Video was shot and edited by Jarius Bush – Instagram @JBush865 Captions are auto-generated.
This video is of me reading Something In Me Broke today. It is a poem I wrote about 6 months after my husband died. It was one of the lowest points in my grief journey. I have since met many women who have struggled at that 6-month point. The place where the world seems to have moved on, but you are stuck. Why does the world get to move forward when your world was shattered? The pain is visceral. You feel it in every joint and muscle. It is unimaginable, but the only way out is through. Writing helped pull me out of those depths. It is my hope that by sharing, you will know you are not alone, and you can survive this. I read this poem in honor of World Suicide Prevention Day, because I survived. You can too. If you or someone you know is struggling and thinking of suicide, please call 988.
Here is the poem in written form:
Something In Me Broke Today Today, something in me broke I can’t pinpoint the moment But it was soon after I awoke The light was streaming in But my heart was so alone The light got brighter But my heart did not get lighter This struggle from the world I hide Quietly trudging through life Trying to survive But I’m tired and tried I move from one moment to the next Feeling like I’m living in a lie Somewhere out of time Like walking through a river of molasses I wish I could shake off whatever this darkness is The dark calls my name And I feel so much pain I don’t have the strength to explain All I want to do is curl into a ball and cry But no one is here to comfort me, or even ask why So I’ll paint on my smile, that doesn’t quite reach my eyes And press on while I struggle and just wish I… Had a shoulder where I could cry Wasn’t alone in my life Had the energy to continue to try I want to die I fight as my eyes begin to mist Another cruel plot twist No one should see me cry Too much pain Too much frustration In my pit of loneliness, I lie This is not my destination I have known the pain of having no one I know I am perilously broken With sharp edges The pain in my soul is deeply wedged in No one wants to hear the dredges Of my past again I’m beat down I can’t stand the sounds That comes around Reminding me I am not the tree Surviving season after season I am the leaf, I reason Soon to fall As with age, life slowly drains The falling and the pain Dead Leaves crushed under heavy boots Becoming fertilizer for old roots But the seasons always change And sunlight creates a new refrain New growth comes from pain But something in me broke today Maybe to make room for a new way to fight this darkness away God, please just get through this day
If you are a fan of my upbeat, inspirational posts, spoiler alert. This will not be that.
The day is closing on my birthday. My first day of year 59. It began with a funeral and ended with a car wreck. Before you fret too much, everyone is okay, and so on with the story. Today has been an unusual mix of emotions, sweetness, sorrow, excitement, and fear.
As I said earlier, I spent the morning at a military funeral. It wasn’t long ago I was in that very same chapel waiting for the guns to fire, taps to be played and the flag folded and passed. A military funeral is both reverence and history. The lone trumpet playing Taps evokes a sadness that is not just yours, but the sadness of all those who have experienced that pain before you. It is a history of pain, isolation, and mourning. Taps is played every day on a military post to signal the end of the day. When it is played, life on post stops, people get out of their cars, stop doing whatever they are doing, and soldiers face the flag as it comes down for the day and salute. It is signaling soldiers to lay down their burdens and rest. At the end of life, it signals that soldier have completed their earthly mission and can now be at peace. All of this is why Taps brings me to my knees every time.
After Taps played this morning, I walked away from the chapel, made my way to a now-familiar bench, and had a conversation. To those looking on, it may have seemed one-sided, or that I was a little crazy talking to myself, but to me, it was a conversation with my best friend, who I miss more than words can even begin to express. A feeling of peace settles over me when we talk of life moving on without him here. I told Andy that I understood his time was not my time. I’ve realized that even though things have been challenging and downright scary at times, I wouldn’t change anything. I know that sounds harsh, but it is true.
Years and years ago, Andy and I talked about how we were in a certain place at a certain time for a reason, and we were given a gift at that moment in time. Our friendship superseded everything, we both had past baggage and troubles, some horrific things most would see as obstacles. You see, if you change one single thing, either good or bad, the trajectory of your life shifts and you are no longer in alignment to be in that moment in time to receive a gift you didn’t even know you needed. Andy’s death led me to the next point on my path and whatever that point brings, I know I’m meant to be there and I’m grateful for the gift.
So when I sat on that bench in the sunshine, talking to a man who was no longer here for me, I knew he understood what I meant. Crazy, right? I know things have worked out just as they were supposed to, even though sometimes I wish they were different. The God of the Universe still has plans for me, he keeps pushing me in a direction I can’t yet see, but I know there is a gift when I get there.
I am very blessed to have people who love and care for me. That was never more obvious than today. My brother called to wish me a happy birthday, my sister-in-law texted a big “Happy Birthday,” and hundreds of folks wished me happy birthday on social media. The ladies in my office took me out for lunch. They encouraged me and loved on me. They made a hard morning a better day.
