Springsteen to the rescue - again!

My goodness did I wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. In fact, I didn't even wake up on MY side of MY bed. I woke up in the guest bedroom after being booted from my bed by the dogs. Gus normally sleeps in bed with us, but Penny, well, she's just too large to sleep on the bed (and I know many people will say they don't belong on our bed to begin with, but HUSH....my house, my rules). When my day actually started, I was out of sorts and in a pissy mood, for lack of a better term, just ask my husband.

I left late for work and as I entered the highway, my phone rang. It was my supervisor. Normally, I'm well on my way by the time she had called, but today, NOPE. Wasn't a huge deal, but enough to throw off my already crapshoot of a morning. Pulled into the parking lot at the time I'm supposed to be in my classroom and I truly hate feeling rushed. My own fault today, I get that.

An email regarding the phone system at work set me off on a vocal tirade, to which a coworker commented about my mood first thing. Wake up call. As I sat here looking at my computer screen that had all my favorite Sirius channels listed, I gazed through the listing and immediately saw that Thunder Road was playing on E Street Radio. That's it. I'm listening to Channel 20 because if ANYONE can relate to my moods, it's Springsteen. And the best part is, he doesn't even know it!!!!

Throughout my life....well, since I was in the 4th grade and a mere girl of 10 years old....Bruce Springsteen has spoken to me. Ok, HE hasn't actually spoken to me, but his lyrics have. It was hearing Thunder Road for the first time that captivated me with this man who would later become the one entity that could always get me through the rough times in my life. Thunder Road is the one song that has always given me hope in trying times, sunshine on my grey sky days, a smile when the corners of my mouth want to dip into a frown.

I wasn't sure how my "I'm listening to nothing but Springsteen today" would go over with my coworkers, but truth be told, I didn't really care. Much like the 'my house my rules' attitude I have, it's kind of like a 'my Sirius my computer my music choice' attitude as well! No apologies here. It is a good thing my aide enjoys the music of Springsteen, too!

So, here I sit, listening to an episode of Be The Boss on E Street Radio, smiling through someone's song choices and listening to how Springsteen has affected their lives as well. It's a weird thing, how the music of one man can do that; can bring people together and make us realize that we are not alone in our struggles, happiness, and love for all things Springsteen. I reflect on the many concerts I've been to, the time I was the Boss on E Street Radio, the front row experience, the back to back night experience, and the many times his music has gotten me through a rough time.

Today, it is 4 months since losing Billy. I know that's weighing heavily on my heart and mind. Today, I will allow Mr Springsteen to help me through all my feelings and emotions, as only his music can do. Maybe, I'll get a message in one of the songs, maybe I'll hear something I missed the million other times I've heard a song, and maybe I'll somehow feel the weight of this lift from my shoulders.

Maybe.

For now, I'll listen with open ears and an open heart. And one day, when I am fortunate enough to meet Mr Springsteen, I will thank him for always coming to my rescue. A girl can dream......

The Tuesday struggle is real

If you follow me on Instagram, you saw my post from today. It's Tuesday and I really have come to hate Tuesdays. I feel like everything bad that has ever happened in my life has happened on a Tuesday. I was diagnosed with Cervical Cancer ON A TUESDAY. My beloved Grandma Marilyn died ON A TUESDAY. My stepson died ON A TUESDAY. And it wasn't until Billy's death that I realize just how crappy Tuesdays have been in my life. And I'm sure it's all in my head, but......

This Tuesday started out with an overdraft charge in my checking account (still trying to figure that one out), Penny puking all over my carpeting 10 minutes before having to leave for work (DISGUSTING), and being in a real shitty mood. I heard Martina McBride's version of Silent Night on the radio on my way to work and cried buckets. That song always does me in, but today it was a million times worse. And I can't figure out why the Siri doesn't work in my car (hands free stuff) all of a sudden (which is trivial, I know but today it set me over the edge). It's Tuesday. And as much as I always taught my girls, when having a bad day, "Momma says some days are like that, even in Australia." (thanks Alexander), I can't shake the complete disdain for Tuesdays.

