Embracing Possibilities

Over the past couple of years I have become fairly close with several who have suffered a great loss.  There is one thing that many of us seem to have in common – a lack of patience that manifests itself in an internal tug of war with time.

While in the depths of grief and sorrow, it is all we can do to get through each and every day.  We count the hours until we can go back to sleep.  When we sleep, time passes faster and when it is time to wake up, we curse the hours of daylight.  (I suspect that this an obvious sign of depression.)

Our waking hours gradually become less and less of a drudgery but this is a lengthy process.  I remember counting every 24-hour milestone - 1 day, 3 days, 7 days and then 10.  We move on to weeks - 3 weeks, 5 weeks, 7 weeks then 12.  Then months, 3, 4, 6, 9 and eventually, one year has passed.  The first year seems like an eternity.  When we make it to the second year, we feel like we’ve accomplished something almost supernatural. 

But when we get to year 3, there can be colossal disappointment.  Our life isn’t quite yet, back on track – and society says that it is supposed to be.  You see we are just regaining our footing and our “new life” begins now.  We can be likened to adult adolescents, starting over. 

I tried to rush this process. I went through the steps outwardly but this wasn’t always reconciled internally.  At 3 years, I was supposed to have it all figured out.  Well I didn’t.  This realization was at first so very disparaging. 

Over the last few months, I’m finally giving myself some grace.  When faced with tragedy, human nature is to gravitate towards what we know; towards what is comfortable.  I believe that this is our soul’s way of protecting us and by keeping us from taking on more than we can handle.  But there comes a time when the comfortable, the known isn’t always in our best interest.  Breaking away from that is tough. 

I’m a work in progress.  I’m for once starting to get excited about the unchartered path to new opportunities and relationships.  The future doesn’t have to be so scary anymore. 

When I was in my late teens and early 20’s, I was filled with the excitement of possibilities.  I’m digging deep to find that thrill and to recreate that energy.  It’s harder this time around because the risk is greater.  My life experiences have made me more fragile and to further complicate the situation, it isn’t just about me anymore as I have little and (not so little) people that are depending on me.

However, life continually gets better.  I am blessed and thankful and constantly speak this truth out loud.  My days are now more often than not, fulfilling.  I go to bed exhausted from a sense of accomplishment, not as means of escape.  My future will reveal itself one day at a time and this is cause for excitement and joy, not for fear and in trepidation. 

Another Day After . . .

So here we are again trying to make sense of the tragedy that unfolded yesterday in Washington.  As I was glued to the television, I kept wondering when the shooter’s mental health history would be a topic of discussion.  And sure enough less than 24 hours after the tragedy, it was revealed that Aaron Alexis had sought out psychiatric treatments for posttraumatic stress disorder.  We are still learning many of the details but it has been repeatedly reported that he heard voices, sought help from two different VA hospitals and had access to guns.  All indications are that Aaron Alexis was seriously ill.  And again we are picking up the pieces of destruction from a troubled soul.

We have tiptoed around key issues long enough so let’s get it out there for real this time.  People with mental health issues should never have access to guns.  I don’t care if you are a republican, a democrat, or partial to the tea party; and I don’t care whether or not you believe in the right to bear arms.

Let me say it again . . . PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES SHOULD NEVER HAVE ACCESS TO GUNS.

We have gotten so hung up on politicizing each atrocity that as a society, we can’t even think straight.  Have we totally lost our ability to have a rational discussion, to focus on the real crisis at hand and move forward guided by common sense? 

Political noise has prevented us from acting logically.

As a victim of gun violence by someone with a mental health backstory, I am infuriated by what I see continually taking place. 

The mental health community so often practices in a vacuum and this is causing more harm than good.   The discipline of mental health is arguably the most subjective medicinal practice we have today and yet the one that has the fewest checks and balances.   Many in the profession say that it is because of the “stigma” that mental health invokes and then go on to use buzzwords such as Confidentiality, Privacy and Hippa.   Now I believe in a patient’s right to privacy and in the purpose of Hippa but not at the expense of innocent lives.

