Welcome to K-F--- radio! Playing all negative, all the time!
My friend Horatio calls it playing K-F--- radio when your head is endlessly filled with thoughts of how inadequate you are, what a screw up you are being, going over all the things in your life that are causing stress, things you can't change for the most part, like a childs' chronic illness, or your adult childs' choices. The thoughts are rarely rational, or helpful, serving only the purpose of self flagellation.
I know this but I still let K-F--- radio run through my head like the latest hit song until I'm sick of myself. Lately it is the only station I can seem to listen to, awake or asleep there is no escape, my thoughts even follow me into my dreams, often leaving me more exhausted upon awakening than I was when I went to bed, this is provided I can turn off my head long enough to fall asleep at all.
I haven't felt this trapped and depressed in a long time, I can usually remind myself that each day the sun shines a little longer before the darkness begins, but right now while I am in the middle of this bone deep sadness it is difficult to see that it will have and end, that I will feel better in time.I don't feel like I can share my feelings with others, I have learned that I lose the ones close to me if I burden them with my dark thoughts. So instead I put on my mask and go out and pretend I am fine, and I share here where I am anonymous, where the tears of my heart can be released.
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Holiday Holes
NO matter how much time passes by ther is a hole in our home that nothing can fill, no other time of the year save Fathers day leaves as much of a hole as Christmas time. Small things become reminders of the last Christmas that we spent as a complete family, Colley's Christmas stocking sits empty, family tradition is for each family member to receive an ornament from Mrs.Claus on Christmas Eve to be placed on the tree, ornaments meant to go with that child once they leave home to start their own traditions. My heart aches with the memories of the past, the bittersweet memories bring joy and pain. Colley's first Christmas when the children in our family get a very special teddy bear, his last Christmas, and all the times between. I so enjoy watching my other children and grandchildren and thank God they are here but nothing will ever make us whole.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Aftermath
How do I describe what the hours, minutes, seconds were like after the death of Colley, the police did come into the house eventually, Lee took them down to Colley's room. In my panic I had not noticed how carefully he had prepared, he had cleaned his room, put notes on various items as to what he wanted us to do with them, had lit a candle and had music playing in the background. I am sure he intended his father to find him when he went down to wake him for church, while I would have spared Todd's dad the agony of finding Colley's body, I am grateful it was not Lee or I believe I would have been burying two instead of one. Yes he left a note, the words are burned into my soul, "Please don't blame anyone, it's no ones fault but mine. Love you all, Colley".
I had collapsed after yelling at the police officer who told me my son was dead, I wanted him to take it back, it wasn't true, I wanted to throw up everything I had ever eaten in my life, I wanted to escape somewhere in my mind and never come back. My husband ran to me and I pushed him away, I told him it was his fault, not because he had argued with Colley but because the guns were too accessible and I had asked him less than two months before to get a gun safe, even as I said the words I wanted to take them back, I meant them and I didn't mean them, I loved Lee and hated him. I wanted to die, Oh how I wanted to die! How do you describe the agony of soul and body and mind and yet the world refuses to stop moving and keeps pushing, forcing you to make decisions that no parent should ever have to make.
Your home becomes a crime scene, photos are taken, some of Colley's belongings were taken along with his note, those few last words we were left with, documents must be signed, questions answered. Lee handled the questions, took them around to see what they needed to see, I sat, frozen, hoping to die, hoping to find this wasn't real. The female member of the sheriffs office who was taking photographs left with tears in her eyes, she is the only one I saw any emotion from and it touched me, I do not know her name, I wanted to thank her but I could not make myself move.
We wanted to go to him in the trailer, they wouldn't let us, not until he had been moved out of the trailer onto the stretcher and in the body bag. I could not see him that way, not in that bag, I know what they smell like, feel like, I have carried the little bodies of lost babies in those bags, we carefully swaddle those little babes and my son would not have that same care and I just could not see my son that way. My husband and my oldest son did go out to say a last goodbye before they took Colley away. When someone dies violently it becomes a case for the medical examiner and as a family you lose any right to refuse an autopsy, my precious son was going to be taken away and I had no power to control what was going to happen.
I donated Colley's eyes, I don't know why it became important but I needed some part of this make sense, I never thought I would be able to donate a part of my child but I wanted to have something good come from the loss of this part of my heart.
