When you want to give up…

 

I need to come out with something. I’ve been starting to share this with my friends. Most recently, I told some of my family. It has been a part of me for quite some time, but in the last few months has truly manifested in such a way that I could no longer deny that something was wrong. What started as a fleeting thought here and there is now broadcasting on loud speaker within my mind. I cannot ignore this any longer. To ignore it, to deny its existence could have dire consequences.

I have depression.
Correction: I have severe depression.
I also have anxiety and I am on the borderline of being diagnosed with a panic disorder.

There, I said it. For anyone who stumbles upon my page, I am sharing with you what has been haunting me for over a year now.

How can I best describe what is wrong with me? How do I describe how I am filled with guilt, despair, remorse, and my self-worth has reached rock bottom? How I feel like I keep screwing up with everything in my life. With my kids. With the people I’m closest to. With my job. With school. With life. Or how the pressure to be a perfect example to others of what it is to grieve, be a widow, be a single mom, a daughter, a friend, a sister, are all now getting to me. My friends would tell you they’ve seen it building up. Slowly, it started out barely noticeable. And now I can no longer keep up the visage of being happy and my thoughts, which started as a whisper, are screaming at me loud and clear.

How can I describe all of that and more?
An analogy that seems to fit how I feel is this: I feel like I am walking against the current, going upstream. It pulls me under over and over again. Others are along the banks. My friends, colleagues, family. Everyone moves forward on the bank alongside me. It is seemingly so easy for everyone to go on. Occasionally, they reach for me, but my hands are so slippery I cannot hold on. And most of everyone continues on, without me. Leaving me behind.

Every once in a while, I find something to hang on to. A rock, a branch, whatever. I lean on for a bit. Rest for a bit. But eventually the current is too strong and the rock or branch can no longer hold me. So I am left drowning. Again and again. The current only seems to get stronger as I become weaker.

Everything in me is telling me how much easier would it be if I just let go and get dragged under. One. Final. Time.

But there are four angels, keeping me from falling under completely. I am drowning in misery, but my angels give me just enough air to keep me alive. My lungs are on fire, but somehow my heart is still beating. These angels are my children. They need me as much as I need them. I keep holding on. I don’t completely let go. They are my saviors. My heros.

This extreme feeling of despair is not just because of my grief, but it does have a large part to play. It is because of a multitude of things. The pressure in various aspects of my life. The need to be everything to everyone and not being good enough. The realization that my life is forever altered by the events that took place over the last two years.

It isn’t just me being sad missing Scott.
Do I miss him? Sure I do.
Do I wish none of that ever happened? Yes.
But do I understand that it is something I cannot change and that this is my life now? Yes.

I will always miss him and always love him. That will never go away. My being has been shaped by the life I had with him. I would not be who I am today if it were not for the life I had with Scott.

As I look back and evaluate my life, I realize that there are times where I have come very close to falling apart. Times where I am irrational out of fear and anxiety. I always found a way to cope. To keep moving on. But this time feels so much more different. The logical, rational side of me knows the truth that life is hard. Knows that I need to be here for my kids, my family, and my friends. Knows that Scott would want me to be happy in life and to have a fulfilling life. The logical, rational side of me is losing out to something. A force within me that makes me weepy, distant, out of place, tired, anxious, fearful, and defeated. My thoughts run a mile a minute in every possible direction. I’m scared of the things that pass through my mind. I don’t want these thoughts to be there, but somehow they are.This is something I cannot snap out of so easily. This is something that I will need time to figure out how to cope and heal.

A dear friend of mine has been with me along this journey and has given me the best guidance I could ever ask for. She has given me encouragement and lifted me up. She told me that I will get better with encouragement, love, support, and gentle compassion from those close to me. She says I will get better as long as I am trying. While there will be things that will get me down, as long as I surround myself with people who understand not the why of how I am, but rather the what, and that they don’t give me reason to doubt myself or to feel negative about myself, then the healing process can begin and be a much smoother process. She says I will have my days where I’ll be not quite myself. These are the days I especially need a hug, a hand to hold mine, reassurance that things will be alright even though to me it seems that they aren’t, and if I am not totally receptive, presence of someone who cares may just be enough. I need reassurance that I am not alone, that the people around me won’t abandon me, and to remind me of what I am to them. My friend gave me hope. And right now, that is what I need the most. Hope.

