way for a bank to be.
Anyway. In celebration of a bank that really wants you to love them, I present The Random Rambings of The Chop and The Bump, on YouTube, discussing money and stuff. It’s quite cute.
Enjoy.
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{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
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June 19, 2013 at 9:37 am -
Love your kids
I do this where does money come from with the kids I work with, you’ve reminded me to post about it. Cute beyond words your kids x
Nathalie Brown recently posted…After school activities: The over scheduled child.
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June 19, 2013 at 4:19 pm -
I’d love to read that, Nat
Lori Dwyer recently posted…The Travel ComeDown.
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June 19, 2013 at 12:46 am -
Princess Land!!!
The cuteness
Carly Findlay recently posted…Preparing children for meeting people with visible differences.- June 19, 2013 at 4:19 pm
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Haha, thanks Carly- she was so adamant about it!
x
Lori Dwyer recently posted…The Travel ComeDown.
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June 18, 2013 at 11:25 am -
Love princess land, too cute!
- June 18, 2013 at 1:53 pm
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The child’s obsessed with princesses. Queens don’t even come into the picture
Lori Dwyer recently posted…Random Ramblings of The Chop and The Bump.
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Wrong. – RRSAHM
Wrong.
OK. Just to put everyone’s mind at ease- I have a network of awesome people supporting me, right now. It’s not enough- is it ever, in this situation, when I’m so anxious and need people so badly? I could have a thousand people who love me around, and I’d still be the loneliest I’ve ever been in my life.
But I have practical support, people who are holding me up. People I will always be grateful to. People who are making this easier.
And I am under the care of a psychiatrist (Liz, I love you). I have a mental health support team. Soon, hopefully very soon, I’ll have intensive bereavement support for myself and specialised care for my children, and clinical trauma care for myself.
OK? OK. Awesome.
Thing two- there’s a massive scope, a huge difference, especially in me, right now, between the rational and the emotional. Rationally, I know that Tony loved me. Rationally, I fucking know that there is nothing I could have done to prevent this, that if this didn’t happen things could be much worse right now.
I know, all those things and more. All the things I’m supposed to know, rationally, I know.
But it doesn’t fucking help. Not really. Not now.
Not when I have people, people who knew him, telling me how much he loved me. How he loved me like there was no one else in the entire world, the entire universe. Apparently, I was his everything.
It doesn’t help. It pulls me, digs at me. Because all I can remember is him, spitting in my face and calling me a slut. Telling me that everything was my fault, all of it, that I was the reason behind everything wrong in his life. That I was a bad mother, a bad wife.
Six months, of that.
And, days before he died- the root of the problem- that he wanted someone perfect. That I cooked, I cleaned, I fucking did his god damn ironing, for pity’s sake. I was a devoted mother to my children. I was smart, funny, beautiful, a bloody good handbag when he needed to impress. I was honest and trustworthy and didn’t spend too much of his money. I put up with him, with his shit, how often did he say that?
As perfect as I could possibly be. But still not enough. Not good enough. Not perfect enough. Because I smoke, I scream, I can be selfish and lazy.
Because, I think, I’m sure- there was something ugly about me, something fundamentally ugly and wrong and distateful about me, that makes people turn away.
I thought that, for years. From the ages of about fifteen to twenty four, I had that feeling. That no matter how perfect I was. there was something Wrong with me. Not something anyone could see as such, or articulate. But it was There, and it made people turn away. Made people not love me,not want to be near me. Made be chronically, compulsively Unlovable.
I’d forgotten, how it felt to feel like that.
I remember now. As time passes, events, emotions,the way Tony was, it all slides into perspective, slowly, and I get a better understanding of what went on here, what is going on here.
And my mind keeps coming back to that, logically. I know, somewhere deep inside that it’s irrational, but it seems so logical.
I had a part in killing my husband. If there wasn’t that something fundamentally Wrong with me, this wouldn’t have happened.
Something Wrong. Something bad. In my life Before, Before all of This, Before Tony, Before my Perfect Purple Life even existed, people knew, without really knowing, that the something Wrong was there.
It was almost like they could smell it.
And now, again. Tony, the person closest to me, he saw it properly. My imperfection. My something Wrong.
And he took steps to make sure everyone else could see it, too.
And know they can.
To show, everyone, what a terrible person I am.
Mission accomplished.
Everyone can see it now.
I’m stigmatised, stained, for the rest of my life.
The woman who’s husband hung himself, in front of her.
I’ll never be ashamed of it, as such, and I’ll never keep it quiet. Mental illness is a bitch of a thing, and needs to be talked about.
But emotionally, deep down, this happened because there of me. Because I am Not Perfect Enough. Not good enough.
Because there is Something Wrong with me.
And now, everyone knows it too.
And- this I’m ashamed of, and why am I putting it out here, where everyone can see it?
Because I don’t care. Because it might be pathetic, and wrong, and make me an even worse person than I am already.
But it’s my truth, and this it where it is spoken.
I want someone else.
Not a life partner, and certainly not a replacement, a father figure for my children.
But I want someone for me. A man, for me. Someone for me.
To hold me, while I cry. To make me smile, make tingle and look forward to later that day, which ever day that may be. To tell me I’m beautiful, I’m wonderful, that I’m amazing, that none of this is my fault. That I’m beautiful, that I’m awesome, that’s it’s OK to be small and weak and fragile for a little while because they will hold me up, and love me, and take me away from the world and all it’s ugliness, just for a little bit.
And I know, that’s so stupid, and selfish, and probably disrespectful, and no one will understand, but that’s OK.
And rationally, I know, that if I did actually get that, what I think I want, it would break me, and I couldn’t do it, and I turn away from whoever it was that was not Tony, because I all I really want is him back.
But this is my truth, and that’s how I feel.
Maybe it makes the Tony I didn’t know more correct, than incorrect (slut).
But I want. I want someone to erase, by loving me, just for a bit, all the horrible things my husband said to me in the last half hour, in the last six months. To make me feel like I’m worth something again. That one day, in the future, when I’m not so broken and ugly and traumatised and grieving and fucked up, someone might love me again. Maybe.
Just a tiny little bit.
***
I dreamt, last night, about my husband, my Tony. Lieing on his chest, kissing his neck, his stubble, the salt of his skin, the taste of him, the smell of him, deep and manly and so divine and I miss it so, so much. And I layed on him, enjoyed just being with him. Stroked his face.
“Careful, darl. I have rope burn on my neck.”
I wonder why I didn’t wake up screaming.
Edit- I just wanted to say, to make sure you all know, no one anyone has said online- apart from that dick on FormSpring- has made me more upset, or hurt me. Every comment, everything- it helps. Thank you.
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{ 127 comments… read them below or add one }
- February 7, 2011 at 8:37 pm
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I am not sure what to say – I don't know you.
But I guess what I want to say is, please don't let Tony's actions define you as a person. You helped him as much as you could, and his actions don't take away from the wonderful person you are. - February 7, 2011 at 8:29 pm
- February 5, 2011 at 3:10 pm
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Your dream about him with you, I think this is the sign that everything is OK. Not that it's OK, but I hope you know what I mean. After my Mom died, I dreamed about her coming up the stairs at my house. I was looking at her and she said, "what?" I asked what she was doing here. She gave me a funny look and I told her, "you died." I believe this has helped me in dealing with her death and like I've got something to hold on to now that she's not here. I still dream about her (on occasion). It's current times and I'm so excited to see her and show her my family, my kids and how much they've grown. I'm usually yelling for someone to bring a camera so that I can get a picture of her with my kids.
I know you are taking your baby steps forwards (and a few backwards). I'm thinking about you (though we've never met) and am sending lots of hugs your way everyday.
- February 5, 2011 at 3:32 am
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I. GET. EVERYTHING. you said in that post — it is like you bared my soul. And I will tell you that 8 years after the fact I still blame myself (although a less and less) and my person did not succeed, the police got there in time, but I still carry every insult and hurtful word around as my truth. However, reading your posts I know with out any doubt you are not to blame for Tony's death, his actions were his alone. I also know how hard it is to reconcile that with the guilt. I wish I could make it better, but I know I cant, so just know I am grieving for you from all the way across the world.
- February 4, 2011 at 4:18 pm
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Oh Lori, your vulnerability is truly incredible.
I really don't know how to respond other than to encourage you to believe in your rational side, not the emotions which can be so easily battered by someone who is not well.
You are NOT to blame xxxxx
- February 3, 2011 at 2:32 pm
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I'm so sorry for what you're going through. I just wanted to point out that the man you think you probably want is really a pining for Tony, for the way he used to make you feel, before it all went bad. And that man will always be there for you, so long as you remember him that way. Again, I'm so sorry. And thank-you for sharing.
- February 3, 2011 at 1:47 am
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your honesty is inspiring.
I want so much for you to have that man. it's ok to think and feel what you're thinking and feeling.
i still have you in my thoughts, and i truly hope that you start to heal.
please please please – there is nothing wrong with you.
xo
- February 2, 2011 at 11:52 pm
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Lori, like all these amazing people here, I would love to have the words of comfort that could make all the difference to you, to have words that would surround you and heal you. I am striving in myself to do this.
And in speaking of striving, this is the crux of what I wanted to say. We all strive for love – and as I see it, your striving for love has brought you this: so many people wanting to show you how much they love you an care about you. So striving for love is everything.
But please let me tell you from my own experience that striving for perfection is not the same thing, and I don't need to tell you that it is fraught. Perfection and love cannot walk hand in hand, because to love is to be an emotional, heartfelt being, and as emotional beings we simply cannot be perfect.
Keep striving for love. Keep letting your light shine that has drawn so much love to you. Know that the irrational and illogical will be something you always have to contend with because you do LOVE. Let this be the guide through all the fuckedupness and trauma and abuse that you've got to contend with. Not the notion of perfection.
Hold it in your heart as much as you can, even at the same time as your heart is sending its messages of grief and hurt and loss to your head in its irrational, emotional way (its only way)to tell you how much it's bleeding right now. Listen to it, heal it, but REMEMBER. You are loved – have always been loved – and you are Lori.
I wish I had a less clumsy, clunky way to show you like everyone else how much I care, and that I equally appreciate that my words and feelings are simply a drop in an ocean of words and feelings.
Much love to you.
- February 2, 2011 at 3:04 pm
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Oh sweetie, I wish I could hug or help you. I can't begin to know what you are going through right now. However, I identified with a lot of your blog. And I know what it's like to feel that I'm not good enough. That there is something – a lot in fact – wrong with me. That I was a bad wife, a bad mother, not thin enough, not obedient enough. The list goes on. I lived that until I finally believed it. I became a shell of a person, who couldn't even see the situation I was in. Who didn't know who I was. Who at 42, had to start all over again. Feeling like a failure. It's taken me over a year, but I'm learning to like, even love myself. There is nothing wrong with me. There is a lot right with me. I'm not perfect, but that's okay, none of us are. I'm learning who I am again … and I'm the same but different, but better. I can't wait until you get to that stage too, because by your words and actions you have shown you are one hell of a woman and mum, and that you were an amazing wife. xo
- February 2, 2011 at 9:39 am
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Ms Lori, wake up now please. You are beautiful, intelligent, bright and compassionate. Look at your babies. They are a reflection of everything wonderful from both of you. Words said in a fury aren't what is really being said. He was lost, and was spewing hurt and fear. Keep kissing those babies and try dreaming of Brad Pitt sometime. Love is yours already and it will find its way back to you. Keep writing. You are awesome!
- February 2, 2011 at 9:22 am
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This is fantastic that you know yourself this well, and can say that you want someone. It's very healthy, not at all irrational, to plan for what you want and to want to be in a relationship with someone is perfectly alright. I'm impressed that you can say this, it shows a very good level of self awareness and healing. And when you find someone it's also just fine for you to take things at the pace you want to, and if you find things are weird take a step back. You'll be ready when you're ready, and don't let anyone's openion of what's normal, not even your own, tell you that what you're feeling isn't valid. You are the only person who can be you, and your feelings are YOURS to feel and express in the way that's best for you.
I wrote something better and more supportive first and it failed to post, but I still wanted to be supportive. It just didn't come out as well the second time. Sorry.
- February 2, 2011 at 8:29 am
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I suppose there are perfect people in the world, or at least people with only good inside, but I don't know them. It certainly isn't me. I have ugly bits that turn people away. I've tried to change but that made matters worse. Maybe people were disgusted by watching me try to hide something they could so plainly see.
Like you, I have a husband who loves me anyway. Lately, he has been under a lot of pressure and he's not dealing with it as well as he always has. I suppose stress is cumulative. He's been taking things out on me – he's never done that in 14 years. It's bad, but not horrible. No talk of divorce or God forbid suicide.
Nonetheless, I want to thank you for sharing your story. It's made me think. It's made me conscious that he is holding too much in. It's made me think of new ways to try to help. I don't want it to get worse.
I had a childhood friend who committed suicide, and I've always said suicide is the most selfish thing anyone can do. Because of your story I've thought about how I would feel if my husband committed suicide. I would be furious. Absolutely furious with him. Nobody deserves to suffer through that – whether they have ugly parts or not. YOU DON'T DESERVE IT.
You have every right to write about this horrible experience, and I do think you will help someone – somewhere. Watching how you are handling it shows that whether you have ugly parts or not, you are beautiful. Even when you are angry. You deserve to be. Even when you are sad. You deserve to be. Even when you are confused. You deserve to be. But you don't deserve to be put through THIS.
And you're beautiful, even in the midst of all this ugliness. Stay true to your self and don't care about what others think. They will shake the strong foundation that is YOU and you need that foundation to recover. Stay strong, stay true to yourself and you will stay beautiful.
- February 1, 2011 at 10:08 pm
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Lori, I have been there…not through the suicide but through the rants and raves and being told how BAD I was, how useless, how he could love me…BUT…he could love me IF…why can't I do, this or that….
I probably avoided the total melt down and perhaps the same ending you had by up and leaving, taking our 6 kids with me….my youngest was 17mths old….
My very deep and astute 13 yr old said at the time "How come when dad is yelling at you he sounds like he is describing himself"
That is what I heard when I read your post… a very sick and sad man, taking out HIS frustrations and problems on YOU…describing HIMSELF, NOT you!!!!
14 yrs on, I am about to put my 5th child through uni and am at uni myself. There is a life after this trauma, but please see it as his illness, not your failing!!!!
I have stayed single by choice…although truly I have not ever looked…but can so relate to the wanting to be loved and held and believed in and even worshipped!!!! But on the other hand I LOVE my independence.
I so want to give you the strength to get through this but I do feel you have that.
I want to give you joy in living but I think you are finding that again already.
I want to give you peace and the knowledge that this was HIS problem and that you did all you could – I hope you are getting there.
My prayers and cyber love are with you. - February 1, 2011 at 9:05 pm
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I have tears … falling for me, and falling for you. my heart hurts from recognition of everything you have said, and are feeling, and have articulated so well, so bravely, so rawly honest.
I wish I could reach through my screen and hold you tight.
xxxx
- February 1, 2011 at 8:59 pm
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Lori, when a good friend of mine's husband died she said a similar thing about wanting to be held by someone strong and masculine. I think it's only natural to want someone that can hold you and protect you in these difficult days.
Ely xxx
- February 1, 2011 at 8:58 pm
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None of this is rationally true – you know that, even when you are choosing to ingore it i can still see perspective in your writing. Strength even at your lowest. But it is real – for you – you are living it, processing it, trying to work it all out. It is a fucked up, complicated situation and there will be many questions, many theories suggested, answers mooted. Nothing is wrong, nothing is off limits Lori. Keep talking to us.
M2Mx
- February 1, 2011 at 7:51 pm
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Lori,
I haven't commented because I came just Before. I was almost riding the wave of love. I get what you are saying as well. About feeling Wrong. Please feel it, use it, accept thats how you feel, but know that one day you will realise you aren't Wrong. You never were.As Janet from NZ said " And we are still here. Most of us have not met you – will never meet you. But, we are still here. Weeping for you. Praying for you. We're still here."
And she is right. We are still here.
Leanne xo
- February 1, 2011 at 5:55 pm
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I get it. I feel it. You are describing how I feel about me.
So I won't say you are wonderful – even though you are – because I know you can't believe it.
I won't say there will be someone else because – even though there will be – you deserve it – you can't believe it.
I won't say all the wonderful things I know to be true from reading here, from your on line presence.
Because I know you can't believe it.
But I can tell you that you are not alone in believing in this fundamental wrongness of self, in having that driven home by people who are supposed to love you – who say they do anyway.
And maybe that might help, just a little bit.
I can but hope. - February 1, 2011 at 4:29 pm
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There's something wrong with every dang one of us, lovely. We all have our "garlicky parts" as my daughters counselor calls it – those parts that we can only take just a little bit of. Imperfection is normal, perfection isn't.
That doesn't make you a terrible person or responsible in any way for what your husband did.
He was putting his own insecurities on you, because he just couldn't bear them himself, like everyone has said.
You're not wrong to want someone else to hold you and tell you that – it's normal. But first tell it to yourself and believe it – or try to. In time you'll be able to.
I'm so glad you have a good support group and you're getting counseling and help. It doesn't surprise me, because you're easy to like, and to love, even from a distance.
You're an amazing, resilient, inspiring woman, who isn't perfect, but who is loved. Remember that, ok? Ok.
Love ya- - February 1, 2011 at 4:20 pm
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Lori, I dont know you but Im a mother and a wife and I know that its normal for us to feel we are "not good enough" for our partners in some way or another and I know that you are and were good enough and theres nothing you could of done better or worse for him. Mental illness is a terrible thing and it makes people someone they are not – I have witnessed it personally within my family and its just not who they really are. I know nothing we can say or do can stop the way you feel, but the best thing you are doing is, is letting it out, not bottling it up inside you are moving forward the best you can. Be strong for you and your children you are young and full of life dont give up now
(My email is antnjoob@hotmail.com) - February 1, 2011 at 4:15 pm
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I love this post, I love the absolute human-ness of it. We have all probably felt that way. I would have never been able to put it into words as eloquently as you have. It's that inner voice, that little something that whispers in our ear that tell us we aren't good enough, something is wrong with us, no one really loves us. I don't know where this comes from, or why. Even people with the most positive, lovely & uplifting childhoods have spoken about the feeling of inferiority in some way or another. Evidence of it is everywhere…people we would never expect do shocking, irrational things, in response to this feeling. I think the fact that you have been able to verbalize this so beautifully makes you very human and just an all-around fabulous person. I cannot imagine what you're going through but the honesty of your story is so compelling. I stumbled across this blog by accident a few days ago and I am transfixed. I have laughed & cried over your writings and that says something special about you. I think about you at random times during the day and I have spoken to a friend about you, as if I know you. I don't know if you've tried your hand at publishing a book but I cannot imagine anyone would turn it down. My thoughts, prayers, and best wishes go out for you.
- February 1, 2011 at 3:09 pm
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Love, prayers and strength for you and your chidren. Keep writing – it is your way through this terrible, terrible time.
- February 1, 2011 at 2:44 pm
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Every time I read what you write, my heart just hurts so much for you. I wish that someone could just fix this, instantly…that you'd just wake up tomorrow and your old life would be back, and that this would be the terrible nightmare.
- February 1, 2011 at 2:29 pm
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You are so amazing. So strong. So beautiful. You are not alone in your feelings of self-doubt or of wanting someone to hold you & help you through your struggles. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for sharing. I hope you can feed off of some of my love & respect for you.
- February 1, 2011 at 2:23 pm
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You are not wrong. The mental illness your husband suffered from was wrong. What he did to you and to himself was wrong.
Someday someone will hold you and I hope you let them because you deserve love and comfort like everyone else and your kids deserve to know that they can have love too because you showed them that you allowed yourself to have it again.
We're here listening and not judging, so keep getting it all out. - February 1, 2011 at 1:40 pm
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I hope you get over what it is that you're feeling right now. I hope that when you get over it, you know more than all of those "think"s that you are so much better than you appear to yourself right now.
- February 1, 2011 at 1:12 pm
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Just leaving some love.
And wishing you well. - February 1, 2011 at 1:10 pm
- February 1, 2011 at 12:55 pm
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I don't know you and I don't remember how I found you blog, but I did and now I'm thinking of you each day. I don't have any words except to say I'm sending you hugs and hope you find a way though this time.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:42 pm
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Lori, to be honest, I have had that feeling too. That when people see me, they turn away. That the checkout chick who was chatting so happily with the previous customer, turns to stony silence when she sees me. That the mothers at the playground will chat with my children volubly until I amble over then they turn away. That people look me in the eye then quicky avert their gaze. Sometimes I wonder if there is an evil about me which is not tangible but that people can sense even though I cannot think of anything truly evil I have done or have thought of doing. Perhaps it is true or perhaps it is simply a delusion which is brought on by depression but, whichever it is, it doesn't make what Tony did right. He could have simply walked away. He didn't have to take his own life to show the world anything. Noone is perfect.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:14 pm
- February 1, 2011 at 11:42 am
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So much love to you Lori, Tony was unwell, this is not about some intrinsic flaw inside yourself that created his illness, he was sick. You're team will help you with this . You didn't do this to him. He didn't do this to himself. An illness that he may have had for a short time or a long time, gathered strength in the face of rising issues that for a well person would not have taken on the magnitude they obviously did for Tony. Tony's illness did this to Tony. Not Tony. And absolutely not you. Tell those irrational internal voices screaming in your ear to be quiet please, you've got a life to salvage here and it will take all the focus you can muster.
- February 1, 2011 at 11:40 am
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Darling girl – you have stripped yourself bare for all of us to see. And we are still here. Most of us have not met you – will never meet you. But, we are still here. Weeping for you. Praying for you. We're still here.
- February 1, 2011 at 11:36 am
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Don't you ever think it is wrong to want to be loved, adored, needed. Tony has been gone only a very short time physically but it sounds like mentally/emotionally he has not been there for you for a lot longer. The Tony you didn't know was wrong about everything. EVERYTHING. Try to remember your Tony, the one who loved you more than everything.
One day, when you are ready, someone will love you. You are worthy of love & you will find it one day when you are ready for it.
- February 1, 2011 at 10:59 am
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Lori, every one of us is imperfect and that is just the way it is supposed to be. However, there is nothing wrong with you and as you know Toni was ill and he did not mean the hurtful things he said or did.
I am pleased to hear you are being taken care of at a practical level and one day I pray you will have that special emotional support again.
Love to you, Mich x
- February 1, 2011 at 10:43 am
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I'm going to say something a little different I bet. Something that may go against what everyone else is saying. Simply put, I get it. I get that feeling about Something Wrong. Not knowing exactly what it is or why it's there but Knowing It's There and Everyone Else Does Too. I still feel it, it's better than it used to be 8 1/2 years ago, but it's still there burried inside. 8 1/2 years ago I met that man for me, just for me. I decided, after seperating for the final time with my now ex, that I wanted something different. I didn't want a father for my children, I didn't want a provider. I wanted a man to have fun with, to laugh with, to have great sex with and at the end of the day go to sleep content and alone. I found him. And he stayed. He became So Much More than I ever thought that I could have, that I deserved. I did my absolute best in shoving him away, but he's just as stubborn as I am. He knew I was hurt, beaten up inside. He saw past Me and saw ME. All of me. I know your tragedy is fresh and hurting so much right now. I have hope that some day, That Man will find you and he will see YOU, all of you, not just You. Prayers and blessings. as a side note, if you want to respond, my email is in my profile info for my blog.
- February 1, 2011 at 10:28 am
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Oh Lori, I so wish there was something I could do or say to make things right in your world but I know, short of being able to turn the clock back 12 months or even 1 month ago there isn't much any of us can do.
Mental illness is a bitch. You know the way the real Tony was, the man you fell in love with and you know that the way he was these last six months wasn't the real Tony. You can't block out that last half hour, the hurt and hatred he made you feel and sure as hell you can't block out his final moments, but somehow you need to hang on to memories of the way he was before all this. Remember the happy times and I guess be grateful that your kids are young enough that they are resilient in so many ways and their memories will fade to a degree. With the kids, keep reminding them of the happy times with Daddy.
As far as wanting someone else, I think I know what you mean. When I got divorced I needed someone else, it didn't matter to me that the divorce wasn't what I wanted but I just had this fear that I wasn't good enough, that there was something wrong and I needed to feel loved again. I hooked up with a guy that was wrong on so many levels but I loved him and then he left me and emotionally drained me in the process. I went onto meet another many who I ended up marrying. I truly believe that some people aren't made to be alone in life and like me, you may be one of those people. Just take it easy and take "baby steps".
Be kind to yourself, you are a wonderful person and there is nothing wrong with you. You have been through alot over the last 6 months or so and you need to find yourself, the real Lori again.
Love and Hugs
Colleen - February 1, 2011 at 10:24 am
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Oh Lori, what you described, the feeling of something being Wrong with you, it's my biggest fear and you described it so well. I've spent the last 8 years waiting for my man to flick some switch and turn on me even though he's never given me any reason to believe he might.
I didn't know I wasn't the only one, and now I want you to know that you aren't either. I hear you.
Thank you for your bravery and your brutal honesty. I'm so sorry for all you're going through, I just wish I could make it better somehow. - February 1, 2011 at 10:14 am
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*hugs*
- February 1, 2011 at 10:12 am
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That thing that you think makes you unlovable, is the very reason I love you, it is what I have always loved about you, the very reason we are friends. Please dont question it, dont lose it.
It's like pink sings… "raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways" and you dont want to argue with pink, she looks like she may very well punch us in the face.
xxLovexx - February 1, 2011 at 7:45 am
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dearest lori, i had both my mother and my ex partner take their own lives and i dont think they could even begin to comprehend what they were leaving behind, they were so ill they could only see one way.. it must be so hard to think the way you do at the moment… just remember to never feel bad for asking for help, and take some you time to remember the time before he was sick. your children are the most beautiful thing in your life right now and will surprise you at how resiliant they are. take care in your thoughts and try not to dwell on the negative… but when you do.. its ok to scream and cry onto your pillow or a friends shoulder. its only normal and no one (including yourself) should expect you to move on or 'get over it'until you are ready.
sending many virtual hugs! - February 1, 2011 at 7:26 am
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I can never claim to know where you're coming from. I have glimpses: I lost a son; my cousin, who we were very close to, hung herself at just 13. But I just wanted to tell you that you have support – whether here or in real life – you have it. Take it. There were some times I needed to be alone. There were some times I needed to cry, loud and ugly. There were sometimes when I needed someone there with me WHILE I cried. There were some times I just needed someone to say his name or to tell me a memory of him. There were some times when I needed people to talk about anything EXCEPT what happened. It's all okay. You need what you need: tell people, and ask for it. It's never wrong to say, "I need to be alone." Or, "Can you tell me a funny story about him?" Or anything in between. Huge, huge hugs.
- February 1, 2011 at 7:24 am
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You know you said at the top of the post that you know things rationally? Well i'm here to tell you that this whole " Wrong " thing is irrational. Seriously. I had the same idea in my head, from about the ages of 14 to 23, that no matter how hard i tried nobody would ever love me and i was destined to be alone forever. A wonderful psychologist and the love of my family helped me to see just how irrational that idea was.
I know you subconsciously need to hold onto the Wrong for a while, because it'll distract you from the truth and so help numb the pain – just know that in the end, you'll realise the Wrong doesnt exist……. - February 1, 2011 at 6:43 am
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Thank God you are vocalizing these haunting thoughts so that eventually the dust will settle and you can look at them and know they are not you, not your true truth, not your real truth. They are thoughts that EVERYONE HAS and that anyone would harbor in the face of this tragedy. We all secretly think we are fucked up in some way or another. I don't think a person alive would be able to refrain from beating themselves up after this happens. And yet— IT WAS NOT YOU. He was sick. No one can MAKE someone kill himself. So what you were pissed at him? So what you felt like you hated him? So what so what so what – whatever the fuck you said or did. So what you did not take him seriously? Even had you taunted or dared him, called his bluff. Whatever you did was not enough to make him do this. KNOW THIS. People have these fights and survive. And people do not have these fights, do not turn on the ones they love, do not say hateful things to their wives, in front of their kids. This was a sick, angry man in a shitty, twisted moment where he got caught up and went too far. You are in the aftermath of a grade A trauma and this is normal and healthy for you to admit to yourself and to other that you have these feelings. Let it out. Let it go. Maybe, if anything, what stands out to me is why someone would have put up with this behavior generally–but you are saying this was totally new in the past 6 months? And that is so hard to imagine someone you love changing so rapidly and how anyone would adjust to that. You deserve peace, self-love, and love from somone else. OF COURSE you want that. I want that for you. I'd want that for me if I were you. Don't think of yourself as marred forever. Don't let his death be in vain. Save yourself that you could not save him. Live your true, authentic life as you do so boldly on these pages. Allow yourself to live your bliss. Recover. And find true love, someone to rock you through the dark times, not hurl rocks at you. And someone you can love as wholly as you can. Let time do it's job. You are clearly doing your part with opening your heart and letting everything out so that it doesn't cram up and clog your psychic arteries. You can work through this. You can find your way out. We support you as you crawl through this sewage to the light at the end of the tunnel. Bless you.
- February 1, 2011 at 6:10 am
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Bring it on, Lori. We can take it. And we'll stand behind you 100%.
Six months of living under that is heartbreaking. It's wretched that his pain is yours now.
We're all a bit Right and we're all a bit Wrong. And there's nothing Wrong or sluttish about wanting to turn away from all this – to feel loved, to laugh, to feel happy again.
When you eventually heal (and I know you will) I think it will be like a snake shedding it's skin…it will always be a part of you, but something you can hold up, see how fragile it was, how the light reflects off it, the pattern of the scales showing you a past life. Love, sadness, horror, healing and ultimately hope.
I think that's what you're saying in this post. That you hope. Hope that you're not alone, not fundamentally flawed (which you are not); that you hope to one day forgive Tony, and to find love again, and to love yourself.
Love from across the pond in Canada,
Tara - February 1, 2011 at 5:48 am
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Everyone can post that you're amazing. And wonderful. And perfect. Even me. But nothing will get you to see it, but you. No words by anyone else. You ARE perfect just the way you are – perceived flaws included. Until you can see that perfect you, you will feel imperfect.
I struggle the same as you – I find so many flaws in myself as to be overwhelming at times. I have never had mine shown so publicly as you, nor so painfully. But those flaws don't make you less. They are just part of who you are and you are PERFECT.
Damn Tony for making you doubt yourself! He may have been wonderful, but I find what he did very selfish and mean. But I know you'll remember all the wonderful in him and realize, that despite his flaws, he, too, was perfect.
Once again, I'm sending you strength and much love. And I'm also sending you the ability to see yourself as perfect and wonderful and completely lovable and wonderful no matter what.
- February 1, 2011 at 5:19 am
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Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future – Phaedra, Real Housewives of Atlanta.