So, in addition to all that, I've been struggling a lot with some inner demons regarding Billy and where I (honestly) fit into his life. Billy and I had a 'different' kind of relationship. I came into his life when he was older, so it wasn't a typical stepparent/stepkid (hate those terms) kind of relationship where we had to 'figure' each other out. I never felt resented or disliked as his stepmom (and if he did feel that way, I NEVER felt it) but due to the physical distance that always separated us, time spent together was always far and few between. My most treasured memory of time spent JUST with Billy happened on our trip to New Orleans for his 29th Mardi Gras birthday. We shared a great morning walking the French Quarter and having breakfast, just the two of us. I wish I could go back to that time...... When he moved to California, my time spent with him became non-existent. It was so much easier for his dad to go visit him (being that he works for himself and could take the time - unlike me, who had to be careful of time taken off during the school year). Sure we made plans, and Billy always asked when I was coming out so he could show me Cali, but for one reason or another, I never made that happen. Enter regret.

I always tried to make sure that he knew where he stood in our lives, in MY life. I always tried to make sure he knew how proud I was to call him 'son'. I always tried to make sure he knew just how much I loved his dad, because if ANYONE loved his dad more than I did, it was Billy. But was it enough? Was it enough?

Being Billy's 'stepmom' was an easy role to have in his life. I always respected the fact that he had a mom (and a good one, too) and so I never ever pretended to be something I wasn't. I was always fully aware that I was NOT his mom. Bill and I would discuss Billy things and I could always give Bill my opinion, advice, suggestions, but ultimately, my opinions were just that. Opinions. I was able to offer my advice to Billy if and when he'd come to me with a situation. That didn't happen often, but when it did, I remember riding Cloud 9. Random texts would put me in a good mood for days!!! I miss that. I miss the outreach. I miss texts and check ins. I miss the kid.

The love and pride in my heart for him was immense. IS immense. It was a different love for a child. I was fully aware I didn't give birth to him, but my goodness did I love him as my own, and in our family, my own two daughters referred to him as 'their brother'. He was part of our family and I often wonder I did enough to make him feel that. It's a constant struggle for me right now. I struggle with if I was enough for him. Did I do a good enough job as his stepmom for him to never question my intentions or my feelings towards him or where he fit with us? I'm pretty sure this all stems from some events that took place in the weeks after Billy passed away, where my own feelings felt challenged and disregarded. It could also stem from really wishing I could get a response from all the texts I've been sending. I miss seeing 'Love ya 2' come back to me after sending a text. I've stopped texting (as much) because the lack of response has been tough. I seriously keep checking my phone, expecting SOMETHING back. ANYTHING. That void is crippling. I know he's not there, but I want him to be. And perhaps it's because Thanksgiving is two days away, and I'm not sure I'm ready for the holidays to arrive because it will be 'different' this year. My heart is just not ready for any of it, and I don't know that it ever will be ready.

Perhaps this is all part of the grieving process. Perhaps these doubts that have crept in are all part of losing a part of our lives. Perhaps I need to stop replaying some of the events of the past 11 weeks. Perhaps. Being stuck in your own thoughts is tough to navigate out of. Today, my own head is my worst enemy. I know what's in my head and heart but uncertainty has become my demon today and it is bringing me down. 

I'm going to try to follow the quote image above....it's a wonderful twofold reminder for me and I have to do better at remembering. I try not to cry because the sun (son) is gone....I need to look to the stars and remember what a bright guiding star we have now. I find some comfort in that and in that comfort there is hope.

I know I'll rise above and will be ok as I work through all this. If you've taken the time to read this rambling post, THANK YOU. As I always say, it's so much easier to write my feelings than speak them.

