Barnmaven

Making sense of this

Today I took a shortcut to work, up a gravel road through the hills.  At the tip-top of the hill, where you can see miles and miles of farms and houses and hills and rivers, cars on the highway and cows grazing in the pasture, at the place where sometimes lovers park at night and where hikers climb during the day and where hawks carry off small rodents and snakes burrow and coyotoes and foxes move about in pursuit of their daily business, at this place I found something terrible.

A car, parked.  A body on the ground behind it.  Someone I do not know, someone cradling a shotgun in his arms, the life already gone from him, hat on the ground a few feet away.  I did not see his face.  I did not want to look that closely, because the the moment I saw the gun, I knew I couldn't look any closer.  Some things do not need to be seen to be understood.

I notified the authorities and waited for them to arrive, to begin the business of documenting the details of this man's passage from one life to the next.  Facts, lined up like books on a shelf.  Name, address, date of birth, next of kin, cause of death, time of death.

But these facts will not tell the story of the person who was laying on his side on the hard, dusty ground up in the horse heaven hills.  They will not describe what thoughts went through his mind, what scenery his eyes beheld, whether he cried, whether he prayed, who it was that he thought of in his last moments with love or with hate or with despair.  None of that will be known to any of us.

Somewhere today someone will receive a knock on the door from a sheriff's deputy.  They will be asked to identify the body of a man they knew, possibly a man they loved.  One man's life is over,  other lives will be changed forever.  Was he a father?  A brother?  A son?  Does he leave a wife or a partner behind?  What was the tragedy that drove him to the top of the hill?  What obstacle in his life seemed so insurmountable to him that he could not face it?  Who will mourn him now that he is gone?  Will they be angry with him for what he did? 

And now, on the other side of the veil, in that place we living cannot see or touch, does he know peace?  Does he see things differently?

This is not about me.  I am fine. 

He is not fine.  Or at least, he was not fine.  Now he is somewhere else, and very likely has left behind some other people who are also not fine.  Not okay. 

Suicide is not the act of a cowardly person.  Someone close to me who lost a loved one to suicide told me of the reading and research they had done to try and make sense of their loss.  They learned that a person's body will instinctually attempt to resist the means of suicide.  Every instinct we are born with tells us NOT to pull the trigger, not to swallow the pills, not to kick the chair out.  The body will involuntarily jerk away from the bullet, try to keep breathing, vomit, struggle, even when the person who is attempting the suicide is dead set on taking his or her own life.  We want to live.  Even when we want to die.

When someone is living with suicidal ideations, there are patterns of behavior that are recognizable. 

They talk about suicide or about death.  A lot.

They say "I wish I were dead" or "The world would be a better place without me,"  or other expressions of how they feel their lives are meaningless, hopeless.

They isolate themselves from friends, family, coworkers.

They start giving things away, even things that really mean something to them.

They stop taking care of themselves, their homes, their appearance.  They may show a marked drop in productivity.

There is no way to know for sure if a person is suicidal, but if you know someone who fits these criteria, now would be a good time to offer your love and support.  To help them know that someone cares, to encourage them to take steps to getting well, like seeking medical or therapeutic help.

I took a shortcut through the hills today, and I saw something that makes me want to tell you something important.  I want you to know that if you are not fine then can call someone who loves you.  Or if you can't think of anyone to call, then call this number and talk to someone who is on the other end of the phone because they care about you and they want to help you:

1-800-273-8255

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

He was not a statistic.

I don't know anything about him, but I know that he was a person and I wish I had a chance to tell him that before he pulled that trigger.

 

 This post was syndicated at BlogHer! 

 

On friends and gay teen suicides and other random things

I haven't written a blog post in so long you probably all thought I'd skipped town with a hot young Flamenco dancer.  You did, didn't you?  Admit it.