After work another friend wanted to celebrate with me. I met a dear friend for dinner, and jazz afterward. Dinner was wonderful. Sadly, we didn’t make it to the jazz. We left the restaurant and I had to take a call for work, so I was a few minutes behind her. As I made my way to our destination I was stopped due to an accident. When I saw it was my friend, my stomach dropped to my knees. She was hit almost head-on as she pulled out from a light. Luckily, she was ok. She had banged up knees, and a few other aches and pains. The car was totaled. She was so lucky it wasn’t worse. I was thankful I could be there for her, I stayed with her, cleaned out her car, took her home, and got her settled. Let the people she needed to know, know. She kept apologizing for messing up my birthday. I felt terrible she was hurt trying to do something nice for me. I wouldn’t have been anywhere else. If I hadn’t been there, who would’ve? That’s what you do, right?
We are meant to share each other’s burdens when the world becomes heavy. Then why do I feel as if I’m carrying more than my share?
I don’t have all the answers, I am not perfect, but I am authentic. If I care about you and you care about me, that’s community. Community is very important to me. I will go through hell and back with you, help you find what you need, help you carry your burdens. Community is not about doing life alone.
Yet…that’s where I am. Life alone, who pours into you, lifts you up, hugs away your hurts, lets you cry on their shoulders when you need to, when you no longer have a person? You give, who gives back? I am not perfect. Sometimes I am empty, sometimes I am tired, sometimes I hurt, and sometimes I need someone to be authentic for me, and care for me. I have always been the caregiver, so I struggle with accepting the very thing I need, care.
Is it easy? No. There are things in my soul that I keep bumping up against. This is where it gets dark, where the hard things get too heavy to carry, where life alone becomes unbearable. But what do you do? Carry on.
It doesn’t come all at once, it comes in the quiet moments when I’m alone and it hurts just a little too much. The times when all I want is a person to be MY person, to listen when I share, to care, to spend time with me and enjoy my company as much as I do theirs, someone to call and ask how my day was and I ask them about their day, someone who gets my weird humor and I can laugh alongside, to share stories, people watch, stream videos or just sit in comfortable silence together over a cup of coffee. Today, I realized I miss having a person most of all and it hurt me to my core. I’m crying as I type this. Cherish your people.
Now, does that mean I will do anything to get a person? Absolutely not! I learned a while back, never to do anything out of the fear of being alone. It is not worth it and it leads to self-doubt and self-loathing.
I don’t need to be married, I don’t know that I’ll ever get married again. Only time will tell, I guess. I don’t want to take over someone’s home or them take over mine. I don’t want someone to complete me, or be my first last kiss or any of that other corny crap that people put on dating profiles.
What I long for is a person I can rely on. For me, that person is a man, who is ride or die, hell or high water there for me and me for them. I miss true connection, true friendship, and someone who will be ok if I cry on their shoulder, and I’m there if they need to cry on mine. I’ve got their back if they need me. I miss having MY person, my go-to when the world goes to crap. Someone who makes me feel safe and that I trust. I miss hugs.
I know I sound whiny, and today I guess I am. Retrospect can be that way. Don’t get me wrong, I love my girlfriends, but they can’t do that for me. I’m not alone, but I FEEL alone. I have people. I have a tribe that loves and cares about me. My friends have been sounding boards when I need to process, they have sat in silence with me when I had no words, they have shared laughter when I never thought I’d laugh again, they have sung with me no matter how off-key I am, they have given my heart a song when the music in me was silent.
All of this is hard for me to admit, I’m not what many people see. I’m not strong. I need someone to give back and to care for me. I need someone who can be all the things I am to others, for me, to pour in what I have poured out. I have taken care of myself for so long that I have forgotten how to ask for help, and how to be vulnerable.
They call it resilience, but that doesn’t make it any easier to carry the weight. Strong independent women seem to have it all together, the perception is that they don’t need anything or anyone. Strong women don’t fall apart when things get tough, they handle tough situations with apparent ease, and they rarely lose control in front of others. You don’t see us screaming into our pillows or crying in the shower so no one sees our tears. Even though the burdens weigh us down, we struggle to our feet and keep going, because we have to. Not because we want to.
I believe this is the curse of a strong independent woman.
Have you ever been shaken awake and realized you were living someone else’s dream and not your own?
In 2020, in the height of the pandemic, my husband of almost 25 years died from a massive stroke. He was 52 and I was 55. I was shattered into a million pieces. A middle aged woman who felt absolutely invisible. I had to figure out how to go forward alone. How do I do life? I was in shock, going through a lot of emotions and just barely making it a step at a time.
