Nos. 11 - 14

No. 11 was Iris Johansen's Dead Aim, a good suspense novel:

No. 12 was Robin Talley's Pulp, the parallel story of two queer teens in current time and two queer teens in the 1950s:

No. 13 was Lauren Groff's Florida. I really struggled with this one. The audio book was read very slowly (I ended up speeding it up), and I just couldn't get my brain to stay engaged. I just didn't click with the writer's style.

No. 14 was The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang. It's the story of a high-achieving autistic woman hiring an escort to learn how to date. I really loved the story, though I was surprised when it became pretty graphic as their lessons turned sexual :)  

   

 That's all I got through in February :)

Companion of My Voice

The THS band performed this song last year in memory of my dad, who volunteered countless hours for more nearly 25 years. Thank you, Jim, for this wonderful tribute to my dad - and this gift to Mom, Eryn, and me. I bawl every time I listen to it. 💓

Why I loved to hike with Dad

My last post said "First" - and then I never wrote a "Second" - HA! I knew that when I hit "publish", but I didn't want it to become too long and have my point get lost in pages and pages of words :)

So here's more thoughts "as I look back at the past year, and Dad's death, and Dad's life, and all that..."

As I've mentioned, Dad's mental illness struggles sometimes caused tension in our family and in our relationship. When he was feeling low, it manifested in anger or withdrawing or overreaction or, most often, what I would describe as "being poopy" about activities and such.

But when we were on the trail, there was almost none of that weirdness.

I'm not saying that Dad wasn't weird - because he was very weird! But our strong personalities didn't clash on the trail. He didn't fixate on things. He seemed free and happy and actually enjoying it all when we were hiking - or biking.

When I look back at photos, the most genuine smiles I see are in our hiking photos. He loved the outdoors, and when I could convince him to go out with me, he almost always had a great time... WE had a good time.

And it was kind of "our thing" - even though others sometimes joined us, we often headed out to the woods by ourselves. It felt like a special thing for us 💓

When visiting a new spot or a new trail, I frequently commented on how much Dad would like it and how I needed to bring him back soon. My heart breaks that I will never be able to do that.

There are a million things I miss about my dad, but our adventures are definitely at the top of the list. I think about him every time I'm out, wishing he was with me - and often feeling that he IS with me. I will always treasure those memories. 

Obviously, I don't know what the after life looks like, but I imagine Dad out hiking, and I dream of someday hiking with him again.
💕

Being honest is important

On Tuesday, it will be year. A year since my world changed forever. A year since my dad ended his life.

We'll never know for sure what happened that day. We'll never know what Dad was thinking or feeling. We'll never know why he took all his medicine at once. We'll never know for sure what he intended.

Knowing Dad's heart, I honestly believe he did not mean to die. But that will forever remain a mystery.

I'm supposed to have all kinds of feelings right now. But I'm not sure what I feel. I've been anxious as "the day" approached, fearing all kinds of overwhelming breakdowns and fits of uncontrollable crying. But I don't really feel that. And that brings some guilty thoughts.

I recently expressed this to a friend who was checking in on me, and she suggested that it might be because I've done a good job of processing all along. I've been doing the work for a year, so this day doesn't necessarily feel any different than yesterday or the day before. That makes sense to me.

Also, Eryn and Mom's remodel/construction/big move is coming to a crescendo, and that's keeping me focused on forward movement and some resolution to this year-long journey.

Since I'm focusing on honesty in this post, I'll admit that I truly enjoy organizing and packing and sorting and things like that. So while the work is exhausting and seemingly never ending, I enjoy the tasks and the process. That makes this transition a little easier.

I awoke Saturday, expecting 1-4 inches of snow on the ground, triggering upwards to a week with stormy weather and no school. There was nothing, and my disappointment was way out of proportion. I felt sad and mopey, and I think that's because I was expecting that snowy weather to - I don't know - distract me? or excite me? or give me something on which to focus? or allow a short break from the reality of "life"? I was ready to hunker down, and the change of plans left me filled with unwarranted sadness.