On grief and loss

Right now, I'm wondering how anyone 'gets over' significant losses. I know time is supposed to ease pain, but I also know from experience, that is not always the case. The losses I suffered in the last 5 weeks are different to me than losing my grandmother almost 10 years ago. That loss took me 8 years to even remotely come to grips with. I truly lost myself when I lost her. I'm trying desperately to NOT let that happen to me again, but lately I feel myself faltering in so many ways. I feel I've lost my twinkle, my spark, my happy zest for life. And that scares me (but I guess it's a good thing I recognize that? Perhaps?).

I wake up each morning with a certain sense of dread. I know it’s not healthy, so spare me the advice on that, but it’s an accurate fact of my life over the last 5 weeks. I am truly thankful for everyone’s outreach and to my closest friends who have listened to me vent my heart aches....you will never know how much I truly appreciate that. I was told, by a very good friend, that “Maybe you're not supposed to be the same. Loss is inevitable. It's too soon to even begin to get through it. You haven't even had all the services yet. Even then it wont be the time. It needs to marinate. His life had meaning and it deserves to be mourned.” These words hold true for both the loss of Billy AND my grandma. This is a raw and unequivocal grief. And I am walking it alone, at my own pace with all the feelings and emotions that come with it. I still have my good moments and my not so good moments (this morning is the latter of the two) but I keep one prayer in my heart daily, and that is the prayer that I will, eventually, find my peace through all of this. My grief is my grief. 

Grief is both a universal and a personal experience....while everyone experiences loss in their lives, their loss is individual, as I was recently reminded by another dear friend of mine, who experienced a grief of his own not that long ago. Everyone experiences grief at some point in their lives, however, HOW you cope with it is your own, personal experience. Grief, for me, comes in waves and at times, I struggle to keep myself above the water. It knocks me down, tosses me around in the surf like a ragdoll, and just when I feel like I've got my footing about me and can escape it's pounding, it hits me again, and the cycle starts all over. At our teacher in-service on Monday, my supervisor went around the room, asking everyone 'How are you coping with daily stresses? What are YOU doing for YOU to keep you from slipping into the abyss?' I lost it. I sat and cried, unable to answer her question, because in all reality, I haven't been doing ANYTHING for me. I feel like my sole (soul's) purpose right now is to be whatever my husband needs me to be for him. In doing that, I've not truly allowed myself to fully grieve. I grieve in private (which I know is ok...but sometimes I need to be able to cry into someone's shoulder, too). I accept that I own my own grief. Only I truly understand where my grief comes from, how deep the loss hurts, how I am going to cope, and how to navigate the stages of grief, that I feel I have no control over. Sometimes, I just need to be able to grieve WITH someone instead of alone.

I just need everyone to be patient with me and know that just because I may smile and seem ok, I am far from it. Be strong FOR me because I certainly haven’t been very strong for myself.....

Not everything happens for a reason

I’ve had many trials in my 46 years on this earth. Life has not been perfect OR easy, this much I can attest to. One thing people constantly want to offer as support is, “everything happens for a reason” when trying to ‘comfort me’ over the many hardships life seemed to throw my way lately. This past month has been no exception. It seems to be the phrase that everyone uses in the hopes that what I've experienced was somehow for my benefit and it would make me a better person, or a stronger person, OR to just simply test my faith. Guess what, people? There isn’t solace in those words, that phrase, the assumption that everything that has happened in the past month happened ‘for a reason’, as if I ‘deserved’ what happened in some way or another. Nope. I’m not buying it and I’m done with that phrase. The loss of Billy is not a test. It is not a lesson to be learned. It is not a gift of some sort. IT IS A HUGE GUT-WRENCHING LOSS. AND IT F*CKING HURTS.

