Trauma, Fear and Happiness

A widower friend of mine posted this and it really hit me hard. And only after I accepted that I quite possibly have been through a traumatic experience, it made a lot of sense.

I believe that I was remade into something more than I was before July 26, 2012. But here's the kicker, I have never thought that I was one who was traumatized. When I hear PTSD, I think of soldiers in war or victims of horrendous crimes. I don't put myself into that category.

But why not? I guess one would say that waking up to a thud at 2 am, hearing your husband saying your name while struggling to breathe on your bedroom floor, calling 911 and praying your two little girls don't wake up to the paramedics shocking him, knowing his heart stopped 6 times before being put on life support, sleeping on the waiting room floor with your best friend who's dying from cancer, having to be the one to decide to take him off life support, watching him take his last breath, and having to go home and tell your babies that they're daddy died might count as a form of trauma. And then six months later spending a week in a hospital with best friend while she is in a coma, spending endless hours with her children and family and then watching her take her last breaths. I guess I need to be a little kinder to myself and accept that yes, I've been traumatized. I've experienced some things that some people may never have to go through. 

PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder. Ok, so I've been traumatized. Accepting that helps me figure out a few of the struggles I've had since that day. At first, it seemed silly to me to think that I may have some trouble, I'm strong, I know that. Everyone who knows me knows that. And they constantly remind me. 

So maybe if I talk about these fears, I'll be able to face them better. 

Coaching. What? But Kelly, you've coached for over 20 years and you're so good at it! Yes, I know that. And I do LOVE it. A lot. But it's something that is difficult for me to really get back in to. I subbed for a coach the other day and had the absolute best time. I got a lot of compliments from some of the mom's and even some of the coaches said they loved hearing me out there again. They always tell me I bring a different vibe to the gym. So, why don't I do it more often? Why don't I make myself a coach on a class every single week? I teared up as I talked to Alyssa in the office about it (which is huge because I rarely cry). And I think I had a breakthrough. 

I'm terrified that my world will crumble all over again in front of my community. The last time I coached a lot and truly enjoyed it, I lost a good chunk of my life. And this happened in front of a LOT of people. It wasn't a quiet moment in my life. Neil was a big presence in Santa Maria and I was fairly well known in the town my gym is located. It was in the papers, on t.v. and all over the internet. 

I've come to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, I'm afraid to let myself really truly enjoy coaching again, and possibly become too happy, because then it won't hurt nearly as much if my world crumbles again.

I do realize that that is not the way to live and that by even admitting it and saying it, I already feel better. So, just to let you know, I am working very hard at being out on the gym floor again. I've coached 2 days this week and the anxiety that comes along with it isn't there as of yet. I've decided that I will keep moving forward!

  

Now on that note. The fear of becoming too happy again is weird to admit, but oh so true. Because I feel like I am a very happy, positive person. How can I be afraid to be happy when I am always smiling? I'm definitely not sad or depressed all the time. But am I as happy as I possibly can be? Probably not. 

I recently read this blog post and loved what it said, especially this one, about happiness.

Let yourself be happier than you are comfortable with.

Too often, we sabotage our own happiness out of a reluctance to trust it. Rather than allowing ourselves to grow into bigger shoes, we declare our feet ‘not big enough’ and retreat. We have to start allowing ourselves to let go of guilt and self-doubt and start seizing opportunities as they arise. Even if we feel a bit out of our league along the way.


This past year, I quite possibly have unknowingly sabotaged some things that could've brought me happiness both inside the gym and out. I'm afraid to become too happy because I'm more afraid to be hurt.

I often say, "you can't live in fear" to friends who need advice or to my girls when they're trying something new. So as 2016 approaches, I've decided to take that advice, buy some bigger shoes and allow myself to be happy.

Dear Future Step Parents...

So, if you read my blog regularly or know me personally, you know that my best friend since birth, Brooke, died from Melanoma, 6 months after my husband died suddenly from heart complications. Needless to say, it was a hell of a few years. Brooke was diagnosed in the fall of 2011 and about 10 months later, my sister called her in Minnesota with the news that Neil was on life support because I found him collapsed on the floor of our bedroom in the middle of the night. Brooke, with chemo in hand, flew to California and was by my side as fast as she could get there. She slept on the waiting room floor with me and sat with me and held Neil's hands with me before we had to say goodbye. She was there in the blazing hot sun during his funeral and she was there via texts and phone calls every day after until she fell too ill to continue.

Ok, so what's this have to do with the title of this post? I'm getting there. Trust me.