Talking with her, I also realized what I don’t need. I don’t need to be pressured to explain myself. I don’t always know how to vocalize the thoughts in my head. Or it is too painful to vocalize the thoughts, to let it all out. I don’t need to be told to pull myself together, to try harder, that I have no reason to feel this way, that all of this will just pass, that I can just simply change it, that life isn’t fair, that there are people worse off than I am, that I am lucky to be alive, and so on. Saying these things do not acknowledge that there is something clinically wrong with me and I have a mental illness. Telling me that this is something I can just snap out of is like telling an asthmatic that there’s plenty of air to breathe when he or she cannot breathe. Telling me to try harder is like telling a diabetic that they can make an adequate amount of insulin if they concentrated harder. I believe I read this analogy once. I wear glasses. Can I manage without glasses? Probably. I could squint, move closer to anything I need to see, take a bus or taxi or catch a ride if I need to go anywhere. I could adapt and accept that I’ll never be able to see anything clearly again, such as the sunrise or sunset or my children in a performance at school. But why? Why try so hard to manage life when I could just put on a pair of glasses? No one would ever suggest a near-sighted person should just work harder. No one would say “Maybe that’s just your normal” to someone who needs glasses. They would say, “Let’s go to the eye doctor and get you a prescription so you’re able to see again”

You shouldn’t haven’t to try so hard. No one should have to.

Being depressed, it will take me time, therapy, and perhaps medication. I have taken the first steps in trying to get better. Acknowledgement being the first of many. I need to learn to be forgiving of myself and to be gentle with myself. Just like an athlete with an injury, they will not force themselves to work through that injury because they know it will only get worse if they do. They rest it until it heals. They do not think they are a “failed athlete”, rather they understand they have to fix something and they will take care of themselves until it is fixed. Pushing hard through this depression will only make me more frustrated and hurt even more. I’m already frustrated enough that I lack energy to do the things I want to do. I am already feeling discouraged when my body is in pain and all I want to do is go to sleep. So for now, I need to take care of my angels and take care of myself. I need to take it slow and be easy on myself. And in time, I hope I can find myself going through my day without the demons within me bringing me down. One day, I hope I can walk along the bank with everyone else. One day, I hope I can be happy with myself and with my life.

 

Here are some resources that have helped me. If you or someone you know is depressed, these might help you understand and perhaps get the help you need.

This is a very good read if you are feeling suicidal. http://www.metanoia.org/suicide/

Another article for when you’re feeling suicidal. http://themighty.com/2016/02/the-article-i-wish-id-found-when-i-googled-thinking-about-suicide/

Wil Wheaton talks about medication to help with depression and breaks down the stigma related to being medicated. http://wilwheaton.net/2016/02/youre-not-broken-and-youre-not-weak-depression-lies-because-depression-is-a-dick/

A favorite cartoonist of mine writes very candidly, with cartoons as well, about her depression. http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2013/05/depression-part-two.html

A series of comic on what it is like to have depression and anxiety. http://www.upworthy.com/a-comic-that-accurately-sums-up-depression-and-anxiety-and-the-uphill-battle-of-living-with-them

Don’t know how to help someone with depression? Here’s a start on how you can: http://blog.ed.ted.com/2016/02/10/5-ways-you-can-help-a-friend-suffering-from-depression/

Does your significant other have depression? Here are some things to remember when in a relationship with someone who is depressed: http://www.relrules.com/5-things-you-need-to-remember-when-dealing-with-a-depressed-partner/