You do what you have to do to keep living for yourself and for your children. No one with a heart, or a brain, or a past should judge you for keeping it together the best that you can.
- February 1, 2011 at 4:48 am
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Lori, I agree with everyone else that all the things you are feeling right now are completely normal and appropriate considering what you are going through. Of course you are craving love and comfort and reassurance. Of course! You're human. And trauma of this level and the specific things that were said and that occurred have brought up your deepest, darkest fears and self-doubts. Though it feels awful, I think it's very positive that you are writing about them and that you have the strength to articulate them. That is amazing. That will help bring them into the light where they can be dealt with and healed.
I've had many of these same thoughts. I've wished for someone to come and help "rescue" me from my situation, to love me and protect me. In reality, I couldn't deal with a relationship right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I still have a deep need to feel loved and protected, just as you do.
Much, much love to you babe. I am here, thinking of you, holding you in my heart. xoxoxo
- February 1, 2011 at 3:35 pm
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Reading this brings to mind this amazing video on YouTube that I've listened to 100s of times. I will listen to it forever. Be blessed, sister, as you come up out of the ashes and rise to become a great pillar of wisdom and strength. Rise!!! You're day of blessing is coming if you just look to God. All your answers are tied up in Him. Jesus. Look to Him. Find me any time. @dotJenna
- February 1, 2011 at 3:34 pm
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- February 1, 2011 at 3:22 am
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*HUGS*
I admire your honesty and your strength.
Please listen to and trust your rational side, and be gentle with yourself when your emotional side gets overwhelming.
Thinking of you lots. - February 1, 2011 at 3:19 am
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I'm sorry, I don't know, I didn't read all the comments so someone may already have said this…
We're all fundamentally flawed Lori! How can you not think and know that…no one is perfect. We all have base instincts and a darker side. Some are in denial, or perhaps hide it very well. We have all been at some time or other selfish, nasty, rude, lazy, narcissistic, jealous, envious…you name it. NO ONE IS PERFECT and those little imperfections, so I'm told, make us endearing and human to the other flawed human who loves us unconditionally.
I often feel ugly inside….
This feeling might never pass. And it might serve to keep us humble, I don't know.
Keep it up, it's cathartic to write.
Hugs xo - February 1, 2011 at 3:17 am
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So many people have said it, and just in case each comment adds weight to the truth,
Lori you are gorgeous,sassy, funny and imperfect.
When we fall in love it is generally imperfections that grab us. There is nothing wrong with imperfection. Its what makes us..us
Wishing for that magical, erase the pain hug person…normal..Hell, I wish I could send someone to you who's hugs would make it feel better, someone with magical erasing hugs. Of course you want that, that is so understandable and NORMAL, not wrong at all, even if the rest of this hell you are living defies any kind of understanding from those of us who send you love.
Keep on beautiful girl.
Lean…there are so many hands together waiting to catch if you need to fall. Lean as hard as you need. - February 1, 2011 at 2:53 am
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What you said about how you felt when you were younger is exactly like I felt, for many years. Unlovable, not noticed or cared about. All of my friends were noticed, but not me. It took a long time and meds, etc to get past that. Now I know that I am worth something, I matter too. And so do you. Dont allow those old hurtful things to enter your life now. The things Tony said to you before he died, thats how he felt about himself, NOT YOU. He was describing the exact way he felt about himself, worthless. But he decided to turn it on you rather than own up to his shit. You will find someone and you deserve to. But work on you for now. You are as awesome as everyone says you are. Lisa
- February 1, 2011 at 2:37 am
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I know. You're not alone, not at all, for having those words inside your head. And wanting someone to hold you and tell you the opposite is only normal and natural, and is in NO WAY a betrayal of what you had with Tony, when he was not ill and so so broken.
Remember that. I think he was projecting his brokenness on you: he couldn't deal with what was inside him, so he put that on you. Remember that. Those words were really about him–he wasn't perfect, he was broken, and he could not deal with that pain.
- February 1, 2011 at 1:48 am
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Lori..
the feelings you describe are now sounding very close to how i once felt and still feel – sometimes – today. my story is not the same but it was very extreme too.(i would tell you in private, maybe in the future, so you understand why i feel i can relate) I don't talk about it in public. you need to look at the one 'thing' that NOTHING can change and that is the life of your children. They need you and you will see through them, through their life, your own life, your emotions will begin to make sense to you.
my son saved my life, no less.
you have a big heart and a big brain in constant conflict now, but if you focus on a day to day life, for them, you will get a NEW life.
you will be happy again, you can and you are perfectly allowed to, don't ever forget that.
there will always be a shade over your soul, and i have read a while back about your black dog, now you will most probably fight PTSD, and of course. but get the help you need and LOOK at your children. Their sole existence, their livelihood will give you the strength you need.
Even if sometimes, to somethings, there is NO answers.
Take care x - February 1, 2011 at 1:30 am
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I am going to come out of lurking mode and let you know that you have lots and lots of hugs and my heart goes out to you during this time. Feel what you feel…and know that as much as you feel this way now, it will feel totally different VERY soon. Very proud of you for reaching out for the help you need for you and your family.
Keep writing.
Think about a year from now…then think about five years from now…it seems impossible, but just wait till you get there! XOXO
- February 1, 2011 at 1:16 am
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Emma@bluechiptiming.com.au No, no, no and no. There is nothing wrong with you. We all falter sometimes in our belief of our own selves. And sometimes you can let the closest people to you in the world convince you that you are bad & evil & crazy. But what you need to realise is that when they say such things, they are mad at themselves, angry, insecure, retaliating in a battle and maybe even are very very ill. Lori, you are beautiful. We are all screaming, irrational banshees at times. Marriage & motherhood does that to you. You are normal. Beautiful, smart & wise. This is just a really really shit time in your life. Lots of love & hugs, Emma xxx
- February 1, 2011 at 1:10 am
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It's so easy to believe the bad stuff when you hear so often from someone who is so intimate in your life, but it doesn't make the accuser right. If you cannot trust in your own self-esteem just now, believe in the high regard of those who have known you for many years and those of us following you now.
One more thing – a relationship may be about being a couple and sharing things, but it does not mean we cease to be individuals. As such we make independent decisions and carry out independent actions. It's never easy, especially when the actions return a bad outcome.
Still sending you wishes for peace.
- February 1, 2011 at 1:08 am
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My heart is breaking for you. You put into words what everyone else is afraid to voice. So raw, and yet your spirit has not been destroyed. You will come out of this; you were and are and will be a great mom to your fragile children. There are many people you don't know praying for you, thinking of you.
2 Corinthians 12:9
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.Hugs,
Beth - February 1, 2011 at 12:55 am
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I think the same things about myself everyday.With a failed marriage and a failed long term relationship behind me.I had value in myself because I thought that being loved and accepted by someone gave me the confidence to have self worth.But when they were gone so was the confidence I had and now I am back to square one battling with the black dog that tells me all the horrible things about myself that I have chosen to believe.The logical part of me knows I am doing it to myself but the black dog wants to punish me for not being good enough.It's a constant battle.Just know Lori that you are amazing and i have always read your blog to put a smile on my face and make me laugh out loud in my lonely times.Now I am just so heartbroken for you and I wish I could give you the cuddle that you need.The one that makes all the bad shit go away.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:40 am
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Lori,
I am sorry to say that for the first time in this whole ugly fucked up part of your life, I can say that I know how you feel.
I feel 'wrong'. That people can sense my wrongness and automatically hate me for it. It takes them a little bit longer to sense it online but it always ends up that way.
For me at least, its that deep desire to be accepted by everyone. It will never happen so I always fall short of this goal and that re-enforces it with me that I am wrong.
No, its not rational, its not logical and I can clearly see right through it. But god damn do I feel it.
You were right to The Man. His psychosis is no reflection on you. I know me saying it won't change how you feel, but I just want to be that extra voice in the wilderness that re-enforces that he loved you to absolute bits. That what he said, and what he did… that wasn't The Man. You lost your husband 6 months ago. Its just so permanent now, and the grief is so very ugly and real.
lots of love to you.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:29 am
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still reading, still praying.
it hurts me just to read it, and yet i know i have to read it.
no point telling you why, except to say i'm sorry, and thank you.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:27 am
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I am stunned but very much a believer in you doing WHATEVER it takes.
do know – this is not your fault. At all.
- February 1, 2011 at 11:17 am
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My husband suffers from bipolar disorder. I have heard that everything is my fault, that life sucks, that he cant imagine going on in this life… I have held him back from the brink of suicide and I have run home from work pannic stricken because he has not answered the phone.
Your STRONG and loving and traumatized…of course you are…. but please understand EVERYONE has thins wrong with them… EVERYONE…and Tony wasn't mad at you… he was mad at him and he was taking it out on you… because we always take it out on the one we love the most…the one we are closest too….
I know it wont help now….but you are NOT alone…. ever..
Julia
- January 31, 2011 at 11:49 pm
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You are so amazing, your writing is so much help to those who have been through trauma like this. Those who have lost someone close through suicide or lost a spouse through these or other circumstances. You are so brave posting insightful, raw, uncensored posts and letting your feelings out.
I cannot tell you how many tears I've shed for you, how many prayers I've said for you, or how grateful I am that you have the courage to do what you are doing. Getting through each day, telling us what you are thinking and feeling. It is of so much help to me and countless others.
You are a true legend. Huge hugs and much love xxxxxx
- January 31, 2011 at 11:49 pm
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no, no, NO. There is Nothing- NOTHING- wrong with you. We are all imperfect humans…Every last one of us. But wrong? No. Not at all. You are not to blame.
- January 31, 2011 at 11:43 pm
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Oh lady, I wish that I could say something to have you believe that there is nothing wrong with you. I know I can say it, but you won't hear it right now :-/ There is no perfect person and no one has something wrong with them. Hugs
- January 31, 2011 at 11:32 pm
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Lori, I'm new here. I feel a bit guilty, coming into your journey at this point. I came on the wave of people's love for you.
You can't write like you write and it not be the 'real' you shining through. There's not alot Wrong there…. you are amazing.
What's happened is really really shit. I hope that one day in the future you will mostly remember all the very special things Tony said to you. Mental health stuff is a bitch.
Bless ya love.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:55 pm
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I'm so glad to hear that you've got a strong support network
There is absolutely nothing wrong with you and as other people have said, Tony had a choice. And it had nothing to do with you. I feel like I'm always repeating myself but you are wonderful and amazing and you are not wrong. And as for perfect – pffft, who want's that? Too difficult to achieve and too bloody hard to maintain (unless you're Martha Stewart, and even she's gone to prison!!). No one is perfect and that's what makes the world so wonderful and varied – just like you. x - January 31, 2011 at 10:44 pm
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Nope, no wrong here. Just you, beautiful and strong and worthy. You will find it one day….I can't wait to meet you and wrap my arms around you….xox
- January 31, 2011 at 10:42 pm
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Sending lots of love chicky babe x
- January 31, 2011 at 10:35 pm
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There isn't a lot about what you're going through that is rational. I think I'd be more worried about you if you were nothing but rational.
You sound like you have a good team of people around you helping to take each day as it comes. That's the only way you can do it.
Sending you lots of love.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:35 pm
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One day at a time. Its all you can do.
No one is perfect! If you strive to be, you will kill yourself trying. Be the best YOU can be and that should be enough.
Learning to love yourself, even like yourself takes time.
One day at a time.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:25 pm
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I agree with what Hear Mum Roar has said and everyone else that says you are not perfect but no one is! You deserve to be (and will be) loved for who you are – not a perfect idea of you! You are not Wrong – he was wrong for not seeking help when he so obviously needed it.
Much love and hugs - January 31, 2011 at 10:22 pm
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I felt compelled to say this: Men treat women like crap every day and don't kill themselves. so how can it be your fault, because this is a special circumstance? No honey. He had a choice. It was his choice alone.
However, I understand. The blame game. You will play it out in your head over and over because it doesn't make sense.
Happy to hear of your support network. =)
P.S nothing wrong with being a slut every now and then. its just another word for free spirited. =)
- January 31, 2011 at 10:22 pm
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Lori, Lori, Lori. I come and read and I leave my comments but they're always the same, always saying that I do not know what to say. I feel like I am sitting here, staring at you blankly and shrugging. I want to say something of more substance, I want to enclose you in warm, loving words. How I wish I could. But, I don't know what to say other than what I have said before. You are amazing and strong. Beautiful and wonderful.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:21 pm
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You are not wrong. You are an amazingly honest human being. None of the feelings your having are wrong except the one about you being unlovable…nobody is unloveable. Your words touch me in a way like none before have. Take care of yourself dear.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:20 pm
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I often have to remember to breathe when reading your blogs. How gut-wrenchingly sad to have these as your last memories of your time with Tony. All of these feelings, the guilt, the anger, the fear, the anxiety, the fight between the rational and emotional are part of the grieving process. We each go through the grief journey in our own unique way. It's a hellish process – one I wouldn't wish on anyone. You're doing really well Lori, one day you will truly know (both rationally and emotionally) that you not "wrong" or terrible but a beautiful,loveworthy, perfect human being.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:11 pm
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Good on you for getting the help that you have. You will find someone else one day, just take it one step at a time. xx
- January 31, 2011 at 10:03 pm
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Oh Lori, if this has been going on for 6 months and it's all you've been hearing, of course you will believe it! Also, none of us are perfect, and we all have people we rub the wrong way, who turn away from us. There's not one person among us who is everyone's cup of tea, you know what I mean? That's not having something wrong with you ((HUG))
As much as you loved him before all the bad stuff happened, it's important to remember that you were being abused, hearing abuse for such a long time, it's so natural that you would believe his lies.
Just like you are a good person with flaws, so was Tony. But his demons took over, and clearly something snapped within him that was out of the ordinary.
You are doing so well and being so brave to face up to your feelings. Do you know how much damage it does to hide from all this heartache?
I think all the love you have on your blog shows that there are many people you aren't turning away from you. You are lovable, beautiful, and perfect to all of us. Not to everyone of course, no one is.
You have every right to be loved again. For now, that will be your family, friends and us. If you want another man for yourself one day, there is absolutely nothing at all slutty about that. Everyone deserves to be loved.
You really just have had so many horrible experiences over such a short period of time. Abuse, trauma, grief, feelings of being overwhelmed with more responsibility. It's going to take time to feel all that, make sense of it, to slowly heal (although of course, it'll never go away completely, but shape who you are).
I'm so happy in all of this mess that you all are getting the help and support you need. I wish we could get every single person in this world who is there for you, loves you, supports you to physically stand in front of you all at once, to take away the pain of your loneliness.
As terrible as what Tony did to you is, he didn't achieve what he said he would: to show the world how terrible you are. There's too many of us who don't see it. When this tragedy happened, and after you've shared your pain, the idea that you're terrible is the furthest thing from any of our minds. Honestly.
Often if people are not quite right mentally, and aren't prepared to seek (and even if they are), the first thing that happens is they point the finger at the people closest to them. Everything is their fault, all of a sudden. It can be all too easy to project their pain onto others, rather than to look inside themselves for the core of the problem.
There's no need for perfection. We all deserve love without having to strive for the impossible.
As much as the pain is unbearable, it's the healthiest thing for you to do, to feel it. If you don't feel it, it just sits there, festering, and doesn't go away. You're doing everything you need to be doing. Nothing you'll do right now will feel enough, nor anything we can say.
Just know, that no matter what, none of us are giving up on you. We're all here for you in whatever way we can be. You are a GOOD person, and you are WORTHY of all the good things that life has to offer.
Much love ((HUG))
- January 31, 2011 at 10:02 pm
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Not wrong at all – totally understandable. I just hope that you find that person who loves you, appreciates you, thinks that you're beautiful and worthy – and I hope that that person is YOU!
I'm no expert but it's taken me until now (40 – Jesus!) to realise that everybody is fucked up in some way – the world is full of neuroses, self-hatred and skeletons in cupboards. Wrongness. Even the most seemingly perfect people are raving nutters when you scratch the surface.
I hope that you find that all of your "wrongness" is actually just being a human being and a pretty damn special one, as far as I can gather. I hope you find a lovely man – but I hope you discover first that you're ok; worthy of love. You sound amazing, Lori – keep on trucking, lady xx - January 31, 2011 at 9:59 pm
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lori – there is no Wrong here – you are entitled to feel any feeling you have…looks like writing it in your blog is helping, a type of therapy…
your naturally craving what you lost – love – it's what all people want at any time of grief. please don't blame yourself for this. all those horrible things Tony said, he said because he needed to push you away first…that's all – when people are desperate we hurt the people we love the most. Hang in their Lori – you have so much support here in blogland xx - January 31, 2011 at 9:49 pm
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- January 31, 2011 at 9:45 pm
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Oh Lori a piece of me just broke for you. I know that feeling, the feeling that denies rationality that logically you can explain away but that tiny little piece of your soul that remains jagged and ugly. Those six months were an aberation, a glitch in the fabric of your life. THEY WSERE NOT TRUTH – your truth is in your beauty – your soul. Go softly ((hugs))
- January 31, 2011 at 9:42 pm
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There is an old saying that neurotics make themselves miserable and the personality disordered make others miserable. Well if that is the case, I think depression should be reclassified as a personality disorder, because it can make the people who love you pretty fucking miserable. I know, I spent over twenty years of my life wondering what was so wrong with me, why I was such a monster, that my own mother didn't love me. And if you asked my mother, she would probably tell you that she did love me. That is what depression does – it poisons the soul of the sufferer to the point that even the air they breathe is poisoned, full of toxic pain, and highly infectious self-hatred. Anyone close to them is in serious danger for their own self-worth and mental health.
Not that that makes it any easier for you. Everything you say makes so much sense, is exactly how I would feel in your shoes. But you're a better woman than I am – because you can forgive him. And I'm sorry but I can't. I never met the man, he never did a thing to me but I cannot forgive him for leaving you this way. For doing this to you and the kids. And most of all I can't forgive him for the evil, evil things he said to you. Even though I know on some level he was sick and it was not his fault, he has to take responsibility for it. He is NOT ALLOWED to leave you that responsibility along with all the other shit you now have to deal with. He can take it with him. To my mind some things are unforgivable, and this is most of them. If I were you I would never forgive him, if it poisoned my soul to my dying day. So my lovely girl, my beautiful, clever, funny, witty, spunky, smart, strong friend, you're a better woman than I will ever be.
Love always xoxox - January 31, 2011 at 9:33 pm
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Lori, I didn't know you Before (other than enjoying your Twitter stream), and I really don't know what to say now, other than you are an amazing woman, and there is nothing Wrong with you. One look at all the comments and love you have poured to you on each and every post shows just how much is Right with you. You deserve the very best, just as you deserve the right to express whatever you are feeling.
- January 31, 2011 at 9:22 pm
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Oh honey,
I could tell you how fabulous I think you are but I know it won't make a difference to the voices of doubt. The irrational voices.As for wanting someone new … that's not uncommon in new widows …. I know part of me just wants to be happily married again Right Now… but my head, my rational self, knows that this is just not possible for a long while yet because I'm still in love with a dead man.
…and there it is … the voice of the 'rational self'.
Trust it.
You deserve to be happy, and loved and valued. You are perfectly imperfect.and you are loved.
- January 31, 2011 at 9:12 pm
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Bollocks to right & wrong Lori, to being perfect, to yesterday & tomorrow. I don't know a single person who's perfect & I imagine they'd be boring as hell if they did exist. Just deal with this minute, the one right here. Then deal with the next one, then the next one. Do what you need to get through & you WILL emerge the other end. Different, sure. Sadder, sure. But you'll emerge.
No-one who has even the tiniest bit of empathy would judge you for wanting to be held, for wanting arms to hold you. It's instinct & instinct is what gets us through.
Also, tell us who the Formspring dick is. So we can track him down & do heinous things to him, involving a sharpened teaspoon, seven leeches & 3.2kg of chilli powder.
Constant love,
Sophie xxx - January 31, 2011 at 9:10 pm
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You are not wrong Lori. Everyone deserves to be loved and if you are speaking out, you are making yourself closer to that moment of worthiness. Hold on. Please hold on. You are not in the wrong. We are here to listen to you.
- January 31, 2011 at 8:59 pm
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The most automatic reaction to trauma and grief is to be loved. That is what you are craving. As you have every right to.
- January 31, 2011 at 8:48 pm
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Oh hunny it ISN'T your fault. I understand your mindset, but it truely isn't, just like you beingdepressed isn't his fault or your kids fault, sometimes these are just things within people and they're always struggling to keep control of it. His control just slipped, slipped so badly that for months he sunk lower and lower until he lost all control.
I have absolute confidence you will find another love, and it's ok if it isn't Tony. It will be a new part for you and your heart is big enough to hold love for them both. - January 31, 2011 at 8:28 pm
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It hurts to see that you think that of yourself. You know Tony had his problems Before you met him, babe. Sometimes people look for explanations to explain what feels so wrong inside them, because they feel so horrible and discontent, they look for something, or someone, to blame it on, to explain it, unfortunately that was you. It does not make you what he thought you were, and he knew that too, in his deepest moments. Someone once told me if my significant other hadn't died he would have hurt others, I fear that could have been you or your babies, and I know you knew it too. I'm sorry you are hurrting, and sorry that he was hurting too. Much love, thinking of you all x x x carol
- January 31, 2011 at 8:22 pm
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Oh Lori. You are beautiful my dearest. You are.xxxxxxxxx
- January 31, 2011 at 8:12 pm
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I think there are some people who inside are just broken and no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you WANT to fix them, you can't, you won't be able to. This doesn't make them any less of a person it just means that they'll always be broken – this is the sad reality that some people deal with every day, whether they are the brokee or the one loving the brokee.
What you simply must STOP doing is blaming yourself. It serves no purpose. It hurts only you and right now Lori you're already hurting enough, don't compound pain on pain.
You also need to stop thinking there is something wrong with you – there isn't. None of us are perfect, far from it. We are told to seek perfection but it's unattainable and spending your life striving for it will just leave you constantly feeling like, as you put it, that there is something "wrong" with you – and there isn't.
Your spirit is very much alive inside you – it may not feel it but with every word you're typing at the moment, it shines through – as does your courage, your strength and your pain.
~x~
- January 31, 2011 at 8:06 pm
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It all makes perfect sense to me Lori. I hate that you are feeling like this but it's normal – as normal as it can be in such a fucked up situation. I'm glad you added the disclaimer to say you have a support network and you know that emotional and rational can be polar opposites. sending you love.
- January 31, 2011 at 8:05 pm
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None of us are perfect Lori and Tony didn't choose you because you were or weren't. He loved you, for you. You need to too, Lori. You need to too.
- January 31, 2011 at 8:01 pm
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Lori, your honesty is admirable. You deserve to hear lovely things about yourself, of course you do and I can see why you would crave that. There is nothing wrong with you, I hope with time that will become clear to you and you will be able to love yourself exactly as you are and know that you are enough and perfectly imperfect, like all of us.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:53 pm
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What you are is AMAZING, Lori. And what Tony was for his last months was ILL. He got it wrong. And it sucks that you will always be left, as your final memories of him, with the anger and despair that characterised his last weeks. The unbearable anger and despair that turned into a horrible attack on you, and finally, on himself.
Your candour, your insight and your emotional depth are profound. So what if you're also a bit of a lazy selfish cow? Who the fuck isn't?
Keep hanging in there. Get through as best you can. You are doing incredibly well at managing the basically unmanageable.
Big hugs
xRachael
- January 31, 2011 at 7:50 pm
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I'm with Mrs J ^^. You feel how you feel, you are entitled to those thoughts and feelings, and only time will bring the rational to the forefront and bury some of the "irrational". Your strength astounds me. I admire you.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:50 pm
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Lori, I'm sure your rational self will also know that every spouse that goes through their partner's suicide blames themselves. It's not your fault, and it's not his childrens, parents, siblings or friends fault either. It's Tony's fault for not speaking out and not seeking help. I'm glad you are.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:49 pm
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When I pop in to read sometimes I forget. And I know that sounds cruel and uncaring or something. But I hope you have 'known me' long enough to know, that I would never be that.
And then I see your bravery, your courage and your heart here. Mine breaks again. I cannot imagine the pain or the tricks your mind plays in the morning.
BUT, my point, I know that you are causing an impact here. That your words are putting a face and a voice to this often faceless tragedy. You are making a difference. And know, I could never forget that. NOT FOR A SECOND.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:49 pm
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*Hugs*
- January 31, 2011 at 7:47 pm
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I can't imagine what it's like for you Lori, your writings make perfect sense. I don't know what to say but just wanted to let you know that I'm one other who's here. If only virtually.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:43 pm
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Right or wrong, rational or irrational, at fault or not at fault, your thoughts and feelings are yours. I know people think they are doing what they believe is right by "correcting" those beliefs but why don't they just let it be and let you grieve? As you said, you have the support system there to hold you up.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:38 pm
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Oh god Lori, I wish, so so wish, that someone would come and wrap their arms around you and tell you all the things you need to hear. That Tony could come back for just a minute & undo all the words that he said, that you know, rationally, he didn't mean, words that were spoken by a horrific depression, not by the sane, sweet man you fell in love with.
Everyone is flawed, in their own ways – and your flaws do not make you not lovable – they make you more lovable, because they make you human & real.
It probably means shit coming from a stranger, but through your words I feel I know you. And through your words I know that you are a beautiful, incredible woman.
Wishing you peace & love x - January 31, 2011 at 7:32 pm
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Everyone wants to be loved. And you are too Lori, you only have to read your blog comments to know that.
I hope you'll find what you really need too. - January 31, 2011 at 7:30 pm
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oh man couldn't read and not comment- i done have any words for you at all- i just know that i admire you. for your honesty and openness and truly in my heart of hearts I believe your are helping yourself and many others who suffer in silence.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:30 pm
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Lori, I'm so sorry if anything I have written has made you more upset. I have no idea what to say, other than how sorry I am that you are experiencing this hurt, this rage, this unfairness. No one should be made to feel like this. For what it's worth, I'm sending hugs, and wishes, and all the kind thoughts in the world. xxxxx
- January 31, 2011 at 7:27 pm
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I'm not sure there is anything I can say to assuage this tangible, terrible heartbreak but it should be known there would be many people who cherish you – just from afar in the cyber space realm it was always YOU and YOUR BLOG that I envied, kept coming to, months ago, when I stumbled across this amazing community. I was in awe at your sass, your spunky way with words, and I always made the time to read your witty posts. I envied you then and in a bizarre way I do now as your bravery in all you do is almost superhuman.
And its natural to want to be loved – its something we all deserve. I dont pretend to know anything of what its been like but I know, just from your past posts, there must have been love once, and there will be again. It will be everything you deserve and more xx
- January 31, 2011 at 7:26 pm
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To me what you are feeling makes perfect sense, even when it makes no sense at all. I can't imagine going through that with someone for 6 months, let alone his death. And it is so easy to believe the ones we love, even when they are not themselves. I'm glad you have amazing people around you. I was talking to my mum today and she wanted to make sure you had your mum to help you and that she was being good to you. It's such a mum thing to say.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:26 pm
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This is searing stuff you're confronting, Lori. God, I am constantly floored by your resilience. I am incredibly sad that you have been conditioned into having that perspective – Wrong – and I guess it sounds trite to say right now, but NOBODY in this world is Right anyway. Please hold onto that. So many of us live life as mere illusions. You have been handed a tremendous (and hellishly hard, no doubt) gift here. And I think you have oodles of stamina to see you through this and out the other side, knowing more about your deep dark than many of us could ever hope to touch the sides of.
I hope for a more peaceful sleep for you some night soon. All my love xxx
- January 31, 2011 at 7:24 pm
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Oh, Lori. There is nothing wrong with you. You ARE beautiful and special and there will be hundreds of comment below mine that will attest to that xx
- January 31, 2011 at 7:22 pm
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It's what you feel, and you have every right to feel it, and to verbalise it. I don't think it's wrong, at all. You deserve that, to be loved, to feel worthy, because you are for sure. I am glad to hear you are surrounded by amazing people, supporting and you and the kids, loving you, helping you.
- February 1, 2011 at 3:20 am
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You inspire people to love you. I read your posts and I know what it feels like sometimes, and I wish that I could be there to help you and hug you and tell you that you are so human. I read the comments you get, and I know that all these other people love you too. It would be silly for anyone not to understand how much you need to be taken care of right now. You haven't been taken care of for a long time. Be kind to yourself. You are human. We all secretly wonder what is Wrong with us. We are human beings, raised by human beings, loved and disliked and sometimes even hated by other human beings. I know I will always wonder what is Wrong with me, why someone didn't like me, or said something to me that hurt me. It never seems to occur to me that it is because there is something Wrong with them.
- February 1, 2011 at 3:01 am
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I don't really know what to say but am leaving this comment just to say I think you are amazing and to offer my support. (Whatever that means!!)
Where there is mental illness, it makes suckers of us all and it is just horrid.
Keep writing, you have an incredible talent for it and it's wonderful therapy.
I'm thinking of you. xx
- February 1, 2011 at 2:37 am
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Lori,
I'm sad I can only send you internet hugs. I wish I was with you in real life to squeeze the ever loving shit out of you. It's so hard to be in a relationship with someone who suffers from a mental illness. It's even harder to not let negative thoughts get to you and to not feel like his actions weren't you fault. I've just discovered your blog and while I can't wait for you to get back to your fantastical snarky self, I'm so appreciative of you for sharing your story with us.
- January 31, 2011 at 11:40 pm
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huge hugs
You are an amazing, strong & beautiful woman. You are in my thoughts and along with the many others here am sending you love & hugs - January 31, 2011 at 9:41 pm
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PS you know I don't REALLY think there's anything wrong with you? But I know how hard it is to be convinced of that when your head is telling you otherwise. Don't listen to it.
- January 31, 2011 at 9:04 pm
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;(
- January 31, 2011 at 8:28 pm
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I'm pretty sure that guilt must be a normal part of the grief process, because all the seriously bereaved people I've ever spoken to have felt it to one degree or another.
You need to process what's happened and make sense of it, and it takes a long time. If you allow yourself to explore the emotions, and thoughts, you can more easily understand them, and then let go of the crap.
And a lot of it is crap.
You're very self-aware, Lori, and I think eventually you'll be able to see the lies (in your head) for what they are.
Maybe there IS something wrong with you, I can't say for sure. But I've been hanging round here for a long time now and I haven't seen anything but strength, and humour, and thoughtfulness, and honesty, and real beauty. So put the kettle on, cos until I see otherwise, I'm staying. - January 31, 2011 at 8:22 pm
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I have been following your blog on & off for the past year. I had a prior blog, and started over again, moved domains. I'm neurotic etc. I read casually. You responded to a few of my entries. I have to say I've been distracted. It's probably why you don't really know who I am, because I have to hide from my own traumas. Keep them hidden.
First of all I had no idea… I am in shock. I don't know what made me click on this blog tonight. The last blog I read you were talking about your lack of fear of poop. You were being super mom, perfect mom, amazing.