A day or two after Neil died, I remember a conversation I had with Brooke. She was in my daughters' bathroom and I was standing in the doorway and we were talking. She said with tears in her eyes, "Kelly, this is your reality and it's my biggest fear. It's going to happen to me." She had Stage 4 Cancer and was fighting like hell, but... She never actually said the words, "I am going to die" to me, but I thought it. After she said that, we talked about our kids and how they shouldn't have to lose a parent at such young ages. My girls were 4 and 6 and her's were 6 and 7. It's just not fair. And that's what leads me to this post.

Her kids now have a step mom. A woman who knew their mom before she passed away. In some ways, she may have it harder than other step moms. She was Brooke's friend. I'm sure she has many discussions with Brooke about how to help their dad raise her children. This is what I would say if I were Brooke, or Neil.

This advice goes out to the friends or strangers who may someday bravely take on the job of a step parent of a child who lost their mom or dad.

So, here's what I ask of you. In no particular order.

1. Don't feel like you have to replace their parent who died. That's too much pressure. They have one, they were just taken from them too early. But please parent them and teach them what dad's and mom's should.

2. Love them! And let them love you back. Look them in the eyes when they say "I love you", (and knowing my girls, they'll say it, A LOT. Heck, P yells it about 4 times through the house after I put her to bed.) Let them know in some way, that you love them, too.

3. Take them out on dates. This doesn't have to be anything fancy, but spend some time with them one on one. They've lost out on a lot already and deserve to learn how a man or woman should treat them someday.

4. Love their living parent. Show them that their daddy, or mommy, can love and be happy again.

5. Don't be afraid to talk about their deceased parent. You don't have to discuss them daily, but acknowledging their existence is important. And someday, tell them that he or she would be proud of them. Coming from someone other than the living parent would mean a lot.

6. Let them hug you. Put your arms around them and hug them back.

7. Remember they are children.  Children who've been through hell. Children who might act up or drive you crazy at times, but they are still just that, children. And children who need guidance and reassurance that life is not always super sucky.

To all the step parents and future step parents, you've decided to take on a pretty big job! I praise you. Just the fact that you are willing to take this journey with a widow says a lot about the person you are. Keep going, even when the going gets tough, keep going. I'm sure the ride will be worth it.

Neil, Me, Brooke and Mike, Summer 2002

Over it yet?

This blog post is about the people who wonder "when will my friend be over it?" Jeez, it's been X so many months/years and they are still so sad. And yes, I've heard that before. And trust me, my inner dialogue is often the cruelest when I find myself too miserable to get out of bed with no other reason than "I just can't do today." It's not necessarily "I miss Neil, I am sad." It's more of the "holy hell, I am just so tired." And sometimes that means "I'm just so tired of having to be strong alone." I do realize that I'm not alone. I have amazing friends and family who are always there for me, BUT being a single mother of two children alone can not be changed by the love of your friends or family. It is what it is. 

I am a single widowed mother of two girls and sometimes that. is. exhausting. 

The past couple of weeks have been extremely trying on me. Nothing majorly out of the normal day to day routine except school started, and oh, P broke her toe. And, I went away for a weekend for work. Ok, so maybe life got a little hectic there for a few weeks.

As for the toe, unfortunately, it's more than just tape the toe to the other toe kind of break, BUT it's nothing severe. Just an inconvenience for her since she has to wear a boot for 4 weeks because she has hypermobile ankles and is prone to rolling them.

And school starting is really just a change in our routine. It's a good change, though. But change is change and I've learned good and bad stress, is still just that. Stress. Unfortunately, our school doesn't let us know who the teachers for the upcoming year are until THE day before school begins. This makes it difficult for me to speak to the teachers about the girls and what they've been through. I'll come to that in a few minutes.

The training weekend for work was GREAT. Except for some reason it was a big trigger for my emotions. Maybe it was because the first Training that we went to as a gym was the summer that Neil died. It was such a fabulous weekend of learning new gymnastics techniques, seeing a bunch of friends that I've coached with over the past 20+ years and the Olympic Trials! Oh the memories! This year, it was smaller, no Olympic Trials, but still got to see a lot of friends and learn more and more about this fabulous sport I'm a part of. Not quite sure where the trigger is in there, but it was there and it hurt. I found myself in tears each day and didn't quite have the pep in my step that I'm known for. It was frustrating to say the least.

Ok, where am I going with this? 

Well, when will I just be over it? Get over it already! It's been three years. Why do I find myself struggling to focus? Struggling to be joyful and full of spunk? Not really sure. But, the "holy hell, I'm so tired" was there and it wasn't leaving port as fast as I wanted it to. 

I know I said P's broken toe is not that bad. But here's the kicker, physical pain for my children or myself is not just physical pain. Here's what I mean...