We had 32 acres and a little farm with chickens and goats. We also had a little tiny farmhouse that was almost 100 years old and needed constant work. I was isolated in the country, and felt all alone in the world. During COVID there was not a lot of personal contact, so much so that we had a funeral on zoom. There was one there to hug me when I fell apart.
A month after the funeral was Christmas. My first Christmas alone in a very long time. It would have been Andrew’s 53rd birthday. December felt impossible. Friends knew I was struggling and asked me to come spend Christmas with them. That positive energy felt like a lifeline.
We had a wonderful white Christmas! It rarely snows in Knoxville, Tennessee in December. It snowed almost a foot on Christmas Eve. It was beautiful. Christmas Day was breakfast and presents. We watched Christmas movies and talked girl talk. It was blissful. A wonderful escape from the reality I felt crushing me. I went home feeling energized.
When I drove down the driveway, through the untouched snow, I noticed a river of water running down the drive. I knew a pipe had burst. We had lived on this piece of land for 18 years. I felt completely defeated. In that moment the world stood completely still. I stopped the car, pounded on the steering wheel and screamed at the top of my lungs.
In the quiet that followed I heard the Spirit in my Soul whisper, “You have faithfully served a great love here and have lived someone else’s dream for long enough, it is time to find your own dream now.”
That day, I had clarity. I knew it was time to let go of the farm, despite all the advice not to make any big changes during the grieving process. I had to do what was right for me. I began searching for what my dream would be.
Slowly, one step at a time, I started taking baby steps toward living a life that I love. I began building a vision of what I want my life to be.
After my realization, I found other people had the same type of experience. They had a hard time learning how to dream again.
Most children dream daily, they can see and embrace their dreams. They act them out, they feel the joy in pretending their vision is happening now. As adults, we often lose the ability to just let go and dream. If you have lived through significant trauma you find it even harder to dream. Life seems to limit everything. But what if you could dream a new dream? What would it be?
So I felt a calling to help others live a life they love, to help them remember how to dream, to teach others steps to move forward, even if it is baby steps. You can climb Mount Everest if you continue taking one step forward at a time.
I made a major step in that direction. I invested in myself for the first time ever. I studied, I put in the work on myself. Today, I became a certified Dream Builder Life Coach.
I am so excited about what the futre has for me. And for you too! If you would like to know more, please let me know. In the weeks to come you will notice a new website here and also new Facebook and Instagram pages. I will still share the positive vibes I have always put out, they will just be a bit more focused.
Thanks for being here for me and thanks for reading.
Music has always touched a place in my soul that most of the world can’t reach. It touches that part of me that I try to keep under lock and key, the parts I rarely let others see.
Music is the soothing of the savage beast and lifting of my spirit and setting it free. I am not musical in any sense of the word, yet I appreciate it in ways I feel in the core of my being. It seems strange to say but there have been times when the music was a lifeline. Music seemed to be the only thing that kept me grounded on this earth.
Depression is not something I talk about often, but at this time of year it can’t be ignored. This time of year is especially, is hard for me, as it is for many people. There are so many memories associated with the season.
For me, it is all of December, not only Christmas. Andy and I met in December, his birthday is in December one of my most cherished memories is the 2000 New Year’s Eve. So the loneliness hits harder, making me long for physical touch and true human connection more than ever. At the same time, I feel if someone truly held me close I’d crumple into a mess of carefully held together emotions that no one could bear to experience. I’m a walking oxymoron.
I was recently talking with a dear friend about depression and its demonic grip on the soul. That conversation had me looking at my life without the rose colored glasses we tend to see our past through. I have had some very dark seasons in my life, seasons that left me broken and at the time I thought shattered beyond repair.
I don’t lean on medication when my depression hits, I lean on music, friends, therapy and most of all God. I’m not saying don’t take meds, I’m just saying that’s not my path. Everyone has to find what works for them. If you are experiencing darkness at this time of year, you are not alone. Talk with someone you trust, find a counselor. If the feelings become overwhelming dial or text 988 for the suicide hotline.
I realized that the times when my life seemed the darkest, the hardest to bear, the most lonely were the season of my life where the music had disappeared and went unheard. I believe the God touches our soul with tinkling bells and tender notes that speak to our entire mind with a healing in a way nothing else does. The music you love moves you.
Studies have shown that music lowers stress. People who listen to positive upbeat music manage their emotions better and recover from stress faster. There have also been studies showing it improves memory function. One study even found that music can help manage pain.
According to ucf.edu/pegasus/your-brain-on-music/ music can change your ability to perceive time, reduce seizures, make you a better communicator, make you stronger, boost your immune system, assist in repairing brain damage, make you smarter, evoke memories and more. Music can release dopamine and give you a euphoric feeling better than drugs. The benefits of music goes on and on.