I didn't see anything wrong. For what it's worth. I thought the exact opposite. You were someone I could never be.
I am devastated for you. You lived through my worst fear. My long rooted deepest darkest fear… that someone I love will kill themselves, that I couldn't save them, that I will have caused it (so I'd think). I guess I can't say you lived through it yet. You're still in the process of doing that… but you're still here. That just proves how amazing you are.
Don't feel guilty. Do what you need to cope. Think and dream what you need to get through the long minutes, the hours, the days, the cold piercing nights.
Because you are perfect. You deserve so much. Your kids too.
I feel, so bad, when I read this. I think how close I came in so many eras of my life… to devastating the people I loved in the way your Husband did to you. In my mind, I could only see what was wrong with me. My pain. It was overwhelming and it devoured everything else. I couldn't see what I was doing… thru the anger, the rage, the sadness… the being lost.
I lived. I have a new life now. I'm also, still in the process of living through my own things… I was luckier then your Tony. But as someone who has been him, I promise you, he knew it was wrong, it wasn't your fault. There was a lacking in him. An emptiness… a wound that made him rabid.
You know all these things. I tell you again in hopes it helps, coming from someone who has been there in both capacities. The one who loves the one who threatens to destroy themselves, and the loved one bent on self destruction.
I hope you find some solace in your dreams. <3
- January 31, 2011 at 8:04 pm
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Holy Hell, your words get inside of me.
You deserve nothing less than love. Simple, respectful, mutual love. There is not one thing wrong with you. Never believe that.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:47 pm
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There is nothing wrong with you, Lori.
You are a beautiful woman, an amazing mother, and from what we've all seen on here, a wonderful & loving wife to Tony.
He was ill, and the words he said, and the things he thought were plagued by that illness.
Keep on writing, gorgeous, and ignore the dicks of the world [like the Formspring moron].
xo - January 31, 2011 at 7:46 pm
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I think you are awesome x
- January 31, 2011 at 7:46 pm
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You know what, someone was told me that the automatic response of the human being to death is to want to feel alive by making love, or even just sex. Most natural reaction in the world.
I am so sorry for the rest, so truly sorry.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:33 pm
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By virtue of the fact that you have been so phenomenally self aware and rational in all of your posts I imagine that as you read all of the supportive comments you already know what your loved ones are saying is true.
But I think its worth saying over and over until what you know in your head stops burning a hole in your heart…its not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault.
And for what its worth, I find it absolutely understandable/normal that u want someone to love you right now. You feel like that would be proof that what made Tony break wasn't you…but you don't need proof. Fuck anybody that questions that. The chemicals in his brain did this…not normal Tony and not you.
Again…its not your fault…its not your fault.
Previous post: The Man
Next post: Fuck You Too.
Wrong. – RRSAHM
Wrong.
OK. Just to put everyone’s mind at ease- I have a network of awesome people supporting me, right now. It’s not enough- is it ever, in this situation, when I’m so anxious and need people so badly? I could have a thousand people who love me around, and I’d still be the loneliest I’ve ever been in my life.
But I have practical support, people who are holding me up. People I will always be grateful to. People who are making this easier.
And I am under the care of a psychiatrist (Liz, I love you). I have a mental health support team. Soon, hopefully very soon, I’ll have intensive bereavement support for myself and specialised care for my children, and clinical trauma care for myself.
OK? OK. Awesome.
Thing two- there’s a massive scope, a huge difference, especially in me, right now, between the rational and the emotional. Rationally, I know that Tony loved me. Rationally, I fucking know that there is nothing I could have done to prevent this, that if this didn’t happen things could be much worse right now.
I know, all those things and more. All the things I’m supposed to know, rationally, I know.
But it doesn’t fucking help. Not really. Not now.
Not when I have people, people who knew him, telling me how much he loved me. How he loved me like there was no one else in the entire world, the entire universe. Apparently, I was his everything.
It doesn’t help. It pulls me, digs at me. Because all I can remember is him, spitting in my face and calling me a slut. Telling me that everything was my fault, all of it, that I was the reason behind everything wrong in his life. That I was a bad mother, a bad wife.
Six months, of that.
And, days before he died- the root of the problem- that he wanted someone perfect. That I cooked, I cleaned, I fucking did his god damn ironing, for pity’s sake. I was a devoted mother to my children. I was smart, funny, beautiful, a bloody good handbag when he needed to impress. I was honest and trustworthy and didn’t spend too much of his money. I put up with him, with his shit, how often did he say that?
As perfect as I could possibly be. But still not enough. Not good enough. Not perfect enough. Because I smoke, I scream, I can be selfish and lazy.
Because, I think, I’m sure- there was something ugly about me, something fundamentally ugly and wrong and distateful about me, that makes people turn away.
I thought that, for years. From the ages of about fifteen to twenty four, I had that feeling. That no matter how perfect I was. there was something Wrong with me. Not something anyone could see as such, or articulate. But it was There, and it made people turn away. Made people not love me,not want to be near me. Made be chronically, compulsively Unlovable.
I’d forgotten, how it felt to feel like that.
I remember now. As time passes, events, emotions,the way Tony was, it all slides into perspective, slowly, and I get a better understanding of what went on here, what is going on here.
And my mind keeps coming back to that, logically. I know, somewhere deep inside that it’s irrational, but it seems so logical.
I had a part in killing my husband. If there wasn’t that something fundamentally Wrong with me, this wouldn’t have happened.
Something Wrong. Something bad. In my life Before, Before all of This, Before Tony, Before my Perfect Purple Life even existed, people knew, without really knowing, that the something Wrong was there.
It was almost like they could smell it.
And now, again. Tony, the person closest to me, he saw it properly. My imperfection. My something Wrong.
And he took steps to make sure everyone else could see it, too.
And know they can.
To show, everyone, what a terrible person I am.
Mission accomplished.
Everyone can see it now.
I’m stigmatised, stained, for the rest of my life.
The woman who’s husband hung himself, in front of her.
I’ll never be ashamed of it, as such, and I’ll never keep it quiet. Mental illness is a bitch of a thing, and needs to be talked about.
But emotionally, deep down, this happened because there of me. Because I am Not Perfect Enough. Not good enough.
Because there is Something Wrong with me.
And now, everyone knows it too.
And- this I’m ashamed of, and why am I putting it out here, where everyone can see it?
Because I don’t care. Because it might be pathetic, and wrong, and make me an even worse person than I am already.
But it’s my truth, and this it where it is spoken.
I want someone else.
Not a life partner, and certainly not a replacement, a father figure for my children.
But I want someone for me. A man, for me. Someone for me.
To hold me, while I cry. To make me smile, make tingle and look forward to later that day, which ever day that may be. To tell me I’m beautiful, I’m wonderful, that I’m amazing, that none of this is my fault. That I’m beautiful, that I’m awesome, that’s it’s OK to be small and weak and fragile for a little while because they will hold me up, and love me, and take me away from the world and all it’s ugliness, just for a little bit.
And I know, that’s so stupid, and selfish, and probably disrespectful, and no one will understand, but that’s OK.
And rationally, I know, that if I did actually get that, what I think I want, it would break me, and I couldn’t do it, and I turn away from whoever it was that was not Tony, because I all I really want is him back.
But this is my truth, and that’s how I feel.
Maybe it makes the Tony I didn’t know more correct, than incorrect (slut).
But I want. I want someone to erase, by loving me, just for a bit, all the horrible things my husband said to me in the last half hour, in the last six months. To make me feel like I’m worth something again. That one day, in the future, when I’m not so broken and ugly and traumatised and grieving and fucked up, someone might love me again. Maybe.
Just a tiny little bit.
***
I dreamt, last night, about my husband, my Tony. Lieing on his chest, kissing his neck, his stubble, the salt of his skin, the taste of him, the smell of him, deep and manly and so divine and I miss it so, so much. And I layed on him, enjoyed just being with him. Stroked his face.
“Careful, darl. I have rope burn on my neck.”
I wonder why I didn’t wake up screaming.
Edit- I just wanted to say, to make sure you all know, no one anyone has said online- apart from that dick on FormSpring- has made me more upset, or hurt me. Every comment, everything- it helps. Thank you.
Leave a Comment
{ 127 comments… read them below or add one }
- February 7, 2011 at 8:37 pm
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I am not sure what to say – I don't know you.
But I guess what I want to say is, please don't let Tony's actions define you as a person. You helped him as much as you could, and his actions don't take away from the wonderful person you are. - February 7, 2011 at 8:29 pm
- February 5, 2011 at 3:10 pm
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Your dream about him with you, I think this is the sign that everything is OK. Not that it's OK, but I hope you know what I mean. After my Mom died, I dreamed about her coming up the stairs at my house. I was looking at her and she said, "what?" I asked what she was doing here. She gave me a funny look and I told her, "you died." I believe this has helped me in dealing with her death and like I've got something to hold on to now that she's not here. I still dream about her (on occasion). It's current times and I'm so excited to see her and show her my family, my kids and how much they've grown. I'm usually yelling for someone to bring a camera so that I can get a picture of her with my kids.
I know you are taking your baby steps forwards (and a few backwards). I'm thinking about you (though we've never met) and am sending lots of hugs your way everyday.
- February 5, 2011 at 3:32 am
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I. GET. EVERYTHING. you said in that post — it is like you bared my soul. And I will tell you that 8 years after the fact I still blame myself (although a less and less) and my person did not succeed, the police got there in time, but I still carry every insult and hurtful word around as my truth. However, reading your posts I know with out any doubt you are not to blame for Tony's death, his actions were his alone. I also know how hard it is to reconcile that with the guilt. I wish I could make it better, but I know I cant, so just know I am grieving for you from all the way across the world.
- February 4, 2011 at 4:18 pm
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Oh Lori, your vulnerability is truly incredible.
I really don't know how to respond other than to encourage you to believe in your rational side, not the emotions which can be so easily battered by someone who is not well.
You are NOT to blame xxxxx
- February 3, 2011 at 2:32 pm
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I'm so sorry for what you're going through. I just wanted to point out that the man you think you probably want is really a pining for Tony, for the way he used to make you feel, before it all went bad. And that man will always be there for you, so long as you remember him that way. Again, I'm so sorry. And thank-you for sharing.
- February 3, 2011 at 1:47 am
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your honesty is inspiring.
I want so much for you to have that man. it's ok to think and feel what you're thinking and feeling.
i still have you in my thoughts, and i truly hope that you start to heal.
please please please – there is nothing wrong with you.
xo
- February 2, 2011 at 11:52 pm
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Lori, like all these amazing people here, I would love to have the words of comfort that could make all the difference to you, to have words that would surround you and heal you. I am striving in myself to do this.
And in speaking of striving, this is the crux of what I wanted to say. We all strive for love – and as I see it, your striving for love has brought you this: so many people wanting to show you how much they love you an care about you. So striving for love is everything.
But please let me tell you from my own experience that striving for perfection is not the same thing, and I don't need to tell you that it is fraught. Perfection and love cannot walk hand in hand, because to love is to be an emotional, heartfelt being, and as emotional beings we simply cannot be perfect.
Keep striving for love. Keep letting your light shine that has drawn so much love to you. Know that the irrational and illogical will be something you always have to contend with because you do LOVE. Let this be the guide through all the fuckedupness and trauma and abuse that you've got to contend with. Not the notion of perfection.
Hold it in your heart as much as you can, even at the same time as your heart is sending its messages of grief and hurt and loss to your head in its irrational, emotional way (its only way)to tell you how much it's bleeding right now. Listen to it, heal it, but REMEMBER. You are loved – have always been loved – and you are Lori.
I wish I had a less clumsy, clunky way to show you like everyone else how much I care, and that I equally appreciate that my words and feelings are simply a drop in an ocean of words and feelings.
Much love to you.
- February 2, 2011 at 3:04 pm
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Oh sweetie, I wish I could hug or help you. I can't begin to know what you are going through right now. However, I identified with a lot of your blog. And I know what it's like to feel that I'm not good enough. That there is something – a lot in fact – wrong with me. That I was a bad wife, a bad mother, not thin enough, not obedient enough. The list goes on. I lived that until I finally believed it. I became a shell of a person, who couldn't even see the situation I was in. Who didn't know who I was. Who at 42, had to start all over again. Feeling like a failure. It's taken me over a year, but I'm learning to like, even love myself. There is nothing wrong with me. There is a lot right with me. I'm not perfect, but that's okay, none of us are. I'm learning who I am again … and I'm the same but different, but better. I can't wait until you get to that stage too, because by your words and actions you have shown you are one hell of a woman and mum, and that you were an amazing wife. xo
- February 2, 2011 at 9:39 am
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Ms Lori, wake up now please. You are beautiful, intelligent, bright and compassionate. Look at your babies. They are a reflection of everything wonderful from both of you. Words said in a fury aren't what is really being said. He was lost, and was spewing hurt and fear. Keep kissing those babies and try dreaming of Brad Pitt sometime. Love is yours already and it will find its way back to you. Keep writing. You are awesome!
- February 2, 2011 at 9:22 am
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This is fantastic that you know yourself this well, and can say that you want someone. It's very healthy, not at all irrational, to plan for what you want and to want to be in a relationship with someone is perfectly alright. I'm impressed that you can say this, it shows a very good level of self awareness and healing. And when you find someone it's also just fine for you to take things at the pace you want to, and if you find things are weird take a step back. You'll be ready when you're ready, and don't let anyone's openion of what's normal, not even your own, tell you that what you're feeling isn't valid. You are the only person who can be you, and your feelings are YOURS to feel and express in the way that's best for you.
I wrote something better and more supportive first and it failed to post, but I still wanted to be supportive. It just didn't come out as well the second time. Sorry.
- February 2, 2011 at 8:29 am
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I suppose there are perfect people in the world, or at least people with only good inside, but I don't know them. It certainly isn't me. I have ugly bits that turn people away. I've tried to change but that made matters worse. Maybe people were disgusted by watching me try to hide something they could so plainly see.
Like you, I have a husband who loves me anyway. Lately, he has been under a lot of pressure and he's not dealing with it as well as he always has. I suppose stress is cumulative. He's been taking things out on me – he's never done that in 14 years. It's bad, but not horrible. No talk of divorce or God forbid suicide.
Nonetheless, I want to thank you for sharing your story. It's made me think. It's made me conscious that he is holding too much in. It's made me think of new ways to try to help. I don't want it to get worse.
I had a childhood friend who committed suicide, and I've always said suicide is the most selfish thing anyone can do. Because of your story I've thought about how I would feel if my husband committed suicide. I would be furious. Absolutely furious with him. Nobody deserves to suffer through that – whether they have ugly parts or not. YOU DON'T DESERVE IT.
You have every right to write about this horrible experience, and I do think you will help someone – somewhere. Watching how you are handling it shows that whether you have ugly parts or not, you are beautiful. Even when you are angry. You deserve to be. Even when you are sad. You deserve to be. Even when you are confused. You deserve to be. But you don't deserve to be put through THIS.
And you're beautiful, even in the midst of all this ugliness. Stay true to your self and don't care about what others think. They will shake the strong foundation that is YOU and you need that foundation to recover. Stay strong, stay true to yourself and you will stay beautiful.
- February 1, 2011 at 10:08 pm
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Lori, I have been there…not through the suicide but through the rants and raves and being told how BAD I was, how useless, how he could love me…BUT…he could love me IF…why can't I do, this or that….
I probably avoided the total melt down and perhaps the same ending you had by up and leaving, taking our 6 kids with me….my youngest was 17mths old….
My very deep and astute 13 yr old said at the time "How come when dad is yelling at you he sounds like he is describing himself"
That is what I heard when I read your post… a very sick and sad man, taking out HIS frustrations and problems on YOU…describing HIMSELF, NOT you!!!!
14 yrs on, I am about to put my 5th child through uni and am at uni myself. There is a life after this trauma, but please see it as his illness, not your failing!!!!
I have stayed single by choice…although truly I have not ever looked…but can so relate to the wanting to be loved and held and believed in and even worshipped!!!! But on the other hand I LOVE my independence.
I so want to give you the strength to get through this but I do feel you have that.
I want to give you joy in living but I think you are finding that again already.
I want to give you peace and the knowledge that this was HIS problem and that you did all you could – I hope you are getting there.
My prayers and cyber love are with you. - February 1, 2011 at 9:05 pm
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I have tears … falling for me, and falling for you. my heart hurts from recognition of everything you have said, and are feeling, and have articulated so well, so bravely, so rawly honest.
I wish I could reach through my screen and hold you tight.
xxxx
- February 1, 2011 at 8:59 pm
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Lori, when a good friend of mine's husband died she said a similar thing about wanting to be held by someone strong and masculine. I think it's only natural to want someone that can hold you and protect you in these difficult days.
Ely xxx
- February 1, 2011 at 8:58 pm
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None of this is rationally true – you know that, even when you are choosing to ingore it i can still see perspective in your writing. Strength even at your lowest. But it is real – for you – you are living it, processing it, trying to work it all out. It is a fucked up, complicated situation and there will be many questions, many theories suggested, answers mooted. Nothing is wrong, nothing is off limits Lori. Keep talking to us.
M2Mx
- February 1, 2011 at 7:51 pm
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Lori,
I haven't commented because I came just Before. I was almost riding the wave of love. I get what you are saying as well. About feeling Wrong. Please feel it, use it, accept thats how you feel, but know that one day you will realise you aren't Wrong. You never were.As Janet from NZ said " And we are still here. Most of us have not met you – will never meet you. But, we are still here. Weeping for you. Praying for you. We're still here."
And she is right. We are still here.
Leanne xo
- February 1, 2011 at 5:55 pm
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I get it. I feel it. You are describing how I feel about me.
So I won't say you are wonderful – even though you are – because I know you can't believe it.
I won't say there will be someone else because – even though there will be – you deserve it – you can't believe it.
I won't say all the wonderful things I know to be true from reading here, from your on line presence.
Because I know you can't believe it.
But I can tell you that you are not alone in believing in this fundamental wrongness of self, in having that driven home by people who are supposed to love you – who say they do anyway.
And maybe that might help, just a little bit.
I can but hope. - February 1, 2011 at 4:29 pm
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There's something wrong with every dang one of us, lovely. We all have our "garlicky parts" as my daughters counselor calls it – those parts that we can only take just a little bit of. Imperfection is normal, perfection isn't.
That doesn't make you a terrible person or responsible in any way for what your husband did.
He was putting his own insecurities on you, because he just couldn't bear them himself, like everyone has said.
You're not wrong to want someone else to hold you and tell you that – it's normal. But first tell it to yourself and believe it – or try to. In time you'll be able to.
I'm so glad you have a good support group and you're getting counseling and help. It doesn't surprise me, because you're easy to like, and to love, even from a distance.
You're an amazing, resilient, inspiring woman, who isn't perfect, but who is loved. Remember that, ok? Ok.
Love ya- - February 1, 2011 at 4:20 pm
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Lori, I dont know you but Im a mother and a wife and I know that its normal for us to feel we are "not good enough" for our partners in some way or another and I know that you are and were good enough and theres nothing you could of done better or worse for him. Mental illness is a terrible thing and it makes people someone they are not – I have witnessed it personally within my family and its just not who they really are. I know nothing we can say or do can stop the way you feel, but the best thing you are doing is, is letting it out, not bottling it up inside you are moving forward the best you can. Be strong for you and your children you are young and full of life dont give up now
(My email is antnjoob@hotmail.com) - February 1, 2011 at 4:15 pm
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I love this post, I love the absolute human-ness of it. We have all probably felt that way. I would have never been able to put it into words as eloquently as you have. It's that inner voice, that little something that whispers in our ear that tell us we aren't good enough, something is wrong with us, no one really loves us. I don't know where this comes from, or why. Even people with the most positive, lovely & uplifting childhoods have spoken about the feeling of inferiority in some way or another. Evidence of it is everywhere…people we would never expect do shocking, irrational things, in response to this feeling. I think the fact that you have been able to verbalize this so beautifully makes you very human and just an all-around fabulous person. I cannot imagine what you're going through but the honesty of your story is so compelling. I stumbled across this blog by accident a few days ago and I am transfixed. I have laughed & cried over your writings and that says something special about you. I think about you at random times during the day and I have spoken to a friend about you, as if I know you. I don't know if you've tried your hand at publishing a book but I cannot imagine anyone would turn it down. My thoughts, prayers, and best wishes go out for you.
- February 1, 2011 at 3:09 pm
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Love, prayers and strength for you and your chidren. Keep writing – it is your way through this terrible, terrible time.
- February 1, 2011 at 2:44 pm
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Every time I read what you write, my heart just hurts so much for you. I wish that someone could just fix this, instantly…that you'd just wake up tomorrow and your old life would be back, and that this would be the terrible nightmare.
- February 1, 2011 at 2:29 pm
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You are so amazing. So strong. So beautiful. You are not alone in your feelings of self-doubt or of wanting someone to hold you & help you through your struggles. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for sharing. I hope you can feed off of some of my love & respect for you.
- February 1, 2011 at 2:23 pm
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You are not wrong. The mental illness your husband suffered from was wrong. What he did to you and to himself was wrong.
Someday someone will hold you and I hope you let them because you deserve love and comfort like everyone else and your kids deserve to know that they can have love too because you showed them that you allowed yourself to have it again.
We're here listening and not judging, so keep getting it all out. - February 1, 2011 at 1:40 pm
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I hope you get over what it is that you're feeling right now. I hope that when you get over it, you know more than all of those "think"s that you are so much better than you appear to yourself right now.
- February 1, 2011 at 1:12 pm
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Just leaving some love.
And wishing you well. - February 1, 2011 at 1:10 pm
- February 1, 2011 at 12:55 pm
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I don't know you and I don't remember how I found you blog, but I did and now I'm thinking of you each day. I don't have any words except to say I'm sending you hugs and hope you find a way though this time.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:42 pm
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Lori, to be honest, I have had that feeling too. That when people see me, they turn away. That the checkout chick who was chatting so happily with the previous customer, turns to stony silence when she sees me. That the mothers at the playground will chat with my children volubly until I amble over then they turn away. That people look me in the eye then quicky avert their gaze. Sometimes I wonder if there is an evil about me which is not tangible but that people can sense even though I cannot think of anything truly evil I have done or have thought of doing. Perhaps it is true or perhaps it is simply a delusion which is brought on by depression but, whichever it is, it doesn't make what Tony did right. He could have simply walked away. He didn't have to take his own life to show the world anything. Noone is perfect.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:14 pm
- February 1, 2011 at 11:42 am
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So much love to you Lori, Tony was unwell, this is not about some intrinsic flaw inside yourself that created his illness, he was sick. You're team will help you with this . You didn't do this to him. He didn't do this to himself. An illness that he may have had for a short time or a long time, gathered strength in the face of rising issues that for a well person would not have taken on the magnitude they obviously did for Tony. Tony's illness did this to Tony. Not Tony. And absolutely not you. Tell those irrational internal voices screaming in your ear to be quiet please, you've got a life to salvage here and it will take all the focus you can muster.
- February 1, 2011 at 11:40 am
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Darling girl – you have stripped yourself bare for all of us to see. And we are still here. Most of us have not met you – will never meet you. But, we are still here. Weeping for you. Praying for you. We're still here.
- February 1, 2011 at 11:36 am
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Don't you ever think it is wrong to want to be loved, adored, needed. Tony has been gone only a very short time physically but it sounds like mentally/emotionally he has not been there for you for a lot longer. The Tony you didn't know was wrong about everything. EVERYTHING. Try to remember your Tony, the one who loved you more than everything.
One day, when you are ready, someone will love you. You are worthy of love & you will find it one day when you are ready for it.
- February 1, 2011 at 10:59 am
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Lori, every one of us is imperfect and that is just the way it is supposed to be. However, there is nothing wrong with you and as you know Toni was ill and he did not mean the hurtful things he said or did.
I am pleased to hear you are being taken care of at a practical level and one day I pray you will have that special emotional support again.
Love to you, Mich x
- February 1, 2011 at 10:43 am
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I'm going to say something a little different I bet. Something that may go against what everyone else is saying. Simply put, I get it. I get that feeling about Something Wrong. Not knowing exactly what it is or why it's there but Knowing It's There and Everyone Else Does Too. I still feel it, it's better than it used to be 8 1/2 years ago, but it's still there burried inside. 8 1/2 years ago I met that man for me, just for me. I decided, after seperating for the final time with my now ex, that I wanted something different. I didn't want a father for my children, I didn't want a provider. I wanted a man to have fun with, to laugh with, to have great sex with and at the end of the day go to sleep content and alone. I found him. And he stayed. He became So Much More than I ever thought that I could have, that I deserved. I did my absolute best in shoving him away, but he's just as stubborn as I am. He knew I was hurt, beaten up inside. He saw past Me and saw ME. All of me. I know your tragedy is fresh and hurting so much right now. I have hope that some day, That Man will find you and he will see YOU, all of you, not just You. Prayers and blessings. as a side note, if you want to respond, my email is in my profile info for my blog.
- February 1, 2011 at 10:28 am
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Oh Lori, I so wish there was something I could do or say to make things right in your world but I know, short of being able to turn the clock back 12 months or even 1 month ago there isn't much any of us can do.
Mental illness is a bitch. You know the way the real Tony was, the man you fell in love with and you know that the way he was these last six months wasn't the real Tony. You can't block out that last half hour, the hurt and hatred he made you feel and sure as hell you can't block out his final moments, but somehow you need to hang on to memories of the way he was before all this. Remember the happy times and I guess be grateful that your kids are young enough that they are resilient in so many ways and their memories will fade to a degree. With the kids, keep reminding them of the happy times with Daddy.
As far as wanting someone else, I think I know what you mean. When I got divorced I needed someone else, it didn't matter to me that the divorce wasn't what I wanted but I just had this fear that I wasn't good enough, that there was something wrong and I needed to feel loved again. I hooked up with a guy that was wrong on so many levels but I loved him and then he left me and emotionally drained me in the process. I went onto meet another many who I ended up marrying. I truly believe that some people aren't made to be alone in life and like me, you may be one of those people. Just take it easy and take "baby steps".
Be kind to yourself, you are a wonderful person and there is nothing wrong with you. You have been through alot over the last 6 months or so and you need to find yourself, the real Lori again.
Love and Hugs
Colleen - February 1, 2011 at 10:24 am
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Oh Lori, what you described, the feeling of something being Wrong with you, it's my biggest fear and you described it so well. I've spent the last 8 years waiting for my man to flick some switch and turn on me even though he's never given me any reason to believe he might.
I didn't know I wasn't the only one, and now I want you to know that you aren't either. I hear you.
Thank you for your bravery and your brutal honesty. I'm so sorry for all you're going through, I just wish I could make it better somehow. - February 1, 2011 at 10:14 am
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*hugs*
- February 1, 2011 at 10:12 am
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That thing that you think makes you unlovable, is the very reason I love you, it is what I have always loved about you, the very reason we are friends. Please dont question it, dont lose it.
It's like pink sings… "raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways" and you dont want to argue with pink, she looks like she may very well punch us in the face.
xxLovexx - February 1, 2011 at 7:45 am
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dearest lori, i had both my mother and my ex partner take their own lives and i dont think they could even begin to comprehend what they were leaving behind, they were so ill they could only see one way.. it must be so hard to think the way you do at the moment… just remember to never feel bad for asking for help, and take some you time to remember the time before he was sick. your children are the most beautiful thing in your life right now and will surprise you at how resiliant they are. take care in your thoughts and try not to dwell on the negative… but when you do.. its ok to scream and cry onto your pillow or a friends shoulder. its only normal and no one (including yourself) should expect you to move on or 'get over it'until you are ready.
sending many virtual hugs! - February 1, 2011 at 7:26 am
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I can never claim to know where you're coming from. I have glimpses: I lost a son; my cousin, who we were very close to, hung herself at just 13. But I just wanted to tell you that you have support – whether here or in real life – you have it. Take it. There were some times I needed to be alone. There were some times I needed to cry, loud and ugly. There were sometimes when I needed someone there with me WHILE I cried. There were some times I just needed someone to say his name or to tell me a memory of him. There were some times when I needed people to talk about anything EXCEPT what happened. It's all okay. You need what you need: tell people, and ask for it. It's never wrong to say, "I need to be alone." Or, "Can you tell me a funny story about him?" Or anything in between. Huge, huge hugs.
- February 1, 2011 at 7:24 am
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You know you said at the top of the post that you know things rationally? Well i'm here to tell you that this whole " Wrong " thing is irrational. Seriously. I had the same idea in my head, from about the ages of 14 to 23, that no matter how hard i tried nobody would ever love me and i was destined to be alone forever. A wonderful psychologist and the love of my family helped me to see just how irrational that idea was.
I know you subconsciously need to hold onto the Wrong for a while, because it'll distract you from the truth and so help numb the pain – just know that in the end, you'll realise the Wrong doesnt exist……. - February 1, 2011 at 6:43 am
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Thank God you are vocalizing these haunting thoughts so that eventually the dust will settle and you can look at them and know they are not you, not your true truth, not your real truth. They are thoughts that EVERYONE HAS and that anyone would harbor in the face of this tragedy. We all secretly think we are fucked up in some way or another. I don't think a person alive would be able to refrain from beating themselves up after this happens. And yet— IT WAS NOT YOU. He was sick. No one can MAKE someone kill himself. So what you were pissed at him? So what you felt like you hated him? So what so what so what – whatever the fuck you said or did. So what you did not take him seriously? Even had you taunted or dared him, called his bluff. Whatever you did was not enough to make him do this. KNOW THIS. People have these fights and survive. And people do not have these fights, do not turn on the ones they love, do not say hateful things to their wives, in front of their kids. This was a sick, angry man in a shitty, twisted moment where he got caught up and went too far. You are in the aftermath of a grade A trauma and this is normal and healthy for you to admit to yourself and to other that you have these feelings. Let it out. Let it go. Maybe, if anything, what stands out to me is why someone would have put up with this behavior generally–but you are saying this was totally new in the past 6 months? And that is so hard to imagine someone you love changing so rapidly and how anyone would adjust to that. You deserve peace, self-love, and love from somone else. OF COURSE you want that. I want that for you. I'd want that for me if I were you. Don't think of yourself as marred forever. Don't let his death be in vain. Save yourself that you could not save him. Live your true, authentic life as you do so boldly on these pages. Allow yourself to live your bliss. Recover. And find true love, someone to rock you through the dark times, not hurl rocks at you. And someone you can love as wholly as you can. Let time do it's job. You are clearly doing your part with opening your heart and letting everything out so that it doesn't cram up and clog your psychic arteries. You can work through this. You can find your way out. We support you as you crawl through this sewage to the light at the end of the tunnel. Bless you.
- February 1, 2011 at 6:10 am
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Bring it on, Lori. We can take it. And we'll stand behind you 100%.
