A few days ago, I unexpectedly found myself in the emergency room...the same emergency room where Christina was taken. It triggered pain. I kept looking in the room where she had been, as if I might still see her, as if she might still be there. But no. The room was empty. All I could hear was the now-familiar question that ruminates in my mind: "WHY?"
When I was released, I went into the ER waiting room to text family members for a ride home. I peripherally noticed that I was alone in the waiting area except for a young man who, by his appearance, was a heavy metal fan. His multiple links of heavy chain jewelry and colored bandana reminded me of my own metal-head kids, but I was too self-absorbed to be concerned with his presence.
The TV was on in the waiting area but it was just a distant familiar noise of news that no one cares about featuring the usual issues of non-importance. Yet, a snippet of a story bled through to my awareness: An athlete claiming to be a Christian and boasting about his prayers to God to help him and his team win. I shook my head unconsciously to the athlete's arrogance and at the same time, the young metal-head said, "Well Hail Satan!" I was instantly charmed!
We both spontaneously recognized our mutually shared perspective on the news story - and perhaps on religion in general and faster than the speed of a sound byte, we shared our irritations with the common religious assumptions in our culture and we found ourselves in agreement with our conclusions about That Which is Unknown. He identified as a Taoist and talked about the paradox of the chaotic order in the world and in the Universe at large. While we differed in our chronological maturity, we were kindred spirit.
I thought about Christina. She would've LOVED this guy...a peer who, like Christina, still capitalized on shock value. I remembered the images I took from Christina's Facebook page of religious criticisms, observations, and humor, and I began to show them to this young man. He loved them, as I knew he would. I told him they were my taken from my daughter's Facebook page and he commented about how he'd like to meet my daughter. My joy quickly departed and I told him that she took her life just ten months ago. He too became solemnly quiet and expressed his condolences. I told him she was bipolar and struggled for many years with her internal emotional pain. I told him briefly about the brutal reality of having to help my son and son-in-law take her down from the beam from which she hung herself. And then, without saying a word, he pushed back his sleeves exposing multiple sights of self-injury and even a recent suicide attempt. My eyes met his and I told him, "I understand."
He said he was schizophrenic and that no medication has helped him so in an effort to self-medicate, he has turned to alcohol and now struggled with mental illness AND alcoholism. He confided that he has wrestled with suicidal ideation for a long, long time and even made several attempts. At other times, the desire was there, but the courage to follow through was not. He looked into the barrel of a gun - more than once - but lost his nerve. He had once written his farewell, gathered razor blades and filled a tub, but again could not follow through. Currently, his ideation involved stepping out in front of an oncoming semi or freight train.
I asked him if he had family or friends who loved him. He said he did. I asked him if he loved them. He said he did. So then I said, "All that spiritual stuff we just talked about...do you believe that our paths crossed today on accident?" He looked startled. "No, I don't. I believe everything happens for a reason." So I agreed with him. I said, as if I were thinking outloud, "So then, I wonder WHY...WHY would our paths cross? I'm grieving the suicidal death of my daughter, and you are here because of your emotional pain and desire to end your life. What are we supposed to learn from each other?"
He asked me if my Christina had family members and friends who loved her. "More than she ever imagined," I told him. I told him about Christina and Mary. I told him about her children. I told him that we will never be the same without her and that our pain will never go away. At best, we must simply learn how to live with the pain of losing her.
Silence.
Then I told him, "I know why our paths crossed. I am here to tell you this: I know your pain is great. Death would bring relief, for you. I know that. I understand. You would leave your pain behind. But it would be magnified and left for the ones who love you most to carry. I am asking you if you can promise me that you will reconsider and make a commitment to stay alive." He wasn't certain he could agree to that. I didn't expect him to be able to agree, really. "Ok," I said, "then will you consider this: IF you reach a point where you are determined to end your life, will you do it in such a way that your body will not be so damaged as to further increase the pain and trauma your loved ones will experience? They will want to - NEED to - see you, touch you, kiss you, hold you, one...last...time."
He gave me total eye contact and said, "I never thought of it like that before. I mean, I never thought about what would happen after I..." I told him I understood. I told him that I believed that the reason our paths crossed was so that I could beg him to stay, so that he could see what it is like for someone to lose a loved one by suicide...to expand his comprehension of the situation. "If I leave you with one thought," I told him, "it would be to NOT take your own life, in spite of the pain...and to never forget the pain you see in my eyes."