There are trials and tribulations in life that you can easily ‘get over’, this much IS true and I'll gladly concede to that, however, there are other experiences in life that are permanent. They have no ending. You are forever stuck in them and clearly aware there is no escape from the pain and heartache that they bring with them. The only thing I can hope right now, is that time will (hopefully) bring a softening of the pain and heartbreak that we are left to bear for the rest of our lives. It feels as if the world has thrown the fastest curve-ball and it has gone straight through the body and soul, leaving a gaping hole that can never be pieced back together. A massive wound is left and it can’t ever be fixed, no matter how hard you try. This is the best example of what it feels like to lose a child, and even though my loss was that of a stepson, it does not lessen the blow. It doesn’t make this any easier to work through. There is no “moving on” or “getting over it” or even a solid 'reason' for why this has happened. There is no end.

Losing a child hurts like hell and I won’t pretend it is anything but awful, agonizing, devastating, gut-wrenching and heart-shattering. It isn't something I would ever want someone else to have to experience. "Everything happens for a reason” does NOT apply here. I’m sorry, but there will never be a good enough reason that Billy was taken from us. There won’t ever be a good enough reason for the memories that should have been made to be gone. There won’t ever be a good enough reason for everyone else’s lives to still go on as day in day out normal, but yet Billy’s life devastatingly stopped after 34 short years.

I know when people say “remember, everything happens for a reason” it is meant to somehow help cope with the loss. I completely understand that it is said out of love and from a good place. I understand people are at a complete loss of what to say.  Sometimes it is better to just be there with a listening ear, soft shoulder, a simple 'thinking of you' text, and an understanding that life will NEVER be the same for us again.

I will do what I can to keep Billy’s memory alive, always. Please do the same……..

One day at a time

First of all, happy 8 years to my Think Thankfully mindset. It was 8 years ago today that my nightly thankful posts began. So, happy 8 years of nightly posts expressing gratitude, even when it was hard to do so............ 

......and that quickly focus shifts to blog posts because writing is my only outlet right now. There are too many things swirling around inside my head (and my heart) and I feel like sometimes the only way to help get them out is to write, write, write. I don't always share my true feelings with people. I tend to keep things inside and just 'deal' with them on my own. I have moments where I can smile and laugh, and then in a quick second, I could just sit and cry.

If there is anything I've learned in the last 3 weeks, it is that major losses are extremely overwhelming. Experiencing two pretty significant losses in a span of 20 days has taken its toll on me. I am struggling terribly, but I am pretty sure it is just deep grief and not a depression. I put on a happy face, but it does not mirror what I'm feeling on the inside. I am struggling. I am struggling to make sense of things, to figure out how to grieve two people in two very different manners, to see a light at the end of the tunnel, to see a brighter future. Life has taken on a 'one day at a time' kind of mantra. Today is one of those days where I do not feel like being at work, I do not feel like being around people, and I do not feel like smiling. I'd much rather be at home, snuggled with my little dog, and letting the world go by with no expectations from me. That's the truth of my life right now.

So many people have told me that I am such a strong person. I can handle this because I am strong. Let me tell you, that is farthest from the truth right now. I do not feel strong. I do not feel like I 'can handle' this. It is hard for me to talk to people about this because, unless you've experienced a loss like this, (you know, two significant losses in a matter of three weeks time), you cannot even begin to imagine. Losing one has been heart shattering. Losing the other compounded the grief and intensified the feelings. Losing both has been a bit too much for me to handle. And I am ok admitting that. I'm not strong. I'm human. I'm trying to deal the best way I know how.

My husband amazes me with his ability to wake up every morning and tackle his days with, what appears to be, minimal darkness. He is the epitome of strength and reassurance. I'm truly in awe of him each and every day. That is not to say he isn't grieving. I know he is. I know this is a hurt that he will take with him every day of the rest of his life. I know my husband will not be whole again until he sees Billy again. I also know that my husband grieves for my grandmother, too. They had a special bond, the two of them. Up until the end of her life, she still made sure he knew that HE was going to get the 'red envelope' from her forever. But the grief we share for my grandmother's passing is so different that the intense sadness felt over Billy's passing. My grandmother lived almost 91 very full years. She had a long life, filled with many ups and downs, but one thing for sure, she was the best role model of what a strong woman looks like. Billy lived for 34 short years. He had so much life ahead of him. And in moments when I think abut this, it just doesn't seem fair. But life is the farthest thing from fair.