And I beg to ask when there is a tragedy and the media starts digging, what parts of confidentiality and privacy are ultimately respected and revered?  This holds true for the perpetrator, the victims and the extended families of both.

The system as we know it, is broken.  The violence that results from mentally unhealthy people who have access to guns is of epidemic proportion.

Mental Health needs to practice what it preaches and spend some serious time devoted to self-analysis.  Perhaps it is time for a “group therapy” session in conjunction with law enforcement, the judicial system, mental health providers, the caregivers and the patient.  It’s time to grow up, have a relevant dialogue and identify and implement policies that promote safety, wellness and healing.

But if we don’t alter the way with which we deal with mental illness then the advancements that we have seen thus far will be eroded. The pendulum of progress is about to make a violent swing in the wrong direction due to the backlash that will inevitably occur from these continuous, senseless and tragic acts.

The Day After

There will always be “The Day After.”

Today is the anniversary of our country’s "Day After" . .  . The Day After 9/11.  And each and every year as we pay reverence to the violent act of terrorism that changed our country forever, we are reminded that life goes on - albeit, a life that is different, scarred and with sadness.

Life seems to provide us with many other “Days After.”  

The Day After we hear that the cancer is terminal,

The Day After we loose a spouse through death or divorce,

The Day after we bury a beloved parent or grandparent,

The Day After we get the phone call that a son or daughter was hit by a drunk driver and is on life support,

The Day After there has been the gruesome discovery of the remains of a neighbor’s child who was abducted six weeks prior.

And it is how we handle them that really matters.

Recently, I’ve started to have an awareness of the heartache other people have experienced and I’ve become acutely aware of this with new perspective.  It is as if I used to see life through “rose colored” glasses and “bad things” used to remain at a safe “arm’s length” distance.   This isn’t the case anymore. 

I still ask why and I still don’t have any answers.  But this is what I have learned and this is what I know.

We all experience tragedy; we all grieve; we all suffer, mourn and live through heartache.  But it’s what we do with our lives after we’ve experienced great suffering that makes a difference in our lives and in the lives of others.

We have a choice . . .

To go through life angry, bitter and jaded only to complain about a life that is unfair.

Or to wake up every morning and be thankful that we are still here on this earth; to embrace life’s opportunities; to be thankful that we were given one more day to touch someone’s life; to be a personal testament to others around us that life does go on; to reach out, to touch and to hold the grief stricken and to be a pillar of strength for those who are too fragile to stand on their own.

Make Your “Day After” Count.

“You’ll get through this . . .” Max Lucado

Last Sunday this renowned Christian Author was a guest pastor at my church.  His message was extremely poignant and so very profound.  I felt as if he was speaking to me directly; providing me with a personal message from God to help me transcend through the heartache, despair and tragedy that our family has had to endure.

He opened with . . .

“You’ll get through this.  It won’t be painless.  It won’t be quick.  But God will use this mess for good.  Don’t be foolish or naïve.  But don’t despair either.  With God’s help, you will get through this.”

Yep, I think God wanted to make sure that I heard this because I’ve been living through one gigantic mess for quite sometime!  And whereas I am moving in the right direction, there are days where it feels like I’m just trading one mess for another; solving one problem while simultaneously stumbling on another; and fighting all the way through.

Sound familiar?

What Mr. Lucado brought to light is that scripture is full of these “messes” and because of our familiarity with certain Biblical stories; we often fail to see the message of what can be accomplished through “turbulent times.”

Last week’s sermon was centered around the Old Testament story of Joseph, which happened to be my late husband, Gabe’s most loved Biblical story.