At that point, my ride arrived and I told him I had to leave. He asked my name and told me his. He put out his hand to shake. As I took his hand, I looked him in the eyes and said, "It was a pleasure to meet you. I thank the Universe for arranging this serendipitous moment. I will never forget you."
He said he would never forget either. I pray his memory lasts a lifetime...a very long lifetime of survival, recovery, and newfound happiness. Is that too much to ask, considering God apparently helps athletes and sports teams win, upon request??
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
THE OLDER I GET, THE MORE LIKE MYSELF I BECOME
I recently had to write a paper for school about ten events that most made me who I am today. While I will not recompose that essay (the original was eighteen pages long), I will summarize it here.
The Ten Events:
1. Being a child of the 1960s and 1970s. Generally speaking, growing up during those years exposed me to many things my children never experienced. Civil rights, the fight for Equal Rights for Women, Roe v. Wade (and life before Roe v. Wade), and the Vietnam War made me very much aware that Life is not always fair and that while MY life might be comfortable, there are people who are marginalized and who are never validated by the dominant culture. Being the oldest child and grandchild meant that I was always surrounded by adults. As a result, I vicariously saw the world around me through the lenses of the generation just above me. My mom was young when I was born; a teen mom. I remember her 20th birthday! As she and her brother came of age in the mid sixties, I was right there beside them. I grew up singing along with Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Judy Collins, and Donovan long before adolescence hit and I fell in love with Donny Osmond.
2. Being molested as a child. Without going into too much detail, I will say that this experience taught me - in the long run, not initially - that abusers were often once abused themselves. I learned that familial history often repeats itself. I also learned to trust my gut and that very little is unforgiveable.
3. Getting involved in a toxic faith system. This experience taught me that dysfunction attracts dysfunction. Fundamentalism appeals to those who desperately need a clean slate and a fresh start. It offers power to the powerless. "Plant a seed, send your money, and get a miracle." Who doesn't want to buy a miracle? Yeah, this experience taught me that patriarchy is messed up, that man created god in his own dysfunctional image, and that peer pressure can extend beyond childhood.
4. Leaving a toxic faith system. Walking away from fundamentalism taught me that I had more strength and intelligence than I had ever known. It taught me to think for myself and to stand up for what I know is right. It taught me that no one owns The Truth.
5. Spending about ten years of my life in deep introspection and self-exploration. After leaving the church, I spent a lot of time in self-reflection. I began to keep journals. I started reading about everything: history, religion, philosophy, feminism, sociology, psychology, anthropology. I wrestled with sexuality, poverty, family dsyfunctions, my role as a woman. I started, finally, to get to know myself.
6. Giving birth at home. Giving birth at home taught me about female strength. It taught me to rely on the medical profession only when necessary (trauma and surgery primarily - it is when doctors and medical science are at their finest). I learned that the body is miraculous. I learned that birth is a natural process. My experiences with birthing at home made me feel powerful, capable, and strong. It made me feel connected to all women throughout all time.
7. Having children who are now adults. To see my six children become such wonderful adults, in spite of all they lived through, and in spite of my dysfunctions, has made me realize just how much parents need to remain conscious that every moment is a potential memory for a child and it makes me ask: Are you creating a good memory or a bad memory for your child right now? As much as I'd like to take the credit for who my children have become, I cannot. The things they are now accomplishing and achieving are all in spite of me. Seeing my children become adults has taught me that kids are resilient (thankfully) and that when they are first born, and during their growing up years, we as parents are often clueless about who those kids really are.
8. My second marriage. My second marriage, no longer intact, taught me a lot about standing my ground. It taught me about boundaries and the importance of remaining in the driver's seat of my life. My marriage taught me that life is too short for power struggles. It taught me that sometimes we are attracted to people for the psychological resolve we will achieve as a couple. He gave me the exact lessons I needed to learn, however dysfunctional our relationship was. He was controlling; rather, I LET him be controlling. He treated me like a child; rather, I ACTED like a child and allowed him to treat me like one. Until I learned otherwise.
9. Living below the federal poverty line. This experience taught me that there IS a war against the poor. It taught me that some of the most interesting and dynamic people can be found in Welfare lines. It taught me that most people do not want to be on public aid or standing in line at a food pantry. Living poor also taught me to value having enough. It taught me that most people live way too large. I learned that we are a wasteful society, but our collective garbage is what dumpster-divers bank on.