So much happened in the space of a few hours that felt like days, we were surrounded by people and yet felt alone, isolated, we had to find someone to clean the trailer, family needed to be notified, paperwork signed, we had to find a way to tell our younger children their brother was dead. I am not sure I could tell who all the people were at our house, I wanted to bring my other boys home, I wanted to wrap them up and keep them safe, I had to call work and tell them I would not be coming in. My son was dead. I had to make arrangements with a funeral home so that my son could be released once they were done at the medical examiners. People kept coming by, words must be said comfort given, food showed up, I couldn't eat. The magpies kept coming back. I needed to sleep and yet my brain would not allow it. A funeral must be planned, a cemetery chosen, Colley's friends needed to be called to let them know their friend was gone.
As on that day a brain can only take so much before it will begin to shut itself off trying to isolate the pain that is too much to bear all at once. Memories can be the same way, reaching a point where you must stop for a time or you must perish. I must stop, enough for now
I had collapsed after yelling at the police officer who told me my son was dead, I wanted him to take it back, it wasn't true, I wanted to throw up everything I had ever eaten in my life, I wanted to escape somewhere in my mind and never come back. My husband ran to me and I pushed him away, I told him it was his fault, not because he had argued with Colley but because the guns were too accessible and I had asked him less than two months before to get a gun safe, even as I said the words I wanted to take them back, I meant them and I didn't mean them, I loved Lee and hated him. I wanted to die, Oh how I wanted to die! How do you describe the agony of soul and body and mind and yet the world refuses to stop moving and keeps pushing, forcing you to make decisions that no parent should ever have to make.
Your home becomes a crime scene, photos are taken, some of Colley's belongings were taken along with his note, those few last words we were left with, documents must be signed, questions answered. Lee handled the questions, took them around to see what they needed to see, I sat, frozen, hoping to die, hoping to find this wasn't real. The female member of the sheriffs office who was taking photographs left with tears in her eyes, she is the only one I saw any emotion from and it touched me, I do not know her name, I wanted to thank her but I could not make myself move.
We wanted to go to him in the trailer, they wouldn't let us, not until he had been moved out of the trailer onto the stretcher and in the body bag. I could not see him that way, not in that bag, I know what they smell like, feel like, I have carried the little bodies of lost babies in those bags, we carefully swaddle those little babes and my son would not have that same care and I just could not see my son that way. My husband and my oldest son did go out to say a last goodbye before they took Colley away. When someone dies violently it becomes a case for the medical examiner and as a family you lose any right to refuse an autopsy, my precious son was going to be taken away and I had no power to control what was going to happen.
I donated Colley's eyes, I don't know why it became important but I needed some part of this make sense, I never thought I would be able to donate a part of my child but I wanted to have something good come from the loss of this part of my heart.
So much happened in the space of a few hours that felt like days, we were surrounded by people and yet felt alone, isolated, we had to find someone to clean the trailer, family needed to be notified, paperwork signed, we had to find a way to tell our younger children their brother was dead. I am not sure I could tell who all the people were at our house, I wanted to bring my other boys home, I wanted to wrap them up and keep them safe, I had to call work and tell them I would not be coming in. My son was dead. I had to make arrangements with a funeral home so that my son could be released once they were done at the medical examiners. People kept coming by, words must be said comfort given, food showed up, I couldn't eat. The magpies kept coming back. I needed to sleep and yet my brain would not allow it. A funeral must be planned, a cemetery chosen, Colley's friends needed to be called to let them know their friend was gone.
As on that day a brain can only take so much before it will begin to shut itself off trying to isolate the pain that is too much to bear all at once. Memories can be the same way, reaching a point where you must stop for a time or you must perish. I must stop, enough for now
Colley's Story
I don't know precisely how to tell the story of my son, how do I pack the emotion I feel into a few words, how do I show his heart and soul, my second born son. He lived on this earth for a short 14 years, 4 months and 10 days, what a privilege it was to have him, bright, beautiful, mischievous and in a hurry to experience everything life had to offer.
He was born on a cold February morning, he was what they called a compound presentation and should not have been able to be in such a hurry, he had one hand tucked under his chin and the other straight out in front of him, it was as if he was saying "look out world here I come". He had beautiful red blond hair and one of the nurses took him around the floor to show him off to everyone, I loved him with a fierceness only a mother can understand.
He was a beautiful little boy, fearless, in a hurry, he would do everything his older brother did and was smart, curious and impulsive, his exploits often ended with injuries, I began to think they were going to name a room for us at the local ER. He protected his older brother, fought with him and they loved each other not just as brothers but as friends.