Andrew Lloyd Weber’s musical production of "Joseph and His Coat of Many Colors" was always a family favorite.  One very special memory that I have of our earlier life together was when we took our “Little Gabe” (for his 3^rd birthday) to see a production at the Chicago Theater with Donny Osmond in the lead.  We owned numerous copies of the soundtrack.  We attended adaptations of this in Chicago, St. Louis and everywhere in between.  We knew all the words and I would sometimes play the musical score on the piano so we could sing “Any Dream Will Do” together as a family. 

But last Sunday, I heard a very different story with a profoundly different message.  My familiarity with the musical had hindered my ability to see this as a story that I could embrace and learn something from. It just never felt relevant. 

What I am now discovering however, is that the real story of Joseph is one of patience, perseverance and faith that overcomes betrayal, imprisonment, despair and rejection; a story of transcending through a terrible set of circumstances and using those experiences to become great leader; a story of exemplary greatness only realized through a pathway of adversity.

I certainly can’t speak or write as eloquently as Max Lucado and I won’t even begin to try.  But, these are the key points that particularly spoke to me:

1   1.     Pray your pain out.
2.     Don’t give into despair
3.     He uses tragedy to accomplish His will.
4.     It’s always better to shake your fist at God than to turn your back to him. (Yes, it is okay to be angry.)
5.     God gets his people through things – you won’t be stuck here forever.

I have begun to study and absorb Mr. Lucado’s latest book. I challenge you to use his message to help you Transcend Your Own Personal Tragedy.  

After all, “You’ll get through this.  It won’t be painless.  It won’t be quick.  But God will use this mess for good.  Don’t be foolish or naïve.  But don’t despair either.  With God’s help, you will get through this.”

And if you won’t take my word for it, below is the link to a review of You'll Get Through This from the Washington Times:

http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2013/sep/5/kellner-popular-author-wrestles-with-the-question-/?page=1

Remember to Breathe

I have about half a dozen drafts prepared, all with various messages that I think should be heard, read and paid attention to.  And today, it just doesn't feel right to post any of them .  .  .

Lately, I've shared my story with several new friends, many of them have been on a parallel path in the world of mental health.  

I'm thankful for these people.  I'm thankful that we are united through our struggles and frustrations.  And, I'm thankful that we can continue to support each other as we work through our various set of circumstances.

Whereas it is easy to focus on all that has gone wrong, we must remember that there is a lot that has also, gone right.  

We need to take stock of the unexpected blessings that have come our way through an unconventional path.

We need to give ourselves grace as we move forward and transcend through our own personal tragedy.   

We need to understand how our tragedies have changed who we are as individuals.  

We need to hold those we love and thank those who have provided support.

We need to channel our anger and use it for good.  

We need to share, listen and learn.

We need to pray, pray and then pray some more.

And then, we need to breathe .  .  . deeply .  .  .  very, very deeply.

A Disparaging Decision

In some previous posts, I have alluded to pending lawsuits related to my late husband’s death.  One of these suits is against the Champaign County Sherriff’s Office and the Illinois State Police.

To summarize, my husband did NOT have a valid FOID (Firearm Owner’s Identification Card); he had a very public history of mental illness in our community; he was labeled a mental prohibitor by the State of Illinois and he had an arsenal of weapons and ammunition. 

I had an order of protection against him, informed authorities about his gun collection, repeatedly asked for help getting the guns out of the house and was repeatedly denied.

A suit was filed on my behalf in federal court on the basis of sex discrimination.  Just to clarify, I have always considered myself a conservative and have never ridden on the coattails of any kind of discriminatory status.  However, this suit was brought forth based on the fact that law enforcement stated that I was “crying wolf” when requesting help, that law enforcement refused to remove the weapons stating that “as long as my husband’s name was on the title the house they would do nothing,” among other things.  These accusations are further validated by an affidavit from a now retired Illinois State Police officer who I reached out to for assistance.