Six months of living under that is heartbreaking. It's wretched that his pain is yours now.
We're all a bit Right and we're all a bit Wrong. And there's nothing Wrong or sluttish about wanting to turn away from all this – to feel loved, to laugh, to feel happy again.
When you eventually heal (and I know you will) I think it will be like a snake shedding it's skin…it will always be a part of you, but something you can hold up, see how fragile it was, how the light reflects off it, the pattern of the scales showing you a past life. Love, sadness, horror, healing and ultimately hope.
I think that's what you're saying in this post. That you hope. Hope that you're not alone, not fundamentally flawed (which you are not); that you hope to one day forgive Tony, and to find love again, and to love yourself.
Love from across the pond in Canada,
Tara - February 1, 2011 at 5:48 am
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Everyone can post that you're amazing. And wonderful. And perfect. Even me. But nothing will get you to see it, but you. No words by anyone else. You ARE perfect just the way you are – perceived flaws included. Until you can see that perfect you, you will feel imperfect.
I struggle the same as you – I find so many flaws in myself as to be overwhelming at times. I have never had mine shown so publicly as you, nor so painfully. But those flaws don't make you less. They are just part of who you are and you are PERFECT.
Damn Tony for making you doubt yourself! He may have been wonderful, but I find what he did very selfish and mean. But I know you'll remember all the wonderful in him and realize, that despite his flaws, he, too, was perfect.
Once again, I'm sending you strength and much love. And I'm also sending you the ability to see yourself as perfect and wonderful and completely lovable and wonderful no matter what.
- February 1, 2011 at 5:19 am
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Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future – Phaedra, Real Housewives of Atlanta.
You do what you have to do to keep living for yourself and for your children. No one with a heart, or a brain, or a past should judge you for keeping it together the best that you can.
- February 1, 2011 at 4:48 am
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Lori, I agree with everyone else that all the things you are feeling right now are completely normal and appropriate considering what you are going through. Of course you are craving love and comfort and reassurance. Of course! You're human. And trauma of this level and the specific things that were said and that occurred have brought up your deepest, darkest fears and self-doubts. Though it feels awful, I think it's very positive that you are writing about them and that you have the strength to articulate them. That is amazing. That will help bring them into the light where they can be dealt with and healed.
I've had many of these same thoughts. I've wished for someone to come and help "rescue" me from my situation, to love me and protect me. In reality, I couldn't deal with a relationship right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I still have a deep need to feel loved and protected, just as you do.
Much, much love to you babe. I am here, thinking of you, holding you in my heart. xoxoxo
- February 1, 2011 at 3:35 pm
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Reading this brings to mind this amazing video on YouTube that I've listened to 100s of times. I will listen to it forever. Be blessed, sister, as you come up out of the ashes and rise to become a great pillar of wisdom and strength. Rise!!! You're day of blessing is coming if you just look to God. All your answers are tied up in Him. Jesus. Look to Him. Find me any time. @dotJenna
- February 1, 2011 at 3:34 pm
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- February 1, 2011 at 3:22 am
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*HUGS*
I admire your honesty and your strength.
Please listen to and trust your rational side, and be gentle with yourself when your emotional side gets overwhelming.
Thinking of you lots. - February 1, 2011 at 3:19 am
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I'm sorry, I don't know, I didn't read all the comments so someone may already have said this…
We're all fundamentally flawed Lori! How can you not think and know that…no one is perfect. We all have base instincts and a darker side. Some are in denial, or perhaps hide it very well. We have all been at some time or other selfish, nasty, rude, lazy, narcissistic, jealous, envious…you name it. NO ONE IS PERFECT and those little imperfections, so I'm told, make us endearing and human to the other flawed human who loves us unconditionally.
I often feel ugly inside….
This feeling might never pass. And it might serve to keep us humble, I don't know.
Keep it up, it's cathartic to write.
Hugs xo - February 1, 2011 at 3:17 am
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So many people have said it, and just in case each comment adds weight to the truth,
Lori you are gorgeous,sassy, funny and imperfect.
When we fall in love it is generally imperfections that grab us. There is nothing wrong with imperfection. Its what makes us..us
Wishing for that magical, erase the pain hug person…normal..Hell, I wish I could send someone to you who's hugs would make it feel better, someone with magical erasing hugs. Of course you want that, that is so understandable and NORMAL, not wrong at all, even if the rest of this hell you are living defies any kind of understanding from those of us who send you love.
Keep on beautiful girl.
Lean…there are so many hands together waiting to catch if you need to fall. Lean as hard as you need. - February 1, 2011 at 2:53 am
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What you said about how you felt when you were younger is exactly like I felt, for many years. Unlovable, not noticed or cared about. All of my friends were noticed, but not me. It took a long time and meds, etc to get past that. Now I know that I am worth something, I matter too. And so do you. Dont allow those old hurtful things to enter your life now. The things Tony said to you before he died, thats how he felt about himself, NOT YOU. He was describing the exact way he felt about himself, worthless. But he decided to turn it on you rather than own up to his shit. You will find someone and you deserve to. But work on you for now. You are as awesome as everyone says you are. Lisa
- February 1, 2011 at 2:37 am
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I know. You're not alone, not at all, for having those words inside your head. And wanting someone to hold you and tell you the opposite is only normal and natural, and is in NO WAY a betrayal of what you had with Tony, when he was not ill and so so broken.
Remember that. I think he was projecting his brokenness on you: he couldn't deal with what was inside him, so he put that on you. Remember that. Those words were really about him–he wasn't perfect, he was broken, and he could not deal with that pain.
- February 1, 2011 at 1:48 am
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Lori..
the feelings you describe are now sounding very close to how i once felt and still feel – sometimes – today. my story is not the same but it was very extreme too.(i would tell you in private, maybe in the future, so you understand why i feel i can relate) I don't talk about it in public. you need to look at the one 'thing' that NOTHING can change and that is the life of your children. They need you and you will see through them, through their life, your own life, your emotions will begin to make sense to you.
my son saved my life, no less.
you have a big heart and a big brain in constant conflict now, but if you focus on a day to day life, for them, you will get a NEW life.
you will be happy again, you can and you are perfectly allowed to, don't ever forget that.
there will always be a shade over your soul, and i have read a while back about your black dog, now you will most probably fight PTSD, and of course. but get the help you need and LOOK at your children. Their sole existence, their livelihood will give you the strength you need.
Even if sometimes, to somethings, there is NO answers.
Take care x - February 1, 2011 at 1:30 am
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I am going to come out of lurking mode and let you know that you have lots and lots of hugs and my heart goes out to you during this time. Feel what you feel…and know that as much as you feel this way now, it will feel totally different VERY soon. Very proud of you for reaching out for the help you need for you and your family.
Keep writing.
Think about a year from now…then think about five years from now…it seems impossible, but just wait till you get there! XOXO
- February 1, 2011 at 1:16 am
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Emma@bluechiptiming.com.au No, no, no and no. There is nothing wrong with you. We all falter sometimes in our belief of our own selves. And sometimes you can let the closest people to you in the world convince you that you are bad & evil & crazy. But what you need to realise is that when they say such things, they are mad at themselves, angry, insecure, retaliating in a battle and maybe even are very very ill. Lori, you are beautiful. We are all screaming, irrational banshees at times. Marriage & motherhood does that to you. You are normal. Beautiful, smart & wise. This is just a really really shit time in your life. Lots of love & hugs, Emma xxx
- February 1, 2011 at 1:10 am
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It's so easy to believe the bad stuff when you hear so often from someone who is so intimate in your life, but it doesn't make the accuser right. If you cannot trust in your own self-esteem just now, believe in the high regard of those who have known you for many years and those of us following you now.
One more thing – a relationship may be about being a couple and sharing things, but it does not mean we cease to be individuals. As such we make independent decisions and carry out independent actions. It's never easy, especially when the actions return a bad outcome.
Still sending you wishes for peace.
- February 1, 2011 at 1:08 am
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My heart is breaking for you. You put into words what everyone else is afraid to voice. So raw, and yet your spirit has not been destroyed. You will come out of this; you were and are and will be a great mom to your fragile children. There are many people you don't know praying for you, thinking of you.
2 Corinthians 12:9
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.Hugs,
Beth - February 1, 2011 at 12:55 am
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I think the same things about myself everyday.With a failed marriage and a failed long term relationship behind me.I had value in myself because I thought that being loved and accepted by someone gave me the confidence to have self worth.But when they were gone so was the confidence I had and now I am back to square one battling with the black dog that tells me all the horrible things about myself that I have chosen to believe.The logical part of me knows I am doing it to myself but the black dog wants to punish me for not being good enough.It's a constant battle.Just know Lori that you are amazing and i have always read your blog to put a smile on my face and make me laugh out loud in my lonely times.Now I am just so heartbroken for you and I wish I could give you the cuddle that you need.The one that makes all the bad shit go away.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:40 am
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Lori,
I am sorry to say that for the first time in this whole ugly fucked up part of your life, I can say that I know how you feel.
I feel 'wrong'. That people can sense my wrongness and automatically hate me for it. It takes them a little bit longer to sense it online but it always ends up that way.
For me at least, its that deep desire to be accepted by everyone. It will never happen so I always fall short of this goal and that re-enforces it with me that I am wrong.
No, its not rational, its not logical and I can clearly see right through it. But god damn do I feel it.
You were right to The Man. His psychosis is no reflection on you. I know me saying it won't change how you feel, but I just want to be that extra voice in the wilderness that re-enforces that he loved you to absolute bits. That what he said, and what he did… that wasn't The Man. You lost your husband 6 months ago. Its just so permanent now, and the grief is so very ugly and real.
lots of love to you.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:29 am
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still reading, still praying.
it hurts me just to read it, and yet i know i have to read it.
no point telling you why, except to say i'm sorry, and thank you.
- February 1, 2011 at 12:27 am
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I am stunned but very much a believer in you doing WHATEVER it takes.
do know – this is not your fault. At all.
- February 1, 2011 at 11:17 am
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My husband suffers from bipolar disorder. I have heard that everything is my fault, that life sucks, that he cant imagine going on in this life… I have held him back from the brink of suicide and I have run home from work pannic stricken because he has not answered the phone.
Your STRONG and loving and traumatized…of course you are…. but please understand EVERYONE has thins wrong with them… EVERYONE…and Tony wasn't mad at you… he was mad at him and he was taking it out on you… because we always take it out on the one we love the most…the one we are closest too….
I know it wont help now….but you are NOT alone…. ever..
Julia
- January 31, 2011 at 11:49 pm
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You are so amazing, your writing is so much help to those who have been through trauma like this. Those who have lost someone close through suicide or lost a spouse through these or other circumstances. You are so brave posting insightful, raw, uncensored posts and letting your feelings out.
I cannot tell you how many tears I've shed for you, how many prayers I've said for you, or how grateful I am that you have the courage to do what you are doing. Getting through each day, telling us what you are thinking and feeling. It is of so much help to me and countless others.
You are a true legend. Huge hugs and much love xxxxxx
- January 31, 2011 at 11:49 pm
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no, no, NO. There is Nothing- NOTHING- wrong with you. We are all imperfect humans…Every last one of us. But wrong? No. Not at all. You are not to blame.
- January 31, 2011 at 11:43 pm
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Oh lady, I wish that I could say something to have you believe that there is nothing wrong with you. I know I can say it, but you won't hear it right now :-/ There is no perfect person and no one has something wrong with them. Hugs
- January 31, 2011 at 11:32 pm
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Lori, I'm new here. I feel a bit guilty, coming into your journey at this point. I came on the wave of people's love for you.
You can't write like you write and it not be the 'real' you shining through. There's not alot Wrong there…. you are amazing.
What's happened is really really shit. I hope that one day in the future you will mostly remember all the very special things Tony said to you. Mental health stuff is a bitch.
Bless ya love.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:55 pm
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I'm so glad to hear that you've got a strong support network
There is absolutely nothing wrong with you and as other people have said, Tony had a choice. And it had nothing to do with you. I feel like I'm always repeating myself but you are wonderful and amazing and you are not wrong. And as for perfect – pffft, who want's that? Too difficult to achieve and too bloody hard to maintain (unless you're Martha Stewart, and even she's gone to prison!!). No one is perfect and that's what makes the world so wonderful and varied – just like you. x - January 31, 2011 at 10:44 pm
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Nope, no wrong here. Just you, beautiful and strong and worthy. You will find it one day….I can't wait to meet you and wrap my arms around you….xox
- January 31, 2011 at 10:42 pm
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Sending lots of love chicky babe x
- January 31, 2011 at 10:35 pm
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There isn't a lot about what you're going through that is rational. I think I'd be more worried about you if you were nothing but rational.
You sound like you have a good team of people around you helping to take each day as it comes. That's the only way you can do it.
Sending you lots of love.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:35 pm
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One day at a time. Its all you can do.
No one is perfect! If you strive to be, you will kill yourself trying. Be the best YOU can be and that should be enough.
Learning to love yourself, even like yourself takes time.
One day at a time.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:25 pm
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I agree with what Hear Mum Roar has said and everyone else that says you are not perfect but no one is! You deserve to be (and will be) loved for who you are – not a perfect idea of you! You are not Wrong – he was wrong for not seeking help when he so obviously needed it.
Much love and hugs - January 31, 2011 at 10:22 pm
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I felt compelled to say this: Men treat women like crap every day and don't kill themselves. so how can it be your fault, because this is a special circumstance? No honey. He had a choice. It was his choice alone.
However, I understand. The blame game. You will play it out in your head over and over because it doesn't make sense.
Happy to hear of your support network. =)
P.S nothing wrong with being a slut every now and then. its just another word for free spirited. =)
- January 31, 2011 at 10:22 pm
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Lori, Lori, Lori. I come and read and I leave my comments but they're always the same, always saying that I do not know what to say. I feel like I am sitting here, staring at you blankly and shrugging. I want to say something of more substance, I want to enclose you in warm, loving words. How I wish I could. But, I don't know what to say other than what I have said before. You are amazing and strong. Beautiful and wonderful.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:21 pm
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You are not wrong. You are an amazingly honest human being. None of the feelings your having are wrong except the one about you being unlovable…nobody is unloveable. Your words touch me in a way like none before have. Take care of yourself dear.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:20 pm
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I often have to remember to breathe when reading your blogs. How gut-wrenchingly sad to have these as your last memories of your time with Tony. All of these feelings, the guilt, the anger, the fear, the anxiety, the fight between the rational and emotional are part of the grieving process. We each go through the grief journey in our own unique way. It's a hellish process – one I wouldn't wish on anyone. You're doing really well Lori, one day you will truly know (both rationally and emotionally) that you not "wrong" or terrible but a beautiful,loveworthy, perfect human being.
- January 31, 2011 at 10:11 pm
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Good on you for getting the help that you have. You will find someone else one day, just take it one step at a time. xx
- January 31, 2011 at 10:03 pm
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Oh Lori, if this has been going on for 6 months and it's all you've been hearing, of course you will believe it! Also, none of us are perfect, and we all have people we rub the wrong way, who turn away from us. There's not one person among us who is everyone's cup of tea, you know what I mean? That's not having something wrong with you ((HUG))
As much as you loved him before all the bad stuff happened, it's important to remember that you were being abused, hearing abuse for such a long time, it's so natural that you would believe his lies.
Just like you are a good person with flaws, so was Tony. But his demons took over, and clearly something snapped within him that was out of the ordinary.
You are doing so well and being so brave to face up to your feelings. Do you know how much damage it does to hide from all this heartache?
I think all the love you have on your blog shows that there are many people you aren't turning away from you. You are lovable, beautiful, and perfect to all of us. Not to everyone of course, no one is.
You have every right to be loved again. For now, that will be your family, friends and us. If you want another man for yourself one day, there is absolutely nothing at all slutty about that. Everyone deserves to be loved.
You really just have had so many horrible experiences over such a short period of time. Abuse, trauma, grief, feelings of being overwhelmed with more responsibility. It's going to take time to feel all that, make sense of it, to slowly heal (although of course, it'll never go away completely, but shape who you are).
I'm so happy in all of this mess that you all are getting the help and support you need. I wish we could get every single person in this world who is there for you, loves you, supports you to physically stand in front of you all at once, to take away the pain of your loneliness.
As terrible as what Tony did to you is, he didn't achieve what he said he would: to show the world how terrible you are. There's too many of us who don't see it. When this tragedy happened, and after you've shared your pain, the idea that you're terrible is the furthest thing from any of our minds. Honestly.
Often if people are not quite right mentally, and aren't prepared to seek (and even if they are), the first thing that happens is they point the finger at the people closest to them. Everything is their fault, all of a sudden. It can be all too easy to project their pain onto others, rather than to look inside themselves for the core of the problem.
There's no need for perfection. We all deserve love without having to strive for the impossible.
As much as the pain is unbearable, it's the healthiest thing for you to do, to feel it. If you don't feel it, it just sits there, festering, and doesn't go away. You're doing everything you need to be doing. Nothing you'll do right now will feel enough, nor anything we can say.
Just know, that no matter what, none of us are giving up on you. We're all here for you in whatever way we can be. You are a GOOD person, and you are WORTHY of all the good things that life has to offer.
Much love ((HUG))
- January 31, 2011 at 10:02 pm
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Not wrong at all – totally understandable. I just hope that you find that person who loves you, appreciates you, thinks that you're beautiful and worthy – and I hope that that person is YOU!
I'm no expert but it's taken me until now (40 – Jesus!) to realise that everybody is fucked up in some way – the world is full of neuroses, self-hatred and skeletons in cupboards. Wrongness. Even the most seemingly perfect people are raving nutters when you scratch the surface.
I hope that you find that all of your "wrongness" is actually just being a human being and a pretty damn special one, as far as I can gather. I hope you find a lovely man – but I hope you discover first that you're ok; worthy of love. You sound amazing, Lori – keep on trucking, lady xx - January 31, 2011 at 9:59 pm
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lori – there is no Wrong here – you are entitled to feel any feeling you have…looks like writing it in your blog is helping, a type of therapy…
your naturally craving what you lost – love – it's what all people want at any time of grief. please don't blame yourself for this. all those horrible things Tony said, he said because he needed to push you away first…that's all – when people are desperate we hurt the people we love the most. Hang in their Lori – you have so much support here in blogland xx - January 31, 2011 at 9:49 pm
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- January 31, 2011 at 9:45 pm
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Oh Lori a piece of me just broke for you. I know that feeling, the feeling that denies rationality that logically you can explain away but that tiny little piece of your soul that remains jagged and ugly. Those six months were an aberation, a glitch in the fabric of your life. THEY WSERE NOT TRUTH – your truth is in your beauty – your soul. Go softly ((hugs))
- January 31, 2011 at 9:42 pm
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There is an old saying that neurotics make themselves miserable and the personality disordered make others miserable. Well if that is the case, I think depression should be reclassified as a personality disorder, because it can make the people who love you pretty fucking miserable. I know, I spent over twenty years of my life wondering what was so wrong with me, why I was such a monster, that my own mother didn't love me. And if you asked my mother, she would probably tell you that she did love me. That is what depression does – it poisons the soul of the sufferer to the point that even the air they breathe is poisoned, full of toxic pain, and highly infectious self-hatred. Anyone close to them is in serious danger for their own self-worth and mental health.
Not that that makes it any easier for you. Everything you say makes so much sense, is exactly how I would feel in your shoes. But you're a better woman than I am – because you can forgive him. And I'm sorry but I can't. I never met the man, he never did a thing to me but I cannot forgive him for leaving you this way. For doing this to you and the kids. And most of all I can't forgive him for the evil, evil things he said to you. Even though I know on some level he was sick and it was not his fault, he has to take responsibility for it. He is NOT ALLOWED to leave you that responsibility along with all the other shit you now have to deal with. He can take it with him. To my mind some things are unforgivable, and this is most of them. If I were you I would never forgive him, if it poisoned my soul to my dying day. So my lovely girl, my beautiful, clever, funny, witty, spunky, smart, strong friend, you're a better woman than I will ever be.
Love always xoxox - January 31, 2011 at 9:33 pm
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Lori, I didn't know you Before (other than enjoying your Twitter stream), and I really don't know what to say now, other than you are an amazing woman, and there is nothing Wrong with you. One look at all the comments and love you have poured to you on each and every post shows just how much is Right with you. You deserve the very best, just as you deserve the right to express whatever you are feeling.
- January 31, 2011 at 9:22 pm
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Oh honey,
I could tell you how fabulous I think you are but I know it won't make a difference to the voices of doubt. The irrational voices.As for wanting someone new … that's not uncommon in new widows …. I know part of me just wants to be happily married again Right Now… but my head, my rational self, knows that this is just not possible for a long while yet because I'm still in love with a dead man.
…and there it is … the voice of the 'rational self'.
Trust it.
You deserve to be happy, and loved and valued. You are perfectly imperfect.and you are loved.
- January 31, 2011 at 9:12 pm
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Bollocks to right & wrong Lori, to being perfect, to yesterday & tomorrow. I don't know a single person who's perfect & I imagine they'd be boring as hell if they did exist. Just deal with this minute, the one right here. Then deal with the next one, then the next one. Do what you need to get through & you WILL emerge the other end. Different, sure. Sadder, sure. But you'll emerge.
No-one who has even the tiniest bit of empathy would judge you for wanting to be held, for wanting arms to hold you. It's instinct & instinct is what gets us through.
Also, tell us who the Formspring dick is. So we can track him down & do heinous things to him, involving a sharpened teaspoon, seven leeches & 3.2kg of chilli powder.
Constant love,
Sophie xxx - January 31, 2011 at 9:10 pm
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You are not wrong Lori. Everyone deserves to be loved and if you are speaking out, you are making yourself closer to that moment of worthiness. Hold on. Please hold on. You are not in the wrong. We are here to listen to you.
- January 31, 2011 at 8:59 pm
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The most automatic reaction to trauma and grief is to be loved. That is what you are craving. As you have every right to.
- January 31, 2011 at 8:48 pm
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Oh hunny it ISN'T your fault. I understand your mindset, but it truely isn't, just like you beingdepressed isn't his fault or your kids fault, sometimes these are just things within people and they're always struggling to keep control of it. His control just slipped, slipped so badly that for months he sunk lower and lower until he lost all control.
I have absolute confidence you will find another love, and it's ok if it isn't Tony. It will be a new part for you and your heart is big enough to hold love for them both. - January 31, 2011 at 8:28 pm
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It hurts to see that you think that of yourself. You know Tony had his problems Before you met him, babe. Sometimes people look for explanations to explain what feels so wrong inside them, because they feel so horrible and discontent, they look for something, or someone, to blame it on, to explain it, unfortunately that was you. It does not make you what he thought you were, and he knew that too, in his deepest moments. Someone once told me if my significant other hadn't died he would have hurt others, I fear that could have been you or your babies, and I know you knew it too. I'm sorry you are hurrting, and sorry that he was hurting too. Much love, thinking of you all x x x carol
- January 31, 2011 at 8:22 pm
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Oh Lori. You are beautiful my dearest. You are.xxxxxxxxx
- January 31, 2011 at 8:12 pm
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I think there are some people who inside are just broken and no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you WANT to fix them, you can't, you won't be able to. This doesn't make them any less of a person it just means that they'll always be broken – this is the sad reality that some people deal with every day, whether they are the brokee or the one loving the brokee.
What you simply must STOP doing is blaming yourself. It serves no purpose. It hurts only you and right now Lori you're already hurting enough, don't compound pain on pain.
You also need to stop thinking there is something wrong with you – there isn't. None of us are perfect, far from it. We are told to seek perfection but it's unattainable and spending your life striving for it will just leave you constantly feeling like, as you put it, that there is something "wrong" with you – and there isn't.
Your spirit is very much alive inside you – it may not feel it but with every word you're typing at the moment, it shines through – as does your courage, your strength and your pain.
~x~
- January 31, 2011 at 8:06 pm
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It all makes perfect sense to me Lori. I hate that you are feeling like this but it's normal – as normal as it can be in such a fucked up situation. I'm glad you added the disclaimer to say you have a support network and you know that emotional and rational can be polar opposites. sending you love.
- January 31, 2011 at 8:05 pm
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None of us are perfect Lori and Tony didn't choose you because you were or weren't. He loved you, for you. You need to too, Lori. You need to too.
- January 31, 2011 at 8:01 pm
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Lori, your honesty is admirable. You deserve to hear lovely things about yourself, of course you do and I can see why you would crave that. There is nothing wrong with you, I hope with time that will become clear to you and you will be able to love yourself exactly as you are and know that you are enough and perfectly imperfect, like all of us.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:53 pm
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What you are is AMAZING, Lori. And what Tony was for his last months was ILL. He got it wrong. And it sucks that you will always be left, as your final memories of him, with the anger and despair that characterised his last weeks. The unbearable anger and despair that turned into a horrible attack on you, and finally, on himself.
Your candour, your insight and your emotional depth are profound. So what if you're also a bit of a lazy selfish cow? Who the fuck isn't?
Keep hanging in there. Get through as best you can. You are doing incredibly well at managing the basically unmanageable.
Big hugs
xRachael
- January 31, 2011 at 7:50 pm
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I'm with Mrs J ^^. You feel how you feel, you are entitled to those thoughts and feelings, and only time will bring the rational to the forefront and bury some of the "irrational". Your strength astounds me. I admire you.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:50 pm
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Lori, I'm sure your rational self will also know that every spouse that goes through their partner's suicide blames themselves. It's not your fault, and it's not his childrens, parents, siblings or friends fault either. It's Tony's fault for not speaking out and not seeking help. I'm glad you are.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:49 pm
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When I pop in to read sometimes I forget. And I know that sounds cruel and uncaring or something. But I hope you have 'known me' long enough to know, that I would never be that.
And then I see your bravery, your courage and your heart here. Mine breaks again. I cannot imagine the pain or the tricks your mind plays in the morning.
BUT, my point, I know that you are causing an impact here. That your words are putting a face and a voice to this often faceless tragedy. You are making a difference. And know, I could never forget that. NOT FOR A SECOND.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:49 pm
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*Hugs*
- January 31, 2011 at 7:47 pm
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I can't imagine what it's like for you Lori, your writings make perfect sense. I don't know what to say but just wanted to let you know that I'm one other who's here. If only virtually.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:43 pm
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Right or wrong, rational or irrational, at fault or not at fault, your thoughts and feelings are yours. I know people think they are doing what they believe is right by "correcting" those beliefs but why don't they just let it be and let you grieve? As you said, you have the support system there to hold you up.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:38 pm
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Oh god Lori, I wish, so so wish, that someone would come and wrap their arms around you and tell you all the things you need to hear. That Tony could come back for just a minute & undo all the words that he said, that you know, rationally, he didn't mean, words that were spoken by a horrific depression, not by the sane, sweet man you fell in love with.
Everyone is flawed, in their own ways – and your flaws do not make you not lovable – they make you more lovable, because they make you human & real.
It probably means shit coming from a stranger, but through your words I feel I know you. And through your words I know that you are a beautiful, incredible woman.
Wishing you peace & love x - January 31, 2011 at 7:32 pm
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Everyone wants to be loved. And you are too Lori, you only have to read your blog comments to know that.
I hope you'll find what you really need too. - January 31, 2011 at 7:30 pm
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oh man couldn't read and not comment- i done have any words for you at all- i just know that i admire you. for your honesty and openness and truly in my heart of hearts I believe your are helping yourself and many others who suffer in silence.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:30 pm
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Lori, I'm so sorry if anything I have written has made you more upset. I have no idea what to say, other than how sorry I am that you are experiencing this hurt, this rage, this unfairness. No one should be made to feel like this. For what it's worth, I'm sending hugs, and wishes, and all the kind thoughts in the world. xxxxx
- January 31, 2011 at 7:27 pm
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I'm not sure there is anything I can say to assuage this tangible, terrible heartbreak but it should be known there would be many people who cherish you – just from afar in the cyber space realm it was always YOU and YOUR BLOG that I envied, kept coming to, months ago, when I stumbled across this amazing community. I was in awe at your sass, your spunky way with words, and I always made the time to read your witty posts. I envied you then and in a bizarre way I do now as your bravery in all you do is almost superhuman.
And its natural to want to be loved – its something we all deserve. I dont pretend to know anything of what its been like but I know, just from your past posts, there must have been love once, and there will be again. It will be everything you deserve and more xx
- January 31, 2011 at 7:26 pm
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To me what you are feeling makes perfect sense, even when it makes no sense at all. I can't imagine going through that with someone for 6 months, let alone his death. And it is so easy to believe the ones we love, even when they are not themselves. I'm glad you have amazing people around you. I was talking to my mum today and she wanted to make sure you had your mum to help you and that she was being good to you. It's such a mum thing to say.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:26 pm
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This is searing stuff you're confronting, Lori. God, I am constantly floored by your resilience. I am incredibly sad that you have been conditioned into having that perspective – Wrong – and I guess it sounds trite to say right now, but NOBODY in this world is Right anyway. Please hold onto that. So many of us live life as mere illusions. You have been handed a tremendous (and hellishly hard, no doubt) gift here. And I think you have oodles of stamina to see you through this and out the other side, knowing more about your deep dark than many of us could ever hope to touch the sides of.
I hope for a more peaceful sleep for you some night soon. All my love xxx
- January 31, 2011 at 7:24 pm
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Oh, Lori. There is nothing wrong with you. You ARE beautiful and special and there will be hundreds of comment below mine that will attest to that xx
- January 31, 2011 at 7:22 pm
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It's what you feel, and you have every right to feel it, and to verbalise it. I don't think it's wrong, at all. You deserve that, to be loved, to feel worthy, because you are for sure. I am glad to hear you are surrounded by amazing people, supporting and you and the kids, loving you, helping you.
- February 1, 2011 at 3:20 am
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You inspire people to love you. I read your posts and I know what it feels like sometimes, and I wish that I could be there to help you and hug you and tell you that you are so human. I read the comments you get, and I know that all these other people love you too. It would be silly for anyone not to understand how much you need to be taken care of right now. You haven't been taken care of for a long time. Be kind to yourself. You are human. We all secretly wonder what is Wrong with us. We are human beings, raised by human beings, loved and disliked and sometimes even hated by other human beings. I know I will always wonder what is Wrong with me, why someone didn't like me, or said something to me that hurt me. It never seems to occur to me that it is because there is something Wrong with them.
- February 1, 2011 at 3:01 am
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I don't really know what to say but am leaving this comment just to say I think you are amazing and to offer my support. (Whatever that means!!)
Where there is mental illness, it makes suckers of us all and it is just horrid.
Keep writing, you have an incredible talent for it and it's wonderful therapy.
I'm thinking of you. xx
- February 1, 2011 at 2:37 am
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Lori,
I'm sad I can only send you internet hugs. I wish I was with you in real life to squeeze the ever loving shit out of you. It's so hard to be in a relationship with someone who suffers from a mental illness. It's even harder to not let negative thoughts get to you and to not feel like his actions weren't you fault. I've just discovered your blog and while I can't wait for you to get back to your fantastical snarky self, I'm so appreciative of you for sharing your story with us.