A list of things not to say to someone who has depression: http://distractify.com/fyi/2016/01/14/shawn-things-to-not-say-to-someone-with-depression

An article about anxiety: http://themighty.com/2016/03/hardest-parts-of-anxiety/?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=Mighty_Page&utm_campaign=MENTALHEALTH

An article from a favorite blog on grief: http://www.onefitwidow.com/widowhood-the-glass-house-of-grief/

Responses to the question: “What do you wish your friends knew about your depression?” http://www.buzzfeed.com/jamiejones/things-people-wish-their-friends-knew-about-depression?bffbmain&utm_term=.hspZpVqJj#.xaByONk3B

When you want to give up

I need to come out with something. I’ve been starting to share this with my friends. Most recently, I told some of my family. It has been a part of me for quite some time, but in the last few months has truly manifested in such a way that I could no longer deny that something was wrong. What started as a fleeting thought here and there is now broadcasting on loud speaker within my mind. I cannot ignore this any longer. To ignore it, to deny its existence could have dire consequences.

I have depression.
Correction: I have severe depression.
I also have anxiety and I am on the borderline of being diagnosed with a panic disorder.

There, I said it. For anyone who stumbles upon my page, I am sharing with you what has been haunting me for over a year now.

How can I best describe what is wrong with me? How do I describe how I am filled with guilt, despair, remorse, and my self-worth has reached rock bottom? How I feel like I keep screwing up with everything in my life. With my kids. With the people I’m closest to. With my job. With school. With life. Or how the pressure to be a perfect example to others of what it is to grieve, be a widow, be a single mom, a daughter, a friend, a sister, are all now getting to me. My friends would tell you they’ve seen it building up. Slowly, it started out barely noticeable. And now I can no longer keep up the visage of being happy and my thoughts, which started as a whisper, are screaming at me loud and clear.

How can I describe all of that and more?
An analogy that seems to fit how I feel is this: I feel like I am walking against the current, going upstream. It pulls me under over and over again. Others are along the banks. My friends, colleagues, family. Everyone moves forward on the bank alongside me. It is seemingly so easy for everyone to go on. Occasionally, they reach for me, but my hands are so slippery I cannot hold on. And most of everyone continues on, without me. Leaving me behind.

Every once in a while, I find something to hang on to. A rock, a branch, whatever. I lean on for a bit. Rest for a bit. But eventually the current is too strong and the rock or branch can no longer hold me. So I am left drowning. Again and again. The current only seems to get stronger as I become weaker.

Everything in me is telling me how much easier would it be if I just let go and get dragged under. One. Final. Time.

But there are four angels, keeping me from falling under completely. I am drowning in misery, but my angels give me just enough air to keep me alive. My lungs are on fire, but somehow my heart is still beating. These angels are my children. They need me as much as I need them. I keep holding on. I don’t completely let go. They are my saviors. My heros.

This extreme feeling of despair is not just because of my grief, but it does have a large part to play. It is because of a multitude of things. The pressure in various aspects of my life. The need to be everything to everyone and not being good enough. The realization that my life is forever altered by the events that took place over the last two years.

It isn’t just me being sad missing Scott.
Do I miss him? Sure I do.
Do I wish none of that ever happened? Yes.
But do I understand that it is something I cannot change and that this is my life now? Yes.

I will always miss him and always love him. That will never go away. My being has been shaped by the life I had with him. I would not be who I am today if it were not for the life I had with Scott. 

As I look back and evaluate my life, I realize that there are times where I have come very close to falling apart. Times where I am irrational out of fear and anxiety. I always found a way to cope. To keep moving on. But this time feels so much more different. The logical, rational side of me knows the truth that life is hard. Knows that I need to be here for my kids, my family, and my friends. Knows that Scott would want me to be happy in life and to have a fulfilling life. The logical, rational side of me is losing out to something. A force within me that makes me weepy, distant, out of place, tired, anxious, fearful, and defeated. My thoughts run a mile a minute in every possible direction. I’m scared of the things that pass through my mind. I don’t want these thoughts to be there, but somehow they are.This is something I cannot snap out of so easily. This is something that I will need time to figure out how to cope and heal. 

