LIFE IS FOR THE LIVING
The catalyst that started a fire under me to write this blog wasn’t something happy and profitable. nor was it what I’m passionate about – writing, even though we’re going to talk about that later on.
What started this whole thing is a forty-year-old story that sometimes is as fresh to me as it was the day it happened.
My first husband’s suicide.
I was a happy, carefree child who was raised on lots of love, some of it tough. Even so, I never questioned my parent’s love…and I talked a lot to God.
After my husband’s suicide, I questioned everything. Why…so many whys. Why had he done it? Why had he left the kids? What was he thinking? Was he crazy? Was I?
The morning after it happened, my dad left for work. “Life is for the living, Cindy.” It didn’t mean anything to me then.
It does now.
I did my best to act normal, humble, subservient, and invisible. Everybody knew everybody in the small town I grew up in. I felt so guilty. I hadn’t been the perfect wife. I could have done better.
Where was God in all of this? I knew he was there, but I was sure I didn’t deserve his attention. I shut down.
I made it all about me.
Life was muffled for a while, and everything I did was draped in fear, anxiety, and anger. Is that PTSD?
“Time floats. The holidays come and go. I don’t want to put up decorations. I don’t invite anyone over. Irritability grates against my skin as I drift through mindless tasks that consume my day: gardening, work, writing.” – excerpt from Beyond The Dark
The national suicide hotline is 1-800-273-8255.
text TALK to 741741
We didn’t have that term back then. Nor did we have Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapwhatchacallit. I’m talking about 1980. I was only 26.
Yup, senior citizen here, and hopefully a lot wiser. That’s why I’m sharing. Maybe I can touch one person with words. Maybe I can comfort one hurting soul.
“I want me healed, damn it. Fear dominates most of my actions and lingers at the fringes of every important decision I make.
Trevor places his hand on my forehead. With that soft touch, one word comes to me.
Faith.
My trembling subsides. The room warms. I return from a dark and lonely place.” – excerpt from Beyond The Dark
I’m not a doctor. I’m not a preacher.
I’m an author and a happy, searching, healing work in progress.
I’m going to talk about some raw and gritty stuff. I’ll share healing thoughts and methods of coming to terms with loss – especially after suicide. I’ll tell you how I dealt with depression and how I finally released stored emotions that were damaging me – mentally, physically and spiritually.
I WANT TO FLY
If I could catch a glimpse
of the other side…
I’ll get there soon enough.
I am a breath in time.
While trees reach,
rooted to the earth,
I am not.
While mountains soar
but never fly,
I can.
When my moment here is done,
let me soar like an eagle
beyond the noise,
beyond the dark,
beyond the sun
where angels sing
and God’s voice
welcomes me home.
Since then, I’ve learned new rules, new principles, and created habits to change my thoughts from negative to positive.
Spiritual growth comes when we dive into new ways of seeing.
Like Dad said, “Life is for the living, Cindy.”
I’m not just living.
I’M THRIVING!
Let’s take a walk. We’ve a universe full of possibilities to explore.