I was reminded that it is OK to take life one day at a time right now, considering what I've been dealt with the past three weeks. I was reminded that my light will shine through again, in time. I was reminded to be patient with myself. And I am trying.....it's just very hard.

One day at a time.......

California reflections

I'm struggling to juggle two huge losses in such a short period of time and I feel like I'm swimming in deep grief for one and a more shallow grief for the other. My heart breaks at the loss of my grandmother, just yesterday morning, but at the same time, my heart was prepared for this for a while. That doesn't make the loss of my last living grandparent any easier, but it gives me more comfort than the loss of Billy just 20 days prior.

This was written on September 29, 2019 as we flew from LAX to Newark.....

The past 10 days have been the longest days of my life. I was saying that to Nanda this morning before we left their apartment. Normally when you ‘go away’ it seems like such a short trip. You get there and in the blink of an eye you are packing up, ready to leave. Not this time. This has been the longest 10 days of my life. Last Friday seems soooooooo far in the past. There was no blink of an eye here.

We are currently flying 37,000 feet somewhere over the US en route to our home in Pennsylvania. I’m listening to my ‘Billy Playlist’ and trying to collect all my thoughts about this trip to California. I thought I could use this time to recall, reflect, and release some of the emotions that seem to have me trapped like a hamster running on its wheel with no real end in sight, thoughts turning and turning in my head with no way to get them out. I know that’s not healthy and as my dearest best friend told me on Friday, I need to get out of my own head and listen to my heart. All I can think about is the trip as a whole; the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. And perhaps that is ok.

From the time we hit San Diego on September 20 until this morning (September 29), we’ve been on a roller coaster of high points and low points and some extremely low points. There are parts of the past 10 days that I’d love to forget in their entirety, and while that would be so nice, I know that without the extreme low points I’d lose sight of the bigger picture and I’m pretty sure that is a more important thing to keep focused on.

We’ve been running on adrenaline and emotion and, quite honestly, it’s been absolutely draining. Together, we’ve had to do things that no parent should have to ever do. Together, we attended 3 California celebrations for Billy. Three. San Diego. Fullerton. San Bernardino. Together, we went to the California Dept of Vital Statistics to obtain death certificates - true gut punch as they were handed to us. Together, we greeted friends and listened to stories of Billy. Together, we cried. Together, we laughed. Together. 99% of the past 10 days was spent, together. As one.

But there was also a dark side. One I won’t write about because that is something I need to process and while I don’t think I’ll ever completely release it, I will not let it consume me, because I know that is not a healthy way to live. I have to try to remain the positive person I aim to be each day. As I type this out, a song by Needtobreathe is playing. It’s a song that I posted to Bill soon after Billy passed away. Forever on your side. It’s the reminder I need that regardless of the worst experience and absolute darkest place I had gone to this week due to some circumstances, I am forever on his side. And I will always be. I don’t know what’s around the bend, all I know is that my love, it knows no end.....

Music has always been a source of comfort and peace for me. I created this Billy Playlist of songs since his passing on September 10. I’ve also added songs to it that friends have shared with me, to help me cope with his death and everything that has come from it. As I listen to it, I smile and at the same time I feel the tears that have been bottled up, ready to fall from the corner of my eyes. And I think that’s ok.

I truly believe Billy placed people in my path during this difficult time so that I never was truly alone, even when I felt it. Jenny, Mike, Cam, Hallie, Big Steve, and even Joe and Nanda, even though I’d known Joe for about 12 years. Prior to California, there’s Nadya, in the OBX. All people who have been physically there for me but who, prior to Billy’s death, had only been names in stories or videos (except Joe and Nanda - they are family). The connections made with each of these individuals is something I will forever treasure and be thankful for.