- January 31, 2011 at 11:40 pm
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huge hugs
You are an amazing, strong & beautiful woman. You are in my thoughts and along with the many others here am sending you love & hugs - January 31, 2011 at 9:41 pm
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PS you know I don't REALLY think there's anything wrong with you? But I know how hard it is to be convinced of that when your head is telling you otherwise. Don't listen to it.
- January 31, 2011 at 9:04 pm
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;(
- January 31, 2011 at 8:28 pm
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I'm pretty sure that guilt must be a normal part of the grief process, because all the seriously bereaved people I've ever spoken to have felt it to one degree or another.
You need to process what's happened and make sense of it, and it takes a long time. If you allow yourself to explore the emotions, and thoughts, you can more easily understand them, and then let go of the crap.
And a lot of it is crap.
You're very self-aware, Lori, and I think eventually you'll be able to see the lies (in your head) for what they are.
Maybe there IS something wrong with you, I can't say for sure. But I've been hanging round here for a long time now and I haven't seen anything but strength, and humour, and thoughtfulness, and honesty, and real beauty. So put the kettle on, cos until I see otherwise, I'm staying. - January 31, 2011 at 8:22 pm
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I have been following your blog on & off for the past year. I had a prior blog, and started over again, moved domains. I'm neurotic etc. I read casually. You responded to a few of my entries. I have to say I've been distracted. It's probably why you don't really know who I am, because I have to hide from my own traumas. Keep them hidden.
First of all I had no idea… I am in shock. I don't know what made me click on this blog tonight. The last blog I read you were talking about your lack of fear of poop. You were being super mom, perfect mom, amazing.
I didn't see anything wrong. For what it's worth. I thought the exact opposite. You were someone I could never be.
I am devastated for you. You lived through my worst fear. My long rooted deepest darkest fear… that someone I love will kill themselves, that I couldn't save them, that I will have caused it (so I'd think). I guess I can't say you lived through it yet. You're still in the process of doing that… but you're still here. That just proves how amazing you are.
Don't feel guilty. Do what you need to cope. Think and dream what you need to get through the long minutes, the hours, the days, the cold piercing nights.
Because you are perfect. You deserve so much. Your kids too.
I feel, so bad, when I read this. I think how close I came in so many eras of my life… to devastating the people I loved in the way your Husband did to you. In my mind, I could only see what was wrong with me. My pain. It was overwhelming and it devoured everything else. I couldn't see what I was doing… thru the anger, the rage, the sadness… the being lost.
I lived. I have a new life now. I'm also, still in the process of living through my own things… I was luckier then your Tony. But as someone who has been him, I promise you, he knew it was wrong, it wasn't your fault. There was a lacking in him. An emptiness… a wound that made him rabid.
You know all these things. I tell you again in hopes it helps, coming from someone who has been there in both capacities. The one who loves the one who threatens to destroy themselves, and the loved one bent on self destruction.
I hope you find some solace in your dreams. <3
- January 31, 2011 at 8:04 pm
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Holy Hell, your words get inside of me.
You deserve nothing less than love. Simple, respectful, mutual love. There is not one thing wrong with you. Never believe that.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:47 pm
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There is nothing wrong with you, Lori.
You are a beautiful woman, an amazing mother, and from what we've all seen on here, a wonderful & loving wife to Tony.
He was ill, and the words he said, and the things he thought were plagued by that illness.
Keep on writing, gorgeous, and ignore the dicks of the world [like the Formspring moron].
xo - January 31, 2011 at 7:46 pm
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I think you are awesome x
- January 31, 2011 at 7:46 pm
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You know what, someone was told me that the automatic response of the human being to death is to want to feel alive by making love, or even just sex. Most natural reaction in the world.
I am so sorry for the rest, so truly sorry.
- January 31, 2011 at 7:33 pm
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By virtue of the fact that you have been so phenomenally self aware and rational in all of your posts I imagine that as you read all of the supportive comments you already know what your loved ones are saying is true.
But I think its worth saying over and over until what you know in your head stops burning a hole in your heart…its not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault.
And for what its worth, I find it absolutely understandable/normal that u want someone to love you right now. You feel like that would be proof that what made Tony break wasn't you…but you don't need proof. Fuck anybody that questions that. The chemicals in his brain did this…not normal Tony and not you.
Again…its not your fault…its not your fault.
Previous post: The Man
Next post: Fuck You Too.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Fuck You Too.
Soul Cancer. – RRSAHM
Soul Cancer.
Update: Sadly, due to time constraints and one very sick babysitter (I know you would have done it anyway, Kitten, but you were green), I had to cancel on the filming of Insight last night. Altogether now- Awwwwww. Sorry to dissapoint….
Hey jellybeans,
My Aussie readers will be able to catch me on TV this Tuesday night- SBS, 7:30pm, on Insight. They are having a debate on suicide- the reporting of suicide in the media, the education and resources that are offered. (Yep- part of me, terrified. Other part of me says “Meh, how hard can it be,after this…?”)
Obviously, we know what my spin is going to be. Speak. Talk, and talk, and talk, until the silence evaporates and the shame starts to go away.
For those of you not in the know, the law in Australia prevents suicide from being reported in the media. That was one argument thrown at me for why I should not be writing so graphically about what happened with Tony.
A year or so again, there was a situation where a man committed suicide by throwing himself off the top floor of one of Sydney’s largest, busiest shopping centres. It was reported in the media as a malfunction with the escalator system, hence the closure of the centre. An American tourist leaked footage he had taken with his mobile phone onto YouTube, claiming some kind of conspiracy theory. No conspiracy theory, just the law.
I’m guessing the main reason behind this is a fear of copycat suicides, a phenomena that does exist and has been recorded. But, at that article shows, it’s not so much the fact that suicide is reported. It’s the way it’s done.
Conventional media likes to break things up into thirty seconds stories and quick sound bites. There generally isn’t time to show the devastation that suicide leaves behind,the graphic ugliness of it… it’s glossed over, reported, forgotten about.
I struggled with that, a little bit, when I first wrote that Ugly post, months ago now. But really, when we look at it- there was nothing nice about that post. There was nothing nice about the journey Tony took towards death, the four days he spent in intensive care. I don’t worry about people copying what my husband did. Because this is real, every bit of it. This blog shows the long, long trail that a suicide drags behind it. It doesn’t end with you.
Since Tony’s death, I’ve been inundated with emails and comments from people who have lost loved ones to suicide. The silence around it is deafening, and it’s only when you break that sound barrier that you start to hear how loud the problem is.
Two good friends of mine have lost parents to suicide. I never knew that, until Tony died. I knew they’d lost parents young, but I’d never heard how they’d died. If it had been cancer that had taken them, would it have been mentioned…? Quite probably. Someone’s mum dies of cancer, and we all wear pink and march in the sunshine to raise money for a cure.
Someone’s mum dies of suicide, and we speak of it in whispers. And parts of us thinks, how terrible she was to leave her children so young.
And there in, I think, lies part of the problem, another reason why we need to talk, to let the words rush out until this glass bubble bursts. I’ve heard how selfish Tony was, so many times. And God knows, I think that, too, and I’ve said it plenty. I can’t help with it, the emotional investment being what it is.
But, really, suicide is no more selfish that getting cancer or MS or freaking pneumonia is selfish. This is an illness. Let’s call it soul cancer.
And let’s speak about it, to remove the stigma. So maybe people will ask for help before it gets to the point where they are psychotic, or suicidal.
Men. Especially men. I’ve raved on about that before. Women, we talk in emotions and feeling and colours. Men speak gruffly in terms of ‘She’ll be right’, of honour, of doing the right thing even when it’s so, so wrong.
I worry sometimes about how graphic my description of Tony’s suicide is. Then I remind myself that this is the InterWebs. Type suicide into the front page of Google and you’ll come up with worst things that this. Type in ‘how to kill yourself’ and the information is there, in shocking detail, photos and all.
While this blog isn’t something I would want my kids reading at the ages of twelve or thirteen, I don’t worry too much about kids reading my blog, about putting this information out there. To start with, I don’t think “Random Ramblings of a Stay At Home Mum” is something that would appeal to a lot of kids.
And let’s be honest- there’s not a lot on the Net I would want my twelve or thirteen year old to see. Compared to what’s out there, this is tame.
Do you remember your concept of suicide, as a teenager…? I do. It was so bloody romantic. Because of this culture we have of not talking about suicide, except in cold whispers and not around the children, please; the only suicide I’d ever read about was Romeo and Juliet. What a grand freaking idea. We won’t discuss suicide with teenagers at all, but we will have them study the most romanticized fictional suicide there is.
So maybe, teenagers would benefit from about it too. Let’s tell the truth. There is nothing romantic about suicide. It’s ugly. Show them pictures of what you’ll really look like when someone finds you. tell them about the week you may spend semi conscious in the ICU, unable to tell your loved ones you’re sorry before you die.
Hell, make them all read this. Suicide, it’s not always an end to a problem. Sometimes it’s the beginning of a much bigger one.
And let’s tell them, tell everyone, about how quickly suicide can happen. About how you shouldn’t bluff, because you just may hit a nerve you never know you had.
About how a psychosis can skew your perspective of reality, your risk perception. About how, if you’re feeling that stressed and out of it, that depressed and anxious, there is no shame in asking for help.
Suicide contagion is real. A catch 22, hey? It is contagious. If we talk about it, it can spread.
But if we don’t talk about it, more people die. And it just spreads faster, and more silently.
Soul cancer.
Surely the spread of it is faster, more intense, by touch than by sound?
So… I guess that’s what I’ll be arguing tomorrow night. Hopefully not from an over emotional perspective.
Let’s remove the silence. But do it in a way that removes the romance as well.
Thousands of people die in this country from suicide every year. It’s the end result of an illness, but the stigma and shame behind it are terrifying.
Remove the romance. Remove the shame. Remove the stigma.
Speak.
Leave a Comment
{ 56 comments… read them below or add one }
- August 2, 2011 at 7:48 pm
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Everytime I hear on the news that someone died and death was recorded as "not suspicious" I yell at the TV. I find it devistating that even in death a person isn't heard, is silenced. This is Australia, doesn't feel like a free country when you can't even say suicide on the Media, who made that rule? Why is it legal? It seems go against democracy, too much censoring.
- June 13, 2011 at 10:07 pm
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This is a beautifully written post, so poignant in so many parts. My husband's mother killed herself when her kids were 6 and 16. And mostly, the family has been quiet about it or tiptoeing around it, like it was dirty talk of an affair etc. My sister-in-law didn't find out how her mother died until she was 14, and of course then it was a big shock to her and marred deeply her teenage years. There has to be more talk about it, maybe not of suicides themselves, but definitely we need more openness about the aftermath
- June 10, 2011 at 5:21 am
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Lori,
This is very off-topic, however after reading Ugly a few weeks ago I just keep coming back now.
I was wondering what your take might be on article I read that talks about the depression many writers have struggled with and gave voice to.
http://www.dailyrx.com/feature-article/some-writers-no-happy-ending-10922.html
Time and again you speak to your conviction that a conversation about this is therapeutic and keystone to recovery, for your sanity and maybe ours who now share this with you. If you suddenly dropped off, I for one would be worried. How do you think as a writer, the process of self examination could be used to evoke change in the law of silencing this issue in the media. I for one think it should be. - June 8, 2011 at 5:28 am
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Hey, I look great green around the gills!
- June 7, 2011 at 11:37 pm
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I watched it, not realising you weren't going to be on…but I think they did a good job, even without you there! Your presence would no doubt have increased how good it was, mind.
But the overwhelming feeling I got from it is that people honestly believe the same as you – that it must be talked about, brought out into the open and the shame of suicide be removed. I watched it, nodding away, and feeling that you'd be happy with how it went.I hope we all get to that more open place, much sooner than later. I think you can do much more good than you perhaps realise, Lori – you have such a drive and commitment to this that people listen and really take heed of what you say, because it comes from your painful, honest truth. If you feel like it's something you could run with, maybe see if you can get in touch with some of the people who were featured tonight? Just a suggestion – knowing that I believe and believe IN you.
Emma.
- June 7, 2011 at 10:36 pm
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Lori I watched the show and I'm sure alot more people did because of your blog. I didn't know that there was restrictions n censorship of suicide in the media! Suicide is something that needs to be talked about awareness needs to be raised both to prevent it and provide support for the families and friends who are the victims. Keep on talking, keep on sharing your story, I have no doubt it's unbelievably hard to do but you are helping so many people and you have lots of support to help you do this! Xxxx
- June 7, 2011 at 8:04 pm
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Wow Lori – what a brilliant piece of writing. I totally agree with all the sentiments. What's that saying?…"You're as sick as your secrets"…Isn't that the truth?
Hope you'll get another chance to share your knowledge at some point. I think you could change a lot of people's perceptions with your brilliant, wise and honest words.xxxx
- June 8, 2011 at 3:04 am
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Lori
Thanks for this, which ‘pushed’ several buttons with me. The first was the mention of gruff men and ‘she’ll be right…’. The following is a quote from an e-mail from my brother, writing about my sister, two months after her son’s suicide ‘[she]…seems to be getting over it all now’. What was rather funny about this comment is that he sent it in reply to an e-mail I had sent out with my new personal e-mail address – so it had gone to lots of people. For some stupid reason he had replied and hit ‘reply all’ so a hundred or so people, from academic acquaintances, to close friends, witnessed the glibness of my brother and I received several e-mails from friends asking me if my brother had had an emotional bypass or something! Six weeks after the death of your only son, who had been found hanging (by your husband – three days after the deed), and you were going to be ‘all right’. Two years on and she’s still not all right and we as a family will never be all right.
My cousin died two days ago – she was almost 30 years older than me, tho’ we’re first cousins (my dad was one of 8 children spaced out over 20 years – and I am the youngest of all siblings and my cousins). Hence when my own mother had to have a big ‘woman’s troubles’ operations (as they were euphemistically known in England up until the 1970s) when I was still a baby, my cousin fostered me for several months until my mother was better. Since then there has always been a bond between us and we have spent a good deal of time together. She was diagnosed with stage three ovarian cancer three years ago and told me ‘I’ve been told they can cure it.’ For several years I was a palliative/cancer care social worker and my thought was ‘no they can’t – not at stage three’ but played along with the family game that she would recover. I had presumed I would be very upset when she died. But I was shocked that I wasn’t. She was 75, she had had enough of chemo and wigs and endless visits to hospital, she had refused further treatment – which I think is wise, there are worse things than death; and it just seemed it was ‘her time’. The last time I saw her was at my nephew’s funeral and strange at it seems I spent more time yesterday getting upset about my nephew (I’m crying now) because thinking about my cousin move that slab of emotional sound-proofing to one side and once again I could hear the scream of pain and anger that his suicide has left within.
Like you say, I’m sure at my cousin’s funeral there will be some collection for a cancer or hospice charity – I don’t think any of us are up to marathon running! And we will all talk without too much restraint on the day. If my sister is there, I know some will try and avoid her – having the stain of suicide on your life is the social equivalent of being the drunk girl at a party – people are nice to your face, but fight tooth and nail to avoid you!
One last thing, when I worked in cancer care we had a suicide at the hospital (in central London). A guy (high flying, City banker) was told he had HIV, and immediately walked out on to scaffolding around the building, then in the middle of renovation, and jumped six floors, impaling himself on scaffolding poles (we were in the offices opposite and althlo’ didn’t see the jump, we saw the mess). The next day the newspaper headline read: ‘City Banker in Tragic Accident.’ The double whammy of the suicide and HIV were just erased – so even tho’ there is no law in the UK on the reporting of suicides, there is still stigma!
Thanks again for this.
P.
- June 7, 2011 at 10:43 am
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Good luck on the show. I won't be able to watch it as we currently have no reception, but if there ends up being a video somewhere on the net, I'd definitely love to watch that
- June 7, 2011 at 10:25 am
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Lori! This is a stunning, insightful, and wonderful post. Easily one of the best ones you've written since. You are an inspiration to me, and despite the fact that you might hate that I say that, you are, and I'm sure I'm not the only one!
Makes me wish I lived in Australia so that I could have seen you on TV.
- June 7, 2011 at 12:52 pm
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Good on you for taking action Lori!
- June 6, 2011 at 7:48 pm
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Lori you are SO brave, I really hope this goes well for you. Speak your truth, for it deserves to be heard.
- June 7, 2011 at 5:24 am
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I'll be watching, Lori. Love everything you write and say. {hugs} to you xxx
- June 6, 2011 at 3:17 pm
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I'll be watching and i hope this goes a long way to helping people speak up about depression, mental health and suicide.
Remember so many years ago whn divorce was the hush-hush topic? Then later it was abortion? People gradually spoke up more about these things. The same needs to happen here. People need to know somehow, that whatever they are feeling can be spoken about, brought into the open, so that help can be given. The trouble with mental illnesses though is that each person feels that they are "the only one". In their rational moments, they know this isn't so, but when they're in the grip of an episode, they feel so totally alone and that no-one will understand, they're in a black hole with no light to show the way out, that they're better off gone.
If they are able to talk about it more before the black hole stage, we could find ways to help.
Speaking up doesn't make anyone less of a man, doesn't make you a sissy. It makes you more aware of your own feelings and of those around you who are willing and able to help. - June 6, 2011 at 2:32 pm
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I have lost 2 cousins and an uncle to suicide and I am amazed by how hushed up it is even amoungst the family.
A friend of mine struggles with depression and recently she told me something I had not known the entire time I've known her (15 years). Her Mum died when she was 16 (I knew this) she was her youngest child of 4 and the only girl. She was told it had been a Christmas eve car accident and it wasn't until 10 years later, when she was 26 and being treated for depression herself, that she discovered from her family in an awful way (is there a good way?)that she had actually committed suicide.
What is with this silence even with in the family? Who do they think they are protecting?
You go Lori! Your perspective is truly needed in this discussion.
Sx
- June 6, 2011 at 2:08 pm
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hey sunshine- you have been my friend for 9 years and during that time we've been inseperable and then distant (through no fault of each others just been busy) but i have always thought of us hanging out and laughed and i have always and perhaps secretly admired you the strong woman that everyone now sees is the one I have seen all along.
I am so proud of your voice in this fight against a usually silent killer, so proud of your writing and so proud that I get to say I know you.
Like chemo treats cancer lets hope words treat suicide.
Love Love xxx
- June 6, 2011 at 1:36 pm
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I love your description of soul cancer. The perfect description.
We have lost two friends to suicide in the last year, 4 months apart. Silence is deadly.
Speak out – I'll be tuning in to watch
- June 6, 2011 at 1:19 pm
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Excellent post, Lori. What sometimes people miss or don't think about is, what if they do not succeed in ending their lives? What if they are resuscitated and but left with deficits? Brain damaged, paralysed or some other living hell that their families must then be left to try to manage.
I'm amazed that you have the bravery to speak so publicly about your loss and pain, especially so soon. Good luck tomorrow. You'll be fine. We'll all be watching.
Still wishing peace from me and my GOFA.
- June 6, 2011 at 12:51 pm
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I will be watching. Remember to smile!
What you're saying is so very very right. You don't even need to say how the person killed themselves, just that they did. You never hear about it so you assume it's not happening, and people need to see how messy this is, the "after", and that yeah they will be missed, that a life so small as their own leaves a giant gaping hole. - June 6, 2011 at 12:46 pm
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Very powerful. Very true. People need to know it does not end a problem, it does not end there. It is the beginning of something devastating. When you're in that dark place it can seem like a way out, a solution, yet the finality of it is brushed aside. In that moment. People need to talk, to understand, to see there is nothing 'right' or romantic about suicide. It is ugly and violent and destructive.
I think the lack of reporting heightens the feeling of shame for those left behind. It needs to be acknowledged, for it to be said, 'this happens, and it needs to be talked about.'. It shouldn't be treated as a 'dirty little secret'.
- June 6, 2011 at 11:49 am
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I agree with absolutely everything you say and will be tuning in for sure.
On a similar note, I have said the same thing about how stillbirth is so taboo (that's how my daughter died, a week past her due date almost three years ago). We don't talk about it, yet we can smother ourselves in pink for breast cancer, and there are as many stillborn babies are there are breast cancer victims each year. Saying that it is "taboo" or "too scary" to talk about solves nothing. Not the same as your situation, but just drawing on the similarities.
I think your voice and story will add so much to the discussion tomorrow.
Well done.
xo - June 6, 2011 at 11:20 am
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I lived next door to one of the girls who hung themselves together about 4 years ago. There was so much angst in the community and media because it got a lot of coverage. It was an ugly business, of course, trivialised by the media's inability to deal properly with the issues at hand. 60 Minutes tried…and failed, though did one of the better jobs. The funeral was surreal because of the way the suicide was skirted around…ya know, the VERY reason we were there for the funeral of a 16yo! Anyway, just my reflections. Thanks for yours xxx
- June 6, 2011 at 10:58 am
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So wish I could watch you on TV. Dammit. And so proud of you. xoxo
- June 6, 2011 at 10:54 am
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Won't be at home, but I will be thinking of you and cheering you on, sweetheart.
Beautiful, powerful ideas and words, as ever. I know you will strike a chord there, just as you do here.
Lots of love. x
- June 6, 2011 at 10:49 am
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So proud of you are your stance on this. Many people would not be fighting this good fight as you are! Use words as your weapons and make a dent in this sad battle.
Will of course be watching and cheering you on x
- June 6, 2011 at 10:46 am
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Good on you Lori,
I have set the hard drive up to record it.You are brave beyond words. - June 6, 2011 at 10:43 am
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You are one helluva brave woman Lori! And an inspiration to all who read / hear you speak on this topic (and many others of course). What you are doing – opening up – letting the world know what they really ought to – from someone who knows – not the politics of it – not the romance – the real deal… you are doing a wondeful thing that many people probably wish they could do but just can't. Love and hugs from Melbourne xo
- June 6, 2011 at 10:09 am
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Will be watching and supporting and sharing. xx
- June 6, 2011 at 7:56 pm
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I'm setting record on the IQ now. You never fail to amaze me, Lori ♥
- June 6, 2011 at 8:14 am
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I will be watching.
I lost a friend to suicide last year. I read here a lot but don't comment as often as I should. I think a lot of it's because I'm still processing his death.
I believe in talking, talking, talking too. I think your story is so, so important, as suicide is seen as romantic. I think a lot of people, men especially, forget about the trail of destruction and devastation suicide brings.
I can still hear the words and the pain of my friend's wife at his funeral. They're burned in my soul. And I know that everyone who was at the funeral felt the same way.
These words are so important: "Remove the romance. Remove the shame. Remove the stigma. Speak."
Well done, Lori. xx
- June 6, 2011 at 7:56 am
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Will try and remember to tune in this week, Im sure you will do a brilliant job. Your words are powerful Lori.
Good luck! - June 6, 2011 at 5:39 am
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Wow, this was so well written and so spot on.
- June 6, 2011 at 5:31 am
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Such an important topic to have out in the open. I am sure you will do excellently, and will be cheering you on from over here as you work on your mission.
Cxx
- June 6, 2011 at 2:52 am
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Interesting that suicide is verboten in your press; I never knew that…
Lori, all the love shown you in the comments I say again with Boldface-you help others who struggle, you help society by refusing to go quietly away, you help me personally as I struggle with losing two sibs in short period. You amaze and fill me with wonder at your strength. Stay the course; we are all here for you.
- June 6, 2011 at 2:00 am
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I will have my pom poms ready to cheer you on, Lori xxx
- June 6, 2011 at 11:35 am
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Amen. You are just so right. We need to get people to be comfortable admitting that they are sick and need help before it gets to the stage where they're jumping off buildings or hanging themselves. You aren't the only suicide survivor I've known, and seeing the ugliness of its aftermath has really taught me just how important asking for help when you need it really is. Also, a big, fat HELL YES to de-romanticizing suicide. HUG!!!!
- June 6, 2011 at 10:57 am
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Talk, talk and then keep talking some more! I hate the media silence, I hate the silence everywhere. I hate that talking about my mothers suicide makes others so bloody uncomfortable but we all wear pink ribbons to celebrate my aunty loosing her battle to breast cancer…where's the ribbon for my mum loosing her battle with mental illness!
I love your blog, I love your bravery and I love that you are helping to challenge the terrible silence.
- June 6, 2011 at 10:28 am
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If what you say tomorrow night is only half as powerful as this post then it will still strike a mighty chord. Love to you lori.. I'll be watching.
- June 5, 2011 at 11:31 pm
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So well said Lori. There should be public awareness, there should be rallies and fun runs and ribbons and there will be, thanks to people like you making a stand and speaking up. I am so incredibly proud of you for doing this, you are changing alot of peoples lives for the better.
Well done.
xx - June 6, 2011 at 9:25 am
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We'll b watching.
Amazing post as always. You are such an amazing person & I'm sure you'll do awesome! - June 6, 2011 at 8:42 am
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Respect
With stormy rain on tempest seas with squalls across all sails
We stagger to the decks awash to lurch with thimble pails
And as we bail the waters green and sew the canvass torn
We hear the whispers nature sends to herald every dawn
"Respect respect respect your life" a whisper through the dark
"Respect this life and let each storm amaze with lightning's spark!"~*Heartpoet*~
- June 5, 2011 at 10:29 pm
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You'll be great Lori. Talk from the heart, like you always do.
- June 5, 2011 at 10:28 pm
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Oh wow- thanks Steph. I'll be sure to post a link to it afterwards. xox
- June 5, 2011 at 10:26 pm
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I hope I don't miss it. I'm so bad with remembering to watch TV shows.
After each of my two attempts I realised that suicide is not a call for help, it's not a call for attention, it is the result of a sincere belief that the world would be a better place without you in it. Yes, even your children.
However, at that time, your beliefs are skewed, for whatever reason. You are not thinking clearly, even though you think you are.
In my case, it was the result of long-term psychological abuse by me ex-husband, his girlfriend and his mother. Between them they managed to convince me that I was not a good person. But I was just a very trusting, very vulnerable person.
I'm glad I woke up to the truth and I know that my children would never be better off without me.
I'm sorry that Tony never got a chance to wake up, that his psychosis had him in such a tight grip, that he chose such a violent way to go. And I'm sorry that you now have to pick up the pieces of your broken life.
Just know that you ARE helping others.
Thank you, Lori…
- June 5, 2011 at 9:57 pm
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I'll be watching with pride, Lori. Speak your truth!xxxx
- June 5, 2011 at 9:52 pm
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I'll be watching Lori. Everything you said is true. We need to talk about suicide, about mental illness, about families left devastated … I'm cheering you from the sidelines.
- June 5, 2011 at 9:41 pm
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I'll be watching, sweetie. Watching proudly, and listening to every word. And I'll make sure my hubby is watching too, since he lost an aunt to suicide. Something which is rarely discussed in his family. Good luck, break a leg – you'll be awesome. I know it xxxxx
- June 5, 2011 at 9:35 pm
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As the Mother of a Teenage Suicide 13 Years ago I think it must be put out there in the Public no matter how uncomfortable it is and also to get across the hurt that is felt by the Family Survivors of Suicide still years after the Trauma, good luck and I will be watching.
- June 5, 2011 at 9:28 pm
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I will be watching you on tv Lori and I know in my heart of hearts that you will be brilliant.
Of course you never imagined you would find yourself in this position, of course. But what you say now has so much power to effect change for good through your courage. You are already a magnificent advocate and it takes my breath away that you are only a few months down the track from the loss of Tony. Squeezing your hand from Melbourne and will be doing that on Tuesday night too xxxx - June 5, 2011 at 9:27 pm
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Thanks.
All mental health issues need to be talked about more. But I can't seem to bring myself to publicly fully talk about my own.
Thank you
- June 5, 2011 at 9:25 pm
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I'll be tuning in. Every single word that you speak or write brings us closer to your hope – to remove the romance, the shame and the stigma. x
- June 6, 2011 at 6:31 am
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Yep – wow.
How does your brain work?!
How do you grab all those feelings and disjointed thoughts swirling around in there and form them so beautifully into perfectly expressed understanding?
You DO realize you have a gift, don't you? - June 6, 2011 at 2:27 am
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As a woman currently hospitalized in a mental institution for a psychotic break, i cannot tell you how much your writing has SUSTAINED me, not pushed me further into soul cancer, as you so aptly describe it. When the demons are yelling in my ear, and everything tells me my son amd husband would be better off without me, i pull up your blog, and say NO. And then i speak-i tell my doctors, my husband, that the darkness is back, and they reach in and pull me out. Right now, it's a daily struggle, but hey-i'm around for each new day, right? And some day it won't be this hard,
Lori, i know people keep telling you this, but you are saving lives. You are saving mine.
- June 5, 2011 at 11:44 pm
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I'm fourteen years old and I read your blog. I was linked to it in early January, when I was thirteen. Yes maybe most kids wouldnt be attracted to this kind of blog. To be honest, I probably wouldn't either, normally. But I read it because I feel it's important for me to see the trail of horror and despair suicide leaves behind.
When I was ten years old, I started showing signs of OCD and social anxiety disorder. The SAD worsened until I became diagnosed with depression. I would plan committing suicide at night in the kitchen by using a knife, or maybe by jumping out the window in my room. I didn't have any desire to live anymore, and I wasn't even eleven years old.
Luckily, I could never bring myself to actually commit suicide, and in june of my fifth grade year I started taking medication. I'm no longer depressed, but I still do have a bit of SAD. I feel like no one likes me at least three times a week, and I feel like killing myself just to escape the disliking at least once every two weeks.
People don't think about how depression can affect people below the age of fifteen. But it can. So for anyone who thinks kids shouldn't be reading this, I think it is very important. As you say, suicide is a bit romanticized. No one ever talks about the aftermath, the suffering of loved ones. I certainly didn't fully comprehend how my parents and grandfather would have suffered. And if I had committed suicide in fifth grade, I never would have gone to Israel that summer and met my dad's mother and sisters. I never would have had my first kiss (I still haven't, sadly) or graduated elementary school.
I like your blog a lot. I wish I could watch you on TV this tuesday, but I live in the USA. Anyway, thank you for writing about this, I appreciate it. And I really hope you read my comment–I don't know if you read every comment but I hope you do. - June 5, 2011 at 11:12 pm
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I'll be watching too, Lori. How could I not? Having watched helplessly as you begin this awful journey, I so want to see you use what you've lived and learned.
I totally get that this is not something you asked for, that you're just playing with the hand you've been dealt, and that you don't think you're brave.