I didn't mean to take a vacation from blogging, but honestly, I didn't have much to say.  My friend Jaimee, the original vagabond, finally showed up on my doorstep after a meandering drive West from New Jersey.  I wasn't sure when she'd arrive or how long she'd stay.  Unfortunately it was horrible timing work-wise, so I couldn't really take any days off.  When I was home and got done slogging through all the other stuff I needed to do, the last thing I wanted to do was sit at my computer when I could be spending time with one of the most lovely people on the planet.

When you're me, or when you're like me, friendships and people aren't easy.  As Jaimee would say, I'm crunchy on the outside but the crunchy layer is only there to mask my soft nougaty center.  I'd like to think that as I get older I get more comfortable with who I am and less afraid to show my feelings, but I'm sure I'm not as far along that path as I'd like to be.  People scare me.  I don't trust easily, and I have a terrible phobia of being made to look ridiculous.  The end result is that I will twist myself into the most convoluted of knots to avoid allowing anyone to see how sensitive I truly am. 

Jaimee is one of those people that can get along with just about anyone.  She's part tree hugger, part hippie chick, part beautiful, sophisticated center of attention at parties and she can put on a dress and heels and have every guy in the room wishing she'd dance with him.  In many ways you would think that we have nothing in common aside from our mutual love of nature and the outdoors.  When I left New Jersey for Washington Jaimee gifted me with a beautiful necklace - a Yin/Yang symbol made of a white and a black pearl on a silver circle.  She told me that she thought it was symbolic of our friendship. 

What we found, though, when we were comfortable with each other to actually talk about the important stuff, is that we are inwardly very much alike.  She's just far better than I am at masking her vulnerability.

So we've been hanging out a bit the last week and a half.  We didn't *do* much, really, just sort of hung around.  Sadly I was unable to convert her into a Cowgirl.  I like her anyway.

 

It was good times. 

~@~@~@~@~@~

On the home front, C started medication two weeks ago.  We've been gradually increasing dosage, and he's been doing better.  He had two days last week that he didn't get written up at aftercare, which was a first.  He's still apparently not doing all that great fitting into the routine in Kindergarten, or at least that's what the prinicipal observed to me, since his teacher hasn't communicated a damn thing.  I requested last Friday that I get an email from his teacher just letting me know what kind of a day he had - even just a sentence or two so that I could communicate that to his doctor.  Its Thursday.  Guess how many reports I've gotten from his teacher?  Yeah.  I requested the IEP testing be conducted and that's underway.  I know a bit more now than I did when this started with A a few years ago.  I now understand that the IEP is not only to address cognitive function but life-skills as well.  So even if the testing shows no cognitive impairment, under the I.D.E.A. he is still entitled to assistance in social and life skills. 

And because I'm in a good mood at the moment, I'll refrain from discussing the nightmare arguments I've had with the insurance company over coverage and refills. 

I have friends and acquaintances I've met who are very anti-medication, and friends who are pro-medication except when it comes to their own children.  Lest anyone think that my very first avenue of approach is to medicate, let me clarify a few things.

From my perspective, medication isn't always a requirement when behavioral problems are present.  As an adult with ADHD, I'm not even certain that medication is a necessity for all children who have the disorder.  I had no idea I had ADHD until I was almost 40 years old.  I spent my whole life learning how to live with it with no pharmaceutical help whatsoever.  It CAN be done...but I can tell you from experience that it's not easy. 

When it came to my own children, my first steps were to find out what was wrong and to understand how much it was a problem.  We tried things prior to going the medication route, and honestly, I'm almost sorry we waited as long as I did.  My daughter's quality of life before Focalin and Lamictal was so awful compared to how it is now that there I times I feel guilty for not pursuing it sooner.   We actually waited a little bit longer to medicate C than we did with his sister.  His issues have manifested much differently, and I wasn't really certain how he would react to a school environment. 

For my family, medication has made a colossal difference.  But I also respect that it is not the avenue of choice for every family.  At the best, though, I hope that parents of children who have ADHD, Bipolar illness, Anxiety disorder or any other neurological disorder that affects corporate governance and cognitive function will at least consider looking into medication. 