A dear friend of mine has been with me along this journey and has given me the best guidance I could ever ask for. She has given me encouragement and lifted me up. She told me that I will get better with encouragement, love, support, and gentle compassion from those close to me. She says I will get better as long as I am trying. While there will be things that will get me down, as long as I surround myself with people who understand not the why of how I am, but rather the what, and that they don’t give me reason to doubt myself or to feel negative about myself, then the healing process can begin and be a much smoother process. She says I will have my days where I’ll be not quite myself. These are the days I especially need a hug, a hand to hold mine, reassurance that things will be alright even though to me it seems that they aren’t, and if I am not totally receptive, presence of someone who cares may just be enough. I need reassurance that I am not alone, that the people around me won’t abandon me, and to remind me of what I am to them. My friend gave me hope. And right now, that is what I need the most. Hope.

Talking with her, I also realized what I don’t need. I don’t need to be pressured to explain myself. I don’t always know how to vocalize the thoughts in my head. Or it is too painful to vocalize the thoughts, to let it all out. I don’t need to be told to pull myself together, to try harder, that I have no reason to feel this way, that all of this will just pass, that I can just simply change it, that life isn’t fair, that there are people worse off than I am, that I am lucky to be alive, and so on. Saying these things do not acknowledge that there is something clinically wrong with me and I have a mental illness. Telling me that this is something I can just snap out of is like telling an asthmatic that there’s plenty of air to breathe when he or she cannot breathe. Telling me to try harder is like telling a diabetic that they can make an adequate amount of insulin if they concentrated harder. I believe I read this analogy once. I wear glasses. Can I manage without glasses? Probably. I could squint, move closer to anything I need to see, take a bus or taxi or catch a ride if I need to go anywhere. I could adapt and accept that I’ll never be able to see anything clearly again, such as the sunrise or sunset or my children in a performance at school. But why? Why try so hard to manage life when I could just put on a pair of glasses? No one would ever suggest a near-sighted person should just work harder. No one would say “Maybe that’s just your normal” to someone who needs glasses. They would say, “Let’s go to the eye doctor and get you a prescription so you’re able to see again”

You shouldn’t haven’t to try so hard. No one should have to. 

Being depressed, it will take me time, therapy, and perhaps medication. I have taken the first steps in trying to get better. Acknowledgement being the first of many. I need to learn to be forgiving of myself and to be gentle with myself. Just like an athlete with an injury, they will not force themselves to work through that injury because they know it will only get worse if they do. They rest it until it heals. They do not think they are a “failed athlete”, rather they understand they have to fix something and they will take care of themselves until it is fixed. Pushing hard through this depression will only make me more frustrated and hurt even more. I’m already frustrated enough that I lack energy to do the things I want to do. I am already feeling discouraged when my body is in pain and all I want to do is go to sleep. So for now, I need to take care of my angels and take care of myself. I need to take it slow and be easy on myself. And in time, I hope I can find myself going through my day without the demons within me bringing me down. One day, I hope I can walk along the bank with everyone else. One day, I hope I can be happy with myself and with my life.

Here are some resources that have helped me. If you or someone you know is depressed, these might help you understand and perhaps get the help you need.

This is a very good read if you are feeling suicidal. http://www.metanoia.org/suicide/

Another article for when you’re feeling suicidal. http://themighty.com/2016/02/the-article-i-wish-id-found-when-i-googled-thinking-about-suicide/

Wil Wheaton talks about medication to help with depression and breaks down the stigma related to being medicated. http://wilwheaton.net/2016/02/youre-not-broken-and-youre-not-weak-depression-lies-because-depression-is-a-dick/

A favorite cartoonist of mine writes very candidly, with cartoons as well, about her depression. http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2013/05/depression-part-two.html