He had lots of friends and he included everyone in his circle, he thought of others often before himself, he was charming, played hockey, and remained impulsive, he seemed oblivious to the fact he could be hurt. He was a typical teen, he tried smoking, drank a little and smoked pot to deal with the despair he hid from nearly everyone. Somewhere along the line he too became a victim of childhood sexual abuse, a fact he hid from everyone, he took the name of his abuser with him to his grave, I have suspicions as to the identity of his abuser but no proof.
He was typical in other ways as a suicidal teen, he told his friends of his increasing depression, his previous attempts, of his continued desire to end the pain of his heart. They were typical in that they did not tell anyone, the unwritten code of teens is that you don't break a confidence, the fear of losing a friend by telling overrides any thought that they would seriously die at their own hand.
In the days leading up to his death he must have felt that everything was piling up on him, he broke up with his girlfriend because he couldn't take being hit by her anymore, her sister retaliated by egging our house and by verbally abusing Colley, he got into a fight with a much older boy who he had thought was a friend. The night before he died I was scheduled to go to work, I didn't really want to go, I had a headache but wasn't really sick, I didn't have a foreboding, I just wanted to be with my family. I talked to him before I left, told him I loved him, that nothing he did would ever change that and I left not knowing that I had spoken to him for the last time.
Later that night I received a call from Lee, he had overheard a telephone call that had been made to Colley, some kid wanted him to get pot from another kids mother, as parents do he assumed the worst and Lee and Colley argued. For my boys I can get mad at them, yell, ground, whatever, and they hate it, but if their dad gets mad it is as if they are destroyed from the inside out, like the impact of the words leaves them barren, without hope. Lee had to be to work that night also, he didn't want to go but had to, I didn't want to stay at work but couldn't leave, my only desire was to hurry home to my son, to make everything better like I always did after a talk with their dad.
I pulled into my driveway opened my door and found a pool of blood placed so perfectly I would have thought it had been deliberately placed so that I would find it, my first thought was for our dog but with no evidence of paw prints my second thought was pure agony, Colley! I flew out of my car around to the other side of the trailer, I tried the door, it was locked, I pounded on the door, no one came, I don't know why but I never tried the second door of the trailer, or I would have found my son, my beautiful baby. My panic increased and I sprinted to the house, ran down the stairs and went to Colley's room, he wasn't there. I yelled, I looked behind me and saw a bloody rag, all I could think now was that the blood by my car was a message, Colley wanted me to find him and save him.
I ran up the stairs to my room, frantic to find the key to the trailer, I couldn't find it! I woke my oldest son who was sleeping in my bed and he grabbed the keys to my car and left to see if he could find his brother at one of his friends. I ran out the back door of the house, I had three of my little boys following me as I leaped onto the roof of the changing room of the pool, to see if my son was back there, both hope and fear rode on my shoulder, I was trying not to show how panicked I was, trying to reassure the other boys and get them to go inside. Where could he be! I ran down the street to his best friend Todd's house, pounding on the door, shaking, frantic, Todd's father opened the door, no Colley wasn't there, I yelled about the blood, turned and ran for home.
I remember thinking that I was going to feel silly when we found Colley whole and safe as I ran home again and yet the part of me that is a nurse knew there was too much blood and if he was alive he was critically ill. I ran to the house and called the police, Todd's dad showed up just as I hung up the phone, seeing his face I was sure he had found Colley, that my baby was dead, then I shut down, I would not believe that, God would not punish me by taking my son, I sat. Todd's dad had Todd come and get my four younger boys to protect them from what was to come.
I ignored the police when they came, Todd's dad went out to meet them, I didn't move again until I heard Lee drive up, I walked straight out to him, told him there was blood in the driveway, Colley was missing and we had to find him, I then turned around and walked back into my house, wondering only slightly as to why the police were standing around instead of looking for my son. A police officer followed Lee and I to the door, Lee had tried to rush past the officers to get to the trailer, already acknowledging what I would not. The officer who followed stood just inside the front screen door, he didn't even come in far enough to close it, I will never forget his next words, "Mr and Mrs Hanson it appears your son has committed suicide".
There is more I could tell you, how they turn your home into a crime scene, separate you to question, the total loss of control you feel, the utter blackness of despair, I wanted the rest of the world to stop, I wanted to rip my heart out of my chest, everything takes on an unreal quality like you are outside time. The pain of losing a child never goes away, it is the wound that leaves such a thick scar that just touching upon it causes pain, it gets softer as the years go by but it never fully heals. I am still broken, my family is still broken, we have learned to function in a different way but it is never the same.
Enough for Now.