I've heard so often, "Medication just turns your kid into a zombie."  I can't promise that every medication out there won't turn your kid into a zombie -  but I can tell you that there are very likely many that won't.  We did find one medication that had results we disliked - weight gain, general listlessness - and very few positive results, so we discontinued it very quickly and found something that worked better.  I can't imagine any parent that wants their child to be a zombie.  I mean, can you imagine how hard it is to clean all of those brains out of their school clothes? 

 

~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Finally, if you've stuck with me this far, I will weigh in on the hot topic of the news, blogosphere and twitterverse this week - suicide amongst gay teens.

It is distressing and disheartening that even with all we know now about sexual orientation being an integral part of a person's hardwiring, with LGBT stars living open lives, with television shows and movies and reality shows either featuring LGBT cast or at least having them as key cast members.  Unfortunately our growing awareness and acceptance hasn't reached every family, particularly people in small, conservative towns, and the social conservatives among us have only stepped up the hate rhetoric in response to such wide acceptance. 

I hope that the hard of heart among us will be moved by the recent attention to this issue, that anyone who is a parent or an aunt, uncle, grandparent, teacher, classmate, or spiritual leader will read the following statistics and if they have been unsupportive before, will mend their ways:

According to a recent study, LGBT teens who have experienced rejection from their family are

• 8.4 times more likely than their non-LGBT peers to attempt suicide;
• 3.4% more likely to use drugs; and
• 3.4 times more likely to engage in unprotected sexual activities than their peers who have received family acceptance and support.

There are people who want to argue that the bible preaches against homosexuality.  I'm no biblical scholar, and I won't pretend to be.  There are plenty of respected scholars out there, though, who have researched the etymology and original context of the earliest writings the bible was translated from, and who have concluded that the writers may have been speaking about something entirely differently than the current commonly accepted meaning.  Issues of biblical scholarship aside, as a Christian, I find that my understanding of God and Christ are so much bigger than what one can find in a book.  If you want to see the love of Christ in living color, all you have to do is look at the eyes and hearts of the people around you.  In my belief system, each and every one of us is a child of God and each and every one of us is loved equally.  I could say more about my opinion of people who aren't biblical scholars, have never researched its many translations or read all the many versions and scholarly treatises regarding it, but are absolutely willing to take the word of some pastor or religious commentator that it is the unequivocal word of God and only the one translation they're reading from is the "right" one, but I won't.  It would be a waste of breath.

Science has taught us that being gay is not a choice, that it is the way people are born.  How can it be a sin to be born gay?  Seriously.  God doesn't make those kind of mistakes.  If God thought being gay was sinful, people wouldn't be born that way. I am so tired of Christians who need to feel morally superior to other people.  Stop being so damned judgmental, will you?  Your hatred and fear are, literally, killing our teenagers. 

~@~@~@~@~@~

 And finally, in other news, the chicken is off the nest and happily wandering around the yard eating worms like all good chickens should.

I know this was long.  I'm sorry.  I missed you.  How have you all been?

 

The Grand Scheme of Things

It's a good thing its Friday.  That means tomorrow's Saturday.  That means tomorrow is the day I can go ride for a few hours, and right now I really need to go be on a horse.

As much as this was a productive week (I cleared out the jungle in the front that used to be a vegetable garden.  Cleared it to the ground.  Go, me) it has also been a very difficult week emotionally.  First there was this, and believe me it has been a very difficult time at work. Everyone is emotional, odd things and comments set off random bouts of tears.  Not only that, but someone close to me is having an enormous personal struggle, and I'm worried very much about their safety and well being.   And frankly, when I read the news, I sort of understand why people feel so damned hopeless. This is a hard world we live in, and we are in frightening times of late.  On top of everything else, my dog Lady has really been on my mind lately.  I'm missing her so much it takes my breath away sometimes. 

Friday nights are hard, as well, because the kids are at their dad's, and even though I often relish my quiet time, and I get my time to ride on Saturdays because they are spending time with J, I still miss them.  I always feel a little at loose ends on Friday nights.  I don't go out much, so its just me and the critters.  Half the time I eat a bowl of cereal standing in the kitchen, watching Olbermann and wondering why I'm such a pathetic homebody. 