I’m not sure if this will ever see the light of day or if I’ll keep it just for me to look back on, but an hour plus worth of writing and many songs later, my black hole of emotions doesn’t feel so dark anymore. And I know that’s a good thing.

As I look out the window at the vast expanse beyond the airplane window, I picture Billy in the clouds, grinning that Billy grin, and happy that I’m doing what I can to be whatever his dad needs right now and in the moments to come. I will miss my texts and reassurance when I needed medical advice or explanations. I will miss the joking about football. I will miss jah jah pizzas. I will miss his voice. I will miss his hugs. I will simply miss him.

I miss you, Kid. So very much.

A little 1978 country inspiration......tell me you aren't singing out loud!

Dear Readers,

I’m starting out this blog entry with a little disclaimer: if you do not like country music, stop reading right now! I have managed to change this entry many times today; more than you could ever imagine. It was not until I looked at my personal Think Thankfully post on the great book of Faces from last night, that the ultimate inspiration hit me!

If you are (or have ever been) a fan of country music (and even if you aren't or never have been), I'd be willing to bet you have heard Kenny Rogers’ famous song The Gambler. Many songs tell a story (if they are a good song that is) and The Gambler is no different. In this particular song, we have a young guy who’s down on his luck and ends up sitting next to an experienced old gambler on a train "bound for nowhere". The premise of the story is that the two tend to take turns staring out the window for awhile, when the tension between the two is broken and the experienced old gambler 'clues' the young traveler in that he has made a life out of 'reading people's faces'. The Gambler is able to tell that the young man next to him is pretty down on his luck, or 'out of aces' as the song describes. For a simple taste of whiskey (and a bummed cigarette and light), he is willing to offer his sage advice to his young traveling companion and it is at this point I believe everyone sings along when they hear the chorus ring out:

“You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em

Know when to fold ‘em

Know when to walk away

And know when to run

You never count your money

When you’re sittin’ at the table

Cuz there’ll be time enough for counting

When the dealin’s done”

One of the hardest parts of life, is knowing when to cut your losses. Knowing when to hold ‘em, fold  ‘em, walk away, or run. Yesterday was not a good day for me. It was a day filled with ultimate frustrations. Lately, I have been feeling more and more that I need a change of scenery. I allow too many things to get the best of me. I've lost my ability to 'shake it off' when I feel I'm not doing the best I can. In my line of work, the average burnout rate is 3-5 years. I have been at it for 18. Being the best in the classroom is something I work hard at and something I pride myself in. I don’t believe in quitting. Quitting is not an option for me. Being strong enough to know that I’m becoming ineffective and that perhaps it is time to walk away, is an admission I am not afraid to make. I understand myself well enough to know when I am more than capable of mustering through some frustrations, or when it’s best to just fold and walk away.

A wise person commented on my thankful status, saying, “Just make sure you know where you are running to!” This is the hard part. I know what I want. I know what I love, what I enjoy. I know where I want to run to, but actually being able to is an entirely new story. After posting my nightly status, a friend of mine sent me a video in which she said, "Hey! Did you have a bad day? I'm sorry. There's no reason to be upset because you have lots of friends and family who love you and accept you for who you are! You do what you have to do. You'll know when that time is right. Just know this: I LOVE YOU!" I sat and cried. As much as I help many people through their frustrations, people help me through mine!! (A little laughter goes a long way, too!!!)

Have no fear, I am not feeling down in the dumps, depressed, sad, or extremely defeated (ok, maybe just a little defeated, but not extremely so!). I simply know my limits and know that I must make a change in order to feel energized again. The wonderful thing about writing is that I can get my feelings out and help to get things into perspective. 

Until next time, my friends....just remember, the "secret to survivin' is knowing what to throw away, and knowing what to keep".

Think Thankfully!

The Gambler by Kenny Rogers (1978)