10. Christina's suicide. Losing Christina the way I did is so recent that my lessons from this experience continue to unfold. So far, I learned to NEVER AGAIN equate suicidal ideation with being "a drama queen." I have learned that losing a child this way creates a grief very different from the expected and anticipated loss and grieving from losing a parent or grandparent due to old age. I have also learned that my former sense of existential peace was fleeting and insecure; I wrestle once more with the unknowable; I resent mortality. On a more practical level, I have learned that embalming is unnecessary and disfiguring; I will NEVER agree to that again. I have also become even more convinced that we need to bring death (like birth) back home. We need to go back to caring for and waking our own dead. That whole day in the hospital with Christina on Life Support (as if she were alive) was the greatest insult - to Christina AND her family. If I could do that day over, I would not have called 911 and I would have waked her here at home.
All of these events - some good, some tragic - have made me more fully who I am. They sharpened my inclination to become more fully myself, closer to self-actualization, and more authentically ME, and for that I am grateful.
The Ten Events:
1. Being a child of the 1960s and 1970s. Generally speaking, growing up during those years exposed me to many things my children never experienced. Civil rights, the fight for Equal Rights for Women, Roe v. Wade (and life before Roe v. Wade), and the Vietnam War made me very much aware that Life is not always fair and that while MY life might be comfortable, there are people who are marginalized and who are never validated by the dominant culture. Being the oldest child and grandchild meant that I was always surrounded by adults. As a result, I vicariously saw the world around me through the lenses of the generation just above me. My mom was young when I was born; a teen mom. I remember her 20th birthday! As she and her brother came of age in the mid sixties, I was right there beside them. I grew up singing along with Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Judy Collins, and Donovan long before adolescence hit and I fell in love with Donny Osmond.
2. Being molested as a child. Without going into too much detail, I will say that this experience taught me - in the long run, not initially - that abusers were often once abused themselves. I learned that familial history often repeats itself. I also learned to trust my gut and that very little is unforgiveable.
3. Getting involved in a toxic faith system. This experience taught me that dysfunction attracts dysfunction. Fundamentalism appeals to those who desperately need a clean slate and a fresh start. It offers power to the powerless. "Plant a seed, send your money, and get a miracle." Who doesn't want to buy a miracle? Yeah, this experience taught me that patriarchy is messed up, that man created god in his own dysfunctional image, and that peer pressure can extend beyond childhood.
4. Leaving a toxic faith system. Walking away from fundamentalism taught me that I had more strength and intelligence than I had ever known. It taught me to think for myself and to stand up for what I know is right. It taught me that no one owns The Truth.
5. Spending about ten years of my life in deep introspection and self-exploration. After leaving the church, I spent a lot of time in self-reflection. I began to keep journals. I started reading about everything: history, religion, philosophy, feminism, sociology, psychology, anthropology. I wrestled with sexuality, poverty, family dsyfunctions, my role as a woman. I started, finally, to get to know myself.
6. Giving birth at home. Giving birth at home taught me about female strength. It taught me to rely on the medical profession only when necessary (trauma and surgery primarily - it is when doctors and medical science are at their finest). I learned that the body is miraculous. I learned that birth is a natural process. My experiences with birthing at home made me feel powerful, capable, and strong. It made me feel connected to all women throughout all time.
7. Having children who are now adults. To see my six children become such wonderful adults, in spite of all they lived through, and in spite of my dysfunctions, has made me realize just how much parents need to remain conscious that every moment is a potential memory for a child and it makes me ask: Are you creating a good memory or a bad memory for your child right now? As much as I'd like to take the credit for who my children have become, I cannot. The things they are now accomplishing and achieving are all in spite of me. Seeing my children become adults has taught me that kids are resilient (thankfully) and that when they are first born, and during their growing up years, we as parents are often clueless about who those kids really are.
8. My second marriage. My second marriage, no longer intact, taught me a lot about standing my ground. It taught me about boundaries and the importance of remaining in the driver's seat of my life. My marriage taught me that life is too short for power struggles. It taught me that sometimes we are attracted to people for the psychological resolve we will achieve as a couple. He gave me the exact lessons I needed to learn, however dysfunctional our relationship was. He was controlling; rather, I LET him be controlling. He treated me like a child; rather, I ACTED like a child and allowed him to treat me like one. Until I learned otherwise.
9. Living below the federal poverty line. This experience taught me that there IS a war against the poor. It taught me that some of the most interesting and dynamic people can be found in Welfare lines. It taught me that most people do not want to be on public aid or standing in line at a food pantry. Living poor also taught me to value having enough. It taught me that most people live way too large. I learned that we are a wasteful society, but our collective garbage is what dumpster-divers bank on.