A series of comic on what it is like to have depression and anxiety. http://www.upworthy.com/a-comic-that-accurately-sums-up-depression-and-anxiety-and-the-uphill-battle-of-living-with-them

Don’t know how to help someone with depression? Here’s a start on how you can: http://blog.ed.ted.com/2016/02/10/5-ways-you-can-help-a-friend-suffering-from-depression/

Does your significant other have depression? Here are some things to remember when in a relationship with someone who is depressed: http://www.relrules.com/5-things-you-need-to-remember-when-dealing-with-a-depressed-partner/

A list of things not to say to someone who has depression: http://distractify.com/fyi/2016/01/14/shawn-things-to-not-say-to-someone-with-depression

An article about anxiety: http://themighty.com/2016/03/hardest-parts-of-anxiety/?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=Mighty_Page&utm_campaign=MENTALHEALTH

An article from a favorite blog on grief: http://www.onefitwidow.com/widowhood-the-glass-house-of-grief/

Responses to the question: “What do you wish your friends knew about your depression?” http://www.buzzfeed.com/jamiejones/things-people-wish-their-friends-knew-about-depression?bffbmain&utm_term=.hspZpVqJj#.xaByONk3B

Two years

Two years. So much can happen in that time. Many joyous moments we often cherish. Marriages. Graduations. New life. Promotions. New house. Achievements. Awards. All the happy events we tend to measure our lives by. The moments that drive us forward and give us hope for happier days. However, just as there are joyous times, there are times of sadness and anger. Losing a job. Facing rejection. Poor treatment. Injustice. Illness or injury. Losing a loved one. These moments shake the very foundation we have built our lives upon. Moments that test our limits. Moments where true personal growth is cultivated.

My late husband was diagnosed two years ago today with terminal brain cancer. He passed away just short of a year on February 3, 2015 and one year ago today we held his service celebrating his life.

In his last year, I took on many roles in ways I never thought I’d have to face. As a spouse, I had to watch my husband go through pain, suffering, and immense sadness. I wanted so much to take it all away, but that was beyond my control. I poured my heart and soul into being the best wife I wish I had been all the years we were together. I wanted him to know that I loved him and cared about him. I helped him fulfill many items on his bucket list. I attempted to keep life as “normal” as possible for him. We went on family outings. We went on dates. I took over running a monthly tournament for him, which I still run to this day. I took him to play games and hang out with friends. I surprised him with small things to keep himself busy when he was alone at home while everyone else was at work and school. I responded to all his texts and calls to ease his loneliness and boredom. I had to handle his emotions. He’d be sadden by his impending death. He’d get angry and throw things. He would be frustrated at himself or at me because of his disability. He would be stubborn and not exercise safety and caution. All of these things rested on my shoulders. I had to try to understand his pain and suffering, without really knowing what he was going through. I didn’t have the surgery. I didn’t have a disability to overcome. I didn’t have to go through radiation or chemotherapy. I wasn’t told that I was going to die. I cannot imagine all that he went through. All I could do was be there for my husband. All of these things weren’t in the plan. I did not think that one day I wouldn’t be a wife and that I would call myself a widow. Never did the vows, “until death do us part” ever have such profound meaning. As a spouse and in his final year, I hope I was the best wife to him in all possible ways.

As a caregiver, I had to do things that never crossed my mind. Clean vomit, bile, fecal waste, and urine that didn’t come from one my children. Attempt to pick up my husband after he fell to the floor. Disassemble and reassemble his wheelchair countless times. Sort medication into pill boxes and live my life with reminders and alarms. Inject needles into his bruised belly. Empty urine bottles. Change his clothes.  Bathe him. Clip his nails. Shave his face and trim his facial hair. Take him to appointments and therapy. Speak with nurses and doctors. Spend countless hours researching his cancer. Constantly adjusting his medications because of the many side effects. Buy marijuana and learning how to use a vape pen. Enlist the help of friends when he was too much to handle. Basically staying on top of everything to ensure his needs were met and his level of discomfort was kept to a minimum.