Not so long ago, I was going through the motions of what I thought people expected of me. Blinded by the past and paralyzed by the thought of a future alone, unable to be in the present moment. Inside I felt alone and dark, there was no light, just blackness.
I heard a guitar from across the way and it was as if the music flipped a switch inside my soul. In an instant there was light, and I remembered who I am. Now, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I’ve done a lot of work on me. The music gave me the boost I needed to break through the fog and it encourages me every day.
I’m still working on just being in the present. I am learning how to live each day as it comes and I am thankful, so very thankful for the music.
There is a Bonnie Raitt tune, “Just Like That” and it has a verse that immediately hit home with me.
I spent so long in darkness Never thought the night would end But somehow grace has found me And I had to let him in.
Dear reader, just know it is ok to hurt, it is ok to feel all the feelings, you are never alone. We all hurt and while everything may look great on the surface, other people are hurting too, so be kind.
It is hard to grasp that it has been two years since you left your service on this earth for God’s service in heaven.
As I write this it is Veterans Day, 2022. November 11, people around the country are showing gratitude and celebrating with parades and ceremonies, giving honor to those who have served our country. But today, I am honoring your service, not only to our country, for which I am grateful but as a friend, a lover, a husband and so much more that words can’t even describe.
I have so many memories of Veteran’s Days of the past, days during your service, and the days after your 15 years in the Army. I believe that like so many soldiers before, you exited the Army, but the Army never left you. I believe it carried on with you.
I remember that while you didn’t always agree, you always served with honor. You always cared for those who served under you and served with respect to your superiors, even the difficult ones in ranks above you.
I remember the countless times TAPS brought tears to your eyes.
I remember you would talk to and listen to another soldier just because they needed that time, even when you felt you needed to be somewhere else.
I remember Thanksgiving for soldiers who had no family.
I remember field exercises where you came home bruised and battered, not because of the training, but because of the wrestling matches or volleyball games that bonded your platoon together. You had everyone’s six.
I remember your twisted sarcastic sense of humor that lightened the hard times and shed light on things that needed attention.
I remember the angry, stubborn upset times. Times when it had to be your way, but there were also the soft times when holding my hand made everything better.
I remember that after exiting the service, you put on a uniform and went to war memorials on Veterans Day to talk with the old-timers in wars before yours.
I remember that whenever you saw someone else who served, you thanked them for their service. I find myself doing this now because of you.
I remember not so very long ago, visiting the cemetery where your ashes now reside, checking on the graves of those you knew and those you didn’t. And you standing at the flag at half mast and saluting as TAPS played.
I remember your quiet times when your visions of the past took you to seek peace in a Savior who understood.
I remember.
I will always remember.
Today, this November 11th, I sit in a cabin overlooking a lake watching it rain. No internet, no cell phone, no TV. Just God and me, talking, listening, writing. Honoring you. Honoring God. Leaning into the still small voice.
I celebrate your new service because I have no doubt you are serving in God’s Army, readying the troops for what is to come. My vision of Veterans Day forever changed, while I still honor those who serve, I now honor your service with God.
As I write this I cry cleansing tears. I feel like God is crying along with me as the rain falls on the cabin by the lake. I cry not because I would remove you from your post in heaven, but because I miss you more than words can say. There is no one like you. Your memory and our life together is a part of who I am. The struggles we overcame together made me stronger. Our times apart made me more independent, but also made me appreciate you all the more. The deployments, the permanent changes of station, the packing, the unpacking, the life changes, the friends, the hopes, the dreams, the farewell, they all shaped me. You shaped me. I pray that I can share the memory of you with your daughter and granddaughters and that the memory of you might shape them too.
God may have another in my future or my time here may require a different focus, I’m not sure. I am ok with that. I am secure in who God created me to be. God’s got me. I am not living in your shadow but remembering the wisdom gained from our lives together. Many won’t understand that. One of the first lessons of our life together, you told me, ”If you had not been through everything in your life, the good, the bad, the heartbreak, the struggles, each decision, each step led you to me.” Now it is time to see where the next step leads.
God cries with me because He knows my sorrow, He understands my missing you. He understands my anxious heart. He gives me peace, comfort, and amazing joy. He leads my way forward. He sees my future, and even though I am anxious about what may come, He soothes my worries and I am forever thankful for this.
There is a verse that has been rattling around in my soul and it gives me peace. “Therefore you now have sorrow, but I will see you again and your heart will rejoice, and your joy no one will take from you.” John 16:22
So as you ready heavenly troops for what is to come, I know you are where God wants you to be. I know God still has work for me here and I do my best to honor that service. We are working on opposite sides of the line for the same cause, moving forward a step at a time.
On a Roll with Charmin 