We were in the kitchen fooling around and I took P's bag of gummy worms from her and put them on top of the fridge. We laughed and she turned to grab the wooden stool and somehow in the next few seconds, the stool slipped and slammed onto the kitchen floor. I heard the smack of the wood on the floor a split second before I heard the scream come from her mouth. She crouched down and just by her reaction, I knew she was in more pain than just a squashed toenail. I scooped her up immediately and sat her on the counter to see her foot. In true kid form, she didn't want me near it, no ice, no NOTHING. Then she cried, "I just want to go to bed." I carried her to my bed and laid down next to her. (sister was at a sleep over) As we laid there, that darn pain went from her toe, traveled up her leg and entered her heart as she sobbed, "I want Daddy!" "Daddy would know what to do. I wish death didn't exist. Why did he have to die? Daddy would fix this cuz he was like a nurse." (uh, PE teacher? nurse? Same thing to a little girl, right?)

As she lay there, I thought, man, I wish I could share this with people so they see how it REALLY is to go through grief. I'm learning, it's not Hollywood. It doesn't get better in an hour and a half. So, in true social media form, I hid my phone and took a pic and a video.

Ok. Take a deep breath. I didn't post this for pity nor do I want you to comfort me. 

This. is. my. life. 

This is standard textbook pain reactions for my girls and even for me. Now usually, I do this with stride. I hold her. I agree with her. I say, "I don't know why he had to die. I know, P, it's ok." But my levels of strength had been depleting over the past few weeks and even though I consoled her, the tears started to flow from my eyes as well. We fell asleep and she moaned and groaned until close to one in the morning. I found some Benedryl and thought maybe it'd help her sleep. I gave her a little and it did the trick.

Now here's the kicker. You ready? 

We woke up the next morning like normal. The sadness was gone. She was limping but she was happy go lucky P-nut. And that is how it goes. Like waves in the ocean, we had a tidal wave Friday night and the surf was back to normal by Saturday. Yay.

What next? Oh ya, school started. The girls are in 2nd and 5th and I realize that it's been 3 years since Neil's death, but I still feel like I should inform the teachers. Not for any other reason than, if something is said or one of them is upset, they are aware of it. This year, Marley got a male teacher. This is the first year that I am ok with that. She doesn't really have many men in her life besides my dad, a neighbor dad and her best friend's dad. And she doesn't see any of them too regularly, especially when my dad is out of town. Anyways, she got Mr. C and I was happy for her. I thought that this might be perfect. I didn't reach out to him before school started and then, time got away from me. Everything was going smoothly, so I didn't worry too much about it.

And then Back to School night arrived. 

I sat through Mr. C's presentation and then thought I'd take the small amount of free time he had to introduce myself. I asked if he knew Marley's story and he said no. I told him her father passed away 3 years ago and he looked at me with sad eyes, apologized, then said, "that answers a few questions." He then went on to say that the poem she had been working on for the past week surprised him a bit. He pointed to the wall where it was hung and this is what I saw...

Again, not looking for any comfort. Just giving you a window into my world. 

She had interviewed me earlier in the week. I did NOT know she was writing her poem and answered her truthfully. Here's how the poem about me came out.

Had I known it was going on the classroom wall, I may have answered "spiders" for my fear. Because, I do fear the little bastards. And I'm not afraid to die, I'm afraid of watching someone I love die, again.

Which brings me to my current inner monologue. "I can get through this. I have been through so much more. I have seen my two best friends take their last breaths. I can do this." 

And with that inner monologue and a week long trip to Oregon to go salmon fishing, crabbing and a chance to recharge, I am back home with a load of good energy. 

As Brooke used to say, "It is what it is." Yes, Brookie, it is, but sometimes it's really really sucky. I'm still learning that you gotta feel the pain and let the waves pass and not be so hard on yourself to hurry up and get over it.  

Sometimes, it helps if you run away to Oregon to recharge, and sometimes you get a babysitter and go to a bar with a bunch of friends, which also helps it feel less sucky.

And then it was 3...

As Neil's 3rd Angel Birthday approaches, I again find my emotions up and down almost daily. The last memories of Neil are still pretty vivid and every day something reminds me of our last days with him. From a trip to Northern California, a visit from his mom and our last minute Disneyland trip 2 days before he collapsed. I read a blog the other night that said lonely is not a strong enough word to describe what widows feel. It hit me really hard. It's true. The loneliness that a widow feels doesn't only come when we are alone, it comes even during the happiest, busiest moments. Sometimes that's when I feel the loneliest. Honor Roll Ceremony. Year End Awards Banquet. Gymnastics meets, soccer games, first day of school, last day of school. You get the picture. I think it's because that's when I really notice Neil's absence the most.

