Posts Tagged ‘breathe’

OH my gosh I laughed at this one… then took a breath and had to THINK about it.  LOL

I found this over at “Steven Designs” and his post:

“Google Earth Is Scary”

Harold Ford 2/19/1938 - 10/27/2007

I didn’t know what else to call this post, but I do have to say I don’t feel like we are completely without him you know?  I always seem to catch a fragrance (smoke), hear a laugh, or something to remind us of him – he’s still very much around.

That’s my belief, take it or leave it – but it’s really a knowing.  Harold loves us mucho.  The old “coot” said he’d haunt us, so why not? 

Harold died of cancer on this day in 2007.  So many of us where effected in so many ways, too many to imagine.

My husband – oh to lose your father, I cannot begin to imagine.

My kids, who only where around him for a few years – were very effected and it broke my heart watching them grieve.

His grandchildren – what can you say to that grief?

Friends, Family – all of us where touched in so many different ways by him.

He’s wasn’t some sweet little old guy though.  Nope.  Well, not on the outside… he was a burly kinda rough Navy kinda guy.  He’s tell you to “kiss off” quite quickly and the next breath laugh his butt off if you tripped and fell.  You just had to shake your head and laugh at him.  He always lived life being truthful to who he was and not worrying what others thought.

I miss you Harold, and as of today… one year after you ditched your 3 dimensional body for a beautiful light spirity one – I have not smoked for over 10 days.  Ha!

I miss you miss you miss you.

So does your son, in such a huge way……

Love and Light,

Your “Honorary Daughter”

For You Harold – A Soft Goodbye

We raise our children in the hopes that no pain will befall them.

I personally cringe when one of my children stubs even a small toe.

To see our children in pain feels like an unjust thrust upon us from the Universe.

We know that cry when they are small, it’s not a whine or complaint – it’s the “mommy I need you now” cry.

What about when they are teens?

The teen “cry” is different.

At times it is almost mute, and you have to listen intently to hear their cries.

My son has once again cried out and has now been hospitalized.

Again.

This time last year he attempted suicide bringing the family to a stillness I never want to re-live.

This time, he reached out for assistance before the overdose, cutting and police SWAT team that we lived through last year.

I know in my heart this is simply something my son gets to go through.

As his mother, I can tell you with ever breath I take – I do not like it one bit.

Why couldn’t it be that they could just go through life with love, peace and happiness?

I suppose, that wouldn’t be life here would it?

Teen suicide is ridiculously high.  I even hear some folks joke about it – I’m not sure I get the joke.  Nor do I wish to.

He was diagnosed last year with Bi-Polar with Psychotic Episodes.  His medication has been working up until now – or apparently 3 weeks before now as we are finding out.

As his mom, I would just like to ask the Universe to let him be.

Let him feel calm, still, and happy with himself.

I’ll be on and off for a bit, this blog is – after all – a source of my therapy.  Don’t wig out if I’m still cheery, I just had to get some of it off my heart in this post.  My outlook on all things in life is positive.  Even those things that seem to pull my heart right out of my chest.

He’ll come home happy and healthy as he did last time – I just know it.

Love and Healing Light to all of you ~ Monica

My Son Stephen 2007-09-28

Update on Stephen 2007-10-07

Stephen June 2007

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My son has requested that I place his writings up on my site for my readers to comment on or at least read.  He’s a heavy writer, and it seems that journaling while he’s hospitalized feels good to him.  Although I haven’t read it yet, I’ll see what I can do to set up a page for him and either type exactly as he has it, or I’ll perhaps place portions of it up.  I’ll post here when I create it.

(photos and graphics other than my son were found from Photobucket – just type “teen”)

What the heck does “let it be” mean?  Leave it?  Drop it?  What is IT that I have to let be?

I actually know the answer – but there are MANY that do not.

When you are in the midst of a *problem* and it feels severe – your emotions are up, your protection of self is on heightened awareness and yet someone comes along and says with a smile “let it be”.

More than likely you will feel an intense fear, or anger, or confusion.  Someone has just told you to let something that is effecting you on even the cellular level to – simply  – let it be.  What is your reaction?