As a mother of four kids, I had to tell my children something was wrong with daddy. I had to explain to them that he was sick. I had to answer many questions about daddy’s illness, what to expect, why he was feeling the way he was, and, worst of all, is daddy going to die? We had partnership where Scott and I shared the responsibilities of raising our kids and handling all the important things that come with having kids, such as transportation, meals, daycare, appointments, etc. After he went into the hospital, I essentially became a single parent. Everything rested squarely on my shoulders. Scott could not drive and he could not cook or clean. I tried to involve him where I could. Phone calls to set up appointments. Parenting the kids when I wasn’t home. But a majority of parental responsibilities were mine.

Scott’s final year was quite a challenge. It was tough on everyone in the family. It was tough on close friends, as well. I never imagined that I would have to watch him die. Hear him take his final breaths as the life within him left his body. I never imagined that something like this would affect our family.

A year ago, we celebrated his life. Friends and family came to his service to join us as we said our goodbyes.

This year has certainly had its ups and downs. I still have “grief” bursts. Uncontrollable outburst of tears and sadness. Often times, these happen when I see the impact the loss has had on my children or when I am overwhelmed. I am still trying to find my groove when it comes to parenting. I’m certainly much quicker to anger than before. I raise my voice more than I’d like to. My punishments have gotten harsher and my lectures longer. My kids have tested my patience time and time again. They’ve manipulated me, lied to me, hidden things from me, given me attitude, and walk over me when they can. It is hard to balance the soft, nurturing mommy side of me and the strict, disciplinarian side. The kids are all experiencing their grief in different ways. Grades have suffered. Tears and sadness over little, insignificant things. Withdrawn, isolated behavior. Cries for attention – both negative and positive. My life seems to be spiraling out of control again as I face a diagnosis for myself that is tough to swallow. It is life altering for sure, but I will be able to adapt….eventually.

Firsts…

It was a year ago. I remember it clearly. The short, rapid breathing that would last most of the day. People coming and going. The anticipation. And then it happened. He took his final breaths and the life left his body. He was gone.
Today is the first year anniversary of his death. The first 365 days without him in our lives. A year of many firsts.The first week…difficult…a blur…friends…tears…regaining composure. I remember Melayna had hundreds day in Kindergarten. I remember going through the garage and purging some things. I remember conversations with Dani and Jenny.
First Valentine’s Day…girls night out…Fifty Shades of Grey…drinks at Back East Bar & Grill…Flowers and a love bug from friends…still difficult…still in shock…still in pain.
First month…disbelief…doubt…guilt…a mask to hide the pain…hurting…aching…moving on…life was starting to find a new normal. A new status quo. His absense was definitely noticed.
First birthday…worked and worked out…nothing special…just another day. Scott would have wanted to go out. He would have gotten me something geeky I’m sure. But my friends had other thoughts. Painting with a Twist with some of the best people I know. And that was special. I even received geeky things from them. Definitely not just another day.
First geek conventions, first Mother’s Day, first Father’s Day, first family camping trip, first time Tristan mows the lawn, first concert as a family, first anniversary, first summer break, first braces, first kids’ birthdays, first 14er, first Halloween, first Thanksgiving, first Christmas, first New Year, his first birthday, first year. And I’m sure this isn’t the half of it.


This past year has been filled with so many memories, emotions, mistakes, regrets, accomplishments, and joy. All without him. These past few weeks, my grief has really caught up with me. I was so busy living life and filling up my time, that my grief has only manifested sporadically. Moments of breakdown, often because I was reminded of him in some way. But something has been building up. I’ve become more distant. I’ve become more quick to anger. I’ve become resentful. I’ve had bouts of hopelessness. I’ve had the feeling of wanting to finally give up. After all I’ve been through. All that I’ve seen and done. All that I’ve put up with. I am just now feeling like I cannot move on any longer. And frankly, that scares the living daylights out of me. Smiles don’t come as easily anymore. I was convinced this is normal. This is what grieving is. But recently, I was made aware that it could be something much more than just grief. So, I am going to set up counseling. For me and for my kids. I hate feeling this way. I hate how I am. And there is still a spark in me to not give up just yet. I just don’t know how much longer that spark will remain. Until it withers away into nothing.