He was born on a cold February morning, he was what they called a compound presentation and should not have been able to be in such a hurry, he had one hand tucked under his chin and the other straight out in front of him, it was as if he was saying "look out world here I come". He had beautiful red blond hair and one of the nurses took him around the floor to show him off to everyone, I loved him with a fierceness only a mother can understand.
He was a beautiful little boy, fearless, in a hurry, he would do everything his older brother did and was smart, curious and impulsive, his exploits often ended with injuries, I began to think they were going to name a room for us at the local ER. He protected his older brother, fought with him and they loved each other not just as brothers but as friends.
He had lots of friends and he included everyone in his circle, he thought of others often before himself, he was charming, played hockey, and remained impulsive, he seemed oblivious to the fact he could be hurt. He was a typical teen, he tried smoking, drank a little and smoked pot to deal with the despair he hid from nearly everyone. Somewhere along the line he too became a victim of childhood sexual abuse, a fact he hid from everyone, he took the name of his abuser with him to his grave, I have suspicions as to the identity of his abuser but no proof.
He was typical in other ways as a suicidal teen, he told his friends of his increasing depression, his previous attempts, of his continued desire to end the pain of his heart. They were typical in that they did not tell anyone, the unwritten code of teens is that you don't break a confidence, the fear of losing a friend by telling overrides any thought that they would seriously die at their own hand.
In the days leading up to his death he must have felt that everything was piling up on him, he broke up with his girlfriend because he couldn't take being hit by her anymore, her sister retaliated by egging our house and by verbally abusing Colley, he got into a fight with a much older boy who he had thought was a friend. The night before he died I was scheduled to go to work, I didn't really want to go, I had a headache but wasn't really sick, I didn't have a foreboding, I just wanted to be with my family. I talked to him before I left, told him I loved him, that nothing he did would ever change that and I left not knowing that I had spoken to him for the last time.
Later that night I received a call from Lee, he had overheard a telephone call that had been made to Colley, some kid wanted him to get pot from another kids mother, as parents do he assumed the worst and Lee and Colley argued. For my boys I can get mad at them, yell, ground, whatever, and they hate it, but if their dad gets mad it is as if they are destroyed from the inside out, like the impact of the words leaves them barren, without hope. Lee had to be to work that night also, he didn't want to go but had to, I didn't want to stay at work but couldn't leave, my only desire was to hurry home to my son, to make everything better like I always did after a talk with their dad.
I pulled into my driveway opened my door and found a pool of blood placed so perfectly I would have thought it had been deliberately placed so that I would find it, my first thought was for our dog but with no evidence of paw prints my second thought was pure agony, Colley! I flew out of my car around to the other side of the trailer, I tried the door, it was locked, I pounded on the door, no one came, I don't know why but I never tried the second door of the trailer, or I would have found my son, my beautiful baby. My panic increased and I sprinted to the house, ran down the stairs and went to Colley's room, he wasn't there. I yelled, I looked behind me and saw a bloody rag, all I could think now was that the blood by my car was a message, Colley wanted me to find him and save him.
I ran up the stairs to my room, frantic to find the key to the trailer, I couldn't find it! I woke my oldest son who was sleeping in my bed and he grabbed the keys to my car and left to see if he could find his brother at one of his friends. I ran out the back door of the house, I had three of my little boys following me as I leaped onto the roof of the changing room of the pool, to see if my son was back there, both hope and fear rode on my shoulder, I was trying not to show how panicked I was, trying to reassure the other boys and get them to go inside. Where could he be! I ran down the street to his best friend Todd's house, pounding on the door, shaking, frantic, Todd's father opened the door, no Colley wasn't there, I yelled about the blood, turned and ran for home.
I remember thinking that I was going to feel silly when we found Colley whole and safe as I ran home again and yet the part of me that is a nurse knew there was too much blood and if he was alive he was critically ill. I ran to the house and called the police, Todd's dad showed up just as I hung up the phone, seeing his face I was sure he had found Colley, that my baby was dead, then I shut down, I would not believe that, God would not punish me by taking my son, I sat. Todd's dad had Todd come and get my four younger boys to protect them from what was to come.
I ignored the police when they came, Todd's dad went out to meet them, I didn't move again until I heard Lee drive up, I walked straight out to him, told him there was blood in the driveway, Colley was missing and we had to find him, I then turned around and walked back into my house, wondering only slightly as to why the police were standing around instead of looking for my son. A police officer followed Lee and I to the door, Lee had tried to rush past the officers to get to the trailer, already acknowledging what I would not. The officer who followed stood just inside the front screen door, he didn't even come in far enough to close it, I will never forget his next words, "Mr and Mrs Hanson it appears your son has committed suicide".