I’ve witnessed this first hand.  I’ll give an example that is fictitious… a young adult is being fired from a job for something they didn’t do.  They are angry – they’ve lost their job, their pay, and been embarrassed.  They come to you, a friend or family member and tell you of their story.  You respond “let it be”.

Can you feel how deflating that is?

Here is your story, it is powerful and it was meant to have that person sympathize with you or give you a course of action and they tell you “LET IT BE”?

What does that mean?

It’s normal to just fight that, and continue on to the next person to get feedback – the feedback you want.

But to “let it be” is so profound.  The emotions that accompany a problem are intense, ever part of you is screaming to protect who you are.  What if, you let it be as it is.  Simply walk away, find a new job without blinking an eye.  What if being fired you don’t have one negative emotion.  You simply know you get to get another job and you go on your way to locate one.

Letting things be as they are takes a great deal of strength.  Strength to get around the ego that is telling you “this isn’t right”, “they can’t treat you that way”, “so-and-so should’ve said it was them” etc.  You get the gist.

Do you know how simple letting it be is?  Even when it’s a traumatic happening?

Does “letting it be” mean to be without care?  Without drive?  Lazy?  Nope, it just means you live in the moment, take this moment as it is and “let it be”.

Living in the moment works wonders.  Don’t look at the future in fear, nor the past with regret.

Let it be.

"Lost Love is Still Love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor.

But when those senses weaken, another heightens.

Memory.

Memory becomes your partner. You nuture it. You hold it. You dance with it." - Mitch Alborn, The Five People You Meet In Heaven

Many of us have lost someone very near and dear to our hearts. I get to write about one of mine today and the closure that happened that left me shaking, out of breath and emotionally drained.

His name was wasn’t Brent but that’s the one I’ll use. He and I had dated for a few years in my high school days. He was a child of a wealthy happy family, he seemed to have everything. Everything means in this case, things. Physical things. None of us knew he was missing something very important.

The day was beautiful but he had the flu and was home feeling ill when I showed up at his door to spend my lunch hour with him. We were in his room watching my soaps. We talked about going out that night and that when I got off of work he’d be ready to go. To be honest, I thought he was too sick to go out and enjoy himself. I left that up to him.

My lunch hour was almost over and I had to leave to get back to my job at a Freightliner dealership as their receptionist and parts cashier. I gave him a kiss and hustled into my 1980 Ford Pinto ready to burn the pavement to get to work in time.

To my surprise there were two boys at his door ready to knock as I was coming out. They didn’t know him, in fact their were friends of my prior boyfriend. I asked them why they were here, they said they needed a ride. None of that made sense to me, I told them Brent was ill and he certainly wasn’t going to take them anywhere. I let them know they could get a ride from me if they hurried. They hopped in my little car and as I drove off, they told me to let them out, not even a block later. None of that made sense either. But I did, and shrugged it off as some drug that may have made them a little loopie. That’s what that group was known for.

I was speeding by this time, and was pulled over by a motorcycle cop who was angrier than heck by the time he caught me. The speeding ticket would later be my greatest asset for the day as it was time stamped and proved my whereabouts.

I got to work, started answering the 14 line telephone and began to feel a sinking feeling in my stomache. Think what you will, but that’s the truth.

I called Brent and talked to him for a bit, then he said he was not feeling good and had to get off the phone and would call me right back. He didn’t. Instead, that sinking feeling continued until I was in a shear panic. I called his family begging them to drop everything and get to the house. I couldn’t explain, I couldn’t make them listen and I began to make preparations to leave.

Finally someone at the house answered. It was his mother. All I remember of that telephone call was her shrieking voice in the way only a mother could sound in the situation she came home to: "You killed him! You killed my baby boy!".

I suppose it was at that moment I lost whatever bit of reality I had gained in my young life. I slipped into some sort of a different state of being. That took years to get out of.

I raced out of my workplace much against my bosses pleading – "You aren’t okay to drive. I’ll drive you. Stay here." I don’t remember what happened until the next step as I pulled up to his parents house. I had ran from my workplace leaving concerned adults in my path.

I was kept for a good hour by the police who I can tell you didn’t believe anything I had to say until the two important parts – I had gotten a speeding ticket 1/2 hour prior to his death. That along with being at work saved me from who knows what.