10. Christina's suicide. Losing Christina the way I did is so recent that my lessons from this experience continue to unfold. So far, I learned to NEVER AGAIN equate suicidal ideation with being "a drama queen." I have learned that losing a child this way creates a grief very different from the expected and anticipated loss and grieving from losing a parent or grandparent due to old age. I have also learned that my former sense of existential peace was fleeting and insecure; I wrestle once more with the unknowable; I resent mortality. On a more practical level, I have learned that embalming is unnecessary and disfiguring; I will NEVER agree to that again. I have also become even more convinced that we need to bring death (like birth) back home. We need to go back to caring for and waking our own dead. That whole day in the hospital with Christina on Life Support (as if she were alive) was the greatest insult - to Christina AND her family. If I could do that day over, I would not have called 911 and I would have waked her here at home.
All of these events - some good, some tragic - have made me more fully who I am. They sharpened my inclination to become more fully myself, closer to self-actualization, and more authentically ME, and for that I am grateful.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
CONSERVATION OF ENERGY
It's been almost a year since Christina died. Since her death, I feel spiritually void. The beliefs that once gave me comfort and inspiration now feel like magical thinking designed to reduce existential angst. I wonder if she took that part of me with her. I wish (it would be so much easier) I could simply believe that she is floating around in a Heaven somewhere, looking down upon us with an angelic smile and an eternal sense of bliss. But I cannot.
I have found myself feeling jealous of Christians (imagine THAT!) who can rest easy, "knowing" that they will someday be reunited with their loved ones in the Hereafter. I WANT to put my head in the sand because Ignorance IS Bliss!! Instead, I feel like I have been left with the harsh, clinical reality that death is simply The End. Like the Monty Python skit, Christina has "ceased to exist."
But I must digress. I must explain. Prior to losing Christina, I felt spiritual. Sometimes I even felt profoundly spiritual. Yet, I always admitted that my beliefs (like everyone's) were without proof or validation. In fact, I could readily admit that the spiritual images and stories that inspired me were simply myths and symbols that served to make the abstract Unknowable more concrete and user-friendly. I envisioned the Divine as distinctly female as the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone and while I recognized male attributes in the Divine, I identified most closely with the Feminine aspects. The agricultural Wheel of the Year deepened my connection with the Sacredness of Nature and allowed me to live the entire circle of Birth-Life-Death-Rebirth with each passing season. Spring was a time of Birth and Life. Summer was a time of Life and coming into fullness. Fall and Winter were about dying and death until Spring would arrive and along with it, a sense of rebirth.
But now...not so much. Now, I struggle with the scientific rationality of Life and Death and sense nothing beyond the cold, hard facts that define each. I suspect that seeing Christina's dead body and handling her body after she passed...those experiences took from me the Divine Mystery of death and replaced it with a very medical, clinical, scientific, harshness. The difference between Life and Death appears to boil down to brain waves, heart rhythms, and involuntary reflexes. And the eyes...the emptiness in the eyes. When we took her down from the beam that Wednesday morning in May, before I ever checked for her pulse or respirations, I lifted her eyelids and recognized that it was Death looking back at me and not my Baby Girl.
And yet...
And yet, with the help of some grief counseling, I was reminded of the Law of Conservation of Energy in Physics...and it has created a spark that just might rekindle the flame of my faith. When I held Christina in my arms that morning - and all throughout that day while she remained on Life Support - what was missing?? If her heart was beating (only because the machinery made it beat) and if her body was breathing (only because the machinery made her breathe), and I still sensed she was not really alive, then what was missing? It was Christina that was gone...her Spirit...her energy.
So, then, if at some level we possess Energy (and we do, don't we??), and if Energy can be neither created nor destroyed (according to the law of the Conservation of Energy), then her Energy must continue to exist - somewhere...at some level...for all eternity. And looking at it like that (still somewhat clinical and still scientifically), a spiritual spark within me ignited! And then I thought, "Christina is not completely gone! Her body lies but still she roams!!"
I still have not returned to my former, simplistic, even child-like spiritual revelry; in fact, I doubt that I will ever feel like that again. But that's not to say I will never be spiritual; it just means that my spirituality will likely re-emerge in a new, rekindled, evolved, reincarnated format. It seems possible.
My mom says my Spirit has been in shock. I'm always amazed at her ability to summarize the complex murky depths of my soul with such consise simplicity. But she's right: My Spirit - my soul - has been in a traumatized state of shock these past ten months (in fact, ten months today). And I realize the shock is just beginning to dissipate because while I still find myself saying, "I can't believe she's gone," I also find myself both believing and knowing that she really IS gone. With the slow acceptance of the reality of her passing comes more pain...and perhaps the beginning of true grieving. This past year, tears have been shed, but the disbelief overshadowed it all. Now, as the disbelief fades, the reality encroaches and brings new, fresh, profound pain and sorrow...so much so I am amazed that I can hold it and still live. Again, ignorance is bliss.