We received a very favorable ruling at the district level that this case had merit and could proceed.  The State of Illinois then filed an Interlocutory Appeal at the 7^th Circuit Appellate Court claiming that there were no legal grounds for the case to be brought forward.  Last September, each side was allotted 15 minutes to present their respective argument as to why the case should or should not go forth.

Earlier this week, we received a ruling . . . almost one year afterwards.  We lost at the 7^th Circuit.

To further magnify the gravity of this outcome, it should be known that Illinois has some of the strictest gun laws in the country; Illinois (namely Chicago) has some of the highest gun violence stats in the country; and more specifically and in my particular case, when authorities are made aware of an illegal gun collection they turn their backs and aren’t held accountable.

What happened to my family was a travesty.  And now I feel as if our lives are so insignificant; we really don’t matter and we are left to be nothing more than a casualty of the system. I’m still trying to process this outcome and Judge Easterbrook’s decision and summary.

We have a very, very serious societal problem.  Until law enforcement, the judiciary system, mental health providers, and caregivers have a productive dialogue and work together toward change, we will continue to pick up the pieces from tragic shootings, unnecessary deaths and insurmountable grief.  

Yes, more Gabby Gifford’s, more Sandy Hooks, more Aurora Colorado’s and more Stephanie Bond’s.

Wake Up America!

http://www.appellate.net/briefs/Bond_Answering_Brief.pdf

http://media.ca7.uscourts.gov/cgi-bin/rssExec.pl?Submit=Display&Path=Y2013/D08-26/C:11-3275:J:Easterbrook:aut:T:fnOp:N:1192770:S:0

Club W

I remember the first time that I had to write out the word WIDOW.  I was lying in the hospital filling out paper work. This was an identity that I couldn’t even imagine embracing.  The reality of my new status made me ill, and I was so overcome with emotion that I couldn’t finish the task at hand. 

Sometime shortly afterwards, I received a very touching note from a cousin who had lost her husband several years before I did.  It spoke to me like nothing else and I have never forgotten how meaningful those simple words of compassion were to me at the time.

“I continue to pray for you.  You are part of a club now that I was in (being a widow).  Regardless, of how you got there, it still is something that takes a lot of adjustment.  You have more to deal with than I can ever imagine, but the best thing you can do  . . . is take care of you, be patient and let God take charge.  I may not see you often, but think of you and your family.  I love you.  If you ever need anything or just want to talk, please give me a call.”

Over the past several years, I have come to know other members of this club and appreciate how very precious each and every one of us are.  We were all initiated by a different set of circumstances, and yet there are astounding similarities in how we try to adapt and live with our new situation. 

Publicly, we can be bold and brave and we look as if we totally have it together. Privately, we still cry, grieve and crumble. 

Publicly, we speak of God, love, faith and hope; privately we beg for companionship, hurt from loneliness and exist in a state of disbelief that our this is how our lives turned out.  We leave the TV on all night because then we don’t have deal with the sound of nothing next to us when the lights are turned off. 

We all joined at different times – some have been in for 2 years, some for 5 years and some for 10 but for all of those in Club W, we share a number of commonalities.

• Membership came at a very high price.
• People always tell us how strong we are and yet most fail to see the fragility of our very existence.
• For those of that are too young to have gone through initiation, it can be socially awkward, as we don’t really “fit” in like we used to - when we were married with a spouse.
• Our faith ultimately carries us through. 
• Yet, we are far from leading perfect lives; we often times fail to walk the straight and narrow because we are guided by grief and pain.
• Our children took care of us when we were in the depths of grief. They shouldn’t have had to but they did because we couldn’t take care of ourselves. Because of this, their innocence was lost and they were forced to grow up in a way that is simply unfair.
• Our parents took care of us and they shouldn’t have had to do this either. They raised us to be strong independent women and they should now be enjoying the fruits of their labor. They grieved for us and they too suffered through their worry and pain for us.
• Healing isn’t a linear path and our friends and families have a hard time understanding this sometimes.
• And most significantly, we will never, never, never, ever be the same as we were before.