But you are. You're a hero. You really are. - June 5, 2011 at 10:26 pm
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Hi Lori, I have followed your blog for quite a while, and believe with all my heart that you are one of the bravest people I know. I have never commented before as your awesome readers always do a great job of "leaving some love". I just wanted to let you and any other readers outside aus, like me (I'm in Chile), that insight is available online, maybe a day or two after the actual broadcast. I have watched episodes before so I know for sure that it is not geographically restricted to aus:
http://www.sbs.com.au/insight/archive
Good luck on the show, it is a HUGELY important topic, especially when it comes to our "big strong men", and your input into the conversation will be invaluable. <3
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Random Ramblings of a SAHM: I suck at being sick.
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There is no shame in writing. – RRSAHM
There is no shame in writing.
Bad day.
Some days I feel like I’m the one who’s psychotic. Like I’ve snapped. Like there is a part of who is still standing in my back lane way, screaming for help, holding my daughter, repeating “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead” over and over again.
And all this is an illusion. This woman, who I do not know, protected her children and did what needed to be done and is still doing it. I don’t know her. The Lori I know, the Lori you all knew, she might be stuck there forever. Holding her daughter. terrified. Unable to stop screaming.
I know there has been question, amongst those people I know In Real Life, and those I don’t, about whether I should be writing here, or not. How much I should say. How much I should keep to myself. Just how real and graphic this blog will get.
I don’t care.
I’m not ashamed of the events that have happened, as difficult as they are to deal with. And I’m not going to stay silent. This is real. This is shit. This is my life. And I don’t care who knows how bad it. I know it might scare people, and make some people uncomfortable. I don’t really care.
As I said, this is real.
This is the direct after math of a suicide.
This is what happens when a strong, loving, amazing, caring, sweet family man bottles up too much stuff, and won’t ask for help.
This is the aftermath of a psychosis. A real live one. No fooling around.
And none of this pain, this hurt, this ugliness has been tempered by time. It’s all fresh and vivid and horrible colorful.
And I’m writing because I have to. I’m not sure what else to do with all this pain and rage and fucked-up-ed-ness.
At least here, the hurt it can cause is minimal. I may not explode, and say things I do not mean, if I’m pouring them out here instead.
And it hurts. To see this place, this blog, which has always been all of me, go from what it was to what it is now. From purple and stupidness and writing about my ridiculous sex life, to a constant litany of pain. Of hurt. Of too much information.
But I write. Because I have to. And because putting it out there, sharing it, it makes it so much less dark. Fuck, it still hurts.
But I won’t let this be a dirty secret. There is nothing to feel shame about here.
Leave a Comment
{ 113 comments… read them below or add one }
- January 30, 2011 at 8:21 am
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Lori, as others have said you do what you need to do.
you are so so right, there is no shame here- if it helps to write about it then
that is what you must do.my thoughts are with you.
- January 27, 2011 at 9:20 pm
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As the others have said, do what you need to do. If writing helps you then write.
Thinking of you.
- January 27, 2011 at 10:14 am
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Followed a couple of links here. Write whatever you need to write. Let it out. I don't know you, but I would like to offer what comfort I can to someone in pain. Your words are already getting other people to reach out for help.
- January 27, 2011 at 7:43 am
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oh, sweet God of mercy.
i only just came in here today. i followed a link posted by someone talking about removing the stigma of mental illness and getting people the help they need and not waiting until it's too late and i do not know what to do except cry.
and pray.
do not ask me where i've been.
there aren't words.
i'll just keep praying.
- January 27, 2011 at 7:11 am
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Lori, it is so true what you write about that being the after math of suicide. It is…I know as the survivor of a father who hung himself. You do recover. You do move on. But man does it take time. Also, I realize you face a different possibly more intimate experience as it was your husband. Being a wife myself now, I can only imagine the torment my own mom went through. You and your children are getting nothing but good ol' healing energy from me. Pour it all out honey!
- January 27, 2011 at 4:44 am
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How did I miss this post? Please keep writing. Be real, be honest, don't worry about what anyone else thinks or can bear to read. They are always welcome to click away. What you are doing is amazing and incredible and beautiful, even in it's raw ugliness, it is beautiful. Just write and write and write and keep moving through it. Love you so much. You are amazing. xoxo
- January 27, 2011 at 12:32 am
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If it helps you, write. Hell, if singing sea shanties makes you feel human then do it. We all grieve differently and perhaps some who feel it is inappropriate to write are carrying their own grief very close to the surface and would prefer you not to upset their apple cart… People's judgments of you are just a reflection of themselves.
Whilst I'm not 'enjoying' reading these posts I find them amazing and their raw honesty has me in awe.
- January 26, 2011 at 10:37 pm
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Write.
- January 26, 2011 at 6:11 am
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Thank you so much for sharing this open and honestly. I hope it's not too much to deal with people feeling weird about it and I'm glad it makes you feel less dark. I think it's amazing that you can share it- I don't think I'd be able to, but I think what you're doing is important and could help others. I think not talking about things like this is something that can perpetuate the situations that can lead to them happening. Anyway, love and warm thoughts to you. And thank you.
- January 26, 2011 at 2:27 am
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I am very sorry for your loss. I can never understand why people get such a visceral response to how others deal with loss. Please write as much as you can. Write whatever that spills out if it helps you make sense of this senseless thing you are going through. Best wishes. And if you don't mind, some {{{{hugs}}}} from a stranger across the Internet.
- January 25, 2011 at 8:13 pm
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I am a Real Friend from Real Life, and without your blogs, your tweeds, your FB updates I would be lost….
I can only do so much. You need your space physically and mentally, and so to allow this I have been reduced to cyber stalking like a psycho
I bounce between your sites, and other peoples blogs, gleaning info and watching hoping praying from afar. I Need these blogs to ease my own personal guilt of not being able to watch over you any other way.KT Greco
- January 26, 2011 at 12:48 am
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Keep writing – whatever helps do it! It's your blog and your space. You are continuing that education that you started in the eulogy at Tony's funeral, and you may be saving another family from the aftermath of suicide. Big Hugs xxx
- January 25, 2011 at 4:30 am
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Write it. This is your space, for you, and if this place here helps you then you should write it.
- January 25, 2011 at 3:12 am
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Lori, all the love in the world to you for using this time as a chance to speak up for others who've ever felt that they couldn't. Know that you are serving an amazing purpose in this world and you are more than entitled to feel whatever it is that you're feeling right now.
- January 25, 2011 at 2:50 am
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I can only imagine your pain and unbelievable anger at it all. The tears flow and flow for you and the life you lost and the one you still have to live. Writing is an exceptional outlet, keep it up!
- January 24, 2011 at 10:48 pm
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You know that hideously overused analogy with the aeroplane crash instruction about putting the oxygen mask on yourself first, others second?
I view blogging as my oxygen mask.
Dude, if there is one time, ONE HOLY GOD MORE AWFUL THAN HUMANLY IMAGINABLE time you should do whatever the FUCK you want to do, this is it.
Put on your proverbial oxygen mask and do whatever you need to do to get by. To get through the next five minutes, the next hour, the next night, the next day.
Whatever you need to do.
- January 24, 2011 at 10:10 pm
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You shouldn't write, for what? So people don't feel uncomfortable reading it? You have to live it Lori, and that is frickin' discomfort right there. A whole load of pain and torture and despair. So fuck 'em. Keep writing, I know i'll keep reading.
M2Mx
- January 24, 2011 at 9:08 pm
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oh Lori, this is your space. You created it & you're surrounded by friends. Some of whom are also IRL. I'm so glad you're not ashamed, because there isn't any shame, although there is so much pain & suffering for you.
If this helps at all, then at least there is a tiny drop of solace.
Keep writing.
We're listening. - January 24, 2011 at 6:49 pm
- January 24, 2011 at 3:03 pm
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I'm sad that people are questioning what you are writing. This is your life, you have shared it for the past year with the world why stop now. This is your space to rant & rave & do whatever you want.
Don't stop writing if it helps you. Ok?
- January 24, 2011 at 2:55 pm
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No-one is being forced to read so if they don't feel comfortable then they shouldn't read! I think yu are an amazing woman and I bet this will help both you and other people in the future.
xxx mrsmac (BB) - January 24, 2011 at 2:43 pm
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You do what you need to do – fuck anyone else who thinks it's not okay and that your honesty is 'uncomfortable'. As Dorothy said above, bad shit goes down and if we can't be honest about that, the what's the bloody point in having a blog??
- January 24, 2011 at 2:21 pm
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Hi Lori,
Keep writing. It is not "brave" to write all about it, it is honest. As you said, this is life. Bad shit happens in life. And so many people don't talk about the really bad shit, fearing the judgement of others.
I had bad shit happen. And I wrote about. And readers kept telling me how brave and strong I was for being so honest. But I was just being me! How can you keep all this shit inside??? It is fucking unhealthy! It eats you up and it hurts. So you have to let it out the only way you know how.
I love that you've been writing and publishing, because it gives me hope that there are real people out there who are not afraid of showing others that they're real. Bad shit happens….!! We need to tell the world!!!
- January 24, 2011 at 1:26 pm
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Whatever helps you to cope, survive, breathe right now. I don't think there are any right or wrongs when such terrible tragedy changes everything.
- January 24, 2011 at 1:02 pm
- January 24, 2011 at 12:35 pm
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Write Lori. Write and write and write and write.
We are here reading and "listening". Always have been. Always will be.
x
- January 24, 2011 at 12:24 pm
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I think you're amazing. And I think you should continue to write if that's what you feel like doing. Like everything, if it makes some people uncomfortable, they should just 'switch the channel'.
For every person that your brutal honesty upsets, i reckon you're helping 20 others in some way. Inspiring and giving food for thought and maybe changing the views of some people.
I believe you'll save lives too. A month ago, I imagined being where you are now, because my husband was in a bad place. He got thru that bout of deep holeness, and is doing ok now, but I'm waiting, subconsciously, for the next fall. With him, I have been sharing your words, making it an open subject through your courage to share, and getting it out there between us. Telling him that while he thinks, in his low worthless points, that maybe even though it would be hard for me in the short term for him to depart (his word), that i would be better off in the long term without him, that is so untrue.
So Lori, keep writing, keep feeling whatever it is you're feeling at any particular time…one day you will look back and be proud of yourself for getting thru it, and saving lives thru your blog, and you might even have the words for a book eventually.
Most of all, writing is what helps some people most of all, and it seems that you're one of those people, and anything you can find to help you at this horrid time is what you have to do. Best thing about doing it this way rather than in a journal by your bed is that you get so much love and support back, so it's doubly helping. Vent, get all those feelings out, do what you need to do….and know that there's lots of people thinking about you. - January 24, 2011 at 12:23 pm
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You're right Lori. It is uncomfortable. But what the hell. Do what you need to do. It's also important. Make us uncomfortable. Make us aware.
- January 24, 2011 at 12:13 pm
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I had this quote on my old blog for a long time — by C.S. Lewis — "we read to know we are not alone"
Thank you,
P
- January 24, 2011 at 11:30 am
- January 24, 2011 at 10:45 am
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That;s right Lori This is your blog ,your space so write what ever and when ever you like /want etc… No one is judging you at all . let all that hurt /anger and more out here on your page xxx
- January 24, 2011 at 10:41 am
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You are amazing – even when you don't feel it.
Through the haze of this horrendous mess, you are an inspiration.
Thank you for sparking some very important converations in our household.
I've no doubt your beautiful children miss their vivacious, gorgeous Mum for now. But you do have a lifetime with them. One day they will come to a place of understanding and absolute awe at how you managed to survive this god awful time. x - January 24, 2011 at 9:41 am
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Those that matter – don't mind and those that mind – don't matter! xox
- January 24, 2011 at 9:09 am
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Write. I know it's what i would need to do. If people aren't liking it, they don't need to read, but you need to do what helps you right now, no matter how small the task may seem, no matter how big it is, just do what helps. <3
- January 24, 2011 at 8:12 am
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You are absolutely right. Think of the impact you may have on SOMEBODY out there – or MANY PEOPLE out there. You are giving a voice to pain that has been felt before. It may help in the healing of others. It is beautiful.
- January 24, 2011 at 8:12 am
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Lori writing about this terrible event is obviously helping you deal with the anger, hurt and sadness and because of that is helping your mental health. And if seeing what the aftermath can be to their family and friends helps just one person (and I'm sure it's more than that) talk about their own problems and darkness instead of bottling it up then it's helpful. Life is not just about the rosey things and in order to care for and help others we need to know about the pain they go through too. Wishing you strength everyday.
- January 24, 2011 at 8:01 am
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damn right – you write it
- January 24, 2011 at 8:00 am
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Hi Lori I'm Eden's (Edenland) sister. We've had first hand experience of suicide in our family and it fucking sucks dogs balls. There is NO POINT to anything after it happens. I remember deciding not to cry after about a week, then 5 years went by and I still hadn't cried. 22 years later and my sisters still call me Chandler Bing from an old Friends episode where Chandler never cries, 22 years and alot of healing later I can finally cry, but it doesn't come easy. DO NOT clam yourself up, DO NOT let any judgemental fuckwits stop you from letting out your pain. Whatever works for you Lori, you do. You have alot of support here, and you'll most likely get the non-supporters as well, but do what's right for you and don't let judgement get in the way. The power of the internet has given so many people an outlet, a doorway, an ocean in which to ride the torrent of their own emotions, use it Lori, use it and don't let the fuckwits get in the way.
Linda xoxoxoxoxox - January 24, 2011 at 7:41 am
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You should say and do whatever you want. This is real, SO horribly real. And so fresh for you and your family. Keep on writing whatever helps you push through this grief. Fuck all those who disagree. I am praying for you.
- January 24, 2011 at 7:32 am
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You do what you have to do to cope! Anyone who doesn't understand that writing about something terrible can be greatly therapeutic doesn't understand human nature.
And you will always find support here
- January 24, 2011 at 7:31 am
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I find it incredibly inspiring that your writing here, because i've been the one who DOES bottle things up, and i can tell you with aboslute certainty that changing the tone of your blog is the far better option.
By showing your pain, your showing your strength, because your showing how unafraid you are. Kudos to you Lori, kudos to you… - January 24, 2011 at 6:15 am
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Oh Lori. Keep writing! For God's sake — do what feels right FOR YOU! This is your space, your life. Your words, raw and unedited, are documenting your life. This is important for you, your children, and others who read this. You are an amazing woman faced with an unimaginable Event. There is no shame in your feelings. We are praying for you. We are here for you. We support you. xoxo
- January 24, 2011 at 5:48 am
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Keep writing,Lori. Writer's write…that's what they do to express themselves in the best way they know how. It's real. It's raw. It's honest. It's exactly what you need to do. For your kids too, this is the truth and it's their life. It's a record of how their mum got through this terrible, terrible time and how she refused to be silent. A record of how she grieved…healthily and wholey and honestly.
I just soooo appreciate you and the way you are dealing with all of this. xxx - January 24, 2011 at 5:43 am
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The thing I've always loved about you and your blog, and still do, is your openness and honesty and the unashamed way you put your thoughts and feelings out there.
Keep writing-it's clear that it's therapeutic for you and that's a good thing. It's inspiring for us who read it – painful, and heart wrenching, but inspiring too. Keep writing because we're listening :-). - January 24, 2011 at 5:25 am
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If you find you aren't comfortable with the word 'strong', then consider the world 'resilient'.
Because that is how I see you.
xo Belinda
- January 24, 2011 at 5:06 am
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*HUGS* Keep writing and doing whatever works for you, there is no right or wrong, and definitely no shame.
- January 24, 2011 at 3:14 pm
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You MUST write whatever YOU NEED to write babe. If people don't want to read, no one is forcing them.
Lots of love to you and yours. xoxoxoxo - January 24, 2011 at 3:32 am
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There Is no shame in what you are doing. Writing is a powerful tool to get those feelings out. There is no shame when those words are coming from that place in your soul that needs to heal. We are all here beside you. Xo
- January 24, 2011 at 3:27 am
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I hope that writing it all out gives you some sort of peace . . . even if it's only a minuscule amount.
*hugs* we're all here for you.
- January 24, 2011 at 3:24 am
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I never understood why anyone would hold anything back on their blog. It is sort of lying to onself to not be honest and raw. I think of it as a diary. Who would lie to their diary? You NEED NEED to write about your feelings and about events that happen in your life. How else do you sort it all out and even start to grasp what has happened?
Sending lots of love and hugs.
- January 24, 2011 at 2:34 am
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there is no shame here and no shame elsewhere.
if it wasn't for this whole 'shame'thing many more people would seek help, naturally, before it comes to the worst. you are doing the right thing.
if it helps you to blog, Lori, blog your heart out. you are the one that has to cope with it, you are the first concerned person. what other people think is completely irrelevant.
if it helps you to be open in the public place that is the internet, do it.
and yes, you might just help others to 'come out' before another life is lost, another family grieving. i have great respect for what you do.
(i just hope you will have only positive feedback to this ok.. strangers can hurt for no reason too..) - January 24, 2011 at 1:33 am
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No shame, only the courage to do what you must to come through this terrible terrible thing.
Love and strength to you. xxx
- January 24, 2011 at 12:45 am
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You are brave to write. You are so unselfish because you write. Sharing your pain, your story. It is amazingly brave and will help someone else. Keep pouring it out and heal, one moment at a time.
- January 24, 2011 at 12:11 am
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I just found your blog today so I can't comment on how it was before. But I have read your posts about your terrible loss and I have to say that I am very sorry you are going through this.
I haven't lost my husband, but I did lose my son in August of 2010 at 36 weeks so I know about grief and loss. I actually started my blog to deal with my pain and grief.
I can tell you that writing it all down, even the really painful parts, has helped me keep my sanity. So my advice is to keep on writing. As much as you need to, and about whatever you want to.
It's your blog, your place to talk about what you want. If people don't like it then they can go read someone elses "happy" blog. There are plenty of them out there.
I will be following your blog now. Grief sucks, but you are not alone.
- January 24, 2011 at 12:03 am
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Keep writing lovely…..this is your space. xxxooo
- January 23, 2011 at 11:47 pm
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Gorgeous Lori,
It's your blog and if it's what you want to do, then do it – Tell the haters to get f**ked
Lots of love from your past belly buddy on BB
- January 23, 2011 at 11:44 pm
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People – especially Aussies – are only just getting used to the whole blogging thing to begin with. Like, why would anyone talk about anything on the internet? They are catching up, slowly.
I have been writing for almost four years, and have learnt a lot. I blog under my real name. I can't hide from my truth, and why should I? Too many people in the world spend their time and energy wearing masks, hiding things. Fuck that.
Lori, the Truth will set you free.
And as heart-wrenching as it is to read your posts, these Dark Days, my God they are beautiful. You are beautiful. You are amazing, and articulate, and sharing your broken heart with the world only makes you moreso. And the collective consciousness surrounding you and your children and your beautiful blog is giving you love and hope.
XOX
- January 23, 2011 at 11:29 pm
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Dear Lori
Keep writing. We will keep reading and sending love and positive thoughts to you and trying to help in whatever way we can.
God bless xx - January 23, 2011 at 11:24 pm
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Hey Lori,
I second and third everyone that says keep writing – do what works for you – whatever that may be and if people don't like it that is their problem – not yours! Draw strength from the web community and your IRL friends that support you and as said above "sidestep" the others for awhile. xxoo - January 23, 2011 at 11:17 pm
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If it makes people uncomfortable, they don't have to read. I agree with everyone here – expression is healthy and healing. You are a writer, it's your form of expression. You are not hurting anybody. So don't stop, and don't listen to the doubters. But you already knew that.
- January 24, 2011 at 10:15 am
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No shame my darling, no shame at all. This is your place to say whatever you want!! It's so important if you can't talk then to write and to write about what happened because it is so taboo but is happening to to often.
- January 23, 2011 at 11:15 pm
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I think people suggest you stop because they want to protect you, and fear that trolls may be unkind. I think they think they are helping you. But if this is what you need, and it's helping you and others, then that's that.
The great thing about blogging is we can share what we want to share, and keep to ourselves what we want as well. Neither is wrong. You're an adult, it's your blog and the beauty of it is that you create the boundaries yourself.
If you ever get trolled, you can moderate them, and I'm damned sure that there are plenty of us to put anyone like that in their place too!
But the best thing is, that there are so many kind people who love you reading this. That outweighs all the what ifs.
We're all here to help you of course, but you are helping us too. Not that that's your job or your focus right now. But the other day, 'was it my fault' day, I got my partner to read it.
Since his mental illness has become an issue in our lives, I've been fearful and watchful to try to prevent something like this happening in our family. My partner assures me he's not suicidal, but I do know he has dark times. That's why I wanted to be sure he read that post that day. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
For anyone who is concerned for you, hopefully this post of yours will allay their fears. And if they keep harping on about it? Well, why do they keep reading it, you know?
I keep many things private at my blog, but when I do share something personal, I am consistently blown away by the support and friendship that is extended by my readers and commentators.
So, if you need to, let it out here. You're among friends. And if you need to keep something to yourself, do that. You're among friends, either way we'll understand:) Much love, darling
- January 23, 2011 at 11:05 pm
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There is absolutley NO shame in write how you feel. Don't let anyone make you feel anything like that! Writing is healing. And you need to heal. You don't want to bottle it up inside. Express yourself. Get angry, get sad… and one day you will have happy days. One day you will smile, and laugh. And each day that you can let go of some pain… you make room for happiness. It will take time…. maybe a long time. But it will happen. And by sharing your experiences – you may just help others out there. Maybe many of us will just ask our partners how they are really feeling. Look out for any 'signs'.
This is your blog Lori, your life. Don't let anyone dictate it for you. Don't hold back. I am only a new reader… but I am another person (of 100's, if not 1000's) who cares about you. Hang in there. - January 23, 2011 at 11:01 pm
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There will always be people with opinions – good and bad – the people you know you in real life, and some of the ones here, are most likely worried that this will come back to haunt you in some way. I understand your need to write, I understand your need to make sure people are listening and learning to avoid this happening in their lives, I will never understand your pain having never been in your situation. I think that writing is a way of getting it out of your heart, of making sense of the senseless place you are now. Do what you need to do to heal, don't worry about anyone else but you and Bump and Chop. xxx
- January 23, 2011 at 10:47 pm
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Nope, no shame here.
- January 23, 2011 at 10:36 pm
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Bring it on Lori. Share with us,share the pain, the hurt, share the fucked-up-ness. Anything to make it less dark for you. It's your space, for you to express what you need to – whatever it takes to get you through. We're here for you. Just do it – shame, what shame?.
- January 23, 2011 at 10:35 pm
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Just keep writing, if it helps you get through these horrible times. I don't know you IRL but I think you are so very strong!
- January 23, 2011 at 10:24 pm
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It is brilliant that you are writing this out on so many levels. It is real, and I hope it is healing for you. Keep on keeping on.
- January 24, 2011 at 9:12 am
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Brave.
Fearless.
Your pain is yours.
Don't let it knock you to the ground and keep you there.
Keep getting up.
Again and again. - January 23, 2011 at 10:05 pm
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No room for worrying about what others think. As you well know – life is not a rehearsal. Do whatever you need to do. Your writing is beautiful. Your account is far from comfortable but we all have the choice to switch off our computers. You don't and you are touching a lot of hearts. You are a brave woman who is making a difference to others.
Keep on keeping on xxx - January 23, 2011 at 10:00 pm
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Keep writing Lori.
Take one day at a time.
We're here. - January 23, 2011 at 9:41 pm
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Good on you for writing. It is your blog, you do what you like with it. Its your time, your space to say what you like. Write as much as you want. It will help you too and thats what matters. xx
- January 23, 2011 at 9:38 pm
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Lori, words are such fragile, fickle creatures. What you are doing by corralling them in this way (on paper) is giving them the shape, structure and form to support YOU while everything around you is so formless. I hope you keep doing so as it seems to be giving you some comfort.
my thoughts to you…. xx
- January 24, 2011 at 8:19 am
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Lori, you are a writer. It is apart of who YOU are. No shame. Write baby, continue to write. Pour your heart out. You will write and we all will continue to listen x
- January 24, 2011 at 8:16 am
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Don't let anyone tell you how you should grieve. Ever.
- January 23, 2011 at 9:16 pm
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Just keep on doing what you're doing babe. I understand completely and I think most of us do. The rest? Not worth your time.
- January 23, 2011 at 9:11 pm
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Your space, Lori. no-one is forcing anyone else to read. If people wish to put their heads in the sand and ignore the realities of life and death, then let them. Compassion means listening when someone else's heart is breaking. Keep writing and let us know how you feel. That's the best way for everyone to now keep an eye on you, to make sure you are not left alone.
- January 23, 2011 at 9:04 pm
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You, your words, and this whole fucked up story will save lives. I'm trying to get everyone I know to read this, to see what suicide does to the victims left to pick up the pieces.
I know I mentioned this on a blog I wrote when trying to raise awareness for your upcoming auction but I think this Shakespeare quote sums up the need to write perfectly:
“Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.”
I know you won't feel this, but you are an inspiration. You have a story to tell and EVERYONE should read and heed. - January 23, 2011 at 9:01 pm
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Lori, for your own sake, keep sharing your tragic story! If anyone has a problem with what you are writing they know how to stop reading! Your strength is inspirational, the raw uncensored emotions are nothing to be ashamed about! Be proud that you are able to share this with people who care enough to support you and respond with such kindness! I, for one, am so glad to receive each post from you – as it means you are still here, and you are touching so many people in so many ways! Please keep writing – your honesty is breathtaking!!
- January 23, 2011 at 9:00 pm
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Write and write and write. Do whatever you need to do. You are extraordinary Lori xxx
- January 23, 2011 at 8:47 pm
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No, there is absolutely no shame, nor should there be. Write as much as you need to. If other people don't like it, they can p*ss off…
- January 23, 2011 at 8:45 pm
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Just keep writing your truth, brave one. Keep writing.xxxx
- January 23, 2011 at 8:43 pm
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Write like the wind, Lori. x
- January 23, 2011 at 8:29 pm
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As the others have already said, keep writing.
You recently wrote that Tony said this was 'your space' and it is. Your space to grieve, feel rage, sadness, whatever. It's your life and it's real – nothing to be ashamed of and certainly nothing to hide.
I totally understand the need to write through it. I think most bloggers/writers do. If it eases the pain, even slightly, and makes life just that little more bearable than it's important.
This won't be in your thoughts or intentions now, but you're also helping a lot of people out there. One day, this might give you some satisfaction.
Take care sweet lady. Keep writing, we're here reading.
xxx
- January 23, 2011 at 8:23 pm
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My friend, Kim, sent me here. On December 7th 2010 I lost the love of my life. He killed himself.
He was the strongest, gentlest most loving man I have had the pleasure of loving and knowing. He also took on everything and didn't ask for help.
We had 11 wonderful years together and now I don't know how life can keep going, why I wake up and why won't my heart stop beating, because he took it all with him the day he went.
I am in a fog and my teenage children are shattered.
More than anything, I want to lay with him and go, but my children need me more than my selfish wishes, but I miss him so much.
What I would give to have those moments back.
phillip.nicole@bigpond.com - January 23, 2011 at 8:19 pm
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You have no reason to feel ashamed, this is a terrible situation. What if writing this prevented it from happening to another family? Also, we are always told that our blog is for us, not for the readers, so screw them! They don't have to read it. If typing how much pain you're in, prevents you from unintentionally losing it infront of the kids, surely that's a good thing?
Keep going, one day at a time.
- January 23, 2011 at 8:17 pm
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Fuck those that think life is all zippitydodah and those are the only bits to share. *APPLAUSE!* Well said.
- January 23, 2011 at 8:14 pm
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I just wrote a huge long reply to you about how much your helping me in a situation that could well turn out just like yours and deleted it. Just know that your writing IS helping other people, whether that was your intention or not, it is. That your blog can do help other and you at the same time is wonderful thing. Fuck those that think life is all zippitydodah and those are the only bits to share. You should be able to share the good the bad and the ugly. It's all part of life. Life can be fucked up and uncomfortable and confronting. If it helps you to share the details, do it because it is definitely helping someone else.
- January 23, 2011 at 8:06 pm
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Lori, I've been following since Dannie asked us to pray/send healing thoughts to you…and I absolutely commend you on not being afraid to put it all out there. Your blog is about your life and if this is your life, then you SHOULD write about it and get it out. Your blog – your decision. The speech you made at Tony's funeral was amazing…I hope that those words might be the saving grace for somebody, even though it's been at such a great cost to you. Take care of yourself and do what you need to do.
Emma.
- January 23, 2011 at 8:05 pm
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Write and write and don't stop. Ever. xxx
- January 23, 2011 at 8:01 pm
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You are amazing.
- January 23, 2011 at 7:59 pm
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What the others have said, Lori. I was questioned too, when I started writing in 2005. You write through your experience and you write for others who come after you (for very sadly, it's not the first or last time this has ever/will ever happen in the world). Your voice is exceptionally strong, you are talented, your wit is still there and your will shall see you through. Keep going, dear girl.
I will say….. self-checking on the details is important – perhaps down the track you will remember posts you've made and you just won't want them "out there" on the www anymore. And at that point, you can delete the posts or move back to your drafts folder. It's all doable. But don't let yourself be silenced xxxx
- January 23, 2011 at 7:53 pm
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Just do whetever you need to do. Who cares what other people think FFS? Whatever workds to get through the pain. Whatever works.
- January 23, 2011 at 7:52 pm
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Some of the greatest writing of all time has come from the darkest human experience. What you write is real and if it is shocking to some, then they can look away. As for me, I am glad you are pouring your soul out here. It is healing, it is insightful, it is giving us the chance to support in whatever small way we can.
So scream as long and loud as you need to.
We are here to listen.
And to love.
Nx - January 23, 2011 at 7:44 pm
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I refer you to the excellent advice you received last week – cordially tell them to fuck off. I imagine that as they are people you know IRL they are going through their own pain. Well that is theirs to go through, their way. It's not their place to tell you what to do with yours. If they came and read what you wrote, and the responses you receive, they would see that this is a place of overwhelming love and support and understanding for you. Every time you post, I'm a little bit relieved that you haven't stopped… I can't help thinking that as long as you keep coming back, eventually you'll be OK.
And there is no shame in the truth. That is one of the most amazing things about the way you have handled this tragedy – no matter how fucked up it is, you're not afraid of the truth.
That's some serious courage.
Love to you always xoxoxo - January 23, 2011 at 7:40 pm
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This is why I set up a second blog for the hard shit. I don't edit it so much. Rather … I don't' edit myself. I put it all in. and the stuff which is too too private? Well I just make those a private post but still pour out all the rage and terror and fear and insanity. Get it out of my head and onto the page. Quieten the internal screaming for a bit.
…and at nearly 11 months down the track, I can read back over posts and see that I've made a step forwards… a minuscule one and after a huge slide backwards… but I am a little better than I was last year. - January 23, 2011 at 7:36 pm
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Lori, you are an inspiration to me – your strength and your honesty are amazing.
- January 23, 2011 at 7:31 pm
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You are an angel in disguise.