Perhaps the excitement over the pending storm was distracting me from my feelings? I'm not sure. But I was able to come out of my funk after getting some things done, exercising several times alone and with friends (exercise has been SO key for me!), standing outside during a heavy snow flurry, and soaking in some sunshine Sunday.

Life is complicated. Ugh.

As I look back at the past year, and Dad's death, and Dad's life, and all that, some things stand out.

First, it's incredibly important to me that we are real about what happened. My dad suffered his entire life with mental illness. He had sometimes-crippling OCD and depression, and that made his life and his relationships difficult. He did everything he could to combat these diseases: counseling, prayer, medication, meditation, exercises, etc. In the end, he lost. To learn more, click HERE to read my mom's words.

A lot of things contributed to Dad's final downward spiral, including his father's recent death, politics and social justice issues, some very negative actions by those close to us, and the fact that many people he cared deeply about were on the other side of political and moral issues. 

I knew my dad struggled, but I had no idea the depth of this illness. I respect his decision to keep that from me, but I wish he had trusted me with the knowledge so I could have helped and been more supportive of his needs.

I've seen suicide described two ways: as the taking of one's life, and also the intentional taking of one's life. As I said, I don't believe there was an intent to die. But he did end his own life.

So maybe "suicide" isn't the right word. Or maybe I hesitate to use it because of the societal connotations that I'm trying to change by sharing?? Or maybe I, myself, am avoiding the word because it's too painful. But the mental-health crisis that led to Dad's death is the problem, no matter how it's labeled.

But let's be clear: My dad did not die from a medical condition, as one relative described it. That is not honest. It may make us all feel better to let others think he had a heart attack or cancer, but that's not what happened. It's imperative that we're honest and share his story so others can be helped - so others know they aren't alone.

If he had suffered a heart attack, we'd be proclaiming it from the rooftops, encouraging those around us to get screened and eat better and exercise and take steps to make sure we're healthy and don't succumb to the same illness.

Mental illness and suicide are major problems in our world right now. In 2017, more than 47,000 Americans died by suicide. There were an estimated 1,400,000 suicide attempts that same year. Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the US. (source)

"There is no single cause to suicide. It most often occurs when stressors exceed current coping abilities of someone suffering from a mental health condition." (source)

I've personally been affected by more than a half-dozen suicide deaths. This is NOT something that "happens to other people." 

Please don't whitewash my father's death to make yourselves feel better or because you're embarrassed or see it as a failing. Suicide needs to be talked about. Friends, family, co-workers, loved ones, strangers need to know they are loved and they are not alone and the struggles they have are common and can be addressed. Also, survivors need to know they aren't alone!

My dad didn't fail. He fought long and hard, and he was a good man who just couldn't beat it. 

Also, PLEASE stop making jokes and flippant comments about having OCD because you like your house tidy. It's not funny, and it hurts.

Mom, Eryn, and I have some self-care things planned for the next few days. Please keep us in your thoughts as we hit this milestone and feel whatever we're going to feel. 

💗

PS - If you're struggling with mental illness and/or thoughts of self harm, please seek help. Tell someone. You are not alone. You are loved. You matter. Click HERE.

Giant Race Half Marathon (9/9/18)

On Giant Race day 2018, we got up early, drove across the bay, and parked in our reserved lot. There turned out to be plenty of street parking available, but we heeded the warnings and prepaid for a spot. Though unnecessary, it was nice to not have that extra worry in a city we're not used to.

We walked a few blocks to the waterfront as the sun rose over the fog:

ATT Park across McCovey Cove:

One more group pic before we head to the starting line:

READY!

The half marathon course heads out The Embarcadero and turns around just before Golden Gate Bridge:

Alcatraz just off shore:

:)

It wasn't a goal race for me, so I took the time for some pictures and a walk up the big hill. Then I tried to hang on as I made my way in the sun and rising temps back to the stadium.

The best part is hanging out on the outfield!

Look who I found!

Just laying in the outfield... NBD

They have awesome post-race snacks - including the all-important chocolate milk

And here comes Eryn!

Congrats!

The weather was perfect, so we spent tons of time just soaking it up!

On the warning track:

In the dugout!!

Infield!

Repping my crew :)

Couldn't resist :)

💖

Cutest medals:

Refueling:

:)