Half-full or empty…

A young person once asked me to say something inspiring to her, because she was feeling low. “Tell me something profound,” she pleaded.

I stared at her and said that’s not how it works. She apologized, but I know she needed help. I’m glad she reached out, but I know I have my limits.

There are days when I am numb and blank. Just staring at nothing, thinking of nothing, feeling nothing but emptiness. It started about a year ago, and it was just one of those things where I couldn’t even think.

Maybe I’m tired. I’m probably spent with all the heartache and tears. Grief is exhausting, and I know I don’t have any more to give. I want my Allie back. I just want her to come home. That is all I want.

When someone tells me how amazing it is that I am doing something for Allie’s honor, I just don’t know what that is I am supposedly doing. Is this comment just empty platitude for the sake of saying something? I’m not judging the person who says it; I know the comment comes from a good heart. I just can’t see what’s going on. I can’t see the good. It is hard to see what good came from her taking her life.

I sound defeatist because I am. Tomorrow is the 3rd year that we lost our girl. I relive each moment. I remember each gut-wrenching second. It feels like yesterday, yet so long ago.

I hope everyone who knew her is going strong. I pray that everyone around her will continue to grow bigger and better. It’s such an awful experience, and I know those in the midst of their despair can’t think of anything but to end it.

I have nothing profound to say here. I am just a bit lost these days. I’m praying and hoping this will pass after this weekend. Maybe my life just will hum along at a pace, and I will make the best of it for my surviving kids. I want them to grow and blossom. We are not defined by suicide. Allie is not defined by suicide. She leaves behind so many memories, and I hope I will be able to only focus on the good.

Where are you right now…

Depression is debilitating. I can’t move, think, or feel anything beyond my grief. Meds sometimes work, but sometimes, you can only take so much to numb yourself before it’s beyond repair.

I’m in need of something that I don’t know. I’m so lost and bereft. Yes I have to live – my children and husband need me to live so that they too will have a will to live. The emptiness, however, is never ending. I need something to make this end, even for just a moment.

I write a lot on this page about having faith, etc. Right now I have none. I have no outlook about the future other than we live, then we die. We live well to make our bodies feel safe, clean, content. Beyond life, I can’t see the hope that there is another life after this.

Yep, I am in a dark place. I’m not suicidal. I’m not going to hurt myself. But I’ve become disillusioned and jaded. I’m hopeless and cynical. I’m angry all the time and bitter. It’s not a good life, and I hate it. I miss my other self. I just can’t jump the stile to go back to the other side.

My family went on a vacation far from our usual spots. It’s very quiet here. Beautiful and peaceful. It has also shown me how lonely I am. Even with my husband, I’m alone in my grief. I need help, but don’t know where and with whom. I can’t even begin to pray, but I’m trying.

I hope I can shake off this despair. No I don’t watch the news or read it. I keep looking at the sky to find something to lift me. It’s a beautiful sight, but I’m in so dark that I can’t see the lights.

Pray for me for mercy and hope. I am so low. I hate my pity party, but I cannot believe how this evil burden is holding me down so heavily. Pray and hope for myself isn’t possible right now, but I will keep trying. Your help will be most graciously appreciated. ❤️❤️

Waiting for Godot…

My husband and I finally went out to a gathering last Saturday, a first get-together with people not in our close circle. The party was good fun with wonderful people with whom we played gin card games.

As I watched my husband finish his hand at one point, I noticed the slight droop of his shoulders and his well-worn smile that had a slight hint of sadness to it. It brought back to mind the long journey we’re traveling together. It’s a sorrowful journey yet loving and meaningful. We still have our other kids, yet one will always be missing. So deeply missed after almost three years.

In the three years, my youngest girls grew more than a foot each. We’ve made changes to our home just to break the mood and keep us busy. We’ve learned who are our real friends, and we’ve focused our energies.

Each step each day will forever be painful. I think there were just a handful of moments in the last years that I didn’t think about Allie. She is just my bright light, and I miss her every moment. I cry and plead for her. I want to find her, and I know where she is I cannot go yet. Sometimes I hope I get sick so that I can be with her. I’m not suicidal, but if death comes knocking, I won’t fight it.

Then I see my sweet kids, and I try to be brave. Bravery is such an understated character trait. It helps define you if you find that will power to do and be better. Standing up to fear is so very hard. Facing your frailties is sometimes unbearable.

Yet I must be brave. My kids deserve to live as fully and as lovingly as they can. I have to make their lives as meaningful as they can be. I have to show them that in between the deepest depths of our despair is love, light, God, Allie, redemption and joy. Pure joy.

I have seen that joy. I’ve felt it, even if it was fleeting. I do know it will come again, and I want my kids to know and hang on to that hope. This joy and love comes in different faces and ways, so I have to show them where to look for them. They are all gifts from God, and we cannot ever say no to His gifts.

God bless to each of you reading this. We are all brought together because we’re all looking for an answer. It’s an answer that can only be answered when we shed our physical side and embrace the spiritual. This is not a literal translation, even though we do this shedding when we pass away. It is in the now that we will find it. I’m going to keep looking, for these gifts and my girl.