If there is any scrap of sense as to what has happened and why you – it is because you are a woman with the strength and roar of a lion & you will use it to make a fucking difference.
The reason our loved ones seem to slip away silently right before our eyes is this awkward, uncomfortable, stifling silence that surrounds mental illness, self harm and suicide.
It's the taboo that stops people from speaking out in the first place and its the fucking taboo that's stops those contemplating it from seeing the absolute horror that comes from the aftermath. It's all so sterile and polite and the silence is deafening.
Don't you dare ever feel ashamed, how dare anyone imply that you should be locked within this nightmare by yourself simply because the reality of it makes *them* feel uncomfortable.
What. the . fuck.
LLx
- January 23, 2011 at 7:27 pm
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What is the point of a blog – this place – if you cannot come here and vent, rage, cry, scream. A blog evolves as life changes and, for now, this is where it is at. You write. And write.
If it helps you even a tiny bit then it's all the better! - January 23, 2011 at 7:27 pm
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Please keep writing. You are absolutely right, there is nothing to be ashamed of here.
Keep doing what YOU need to do to get through this.
Wishing you strength. xx
- January 23, 2011 at 7:26 pm
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I think everbody has already said it much better than I could hope to…but I think writing/talking is one of the best things you can do right now. And you're so right – there is nothing for you to be ashamed of sweetie. Keep talking, we're all here for you.
CheezelMonster from BB
- January 23, 2011 at 7:15 pm
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Oh sweetheart, I am just going to echo the comments above me. I am sitting here in tears, for a beautiful soul I have never met. You say ANYTHING you need to here, this is YOUR SPACE, YOUR LIFE, YOUR EMOTIONS and although we are not able to comfort you physically, sweet Lori, we are all here to listen and not judge you. I cannot even for a second understand the pain you are going through, but I can offer you all my love and to listen with an open heart, unconditionally. Much love, Tina xx
- January 23, 2011 at 7:11 pm
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You write whenever and whatever, Lori. This is your space and if writing is helping you, then work with it.
Love and strength xxx
- January 23, 2011 at 7:09 pm
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If writing gives you the outlet that you need, then keep writing! If people don't like what you write then they should not read! And maybe thru your writing you will help just one person seek the help that they need. You are a truly amazing person. There is nothing for any of us to say that will make any of this better so we will read and send our prayers and thoughts to your via the web. Hugs and love xx
- January 23, 2011 at 7:06 pm
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I just want to give you hugs Lori. Your making what could be an impossible situation possible. What you have gone through and are going through makes my heart ache. I can barely comprehend what you would be feeling. There is no judgement here, friends and people who love you and want to take care of you if we can. Write as much as you need too okay??
- January 23, 2011 at 7:00 pm
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You are so right, Lori!
This is your space…to share, to vent, to heal.
Say what you want, say anything, say it all if you need to.
If it helps, it is good.
Love to you, Lori. xx - January 23, 2011 at 7:00 pm
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Write babe. Just write xxxx
- January 23, 2011 at 6:59 pm
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If it helps you heal even just a little bit. Do it and you know what? You do it so well even when you're in pain. This is your space, if people don't agree with what is written then perhaps they should look away and stop reading. Stay strong Lori, if you get through you can get through anything and everything life throws at you. Much love from Perth xxx
- January 23, 2011 at 6:55 pm
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I find writing cathartic. I don't do talking about myself and I I'm articulate, but fucked if I can talk about my anxiety, or panic attacks. But I can write them.
Writing is an outlet when other outlets hurt too much. No one can see you cry over your keyboard and judge, they can't see you struggling not to scream.
This place, your place, it's changed. And it's okay that it's changed, because you did too and blogs are evolving. I would wish that you didn't have an Event to change things so drastically, but that's because I don't want to see you hurting, not because your writing and your Event make me uncomfortable.
Love. Strength. You know where I am. xx
- January 23, 2011 at 6:54 pm
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Sweetie you post as much as you want as for some posting on blogs help while for others it doesn't you do what feels right for you.
Your friends will be here for you always.
(((( Hugs )))) XXXX Kisses XXXX
- January 23, 2011 at 10:19 pm
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Your first obligation is to yourself, Lori. Your second is to your kids. No-one else gets a look in right now, in my opinion. If people are going to be an obstacle to your healing, you might need to side-step them for a while.
Shame and fear flourish best when they're hidden. More power to you for not allowing shame to dictate the way you and the kids remember your husband and daddy. More power to you for getting your fears out there and talking about them.
There's a beautiful poem by Marjorie Pizer, it's called
"Strength"
Inside,
I am making myself strong.
I am weaving bands of steel
To bind my soul.
I am knitting stitches of suffering
Into my hands
To make them strong.
I am strengthening my mind
With the warp and weft
Of weariness and endurance.
I am binding my faith
With the bonds of psalms and songs
Of all who have suffered.
In time,
I will be tempered like fine steel
To bend, but not to break.That's you, chick. Steel.
- January 23, 2011 at 7:22 pm
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write all day every day. You are incredible. From a "real life" friend. xo
- January 23, 2011 at 7:14 pm
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Your writing, your God awful story, your situation, your pain, all of it, it's all speaking to someone else. Someone who may be reading your blog right now may be considering suicide. May feel there is no way out. But through your blog, and your pain, and your story and your writing, you may save someone. You may save another family from enduring the heartache you're feeling now.
So write. Write as much or as little as you want. You just might save someone in the process. xxx
Previous post: One Day At A Time
Next post: Words
May 2014 – RRSAHM
May 2014
This post bought to you by Nuffnang and Mercedes-Benz Valente.
***
Mercedes-Benz Valente offered to lend me a car. I’m not sure anyone told them about my reputation as a totally terrible driver. Which is good. Because had they known, they might not have wanted to hand over the keys.
And the people mover they lent me was seriously awesome. Not only has the Valente been named People Mover of The Year for 2012 and 2013, it was also comfy and stylish and so big that the Bump took to playing hide and seek in the back of it.
I was instructed to take the Valente and the kidlets, and go on a day trip. Considering there are a about a hundred places around Melbourne we haven’t been, choosing somewhere to go was difficult. We settled on a one hour drive to Arthurs Seat to visit the Enchanted Maze.
It actually felt a bit odd, going out with just the three of us. The Most Amazing Man had to work, so he couldn’t come with us. With the exception of our epic road trips to Sydney, we’re used to doing pretty much everything as a family of four. I hadn’t realised how used to it I’d become. The kids felt it too. “We will have to tell the Most Amazing man about this. He would love this”, says the Chop.
We got lost in mazes. We played giant Snakes and Ladders. We trudged great big heavy inflatable tyres up a steep hill over and over and over, so we could ride the Tyre Slide back down.
There is one particularly terrifying attraction at the Enchanted Maze– the 3D indoor maze, designed to be as scary as possible. We were about 4 turns into it– just that little bit too far to go back– when I realised that this probably wasn’t a great idea, and that I may have just sentenced my kids to a few nights worth of bad dreams. The figures on the wall seem to move and seethe and I’m scared, so I figure the kidlets must be.
The Chop said he wasn’t afraid, but having made it through once was certainly not going back in. Much to the Bump’s disappointment. She was terrified and I ended up carrying her most of the way. But as soon as she got out she just wanted to go in again. “Do you like being scared?” I ask her, and I see her think about it for a moment, then nod.
Watching these little people learn about themselves is fascinating.
Both kidlets crashed within minutes of being back in the Valente. The model I got to drive was an 8 seater people mover with sliding doors on both sides and conference seats– three seats facing forward and three facing backward so the kidlets could sit opposite each other, which they thought was the most exciting thing ever.
The Valente was massive but drove so well– it took the curvy road up to Arthurs Seat like it was on rails. Being in the driver’s seat felt high up and safe. It has a five star ANCAP rating and something called Adaptive ESP, which actually compensates for the weight distribution of your passengers in an emergency.
The Valente has separate air con controls and speakers for the back. It also had bluetooth, three sunroofs and a stack of other groovy features. I felt like the most stylish mum ever at school pick up- the Valente has that Mercedes look to it with alloy wheels and tinted windows.
And it was so easy to drive. Given my (not completely unfounded) bad driver reputation, I was more than a little bit scared when I saw the size of the Valente. But I even managed to reverse it backwards down a tiny street with cars parked on each side (with the assistance of the reversing sensors) after I got lost for the millionth time trying to navigate home from South Melbourne. (Getting lost in Melbourne is a regular occurrence for me. Still.)
Anyway. The Valente is awesome and you should totally buy one. The kidlets rate it a solid five out of five, and were more than a little disappointed that we had to give it back.
***
Thanks to Micheal Flynn at the South Melbourne Mercedes-Benz dealership for letting me take the Valente and trusting me to bring it back in one piece. The dealership was amazing- they even gave me coffee while I waited.
{ 6 comments }
I know… it’s been a while.
And I’m publishing a sponsored post tomorrow- the last one that has to be done, that I lined up before my blogging mojo evaporated a few weeks ago.
I don’t know why. I just can’t write. I look deep into myself, the way I’ve always done, trying to share what’s happening in my head…
And I draw a blank.
Then I worry about having such a weird, contorted form of blogger’s block. Then I worry more because something still feels like I need to write, I just can’t. Then I stress about the people who read this, who care about me, and I feel as though I’m letting them down by not blogging.
Eventually, I get to the point where thinking about blogging at all causes a massive burl of anxiety in my gut. Then I procrastinate, and ignore all of it, and hope it goes away. And it doesn’t and the cycle repeats itself.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I’m not at all ready to give up my blog…. I’m selfish, and I want it here when I need it. But I seem to be having some kind of weird internal crisis. And I didn’t want to go and spam you all with another sponsored post without some explanation of where I’ve been, why I’ve been so quiet.
It’s not a good one… but it’s the truth. And it’ll do. For now.
{ 13 comments }
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Fuck You Too.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Falling Into Place
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Falling Into Place
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: I Can’t F*cking Shut Up Wednesday. With Words And Stuff.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Rememories.
Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Fuck You Too.
RRSAHM › Log In
3 am. – RRSAHM
3 am.
I’ve ummed and ahhhed and tossed over the thought of writing this post for weeks now. Those of you who follow closely on Twitter would have caught some of the story when it happened, almost three weeks ago now. I haven’t mentioned on it on my blog. It’s part of a whole chunk of stuff that’s happened lately that I haven’t written about–except for that one big fuck up– because its just too close to this space that used to be a lot more anonymous that what it is now.
But… I blog a lot about mental health, and a lot of people read this blog for that very reason. A few weeks back, I had one of my first ever experiences with the crisis mental health system in Australia (keeping in mind that my husband was well beyond intervention by the time we reached the medical system); and to not write about it here feels, above all, cowardly.
The only reason for me not to write this post is because I am afraid. I said not long ago that I was no longer afraid of bullies. It seems I lied. I thought that I and the people I associated with had long grown out of that. I was wrong. I am freaking terrified of women who know exactly how what hurts most, and aren’t afraid to use it. I spent the day after this happened feeling sick every time my phone beeped, because the text messages and social media interactions just got nastier as the hours went by.
I’m scared of that happening again. I’m not going to lie about that– I’m not as brave as I pretend to be. I am scared that blogging this will inflame all that nastiness all over again.
But you what? Fuck that. Feel the fear. Put on your big girl panties and do it anyway.
That’s what being brave’s all about.
***
In light of what I’ve already said, from here on in it’s factual information on the events that occurred that night– as best I know for sure– mixed with my own rampant indignation. If anyone feels I’ve gotten any details wrong, please drop me an email and I’ll be happy to amend things to include your version of events. In fact, I’d be ecstatic– I’m still not exactly sure what the fuck happened here.
I think it’s suffice to say that the two main protagonists- one who we’ll call Louise in particular- were people I was very close to, had known for years, and knew more about me than most people do– almost everything there is to know, in fact. There is a very small circle of souls in this lifetime that I trust, completely, and, to me, as I am, now, in the After; trust is the only sacred commodity. And I trusted her implicitly.
But, at the time of this event, I had not spoken to either of these people for two weeks– bar a phone conversation, which I’ll recount to you in a moment. It began as a silly little argument that turned all kinds of petty, and then became that particular brand of nasty that only comes from fighting with people you know very, very well.
It felt like a high school drama. I don’t think any of us imagined it would turn out like this.
***
Leaving out major chunks of a story is frustrating. But, following two weeks of silence, the catalyst for all of this was a simple exchange of text messages. I won’t recount it all– it’s boring, and it was all ‘he said, she said’, the same argument rehashed. I will tell you that I sent a text message that ended like this…
“I know how nasty she can be- please don’t let her take that (my blog) away from me *** (name removed). When I said it would kill me, I mean it.”
And received one back that said this…
“Just call me please”
I then phoned this man– who I’m sure would want a pseudonym, so we’ll call him Elmer– and we had had a conversation that lasted half an hour or so. We discussed a lot of things I can’t even go into in this post– some of them might be related to what I’ve written here and here– and I cried and was in some distress. I was angry– I felt I’d been unfairly treated and this argument that had taken place was just another blow against me.
Suicide, self harm, even that concept that I’ve blogged about before– not so much wanting to die as waiting for it– none of those things were mentioned in that half hour. At one point Elmer inquired what I was doing, and I replied I was sitting in my outdoor laundry, smoking cigarettes. The conversation ended with both of it agreeing it was late, past our bedtimes, and we would talk another time.
Immediately following that conversation, I sent Elmer a text message…
“:( x “
…which he replied to with…
“chin up, your a trooper! Lol sleep tight”
And I guess it’s worth noting here that Louise– another pseudonym, naturally- was, at that stage, a follower of mine on Twitter, as was her partner. I Tweeted at roughly 11 pm that I was going to bed.
(OK. I’m going to break my own commentary here to apologies for giving you every boring detail. This is beginning to feel like an episode of CSI. But its necessary… I don’t want to leave any loopholes, any room for anyone to call me a liar. So I’m writing everything relevant, as objectively as possible.)
Following that text, I did the exactly what I said I was going to do– I went to bed, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
***
My children climb into bed with me most nights, sometime between the hours of one and four am. There’s certainly room– my bed feels huge, always, without my husband to take up the majority of it’s space. And how can I object to the warmth of two tiny people, one on either side of me, to shield away a bit of that cold loneliness?
The three of us were snug and tight in the darkness at 3am– just hours after I’d gone to bed– when I heard someone knocking at my window, and my mother calling my name.
That in itself didn’t strike me as as strange as it should have. I was half asleep, and I’m used to being woken suddenly from slumber and called into action when the sun is still sleeping– aren’t most parents? I think I thought it was morning, that my mother had my children the night before and was here to drop them off, and I’d slept in…
I’m not sure what I thought, really. I’m not a morning person. Ever. Especially at that time. I jumped out of bed in that stealthy, barely touching the blanket way that doesn’t wake the kids. And answered the door in my underwear and a singlet top.
I know… answering the door in your underwear is never the best idea. I think I thought it was just my mum– not that that really makes any difference, but whatever. Allow me to reiterate that it was 3 am. My mind was still catching up, fighting off the last of those foggy sleep hormones and trying to grasp what the fuck was going on.
“Lori,” and my mums voice is so very ca
lm and low, she’s trying so hard not to let it shake. And that’s when I wake up, completely. I have heard her speak in this tone before. For weeks on end, just after Tony’s death, as she cared for my children and watched me fall apart over and over again. It’s that tone of voice that starts it, that begins the trill of adrenaline in the rock that is my diaphragm and works it way through my body to a siren pitch.
“The police are here. They want to talk to you.”
My mums eyes are bright blue, a reflection of my own, and I can see the apology in them, the slight sadness and fear… and something else that I don’t quite identify until later. Don’t lose it, she’s trying to say. Keep calm. I know you will be angry, but you keep that temper of yours, the way I’ve been trying to teach you to since you could walk and talk.
She knows what’s going on. I don’t. But there are two police officers, a woman and a man, standing just behind her and my stepfather, who is silent and looks grave and stoic.
It’s not the police themselves that set me off, I discover that night, as I test the boundaries of my post traumatic stress disorder. It’s not the police as people…. it’s their flak jackets. Their vests, black and grey and meshed with compact pockets that bulge with equipment.
I don’t know why… the best I can come up with is that horrible, hot afternoon, being asked my husbands details with a crowd of neighbors standing around me. The shock of it hitting me– it was his birthday just yesterday, and his heart is beating but he’s not breathing, and it was his birthday just yesterday. All the while unable to look at the coppers face. Staring at that black, meshed vest that provided these officers all the bravery and protection they needed, faced with a normal house and a normal woman and a normal man who just happened to still have a noose around his neck until just moments before they arrived.
And that’s what was flashing through my mind, in that two seconds after I opened the door; before I came to my half naked senses and slipped very quietly back into my dark bedroom, my children still sleeping soundly, to at least put on some pajama pants.
My head is spinning and I wonder if I’m dreaming but I know I’m not and I want to go back to bed and what the fuck is going on here?
And that’s what I say when I return to my front door, to my front porch. “What is going on?” I’m too far in shock, too half asleep still, and I have nothing. My mind is numb of possibilities– there are no rushing thoughts of car accidents or death or trauma, all the normal reasons for a midnight knock on the door. All there is is a horrible, heavy, uncertain black dread that hangs behind my head and knots the muscles in my stomach until I feel nauseous.
”Now look, Lori– is it Lori, right, that’s how I say it?” (I hate this, I’ve studied social work and I know all about how to make people loosen up, warm toward you– getting them to say their own name works, almost every time; the friendly tone suggest comradarie against some greater evil. And even though I know what this cop is doing, it still works and I hate it.) “We’ve had a phone call at the station from your friend Louise. You know Louise, yeah?” I nod, dumbstruck, and wonder vaguely if I’m not having some kind of vivid, horrific flashback turned hallucination. “Well, she’s quite worried about you, she thinks you’re going to hurt yourself. So we though we’d better come and check you out.”
In that moment I am so relieved I almost laugh. They can’t be serious. I haven’t even talked to or heard from Louise in two weeks, and I tell them that, my voice shaking with thank–goodness–that’s–over laughter.
”Well, she’s rang us, apparently her and Elmer have been talking. You know Elmer too, right? Yes, you do. And you were on the phone to him earlier tonight?”
Yes, I say, hours ago. Three fucking hours ago. And when we hung up everything was fine and sent me a text and called me a trooper and what the hell is going on??
”So. You didn’t tell him you were going to kill yourself? Didn’t say you were going to hurt yourself?”
That’s when the tears come. I’d like to say I don’t cry much anymore, but that’s probably a lie. Compared to normal people, I cry a lot. But not as much as I used to. Sometimes I think that maybe we are only born with a certain amount of tears, and once you’ve cried a certain amount you just can’t squeeze out anymore sorrow, no matter how you’d like to. I proved myself wrong that night. I begin crying at that point, and it didn’t let up for the next five or so hours; ranging from a trickle of warm tears over swollen skin to heaving, heart breaking sobs that racked my whole body, filled my whole self.
I start to blabber, all tears and snot and distress and dismay. I feel as if I’ve slapped, hard, and my whole face is ringing from the force of it. I talked to him, I tell them, and I was upset, but I never threatened to take my own life, not at all, not even close. If nothing else, Elmer is not someone who I would take those things too– I have a small, select group of people who I love for that very reason, that I can show them my distress, in a clump, through an email or down the phone line… and Elmer is not one of those people.
At some point I notice there is an ambulance parked across my driveway, two female officers in blue jumpsuit uniforms standing halfway between it and my small front porch, where I was, by this point, defending my sanity to two coppers and my parents. My mum stepped up, stepped in, over and over, saying that I was fine, she had spoken to me just that afternoon and I was fine, and she had told the police that when they rang her and woke her at about a quarter to three that morning, asking her to meet them at my house in fifteen minutes. It makes no difference, nothing that she or I say, not the text messages I show them, nothing. These officers had made their decision before they even made that phone call to my mother.
“I’m fine, really, I say. I’m fine but I’m tired– I just want to go back to bed.” And I’m still thinking, naive and optimistic as I am, that this is where it will end, and now they can see I’m fine they will just leave me alone, let me be.
”Look love, your friend has very serious concerns about you–”
”She’s not my friend! Don’t call her my bloody friend! If she was that concerned about me she could have come and knocked on my front door!”
”Well, she’s concerned, and you can imagine the situation that puts us in.” This copper is patronizing, I want to hit her. “Imagine if we did nothing and come morning, you were dead? You’re going to have to come to the hospital and have the doctor assess you.”
”What? What do you mean? Look at me. I’m fine!”
The copper is doubtful, and who can blame her? I was fine. Now it’s three am and I’m standing in the chill of the gloaming in pajama pants and a singlet top, crying as though my heart was being broken into a thousand pieces. Again. And it was just the day before I lopped all my hair off, and it’s messy and sticking up and feels shorter than ever.
And on hearing that, that I am, somehow, going to hospital just five minutes after I’ve woken, when there is absolutely nothing wrong with me and I’ve kept myself safe for over a year now; I let out a deep, shaking wail and cover my eyes with my hands. All I can think of is my kids, tucked safe into the comfort of my residual body heat, still nestled in my bed. What happens if they wake up, to this? How much time do I have before that happens? My son, he’s an anxious little kid at the best of times; and most of what I s
aw that horrible afternoon, he saw too. Sirens have always scared him with the decibels they reach, but now an ambulance doesn’t need a siren to make him panic. As much I try to explain, over and over, that policemen are our friends and they are there to protect us, I can see the suspicion that lurks behind his eyes, and I wonder if he thinks, somewhere where he can’t even articulate it, that it was the police that took his father away…? Waking up to this, his mother crying and gathering her things, officers at the door… I don’t want to think about it too much now, and at the time all I could think was that that simply couldn’t happen, wouldn’t happen, sometimes God will protect little children from the worst of what’s he’s got.
This time, I was right, and God was on my side. My babies, bless them, they didn’t stir until the sun rose the next morning.
This copper, the female one, she’s young– my age– and slight and fragile. I don’t know if it’s an Australian thing or what, but there is an attitude that female police officers seem to take on– a blunt, abrupt, no–bullshit tone, a distance between themselves and the ordinary people they deal with. I suppose they have to– without size and gender on their side, they use what they’ve got to intimidate and take control. That’s their job. The other officer with her is even younger, maybe only six months above the rank of probationary, and I don’t remember him saying anything. I don’t remember what he looks like– my mind has molded his image into the same one as the officer who cried with me as I detailed, for the last time, my husbands name, address and date of birth in those last hours in the ICU.
”What if I refuse? What if I say I’m not going?”
“Then we will have to do it by force and take you anyway… you don’t have a choice in the matter. Might as well just go without a fuss, and let the doctor assess you, and if you’re fine as you say, you’ll be home my morning.”
I look to my mum. I’m sorry, she says, and the look is in her eyes in so helpless. I’ve told them you’re fine, I’m so sorry you have to do this.
I realize I really don’t have a choice, and I am so furious I could spit. I walk tiny circles on my front porch, still crying, smoking a cigarette and murmuring how this was bullshit, how could they do this, what about my kids, I haven’t even talked to her in two weeks, this is bullshit.
My mum assures me she will take care of my children. She speaks to me, softly and calmly, and tells me to get my things and go, don’t make a fuss and wake the kids, just go and we’ll deal with it in the morning.
”But, mum… I’m OK… I’m fine…”
I know, darling, she says. I know and I’m so sorry.
I grab my handbag, iPad, throw on jeans and layers of jackets against the cold. I tell my mum I’m so sorry, and thank her profusely for doing this, for coming out in the middle of the night, and it’s not thanks enough, it never will be.
I am shell shocked and I feel dead inside. I know this feeling too, I know all of this too well, I’ve been here before, and my mind is playing tricks on me, weaving one in with the other. It cold and drizzly and dark, but my head flashes with bright afternoon sunlight and the tones of suburban concrete, heat and sweat and tears.
The ambulance is worse. The ambulance officers are, all said and done, quite lovely– older women, maybe forty five, who both reminded me of teachers I’d had in primary school. One asks if I’d like to lay on the stretcher or sit in a seat and it’s on the tip of my tongue to scream that I will sit, thank you, I am not a fucking invalid and I am not even supposed to be here today.
Before I lose my composure the other chimes in lightly that I probably don’t want to be here at all and I manage to smile. I’m angry, I say to them, and I know it’s not your fault and you are just doing your job but I am so angry.
Name, age, Medicare card, what medication am I on, what have I been diagnosed with. Post traumatic stress disorder, I try to say, but I can’t because a memory I’ve made up has stolen my breath… I can see Tony, I can see through his eyes, the roof of ambulance, and it’s hot and there are people yelling and it hurts, oh god his head hurts so much and the shocks they are pumping through his body hurt too and he can see, just, but his vision is hazed in red…
And I know it’s not real, I know my mind is making this up– it can’t even be a flashback if I never saw it happen. But it feels real, I can feel every bit of it and I want to scream and I don’t. I spit out the acronym “PTSD” instead, and add, between hitching breaths laced with sobs, “and being in ambulance doesn’t help.”
”So, your husband committed suicide, is that right? Your friend says its the anniversary of his death.”
”It is not the anniversary of his death– that was over a month ago. And she’s not my friend, please stop saying that. She hasn’t bloody spoken to me in two weeks.”
”I think she was worried about you. She was trying to help.”
”Help?! By what, calling the cops and having me removed from my house and kids I the middle of night, that’s help? If she was that worried, really, she could have picked up the phone. If she’s that fucking worried about me, she could come to my house, hang out a load of washing for me, make me a cuppa, play with my kids for half an hour!”
”So you’re not suicidal?”
”You don’t think I’ve thought about that?! You don’t think I’ve wanted that?” (the ambo’s eyes widen and I see her mentally tallying this statement, adding it to her assessment) “I made that choice, months ago– I’m here. I’m sticking it out. I don’t get the option of dieing. Why won’t everyone just leave me alone? I’m just doing it. Every day. I’ve bought my house, my kids and I are happy…. I’m slogging it out and I take my medication and see my psych and I’m dealing fine and why won’t they just leave me alone?!”
I don’t realize it then– it’s not until I view the events of that night repeatedly, over and over, my vision shaded by hindsight that I see it– but that’s the moment she seems to realize what’s going on here, to see that I am, as I keep telling them, fine, not a suicide risk at all. But that assessment comes too late for me– in ten minutes we will be at the emergency department of a tiny rural hospital. My house is almost directly between this small, old cluster of medical buildings and the massive modern hospital my husband died in. With those hindsight goggles on, the relief that this hospital was chosen over the other is palpable.
The rest if the journey is bumpy and dark and the ambo, her assessment done, makes small talk with me about my kids, and this time I can answer, not like like last time, staring dumbly at a woman who was trying to normalize the most surreal situation in the world.
Just as we pull up to the hospital, she looks me in the eye and says she’s sorry. It’s the only apology I get off anyone all night. Back at my house, the police have left not long after I did, thanking my mother for coming, and she replies that as if she wouldn’t– if nothing else, there are two sleeping angels here to think of.
This tiny, ancient hospital is quiet, asleep in the early hours of the morning. The emergency department is dark and hushed, only a triage nurse on duty. Ambulance officers return my cards but forget my medication, I don’t notice until later and I don’t care. Before they leave, they take my blood pressure and note it down, and the medical routine of it seems so farcical and absurd I almost laugh.
And now there is nothing to
do but sit and wait.
And so I do.
My feet are tapping tattoos on the Lino floor and my whole body is still shaking with spitting anger. A mothers fury at being taken from her children. The rage that is felt by anyone, but white middle class civil libertarians in particular, when they are deprived of liberty. And that eats like acid– I had no choice. A simple phone call, combined with the stigma of a suicide and my own mental health diagnosis… and there I was. Essentially held captive. My mind is running with images of women in long gowns and bloomers, tucked away in dark rooms and fed horrible therapies, enemas and electric shocks and dunked in freezing water, the diagnosis being female hysteria.
And the irony of it is, I cannot be too angry. I can sit here and shake with fury and sob and pour salt down my cheeks, but I do it silently. I’ve felt it from the moment I discovered what the police where a my door for– do not be too angry. Do not lose the plot. The will schedule you and lock you up.
And here, in the hospital, waiting for the doctor to come and make his assessment, decide my fate, it is worse. I’m aware of every action, even tear, every muffled, hitched sob. I am paranoid. I have every fucking right to be.
After ten minutes– twenty, maybe? I do not know– the triage nurse leads me to a tiny white assessment room. I flop myself, shoes still on, onto the thin, uncomfortable bed, curl into a ball, and cry more. I whisper into the silence, quiet enough so no one hears and mistakes it for psychotic behaviors, wishes that sound like prayers to my dead husband to help me, save me, hold me, where is he and why did he leave me? I grab my phone, began sending mostly incoherent and panicked text messages to the few people I still trust– at this point, I’m still stupid enough to include Elmer. I even log onto my Facebook to send a short message to Louise, which sums up to ‘don’t ever talk to me again’, but using language my mother would be ashamed of.
And I cry some more.
Eventually, finally, the doctor on call enters. He’s young and detached, a general practitioner with no mental health specialty to speak of, and looks at me as if I’m some kind of exhibit in a zoo. I recount my story, the pitch of my voice rising. Reminding myself not to be too angry, don’t sound too paranoid, just give him the facts so we can get the fuck out of here. He asks if it’s the anniversary of my husbands death and I almost scream– it seems this information, incorrect as it is, has been taken as pertinent and passed down from emergency operator to police to ambulance to hospital.
No, I say, as calmly, as I can. That was six weeks ago. Six weeks can be a long time in grief.
He looks me over, head to toe, one last time, and I feel his eyes peeling me for bruises, cuts, tracks, any damage, self inflicted or otherwise. Apart from a few tattoos and piercings and hair cropped close to my skull, now standing up in an unattractive faux hawk; there are none.
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| Image |
As he begins to ask me routine questions about my meds, my shrink, my support network, I see him lean over my notes– so far blank, save my personal details, and write one word, in capital letters– DISCHARGED. I am so relieved I begin to cry again, and remind myself to stop or he may change his mind.
“OK. You can go now.”
“Thanks a lot”, I reply with all the sarcasm I can manage, and I’m dialing my mum before he’s even left the room. I know, the police told my mum before we left the house- I have to make my own way home.
I manage five minutes of sitting, waiting, legs bouncing, my head thumping and my eyes red and sore, in that tiny white room before it’s too much like the Quiet Room and I need to get out, I have to leave before I start screaming.
“I’m going,” I say to the triage nurse and she nods, barely taking her eyes off the paperwork she’s examining. The doctor who examined me, the only other person there, doesn’t even look at me.
And I walk out. Just like that. It’s half past four in the morning, I’m half an hour from home, I have no transport.
Just like that.
Thank goodness for my mother.
Standing in the frosty dark, chain smoking cigarettes and waiting for my mum, I phone Elmer, not caring that I am waking him before his alarm would go off. He is half asleep and confused and I know exactly how that feels. Maybe it’s better for honest responses. He assures me that after we finished our phone all at midnight– it feels like days ago, weeks ago now– he went to bed, and didn’t speak to Louise at all.