There is more I could tell you, how they turn your home into a crime scene, separate you to question, the total loss of control you feel, the utter blackness of despair, I wanted the rest of the world to stop, I wanted to rip my heart out of my chest, everything takes on an unreal quality like you are outside time. The pain of losing a child never goes away, it is the wound that leaves such a thick scar that just touching upon it causes pain, it gets softer as the years go by but it never fully heals. I am still broken, my family is still broken, we have learned to function in a different way but it is never the same.
Enough for Now.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Ideations
When you are so distressed you have thoughts about but no plan or actions tied to committing suicide they call these ideations. Most people have had transient thoughts when things are tough of killing themselves and if all followed through our population problem would cease to exist. As it is suicide is the third leading cause of death for children 14-19 years of age and children as young as 8 years of age have died of intentionally self inflicted injury.
In previous posts I have told of my own attempts starting at approximately age 9. For many years I found comfort in having my plan formulated, it gave me a kind of peace that treatment did not. I am a sufferer of chronic depression. If you know someone with chronic depression you know that living with them day in and day out can be draining, medications that worked suddenly stop working and you start the cycle of trying to find balance all over again. We also have a tendency to stop taking meds when we are doing well because there is still a heavy stigma attached to mental illness and we think the depression won't reoccur.
Suicide is often referred to as a selfish, cowardly act, a permanent solution to a temporary problem, I do not see suicide this way. One of our most basic internal instincts is that of survival, the tiniest of premature infants will try to push away things that touch their face and are occluding their airway, they are not strong enough to stop it but they will try.
Suicide is self execution, the person must override the most ingrained instinct to preserve their own life often using methods of execution that the ACLU would brand as cruel and unusual.
Why this subject? On November 18th my youngest son will be 14 years, 4 months, and 11 days old, he will have outlived the brother who we lost on Fathers Day June 17, 2001. Colley was our second child, part of the Sensational Six, bright, talented, not perfect, but perfectly ours. I name him here by his pet name because I want to remain as anonymous as I can, although I so dearly want to see his name and hear it, to feel this most important part of my heart has not disappeared. Colley died of depression, the instrument he used to self execute was a nine millimeter handgun, I do not often talk about him not because I am ashamed but to protect him and his brothers from the intentional or unintentional cruelty of others.
Colley has a story and in time I will give voice to it, I miss him fiercely, I will never be who I was before he died, but he was not selfish or cowardly. He was broken and felt that he was so damaged by his own secrets of abuse that for our family to be whole he needed to remove himself. I know that pain only chance has kept me here.
Enough for Now
In previous posts I have told of my own attempts starting at approximately age 9. For many years I found comfort in having my plan formulated, it gave me a kind of peace that treatment did not. I am a sufferer of chronic depression. If you know someone with chronic depression you know that living with them day in and day out can be draining, medications that worked suddenly stop working and you start the cycle of trying to find balance all over again. We also have a tendency to stop taking meds when we are doing well because there is still a heavy stigma attached to mental illness and we think the depression won't reoccur.
Suicide is often referred to as a selfish, cowardly act, a permanent solution to a temporary problem, I do not see suicide this way. One of our most basic internal instincts is that of survival, the tiniest of premature infants will try to push away things that touch their face and are occluding their airway, they are not strong enough to stop it but they will try.
Suicide is self execution, the person must override the most ingrained instinct to preserve their own life often using methods of execution that the ACLU would brand as cruel and unusual.
Why this subject? On November 18th my youngest son will be 14 years, 4 months, and 11 days old, he will have outlived the brother who we lost on Fathers Day June 17, 2001. Colley was our second child, part of the Sensational Six, bright, talented, not perfect, but perfectly ours. I name him here by his pet name because I want to remain as anonymous as I can, although I so dearly want to see his name and hear it, to feel this most important part of my heart has not disappeared. Colley died of depression, the instrument he used to self execute was a nine millimeter handgun, I do not often talk about him not because I am ashamed but to protect him and his brothers from the intentional or unintentional cruelty of others.
Colley has a story and in time I will give voice to it, I miss him fiercely, I will never be who I was before he died, but he was not selfish or cowardly. He was broken and felt that he was so damaged by his own secrets of abuse that for our family to be whole he needed to remove himself. I know that pain only chance has kept me here.
Enough for Now
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