I found out that Brent hung himself in the garage. In a way that the police stated he couldn’t have done by himself. I’ll never understand or know what they meant by that.

In the days after I don’t remember much of anything except three things:

1. I remember the newspaper article stating he killed himself because his girlfriend broke up with him;
2. I do remember the kids and many others drivng by my house yelling "Murderer";
3. I remember many people coming to my door demanding his class ring because the casket was going to be sealed and the family wanted it back to bury with him. My only answer as a child in the situation I suppose would answer was: "He gave it to me. I don’t have to give it back until we break up."

This morning my husband’s cleaning allowed me to find the amythist class ring I put away so no one, not even I could find. I knew it belonged with his family, not with me. As a child I had held on to it for dear life, as if letting it go would let him go. Now, as an adult who has come to terms with the events in my life I know – I do not need anything physical to remember him, I have my memories.

I didn’t know where the send the ring. I picked up the phone and called the old number. The father answered and all I could say was my name and that I had Brent’s class ring and it deserved to be with the family. He cried a horrible sounding gut wrenching cry and yelled to his wife to get on the phone. She did. Her words: "How dare you call here!". They calmed down enough to give me the address to send it to and I assured them I would do so immediately. They hung up on me without another word, only the screaching that I remember from the mother that many years ago that has haunted my dreams up until recently.

To lose a child. I cannot imagine the horrific pain.

I didn’t want to cause more pain, but for the last 15 years I’ve been ready to send this to the family but could NOT have handled the phone call I did today.

The ring is on it’s way to their loving hands. I sent it today right after I hung up.

It was a final closure I got to have in my life. I don’t know what it is for them, but I know it will be perfect.

I can tell you… I still cannot breathe, I am still shaking… and I am on the verge of tears. But I am healthy, healed and happy. That has been a lifetime coming.

I remember you dear "Brent". May you play with all the other spirits in the place you now call home.

This weekend I did something I’ve never done before and it was huge for me. It has me constantly thinking and re-evaluating my beliefs and responses. I deserve to share here with the thought that if I do I won’t forget.

I served at a homeless shelter. Now I’ve heard of folks doing this type of service during the holidays. But there was no holiday just another saturday.

At first the person seemed to think I was simply there to donate food and go. But quickly he was ushering me to the kitchen to prepare sandwiches.

I only had a short period of time to serve but I walked to one of the volunteers and asked how many we were preparing for that night. Her response stopped me in my tracks – 500. I couldn’t breathe.

My eyes went to the door of the dining hall where folks were lining up and I realized there where children in the line. I held my breath as I looked around the dining hall and noticed the baby high chairs. I know she was talking to me but for that moment I stood in the spot I was in – in absolute shock.

I continued on with my quest of sandwich prep. But began wondering what my issue was. Surely I knew this. Didn’t I? Why was I so shocked.

I was shocked because I have not in my life truly looked around. Why wouldn’t I? These folks are around me and I made them invisible. Why?

When I left I got to put myself out there and hug some that where in line waiting to get fed. They smiled and gave me a hug and told me thank you. The hug from each was the best. I didn’t feel as if the thank you was mine except I at least made them smile and I don’t know when the last time was some of them had been given a hug by a stranger just because.

Suddenly I feel so small. Why can’t we feed these folks in a way they should be? How come its so simple to drive past someone that is obviously in need? Why didn’t I understand that the world truly has hunger? Why is this happening?

I suppopse if I felt it didn’t matter to me I could move on from this experience without doing something – but it matters to me that I’ve done so little in my life for those in need.

I won’t live my life as if it doesn’t matter anymore.

Love and light,

Monica

Not hectic in a negative sense.  My life has become very busy.  I’ve been working alot and trying to be sure I hold everything together.  So far so wonderfully good.  My clients are doing well, and that to me is all that matters.

Home… well, that’s a tough one.  I am not here much as of late.  I’ll slow down when the big projects pass, but for now… I have to savor all of the time that I have with my kids, dog, cats, friends, family and my honey.

Things are looking up for my little consulting business right now.  

At some point I’ll take a breath and tend to my poor garden.  Rather, lack thereof.

I just wanted to send out hugs to every one… and say have a wonderful week.  You all deserve it.

Love and Light,

Monica