I am so confused and my head is spinning and when my mum gets there I start talking, trauma and grief and disbelief spilling out the whole half hour drive home.
Its half past five before my mother and I return to my house, where my step–father is watching my still sleeping children, and I say a little prayer of thanks to their dad that they didn’t wake while I was gone. And I wait until they do wake, and have breakfast with them and dress them, all shades of normal except for the fact that their grandparents have joined us today, and isn’t that lovely?, and my children think its wonderful.
Normality done, assured for the day, and I run. My mother– again, bless her, what I would do without her I don’t know– takes the day off work and let’s me go.
As serendipity would have it, I have an appointment with my shrink already booked for that day, and I watch her eyes widen in disbelief as I recount the story, the first time she’s heard it. Despite taking her details, no one thought to call my psychiatrist to tell her that one of her patients had been taken to hospital for an emergency psychological assessment.
She is angry for me, indignant for me, and I finally feel justified– I am not a crazy person. I am not crazy and the police should have stopped this before it got that far.
I get at least five more messages that day, from Louise and Elmer and two of their friends– text and FaceBook, and, although this is hearsay it continued on Twitter into the day after as well.
Many things were said. I think the one that hit me deepest, an icy spike in stomach, was that “threatening suicide is a very serious offense, as I should know.”
The incident went into both police and hospital records as a malicious mental health report, and I’m told it can’t possibly happen again for that very reason, that the police will be more cautious next time.
I don’t believe it. I think these officers made their decision– that I was being taken to hospital, whether I liked it or not, the moment they heard that word in association with my husband’s death- ‘suicide’.
That awful, cloudy, toxic stigma. It follows me everywhere I go.
***
These are the facts, as I know them. As I said, if anyone has anything to add or clarify, please email me– to be totally honest, I’d love to to know what actually happened that night. Any extra detail much appreciated.
Rock and a hard place, hey? The police can’t ignore a mental health report. Nor can they lay charges ev
en if the report is deemed incorrect, or malicious– for very obvious reasons. No one wants to discourage people from accessing the system when there is a genuine threat to anyone’s safety.
But the onus of risk assessment lays firstly with the police. The fact that my mother– who had talked to me much more recently that the reporter– assured them I was fine, and the fact that they obviously woke me from a deep slumber; those should have been enough, logically, to tell them I was not at immediate risk. There were other options available to them here– take my mothers assurance that she would stay with me. Check on me in the morning. Alert my shrink to the situation and have me check in with her in the morning.
Instead, they made their decision before they assessed the situation. And I have no doubt my husband’s suicide- over twelve months ago now, a different Lori, a different life, was a huge influence there.
The attitude, stigma and education level of the NSW police force toward people with mental health problems has come a long way in the last ten years. Not far enough. There is not enough education, not enough training.
When on the phone to my mother, the police office told her not to call me before they got there, not to knock on my door if she happened to arrive there first. I’m still baffled by this, as was my psychologist– wouldn’t the best idea be to get in touch, get someone talking…?
And, strangely, when the police did arrive at my house, at the same time as my mother, they seemed alarmed that there was a light on inside. As my mum explained, with small children there is always a light inside– our hallway light burns all night.
But why, if they thought I was suicidal and in distress, where they surprised there was a light on inside? Shouldn’t I have been awake anyway?
Again, ironically, I’m lucky– had the GP I saw decided he was unable to properly assess me– which would not have been much of a stretch given his lack of mental health training– I could have easily sat in the emergency room for twelve hours, waiting for the local emergency mental health crisis team. I could have really lost my temper, and become an involuntarily patient for a minimum of 72 hours, and anywhere up to twelve weeks.
Put a sane person in a psychiatric institute, and it can become very difficult to get them out again.
Had my mother not been contactable, my option would have been to wait for a DOCS (social services) official, who would sit with my children while I went to be assessed.
Had my mum not have been able to pick me up, I may still be standing outside that small hospital, chain smoking cigarettes.
A lot of things could have happened. They didn’t. But that was only by a the most finite breadth, a tiny tip of fate’s scales.
I amaze myself with how much the whole thing fucks me up, how quickly I spiral down, how intense those flashbacks can still be.
And then I amaze myself with how quickly I dust off and recover.
I’m so accustomed to PTSD now, so accustomed to a kick in the guts, so used to saying goodbye to friendships; within a fortnight this is just another blip on the radar.
Sad, but true.
I am made of fucking steel.
Leave a Comment
{ 60 comments… read them below or add one }
- March 21, 2012 at 4:57 pm
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I used to work in a medical centre.
They asked me to go to a phsychiatric hospital to collect drugs for a patient.
I went.
It was pre-arranged. The hospital knew someone would be coming.
They locked me in.
Interrogated me for fucking ages.
They would NOT phone the medical centre to check the details.
I have NEVER been so afraid in my life.
Darling girl – you need new friends.
That is all.
I'm sure the cops mean't well.
Sort of.
I understand your mum.
She knows how low you have been, and must have been shitting herself (pardon, but my manners have deserted me)
God, I wish I lived close enough to wrap you in a hug.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - March 21, 2012 at 5:58 am
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I am so so sorry you had to go through this. What a complete nightmare. If they were that concerned why didn't they get in their car and drive over, of phone a friend closer by etc Why the drama? I agree, putting a load on or the kettle would have been far more supportive than having you stand there in your knickers answering the door to police at 3am. What on earth were they thinking? Shame on them. But you rock! EYE OF THE TIGER.
- March 21, 2012 at 5:10 am
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It really upsets me to read this. You do not deserve this at all. If anyone is depressed and on meds, people who are not (or dont think they are depressed/ need meds) DO NOT understand those that do. And they think all of these awful things, some true for some people, others, definitely not. Not everyone that is depressed considers suicide. But thats not what the "normal" people think. For most, depression=suicidal tendencies. I am SO sorry you had to go through this. First you have to recover from what Tony did, now this?? On top of all else? You are made of steel!! You have to be. A weaker individual would have never come as far as you have. And your "friend" SUCKS!! She had so many options, why choose this one?? I hope eventually you post what you come to find out really happened that night, as I would really like to know the chain of events. Praying for you…. xoxoxoxoxxxxoooo. Lisa
- March 20, 2012 at 11:27 pm
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You are amazing.. So is your Mum
- March 20, 2012 at 10:13 pm
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You're awesome, and it is so disappointing just how many people on this planet need to grow the fuck up and stop behaving like pre-teens. Even most pre-teens I know behave better than many so called "grown ups".
Hold your head up high. You are an incredible, amazing and strong woman, no matter what you may feel at times.
- March 20, 2012 at 9:15 pm
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Big hugs x
- March 20, 2012 at 9:12 pm
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(not to sound stalker-y, I'm an old PHS'er) I well remember 'Louise', and I saw some of the crap go down on facebook, and remember her 'friends' who were also sprouting crap. Unfortunately, I wasn't surprised that they behaved the way they did, it was like being sucked 15 years back in time seeing the way they were talking to you, just like they spoke to many others. I fully agree that if they thought you were in danger, they could have knocked on your door – hell, she probably would have made it to your place quicker than the police anyway if it was that bad.
I admire your strength. You have been to hell and back, and you are surviving it, and even if it doesn't feel like it, you are getting a little stronger each day.
- March 20, 2012 at 7:57 pm
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So angry they could just walk into your home and disrupt your life like that..be careful who you trust huh?! Glad you're ok and yes you are made f strong stern stuff you are a mother who roars!!
- March 20, 2012 at 12:38 pm
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As an American, this story is so odd. On one hand, I can see the greatness of having a system to help people, on the other hand, this seems so f'd beyond belief. Your ex- friend is a biotch and seems to have wanted to cause you grief. Good luck, Lori, with all of it. And you are made of steel — the same type they made samurai swords from!!
- March 20, 2012 at 11:37 am
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sweetheart keep doing what you are doing. You are SO strong and brave. Fuck these arseholes out of your life- they are the opposite of friends. Much love to you.xx
- March 20, 2012 at 11:23 am
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Jeebus, I hope your "friend" is satisfied with the totally unnecessary upheaval, painful triggered memories and emotional turmoil she has caused. Because she didn't bother contacting you before going to the police, I'd say that she was on a power trip and was trying to take matters into her own hands but without the responsibility.
As for the police, they need proper training in mental health assessment. Why even involve the police in the first place? Why not send out a couple of ambulance officers to assess the situation and then use their discretion from there? So angry for you Lori.
- March 20, 2012 at 9:38 am
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Lori, I'm just speechless! I felt so angry for you hun
So sorry you had to endure this. - March 20, 2012 at 7:25 am
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Omg! Don't you just want to scream 'leave me alone'? Melissa is right a true friend would come to you're door not send the police.
- March 20, 2012 at 6:28 am
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So sorry this happened Lori. Obviously a horrifically bad judgement by your "friends". A true friend would have come to your door, not called the police. How awful.
- March 20, 2012 at 5:24 am
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What a nightmare for you, Lori. I am so sorry to hear that you had to go through that terrible ordeal. How scary! *HUGS*
- March 20, 2012 at 4:35 am
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Wow. I feel angry and indignant for you too. The state of mental health/ilness awareness and education is a joke in our society. You have just lived through and blogged about one of my deepest fears. Thank you for sharing. I feel stonger because of your story. Thank you.
- March 20, 2012 at 2:52 am
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It all sounds bloody awful. What a thing to wake up to. Fuck Fuck Fuck. I'm also used to PTSD, although other people around me aren't (except my hubbie, who is also a PTSD victim). And saying goodbye to so-called "friends" is something I've been doing for nearly 6 years (since our first died). Sometimes being without these people is better. Relying on yourself and those your absolutely trust is just about all you can do.
- March 19, 2012 at 10:37 pm
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I'm sorry you had to go through this, Lori. I well know that sense of betrayal when the people you trust give you up and send trouble your way. Even though the experience was short, the bruises and rage it left behind may well take a long time to heal from.
Take care…
- March 19, 2012 at 10:31 pm
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Yes you are, girl! You're made of Steel!
Love, hugs and God bless to you three. - March 19, 2012 at 10:12 pm
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Some people thrive on drama – on other people's drama that is! I'm so sorry you have to deal with this crap. It is unfortunate how the police acted in this case. I'm sending good wishes and hope you'll be able to put it behind you. I know that's easier said than done, but you are STRONG, there's no doubt about it!
- March 19, 2012 at 9:36 pm
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Just read your blogs and felt the pain, but also the hope that all will be well with you and your babies.. It must have been the most horrific nightmare, but you have come through it, and I hope that today is a better one for you.. You have a lot of well wishers, they must outrank all those silly awful people who are nasty to y ou.. remember we are all rooting for you.. good luck from old blighty!! J
- March 19, 2012 at 9:32 pm
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OMG Lori what a traumatic horrific experience for you. And those coppers did have a choice…as you said they could have asked your mum to stay with you till the morning. I was once in a position to sit with my sister after a genuine suicide attempt. The police and ambos at the scene "turned her over" to my and my brother-in- law's care as she begged not to go to hospital. We promised to stay with her till morning when we would take her to her dr. And that is what happened…in a calm, kind, supportive way and that was after a genuine crisis. Congratulations for the post, painful as it must be to write, hopefully it will make your "friends" question their motives. Whose interests did Louise have at heart…yours or hers? Maliscious or just plain selfish and stupid? x Darnie
- March 19, 2012 at 8:27 pm
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I am furious that anyone would do anything so malicious and hideous to you (as if you need anything else on your plate!), but at the same time there is something in all of this that quietly makes me happy; while you didn't need the help at the time, and the police should not have been called, I actually kind of like the fact that they showed up despite the fact it was 3am, and that they didn't take no for an answer. I know that was totally, completely and utterly the wrong thing for you at that point, but the number of people who get themselves into an impressive state of calm once they decide to end their lives is scary. As furious as I am that this happened TO YOU, I must admit I like the fact that if you (and I mean "you" in the royal sense… people in general) really were in danger, there wasn't a risk of you telling them you were fine, and them regretting it desperately the next day. It's a fine line for anyone – friends, family, police, doctors – to tread. And while this incident caused you a lot of pain and anger, I think I'd rather the risk of some people getting massively peeved at the system, than people who actually do need help being overlooked. I know most networks still have a lot to learn, but I'd rather they do too much than not enough.
All that said, the people who did this to you without speaking to you first? Disgusting.
- March 19, 2012 at 8:25 pm
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Wow that is brutal. You did really well to cope with it, and I hope you can start finding some peace in the world, and from the world around you.
- March 19, 2012 at 8:10 pm
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Malicious. Yep. I think that pretty much sums it up.
- March 19, 2012 at 7:50 pm
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Oh Lori sweetness, Love to you xxx I dont have any words really. Von told me this was hard to read, it would have been even harder to live.
- March 19, 2012 at 5:28 pm
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I have tears in my eyes reading what you were unjustly put through and for your wonderful strength.Show then they may bend you but they will NEVER break you.Keep growing stronger from the beautiful love of your family.You are amazing x
- March 19, 2012 at 5:03 pm
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Unacceptable behaviour from a 'friend'
- March 19, 2012 at 4:44 pm
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They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Its hard when you have someone constantly threatening to kill themselves and it becomes a weight to hard to bare BUT if youre not saying it, not doing anything to indicate it then it seems this was one of the worst acts of cruelty and mental torture I've ever heard about. These "friends" have used their knowledge of your most horrible intimate experiences and your trust in them to inflict even more pain. No-one needs people like that in thier lives. I find it unfathomable that two groups of first responders didnt think to contact your psych. Thank God for your Mum, and that your kids weren't pulled into this nightmare. I cant even imagine what would have gone through their little heads had they heard and seen it all. You have every right to be angry. I hope you can somehow twist this to your advantage, to help you be more determined to live life to the fullest, if only to show the bastards! Take care
- March 19, 2012 at 2:54 pm
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Lori. This sounds like an absolute nightmare. Those ones when your legs are lead and you can't make them run and your voice has disappeared so you can't scream. I'm so sorry that your 'friends' let you down, and that our system failed you. Very disturbing. Much love xxx
- March 19, 2012 at 2:33 pm
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I still do not understand how the people who were worried about you couldn't show up on your doorstep?
If I was worried about a friend, even an ex friend, I would be on their doorstep. Even if I had to drag my kids out, I would be on their doorstep knocking and checking on them.
Calling the police would be the last resort. Too offical, and really, it's a push in the wrong direction. I'd feel threatened having the cops called on me if I were really in a state like that.I don't know how you didn't lose it Lori. I would have been raving mad. I know, it doesn't help you out in that situation, but I would have been mad.
I didn't see the FB drama go down, but sometimes stupid shit like this helps us to do a bit of a clean out of our lives, and catch some people we may have looked over before.
It hurts, but from there you can rebuild, plant new seeds of friendship and let new flowers bloom.
Love you xx - March 19, 2012 at 1:52 pm
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In your place, I would hate this "friend" with a concentrated fury beyond imagining.
That was fucking bullshit. The whole damn thing. They can all get fucked.
The helplessness of it, of strangers having such control and power over my life would have driven me mad.
- March 19, 2012 at 1:26 pm
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OMG – you poor thing. How fucked up is the system that this can happen, and yet they cut back on help for people who need it. Thank God for your Mum and your own mental and emotional strength. No person should have the power to do what your so-called friend did to you!
- March 19, 2012 at 1:25 pm
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Fuck them all Lori, you deserve so much better than this shit.
- March 19, 2012 at 1:04 pm
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Far out, un-freakin-believable Lori! You are a survivor in every way xx
- March 19, 2012 at 12:57 pm
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You are my hero. How you manage to get through this crap time and again and still stay strong I have no idea. I am so sorry that person did this to you but I am so happy she was shown to be the person she is through her actions.
- March 19, 2012 at 12:43 pm
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I am so sorry you went through this Lori. Its not easy with a mental health issues being used against you for their own spite. Like you said she has called you in two weeks. Massive hugs.
- March 19, 2012 at 12:30 pm
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Lori – what an ordeal yoi went through. Must have been really scary. You have a wonderful mother and stepfather and I'm glad they were there to look after your kids.
I don't want to identify myself fully for this commer but I want to say something. Last year when the one I love was suicidal I rang Lifeline and Beyond Blue and also received help from a counselor. I didn't know if I was saying or doing the right things To support him.
They all said I needed to have an emergency plan for him. Even though I am maybe 750 km away. They told me to notify his local police and hospital in advance that he is in danger of suicide, and that if he tells me he is at risk at that moment, I am to call the police who will go around to see if he's ok.
I did not feel comfortable doing this. I was scared it would exacerbate the situation and he would lose confidence and trust in me. And so I continued to be his main source of support, hanging on the phone 750 km away. It was tough. Would I do things differently? I don't know, things aren't the same between us now, he no longer needs me. But I think I did save his life.
You're right – stuck between a rock and a hard place.
- March 19, 2012 at 12:29 pm
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My heart broke reading this. What a horrid horrid woman your so.called friend is. As if somebody who is emotionally struggling needs to be woken at 3am with mayhem at her door??? :s Friends are there to catch our thoughts and understand them. A good friend knows when help is needed. She should have gone to your mum. She is obviously somebody who has little character as nd wished to bignote herself. What a sad sad woman!!!
- March 19, 2012 at 12:00 pm
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I remember this night vividly, or at least, the next morning. I remember the vitriol of your 'friends' on FB. I was so angry at them, so angry for you. So *incensed* at the unfairness of it all.
- March 19, 2012 at 11:45 am
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I wonder if you will ever speak to this 'friend'. It sounds like she is on a bit of a power trip and should have never, ever betrayed you like this.
I know you hate hearing this but everything does happen for a reason and maybe this happened to show you that you don't really have a friend in her at all and this was a way to force you to cut ties for good, or maybe it was a test to show that you are an amazingly strong woman and that you can get through anything life throws at you.
Thank you for sharing this. I can see how hard it was for you but I really appreciate that you can be so honest with all of us here. It is just another way to show what an amzzing person you are.xxxx
- March 19, 2012 at 11:20 am
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Also, your post has reminded of two years ago. It was actually before your husband died. My partner, who still has severe mental illness, was repeatedly told by various professionals he MUST be admitted to a psych ward for an indefinite period.
We could not get him there to save ourselves, despite mental health workers pushing and pushing to get him there. We kept being told to pack for the next day, and would you believe, it's been two years, and he's still never been. Thankfully, he now doesn't need it, but back then he did.
Your post is a clear sign of how wrong we're getting it and it needs to be changed.
- March 19, 2012 at 11:20 am
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Oh god. I am so angry.
Unless you actually said the words "I am going to kill myself," I cannot see how she can justify doing what she did. I can only imagine that somewhere along the line, your "FRIEND" (ha!) decided she had had enough of dealing with your grief and thought this would snap you out of it. She's done this so she can back out (disgracefully in my opinion) and wipe her hands of this situation.
This is so not about you Lori, this is about her.
Time doesn't heal, it reveals… and I am always stunned at how the people you think couldn't possibly turn their back on you… do. And yet perfect strangers have the compassion and sensitivity to totally get it. This is a fucked up world we live in.
xx
- March 19, 2012 at 10:17 pm
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Lori I am so angry for you! A family member has been in a similar situation, & that feeling of having your rights just stripped away from you is fucking brutal. The medical system & the police have ALOT to change about this process. Also – Louise & ELmer are both cnuts, who need to be shut down, pronto.
You ARE made of steel.
xx - March 19, 2012 at 11:07 am
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OMFG!!! I would have been mortified your mum sounds brilliant you are lucky hun. I wish my mum and i where on speaking terms bit after 3 years i doubt it .Always hated coppers and still do
Hugs beautiful try and stay strong xxxxxxoooo - March 19, 2012 at 11:02 am
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I am so sorry you had to go through that. My husband called and told the police during an exceptionally bad fight that I was suicidal. Sadly, from prior experience I knew exactly what I had to do. I grabbed my son, locked us in the bedroom, changed and made myself as presentable as possible and acted dumbfounded when they showed up while I sat there playing with my son. It was terrifying and I don't think I took a full breathe until I was finally able to drive away with my son on my own. There were no less than 9 people in the room with me from police to firefighters to paramedics. I toed the line and spoke carefully. Yes, I have a history of depression, no I'm not suicidal now. I have a doctor, and counselor and psychiatrist and network of support and I'm better. Yes, we had a fight, no I did not threaten to kill myself.
He had a lot of different options if he was truly worried about me, but worry had nothing to do with it. It was pure selfish evil and thank god I was able to walk away. He never gave a thought to what would happen to our 9 month old baby asleep in the other room. He was almost charged with domestic violence and I was almost hospitalized.
I'm just so tired.
I'm so sorry you had to go through that and you're right, that is not a friend. There are so many steps between being concerned and putting someone through hell. I don't understand why people can hurt others so easily.
Especially when it's so easy to do just the opposite. - March 19, 2012 at 10:59 am
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I could barely control my own anger reading this; I cannot IMAGINE being in that situation. I am so sorry.
- March 19, 2012 at 10:49 am
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It's your blog, so you shouldn't have to…but maybe it's worth putting something on it somewhere that if people are worried about what you are writing, they need to contact you directly in the first instance, and after that your mum. I have a friend who has some fairly major MH issues, and she uses her blog as a safe place to work through what's in her head, but sadly, has had to put that exact thing on her blog because of 'helpful friends'. She's no where near as strong as you are – I'm hanging out to share your blog with her when she's strong enough.
As for the so-called friend who thought it might be fun to ring the police – you are better off without those people in your life, undermining what you are trying to do. I totally agree with you – if she was a friend, she would have come to see you for herself, had a cuppa,and played with your kids…not rung the police at some unearthly hour and dragged you through that. With friends like those, who needs enemies?
- March 19, 2012 at 10:49 am
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What the fucking fuck??? I can't tell you how sick this makes me feel for you, and for those poor ppl who have gone to major hospitals with mental health departments, begging to be admitted, and get sent away only to suicide directly after.
I've lost two brothers to suicide. I know the feeling of not having the option of that way out.
The system is one giant clusterfuck, and I am so sorry you got caught in the wrong end of it like this. xxx
- March 19, 2012 at 10:47 am
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I'm so sorry that that happened to you. It makes it harder when you can't hate the person in front of you, doesn't it? Keep fighting.
- March 19, 2012 at 10:46 am
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I admire you, Lori, for surviving over and over and over, with all this crap that comes up to challenge you. What a horrific experience, and so unnecessary!
- March 19, 2012 at 10:46 am
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You're very lucky. I was scheduled last week (for no reason other than that I have a psych history) and was kept for the 72 hours before they revoked it, despite me explaining that for the last six years I have done nothing to hurt myself, have managed well and been compliant with all aspects of treatment. I'm so sorry this happened to you too and I'm glad you're home now with your angels. xx
- March 19, 2012 at 10:43 am
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Hells Bells!
First love your hair cut.
Second Yes you are made of steel
Third Thanks goodness for mum's <3 there for us even as adults.
fourth…That really is Fucked.
Take care - March 19, 2012 at 10:33 am
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I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Thank god for your mother and your stepfather. You're right, NSW police need more training in mental health YESTERDAY. We had someone here who WAS claiming to be suicidal and the police wouldn't help us admit that person, claimed they couldn't. We later found out they could've called the emergency mental health team and worked together.
And a few weeks later, after being continually knocked back for help, this person did make an attempt to take their life and it nearly did kill them.
Makes me so fucking mad.
You did well Lori, you did exactly what you needed to do.
- March 19, 2012 at 10:31 am
- March 19, 2012 at 10:29 am
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un-fucking-believable!!! There were so many wrongs that night. You should never have been taken from your bed/home/children.
- March 19, 2012 at 10:21 am
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Wow. I am amazed that something like this can happen especiallly when I've heard of stories where people who are really crying out for help find it very hard to get. You are made of steel.
- March 19, 2012 at 10:16 am
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I would be angry too. Based on your recollections, the signs for suicide were just not there when the police arrived at your house. Not only that, if your mum stated that she would stay with you…
I am so sorry that you had to experience that and thankful that your children were asleep and none the wiser of what happened.
- March 19, 2012 at 10:09 am
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Jesus. How horrendous! I'm so sorry you had to go through that. The casual arrogance and ignorance of both the police and the duty doctor is sickening, frankly.
Beyond that, I'm lost for words, except to agree with your last sentence – you are made of fucking steel.
Please take care
Pan xxx
- March 19, 2012 at 7:20 pm
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I have to ask, what was her explanation? Or Elmer's? Did he indeed talk to her as he denied?
Why?
Why the fuck would you do this unless you were some lame attention seeker, desperate to be noticed?
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{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
I agree with the commenter who suggested hypnotherapy. I know of a few people it worked for. Cancer doesn't just raise your risks of COPD and lung cancer but contributes to chronic airways obstruction, sleep apnea and if you look at recent studies on all types of cancer, it can cause pancreatic and breast cancer to name just a few. If you've ever seen someone wasting away and in pain, it helps you find the motivation to stop. Seriously, there's enough in modern life that can potentially cause cancer, dont put yourself behind the eight ball by damaging your DNA cells with cigarettes.
you've got to want to do it…you looking for a reason to not smoke or to smoke, only you can decide what to do. Once you've decided you'll find something to back your decision. Good luck either way x
From my own experience – one never "quits" smoking – one just "stops" smoking. In my humble opinion the desire and the urge never leave – you just decide not to smoke moment after moment. I could totally pick it right back up today though. For some reason this made it easier for me. I would think to myself, I'm not quitting for the rest of my life – I'm just choosing not to smoke right this moment. One moment at a time – that made it seems less daunting for me I guess.
For whatever that's worth
Best of luck in your quitting
I've lurked on your blog for quite some time now, but I tend to not comment (on any blog I read to be honest) but I'm going to drop you an email…. I hope you read it
Annie
I pray that you quit smoking, my dad smokes and I would give anything for him to stop. I am 15 and if my dad didnt smoke, then I know I wouldnt either. You are so special to your kids, I couldnt bear to see them lose you so early, just like I couldnt bear it if my dad died because of smoking. I know its a hard thing, a really really hard thing, but I pray and pray that you do quit. For yours and your childrens sake.
My Mum was a smoker from the age of 14 and one night at 57 dropped dead in the bathroom when her heart stopped. It was as sudden as that, no warning, no chance to save her. The autopsy concluded her heart valves were clogged attributed in a large part to her smoking.
I didn't get to say goodbye. Have all those last conversations you have with someone when you know their time is limited. She didn't get to see me get married or have my children. Ask all those questions you want to know about how she experienced pregnancy, what we were like as babies and children. All those questions you don't think of until they are relevant in your life. I have struggled not having my Mum around even as an adult. I am not the mother I thought I would be as I don't have the support of my Mum emotionally or physically. It not fair to my kids and if I could go back and change things I would.
Obviously I don't need to tell you about grief. As I have read your blog I have related completely to what you have written, as even though it was a different relationship I lost, she was the most important person in my life at that point and so it was and still is devastating.
My Mum tried to quit and we talked about how all her life stresses meant she couldn't do it even though she knew she should. I know it is hard to stop, but the impact of not could continue for generations.
Remember you are stronger than you think and you could do this if you want to. Good luck.
To all the proud, defiant smokers
Cigarettes are a wonder product. I've never heard a smoker say they've had a bad one.
Once nursed a 93 yo woman who was admitted to our nursing home on the proviso that she be allowed to continue her lifelong smoking addiction.
Heard a conversation between her and another of the nurses (who also smoked)
Young smoker Nurse: Well, smoking hasn't killed you, has it Nellie.
Old Invalid Nellie: No. But ask me about the 20 years of pain in my legs!
And – if I had $1 for every smoker patient that has to have an 'urgent' appt, that in turn delays a genuine need, simply because they think they might have cancer. I'm sorry, but it's gotta be said – you cost the health system $$$$$
Finally. Next time you have to tell your kids that you don't have enough money for whatever small treat they are asking for – ask yourself this – when was the last time you told yourself you can't afford a packet of cigarettes?
I'm no angel of light on this one!
Mrs. C
best of luck Lori.. HB has tried to quit for years.. he still hasnt succeeded and I worry about him.. its such a hard habit to quit x
All smokers believe that it's not possible that we can get cancer, lose a limb, lose our eyesight. WRONG!! My mum, who's been overweight all her life, an alcoholic and a heavy smoker always passed medical tests with the best possible results – healthy on the inside! Good blood pressure, good lung capacity, no diabetes, 20-20 vision.
Now in her early 80's she has Macular degeneration. The tv stations are just starting to show ads for this – to get your macular checked when you have an eye test. This means that she is going blind. Mum can no longer see clearly enough to read, something that is a passion for her; she uses a torch to make everything brighter & stand out. She is unable to drive. My dad is now in hospital (age 90) & it's a 2 hour round trip to visit him, Mum is reliant on others to collect her & take her home. "I don't want to be a burden", is her current catch phrase. It's passive-aggressive I know, but that's how she feels. So, smokers DO get cancer, they DO go blind, they DO lose limbs, they DO die. Find the reason to quit & remember that you will be a "non-smoker", not someone who's trying to give up. Good luck Lori (X)
There is a commercial in the states that my husband and I saw over the weekend that is just some guy saying over and over again how his wife didn't have to die and she was only 47. Over and over. My husband just stared at me… I'm thinking its time to quit also. And you're right, I am SO in denial that anything bad would actually happen to me from smoking… After all I'm still young right and those things only happen to old ladies. Right?
No-one can really quit until they're ready — and I think there has to be something, a goal, that you want MORE THAN the thing you're trying to quit.
Quitting ciggies was easy for me. I couldn't stop smoking pot though — till I was pregnant. Turns out I love my kids more than drugs, who knew?
When you're ready, give it all you've got, Lori. You've got a cheer squad out here.
I am FORCING Mr Black to read this today!
He tells me often that I have "no idea". Maybe he will listen to you? But then, would you?
I'm a nurse working in a small district hospital where a large proportion of our patients are those suffering Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease – COPD, a more modern terminology for emphysema. Prior to that, I worked for seven years in a cancer hospital. It is distressing to watch someone's anxiety of not being able to breathe, let alone the unpleasantness of what they cough up.
I quit not long after starting that job. Quitting is hard. But think of the sense of achievement having done it, as well as reaping the health benefits and being there for your babies.
You can do it Lori. You are worthy of being healthy as well as beautiful. xxx
I loved smoking so much I didn't really ever bother trying to quit for a long long time. But I have quit now, and I found acupuncture worked well. It took me to make the decision to quit, get the treatment (cost just $20, once!) and it took away the cravings and craving crankies.
Harder than hell to quit smoking. Best of luck in the quest, Lori.
Hi Lori, have you tried Hypnotherapy? Some say it works really well.
Loving your blog. x