Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Say Something...

Most people know that I love to talk. This love of talking came at an early age. I remember being a very little girl, working alongside my father in the garage. He got me a little blue toolbox filled with a few of my own wrenches. I would lay on the ground under the car with him and I would talk and tell stories the whole time we were working. I'll never forget the day that my dad rolled out from under a car, sat up and looked at me and asked, "Don't you ever shut up?" I remember giggling at him, shaking my head and answering, "Nope!" and continued right on talking. 

I'm sure there are a few friends today who might pause to ask me the same thing. There are many people who come to my office at work, or who I will wander and visit with and they may agree with my dad's sentiments. I'm sure there are more than a few that want to look at me and ask, "Don't you ever shut up?"  Well, yes, actually...

I tend to shut up pretty quick in moments where I probably should be talking.  Therapy. Sharing with others. Talking about hard things. I clam up pretty quick. There are many times that I'm sitting across the table from my counselor and in my head I'm screaming "SAY SOMETHING!" but I just can't bring myself to say anything. So I tell her I need to leave. Or I can't talk about that. Or I don't remember. Anything to avoid the words that I know she wants me to say. It's all hard work. So hard. Talking about my past is not something that I want to do. I'm sure that my counselor is thinking just the opposite of the words my dad said to me. She's probably wanting to scream at me to say something also!

It's hard to talk about stuff that is not pleasant. We all have those skeletons in our closets. The things and events and people that we would like to keep hidden and buried. The things that maybe no one knows about. The events that are too dark, too terrifying to have to relive by sharing with someone else. Sitting in that therapy room, telling things over and over again is horrible. Having PTSD and anxiety makes telling these stories even worse. I have gotten pretty good about recognizing when I'm getting too close to a flashback or getting to far to the brink of being pushed too far, and I have also gotten fairly good at willing those emotions and feelings and reactions away. I change the subject. Or lie. Or sit in silence while my counselor sits and stares at me, wishing nothing but the best for me I'm sure, but not knowing that walking me through these things is like ripping my heart right out of my chest and shoving me right back into those moments. 

So why do we do these things? Why is it so important to say something? Well, I've heard it's healing. I've heard it's good for you. I've heard it gets you to a place where you can talk about these things and it's not a big deal. It's just facts, not like reliving those moments over and over. It's just telling what happened, not feeling the heartache and pain and nausea. It's good for you to get it out and share. 

I think more important than that even is that when you start to share little pieces of your past and of your trauma, you make connections with other people.  That's why I started this blog mostly. I knew that my story couldn't end there. I knew that my story didn't end with me being a grieving widow left to pick up the shattered pieces of our lives. I knew that I was meant to do more. So I started blogging to tell my story, hoping that someone would read it someday and be impacted by these mere words that I put to paper.

After Brian died I started randomly connecting to widows, trying desperately to make sense of this new label that had been thrust on me. But I couldn't. There was no way I could. As I sat with different widows and we began to share our stories I couldn't connect to them. High school sweethearts that had been in love forever. I met Brian online and we hadn't even hit our fourth anniversary. Older women who were fortunate their husbands had set them up so nicely. I was only 33 and we didn't have a penny to our names. A valiant fight with cancer and they had years to prepare for the end. Brian killed himself. There was no preparing for that. Such wonderful husbands that were beautiful people and were going to be missed by their communities. Brian was arrested and charged with two felonies before he chose to end his life eighteen days later. His once amazing reputation tarnished by his bad choices right before he died. There is no common story for me. No bond. 

But, there are pieces of my story that ring true for someone. What if we walked around wearing t-shirts that said what battles we fight in this life? How many connections could we make? I could probably walk the earth forever and never come to another woman wearing a shirt that says "young widowed mother of two little girls who had a husband that threw it all away and then killed himself." But I might find someone with similar pieces. But how would I ever connect to help them if I don't say something?

So I blog. And I tell my story. For the healing and the catharsis that writing has for me I'm sure. But also because that is not how my story ends! I say something to help others. I say something to find my strength. I say something to keep my demons in check and behind me. I say something to let others know they're not alone in their thoughts and feelings. 

There are a thousand topics that I could cover in this say something blog. Weight loss. Weight gain. Poor self-esteem. Suicide. Embarrassment. Wanting to disappear. Crying. Pain. Heartache. And the negative gets you sucked in often. But it's that negative that saying something and finding out you're not alone is so freeing. So normalizing.  Knowing that I am not the only one who has laid awake in the middle of the night panicked and scared and alone and thinking how much better the world would be without me shows me that I'm not crazy. That I don't need to be locked up or taken away. That we all have those fleeting thoughts sometimes. Knowing that I'm not the only one to deal with the darkness and the yuck. Knowing that I'm not alone. Amazing! Say something!

It's not easy to say something. I get to do it behind these words that I post, which has not been easy I will add. Sometimes when I type I imagine that no one in the world is going to read any of this and then I can hit publish. And then I get some likes or a comment or two and I'm terrified to read them, but when I do it's usually affirmation that I am not alone!

So, be brave! Say something! You don't ever know how it will impact you or someone else. But there's a whole world of support and love and caring to be had if you are brave enough to break the silence and say something!  And I will get better at saying something too. I know that my Heavenly Father wants me healed and free and living life to the fullest and that only works if I use the resources he has blessed me with and say something! So you say something, and I will say something too...

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