But for now, I hold my focus on that simple law of Physics: Energy can be neither created nor destroyed. And I take comfort in it. I cannot conceptualize further...yet. Her energy may no longer be Christina-Energy. Her energy may have simply returned to the Universe at large. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps somewhere, out there, she travels. Perhaps this time, she really did go to the Dark Side of the Moon.
I have found myself feeling jealous of Christians (imagine THAT!) who can rest easy, "knowing" that they will someday be reunited with their loved ones in the Hereafter. I WANT to put my head in the sand because Ignorance IS Bliss!! Instead, I feel like I have been left with the harsh, clinical reality that death is simply The End. Like the Monty Python skit, Christina has "ceased to exist."
But I must digress. I must explain. Prior to losing Christina, I felt spiritual. Sometimes I even felt profoundly spiritual. Yet, I always admitted that my beliefs (like everyone's) were without proof or validation. In fact, I could readily admit that the spiritual images and stories that inspired me were simply myths and symbols that served to make the abstract Unknowable more concrete and user-friendly. I envisioned the Divine as distinctly female as the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone and while I recognized male attributes in the Divine, I identified most closely with the Feminine aspects. The agricultural Wheel of the Year deepened my connection with the Sacredness of Nature and allowed me to live the entire circle of Birth-Life-Death-Rebirth with each passing season. Spring was a time of Birth and Life. Summer was a time of Life and coming into fullness. Fall and Winter were about dying and death until Spring would arrive and along with it, a sense of rebirth.
But now...not so much. Now, I struggle with the scientific rationality of Life and Death and sense nothing beyond the cold, hard facts that define each. I suspect that seeing Christina's dead body and handling her body after she passed...those experiences took from me the Divine Mystery of death and replaced it with a very medical, clinical, scientific, harshness. The difference between Life and Death appears to boil down to brain waves, heart rhythms, and involuntary reflexes. And the eyes...the emptiness in the eyes. When we took her down from the beam that Wednesday morning in May, before I ever checked for her pulse or respirations, I lifted her eyelids and recognized that it was Death looking back at me and not my Baby Girl.
And yet...
And yet, with the help of some grief counseling, I was reminded of the Law of Conservation of Energy in Physics...and it has created a spark that just might rekindle the flame of my faith. When I held Christina in my arms that morning - and all throughout that day while she remained on Life Support - what was missing?? If her heart was beating (only because the machinery made it beat) and if her body was breathing (only because the machinery made her breathe), and I still sensed she was not really alive, then what was missing? It was Christina that was gone...her Spirit...her energy.
So, then, if at some level we possess Energy (and we do, don't we??), and if Energy can be neither created nor destroyed (according to the law of the Conservation of Energy), then her Energy must continue to exist - somewhere...at some level...for all eternity. And looking at it like that (still somewhat clinical and still scientifically), a spiritual spark within me ignited! And then I thought, "Christina is not completely gone! Her body lies but still she roams!!"
I still have not returned to my former, simplistic, even child-like spiritual revelry; in fact, I doubt that I will ever feel like that again. But that's not to say I will never be spiritual; it just means that my spirituality will likely re-emerge in a new, rekindled, evolved, reincarnated format. It seems possible.
My mom says my Spirit has been in shock. I'm always amazed at her ability to summarize the complex murky depths of my soul with such consise simplicity. But she's right: My Spirit - my soul - has been in a traumatized state of shock these past ten months (in fact, ten months today). And I realize the shock is just beginning to dissipate because while I still find myself saying, "I can't believe she's gone," I also find myself both believing and knowing that she really IS gone. With the slow acceptance of the reality of her passing comes more pain...and perhaps the beginning of true grieving. This past year, tears have been shed, but the disbelief overshadowed it all. Now, as the disbelief fades, the reality encroaches and brings new, fresh, profound pain and sorrow...so much so I am amazed that I can hold it and still live. Again, ignorance is bliss.
But for now, I hold my focus on that simple law of Physics: Energy can be neither created nor destroyed. And I take comfort in it. I cannot conceptualize further...yet. Her energy may no longer be Christina-Energy. Her energy may have simply returned to the Universe at large. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps somewhere, out there, she travels. Perhaps this time, she really did go to the Dark Side of the Moon.
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