2017, you can…. well, I’ll censor myself

I survived 2017!

At least for the title. 2017  you can just go fuck right off. I mean, let’s  be honest, 2016 was a shit show too. It was like two solid years of utter bullshit and misery. So much loss and sadness and change. I just wasn’t sad to see 2017 go. I was never so happy to be wrapped up in my 19 blankets, watching Moana with my sons and grateful that I actually made it out of the year with more scars.

2017  sucked. It really sucked. BUT it was also a year of discovery. A year for ME. I found my voice, started new things and I am a whole new person.

Yesterday, I sat here for a while trying to write a big 2017, you can go to hell post but the words escaped me over and over. I just don’t have it in me anymore to be angry. The angry only hurts me. It feels better to laugh about it and think, “holy shit, I made it”. Because I did. I made it. And I grew a lot. As weird as it sounds, I can only thank that my life imploded for the growth I gained.

I don’t have any resolutions for 2018. Of course, I think a good many of us say that then hope for growth or change or wealth or whatever. What I really want? Is to stay happy. I still stumble. December, in general, was tough for me. I don’t love Christmas like I think a lot of people do. It’s a lot of pressure for me with work and the kids. And there was this looming reminder of what had happened just a year before. But unlike times ago, I took to myself, took deep breaths, found an outlet and got through it without much gloom.  Somehow I got through it without the same broken thoughts; was able to say what I needed and for the most part, I got it. We had a beautiful Christmas tree and I have a beautiful family who loved every moment of Christmas. There is nothing to complain about.

So keeping this short and sweet, I wish you all a Happy New Year. I hope it’s everything you want and hope. May you have peace and happiness and get through whatever valley or journey you are in. I hope the best for you… well most of you. Some of you?  You can step on a Lego.

Here is to a great 2018! May it #suckalittleless (that’s my favorite hashtag ever).


It isn’t that I lost my voice

I stopped writing. Here and in my paper journals. I stopped sharing everything. There are no pictures of anyone anywhere that you can see unless I let you. I stopped everything that I thought used to give me power. I stopped being so loud. I’ve disassembled my platform, I’ve turned off the mic. But I didn’t lose my voice. And I am not afraid, I just learned the strength of quiet and the strength of silence.

I have thought about the, “one door closes and another opens” idea. It’s true, I guess. As I closed-door after door this year I wondered what the new doors would bring. But if I was honest, I’d have to tell you that a lot of those closed doors didn’t open anything. There was no new door to go through. They just ended things I didn’t need anymore. And when the needs were filled, there wasn’t a new need to take the old needs place. There was just peace with the ending. And I’ve had a lot of ending this last year. I have chosen to not have such a loud voice. Instead, my voice is quiet, peaceful and privileged. You don’t get to hear it anymore unless I truly want you to. It is my new voice. My new door.

I have found a prize in privacy.

Where there was once pride in sharing, in bragging, there is now just no desire to share. I don’t know why. Maybe it was that someone took all these words and stole and twisted and molded them into a platform of lies. Maybe, it’s because I found it just so damn easy to find all the pain and mean on the internet and that taught me, there is beauty in silence and that there is peace in privacy. I am not sure. It feels safe again though. Even as the end of the month approaches and I wonder if the peace will be shattered, I feel safe, for the first time in a long time.

Christmas is here. We spent the Thanksgiving holiday with my Colorado brother and his family. When Kevin died my heart broke into little pieces. It was the beginning of the truth for me that evil often wins. But within those shattered pieces I found a new piece of my family. One that had missed for a very long time. I got nephews and sisters and brothers and while there is nothing that can describe the pain of losing a loved one to mental health: I am so grateful for what I gained because of it.

And it was truly a great holiday. Probably the best one I’ve had in a while despite some hand, foot and mouth and other weirdness. We did all the fun we could in the short amount of time we had. I even got a sleepover with my nephews. Those memories are forever mine and I am so grateful. This door closing was one of those few, another opens, moments. I get Sam and Danielle and Casey and Cameron. And while I wish I had an even fuller house this holiday, I will take what I can get with a grateful heart.

I think I’ll start writing again though. About what? I am not really sure. Mental health? Maybe. It feels a little more vulnerable than it used to, to share my journey. Where I found it easy to share before, hoping it would help someone down a light path, I now know that people, most people, speak a little different. And that evil can find ways to twist words and make completely innocent words into daggers. And while the good won here, it still makes for painful memories. But I miss writing and I feel inspired these days to say all the things I am thinking.

I’ve begun the “note jotting”. The little ideas scribbled on random papers. The inspiration I felt when I FINALLY got to visit the MET in New York. The humility I felt when someone looked at me and told me that I helped keep them out of the sad and let them feel not so alone. I feel inspired to find the medium of oversharing and letting go; which is what writing and blogging have always done for me.

My new friend sent this to me this morning. It’s funny because everything this speaker says has sort of becoming the theme of my “new” life. Please take the time to watch it. I hope there is some room in your “fuck budget”. Sometimes I am so grateful for thoughtful new friends. And it came at the perfect time to remind me of where I am.

Happy holidays and all that jazz. I hope to be here more.

We walk together

This was for you, Kevin.

I have been trying to sit down and write about the walk before I lost all the feelings in the busy-ness that my life has recently become, I just haven’t been able to make the time to do it. It’s been two weeks. I still can’t seem to shake the feeling of sadness that there were 7000 people there walking to prevent suicide. They all, every single one of them, was so influenced by the loss of someone, that it drew them to the Rocky steps to try and end it. We all lost someone. Or many someones. It was profound to see. And also a club I never wanted to be a part of.

I was glad we went. And I am thankful for my team.

We walked for you, Kevin. And we walked for Julia and for Wendi and all the others we’ve lost.

This is the busy season. And it’s been really busy. I think of my friend Stacey as I write that who just posted something about everyone saying that they’re so busy all the time. I think, “hmm, am I one of those people” who complains about a busy they’ve created themselves and then wear like a badge of honor? Because nope. That’s not me. I am busy but I don’t want that honor.  It made me think though about how I can, as a person with a lot going, carve out time for the little things. Coffee with friends. Getting back to the gym every day versus just the days we aren’t filled to the brim with to-do. Even just taking the time to make sure my house is in an order that doesn’t make me feel crazy! And it’s making me feel right now!

I never want to be the “winner” of busy. Even when I am. I also never want my busy to get in the way of my relationships with the people I care about. It makes me think of Kevin and the week he was gone. He’d messaged and I was “too busy” to call. I was rushing out to vote and then, I forgot. Too busy and now too late.

Don’t be too late because you’re too busy.

October 1st we walked in honor of my brother. Suicide is preventable. Tell your story. Tell mine if you need to. Let’s stop this together. e