In this little corner of the world, I look at all the voices clamoring for attention.  I know I'm one of them, a speck among the multitude, seeking relevance, seeking understanding, seeking connection.  At the beginning and the end of it all, and most of the time in between, we are truly alone with ourselves.  We suffer pain alone.  We can seek out comfort from others, we can receive solace from the support and love of those around us, but ultimately each of us bears our own pain in our own way, and no one else knows its depths or its breadth.  Thinking of the pain of others often releases me from the necessity of dealing with my own feelings.  It tends to remind me, as well, that even when my life seems very small, insignificant and challenging, I have many blessings and that spending time dwelling on what is painful isn't really a helpful way to spend my time.  Still, its there.  For all of us.

How do we find hope and meaning in all of this?

Faith helps me.  I don't know if there's a "grand plan" for my life, but I have the hope that there's something more, something greater.  My friend Charles tells me there is.  Actually, he tells me a lot of jokes, too, and you know those help. 

My children help me.  How can I not look on these faces and feel that my life has meaning, has purpose?

 

I can also look at the kindness of friends and family, like Michelle, who every Saturday blesses me by coming by with her horse trailer and taking me out to the trail.  Like my brother, who every time he comes to visit me takes my kids to play for a couple of hours and then cooks me dinner on top of it.  My online community, who send me tweets and leave me comments, and give me so much support just by being there.

And I see things like this .  And I remember that despite all in this world that is painful and hard and scary, that there really IS love and hope.  And sparkly unicorns that leave glittering piles of happy. 

And I still get to ride tomorrow. 

Against the tide

A coworker took his life last week. 

His story, mostly unknown to me, is not mine to tell.  Events like this, though, tend to send even the most callous of hearts deep into pools of introspection, and I'm no exception.

How many times have you been there, where he must have been?  In that dark pit of hopelessness, where there seemed to be no hope, no help, no acceptable course of action other than.  That.  That place.  Like a lot of you, I've been there a time or two and managed to climb back out.  I claim no special insight as to why.  I just know I made it back past the edge, even when everything inside me was screaming out to just let go of all of the pain and make it stop.  MAKE.  IT.  STOP.   Fear of what might happen to my children, my beloved animals, my parents - effective tools against plunging off the cliff.  Fear of what lies on the other side of the veil, also effective.  In the most gut-wrenching despair, there has been the voice of God in my mind, the sense of arms holding me tight, a presence that seemed to say "You are not alone." 

What in life is so insurmountable that we cannot move past it?  I have no answer.  And the response is different for every single one of us.  Why do some people look at the darkest of circumstances and attach themselves to the one tiny speck of shiny twinkling light that they can find, and others can't even see the light, or worse yet, reject it in favor of the blackness? 

I'm not a Pollyanna.  I know that there are times when the only way is farther down because there is no apparent up.  I know that there are times when there is simply NO acceptable alternative.  There are times when the only thing to do is pick the least of the worst case scenarios and turn the switch.  I would think it rude of me to assume that simply telling someone "There is hope" is the answer.  BUT I BELIEVE THERE IS HOPE.  Always.  Its just that we have different ways, all of us, of finding it.  Some of us cannot, will not find it on our own.  Sometimes it takes help to be able to work around the Bad Thing that is pulling us into the current.

When we are caught in the undertow, it can become impossible to struggle against that tide, to find safety.  Sometimes we need to be carried awhile, to be pulled to shore by strong and caring hands.  I wish this man had been able to reach out and I am so heartbroken for him that he was not. 

If you are at the end of your rope, please find someone to talk to.  If there is no friend you believe can listen to you, call your local crisis line or suicide hotline.  Call your pastor, your mother, your sister, your high school Spanish teacher or your doctor.  Call me, if that's what it takes.  Just call.  Let someone help you find your way back to shore.