I've heard the term "fake it 'til ya make it" plenty of times when it comes to life. I don't think I even realized how much I did that until I took the girls to Palm Springs for Marley's last competition of the year. The girls were swimming in the pool, I was sitting on the edge with a drink in my hand, admiring a gorgeous sunset and posted a photo to Instagram with the words, "Happy Kids, Happy Mom, Happy Sky" We all know that most, (not all) but most, people post only the happy moments of their lives. It would be silly to post only the sad times. And those who post all the drama, here's some advice, don't. It gets old and most people just end up unfollowing you. Anyways, I posted the happy picture and of course, in true social media fashion, it received a bunch of likes. But this was one of the times where it wasn't the truth. It wasn't a total lie, but it definitely was not the complete truth. As I sat there watching my girls swim and laugh and have fun, I sat there. Lonely. Alone. Drinking a yummy beverage. Alone. Watching my girls grow up. ALONE.

But, is it strange to say that I am also happy? I grieve, but it doesn't control my entire life and it does not mean that I am always sad. Or that I always feel lonely. It means that I miss my husband, my best friend (well, two of them) and my children's father. I am happy with where I am in my life at work and how well the girls are doing in school and their activities.  I have wonderful friends and family that have my back and support me all the time. I am very blessed in many ways. Is my life full? Yes and no. Do I want to be married again? I'm not sure. I think so. As terrifying as it will be.  I do know one thing, I'd like someone to someday sit by the pool with me, drink in hand and watch the girls swim while the sun sets. Someone to smile at when one of them does well at a meet or earns honor roll. Someone who will help that loneliness feel not so damn lonely. But until then, I'll keep moving forward. Even if I have to fake it once in a while.

Eat your Griefy Vegetables

For the past month, I have been looking forward to summer so much! Last summer we spent a lot of time swimming and playing and I wanted that again! And that's just how we started it! Last week, our first full week of summer, we swam every day, went to the water slides on Friday and even had sleep overs with friends one night! It was fun! Then why am I not as happy as I had imagined? Why do I feel like there is a dark cloud hovering over me? Why am I having such a difficult time focusing?

My best guess? Summer. It's summer. It's the time of year that changed everything. And as I sit here trying to sort my thoughts, I do remember that these same feelings crept in last year and most definitely the year before. And although we are now to the 3rd year without Neil, the start of summer is still painful. And I am trying my damnedest to not feel the pain. I don't want to feel it. I'm doing so well. I'm happy! I enjoy my life. I have two wonderful kids, fabulous friends, a fantastic job with awesome employees! I don't want to be sad.

I feel like a child face down on the floor throwing a temper tantrum about eating my vegetables…"no! no! no! I don't wanna!" And just like a good parent, grief is looking down at me and saying, "too bad, you have to eat them or you can't go out and play."

Which makes complete sense. Every time this darn grief creeps in, I try to put up a fight. Why? What am I afraid of? What am I trying to prove? I worry. What if my friends get sick of me?  Will I appear weak? I know not feeling sadness does not make me strong.  At least, I think I know that. Maybe, I don't want pity. I also don't want to hear the, "it's been blank months, years already, aren't you over it yet?" (And yes, I have heard that before. And no, it's not fun to hear.) But I ask myself these things too. I wonder when it'll be over. And that's just it. No one knows. It probably will never be "over." That's something that I've had a very hard time accepting, grief does not have a finish line. But thankfully, the bouts of sadness don't come around as often and usually don't stay as long. Heck, I haven't had one since winter.

And so, as we venture into the second week of summer, I will
1.) take time for me when needed and try not to suppress or hide my feelings
2.) remember my last summer with Neil and smile that it happened
3.) eat my vegetables

Resolutions I Can Keep!

It's 2015! For me, this is a big year. The last year in my 30's, my oldest will be in double digits and my little one will be 7, which is the 'no longer a baby' age in my book. The gym is going on it's 4th year and each and every day I am filled with so much happiness and appreciation when I look at what it has become that I'm so curious to see where it will go!

Each year most everyone I know makes resolutions. Quitting something, exercising more, eating healthier. Yes, those are great, and I've tried making similar ones but often find it very difficult to be successful at them. This year, I've decided to not be so tough on myself and came up with a few that I am pretty sure I can succeed at. 

Resolutions

1. Schedule some fun time every day. Read some jokes, have a dance party, call a friend.
2. Send more snail mail. Stamp and address 12 cards or letters right now, write one a month.
3. Stop overthinking. (This might be the toughest one, but I'm gonna try!)
4. Relax more. Breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth.
5. Keep a journal or write a small recap of each day on the calendar. (I used to do this and it's amazing how when reading through the days, it transports me back to that exact moment!)
6. Be kind to myself. Life is tough, don't be too hard on myself when something goes wrong.
7. Keep dreaming! If one dream (the gym) can come true, who's to say more dreams can't? The sky is the limit!