I can look back on the last 365 days and say that we have done a lot. Our family has made many memories together. I know that Scott would have been happy to see us doing so much. I still think of him. I know that he and I had our differences at times and I have many regrets on how those times were handled. But I cannot change what is past. I can only learn from those mistakes and move forward. I do have many fond memories of him. The moments we shared. The children we began to raise together. So many things I need to cherish and hold on to for my children.
I need to focus on the good and not the bad. I thought I had it all figured out. But now I am not so sure. I only hope that I can move forward from this. I started to move forward in my life. Many good things have happened. But somehow, I was blindsided by my grief and caught off guard. I am hoping that this is only temporary and life can resume. Sometimes you have to fight like hell to make sure you are still alive. Sometimes you fill up your time to keep yourself from falling apart. Life is filled with pain. With sorrow and sadness. It is something we all experience to some degree or another. I seem fine on the outside, but there are some days I don't know how I put one foot in front of the other. I may seem strong to many, but I feel so damned weak inside. The truth of it all: I hurt. My children hurt. And it sucks. But that's what it is to grieve. Some days are better than others. I just hope the better days outweigh the not so good days. I am grateful, though, to have some very understanding people in my life. People willing to hold me in their arms and let me cry. People willing to listen to me. People who have been patiently waiting for me to see what they have been seeing all along. I see it now. And I am going to do something about it.

Dear Scott

Scott, 

Today you would be 36 years old. A year ago, we knew it would be your last. You weren't sad though or at least you didn't show it. Your body and mind was already starting to show that the cancer was taking over. Despite getting sick several times on your birthday, you got to enjoy a massage by a therapist who came to our home. Then, we all went to Dart Warz. You, me, the kids, your mom, my dad, Dustin, and Robbie. I pushed you around as you shot your nerf gun to your heart's content. You quickly fell asleep in the car and didn't really wake until the next day. Your real party, though, didn't happen for another 6 days. You were surrounded by so many people that loved you and cared about you and our family. Well over a hundred people came. Your birthday party marked your last outing, as just a little over a week later, the cancer took your life. You had worried whether or not you would make it to 35. You made it sweetheart. You made it. Happy Birthday, Scott. We miss you and love you very much.

Christmas time again

In the wee hours of the morning, my son sneaked out of his room to marvel at all the presents under the tree. I didn't wake up right away. When I did, I found this...

Christmas, I feared, would be tough. But it wasn't. The kids definitely make Christmas a holiday worth celebrating.  The immense joy they have. The surprise as they open each gift. It is a treasure for sure. My gift to the kids, though, was a special one. My friend, Becky, helped me make quilts out of Scott's t-shirts. The kids certainly seemed to like their new quilts. They also received pillows from a coworker of mine. She printed pictures onto the fabric and made the pillows for them. What an amazing keepsake! 

Scott presence was definitely felt. And that is what mattered.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Another birthday...

Having so many December birthdays can definitely keep one busy! This time, it is Hayley's 14th birthday! This kid came into our lives four years ago and I am so happy that she is a part of my life. 

I consider myself lucky to have her in my life and honored to be a mother to her. She drives me batty at times for sure. But she is an affectionate and loving daughter. She's silly, quite the conversationalist, has an obsession over shoes and marshmallows, and just an all around wonderful young lady. She and I often have the following conversation:

Me: I love you
Hayley: I love you more
Me: I love you most
(But not in any creepy Gothel sort of way)


We have our struggles, but I am proud of who she is becoming for sure. I can't wait to see what she does in life and how far she'll go!

Happy Birthday Hayley! I love you bunches!