Never Lose Hope

We all have these very important parts in our life, several of them.  Those parts where the rest of our life depends on the choice that you make in that very moment.  Those jumping off points.  Life is full of choices.  We have several ways we can choose to navigate our course.  We are not victims, even though some of us may choose to see ourselves that way.  We have choices and we have to take responsibility for those choices.  Life is not for sissy’s.  And a life lived a long spiritual lines is only for those of us willing to keep getting up after every fall, that’s that perserverance thing that Paul guy talks about in the Bible.  Because you will fall, and the sooner you get the idea out of your mind that you won’t the better off you’ll be. 

 Forever I thought a life of spirituality consisted of me knowing what the right thing to do was and doing it.  No, not so much.  It’s more about choosing to keep going no matter what comes your way.  Believing that God exists and that he forgives and never fearing to come crawling back when you find yourself flat on your face.  My God loves the prodigal more than anyone.  He actually loves the screw up more than the not so screwed up, having said that, in case you didn’t know, were all screwed up.  A couple of pictures in the Bible make me think of this trait of His.  There’s the shepherd scene where he actually leaves all the good behaving 99 sheep to go off and find that one black one that keeps wandering off, dammit.  And then there’s the actual prodigal story where the pain in the ass son who takes all his money and goes and finds the hookers  he cannot get over.  Every day he waits, he loses sleep, his stomach is a wreck, he thinks of no one he loves more than this pain in the butt son.  He doesn’t give a crap what he did or how he took advantage of him, all he wants is to have him back in his arms so he can tell him so.  That is love, true, unconditional, perfect love.  Thank God for this kind of love when we make the choices that navigate our course through the mud a while. 

Some days, I just love the mud.  Some days, I’d rather be face down in the mud than anywhere else.  And you know what?  My God is big enough to redeem me.  My only job, no matter what my choices are through life, is to keep getting back up, and never believing the lie that I am hopeless.  With God I am never hopeless.  And I don’t mean that in a frilly, cliché way, I mean that in really, for reals way that only the most desperate will ever comprehend.  We are told to come boldly before the throne of grace.  Don’t come all fearful and manipulative, you come boldly and say what you did.  I screwed up God.  I made a horrible choice.  I’m an idiot, but I am smart enough to know that because of who YOU are, I will make it through this no matter what I have done.  I’m not willing to sacrifice hope for more stupid decisions.  I may be bruised, I may be limping for a while, but I am still a much loved child of my God and that my friend is worth getting back up for.  That makes all the consequences of poor decision making just a price I pay for the only life worth living, a life where I never lose hope.

A Whole Lotta Love

Today is the five month anniversary of her death.  I had a really great yesterday, Saturday the 11th of February, with "family" and celebrated an amazingly long milestone of change in my life.  Twelve entire years without a drink or a drug, including weekends:)  I thougth of her ALL WEEKEND LONG.  Just about literally every second of the day holding her in my heart as I enjoyed the benefits this miraculous "new" way of life has given me.  She was so close it felt like she was still actually here.  What a gift. She would have been so proud of her big sister.  I have come a long way from the extremely crappy, toxically self centered, emotionally unavailable sister I was for a good 8 important years of her life.  Eight years I wish I could have back right about now.

 I woke up today, Sunday the 12th of February, feeling groggy and tired, I really didn't want to get out of my bed.  My day felt different than yesterday.  All day I couldn't really put my finger on it.  Why do I feel so, so off? I wondered. I had a great day yesterday.....strange.  My heart was heavy and my mind was going 100 miles an hour.  I thought of a few ways to escape the weight, but none were acceptable so I just obsessed.  That was really productive, not really.  I worked a late shift because of Valentines Day at the spa.  I had 4 massages scheduled and every single one felt like it took an eternity. Four long hours of solitude.  Low lights, sad music, and silence. I finally got off work around 9pm and headed home.  I got on my computer and noticed the date, FEB 12.  The 12th of September is the day she took her last sweet breath, 4pm on a Monday.   I cant begin to tell you how grateful I am that that last breath of hers was taken in my house.  I was here with her, holding her hand and smothering it with kisses just minutes before that last sweet breath.  If I had been unable to stop drinking, that never would have been the case.

 The last 3 years of her life were very, very difficult.  For reasons other than cancer.  I was able to show up for her in a way that is beyond my capabilities apart from God working in my life.  We talked on the phone at least several times a week if not everyday for those three years.  I was far from perfect, I'm sure I pissed her off a million times, but that's just what sisters do, especially big sisters who want to mother you.  But I know, she knew, I loved her SO much, and that my intentions were good.  That was the most important thing to me all through her sickness and especially at the end. I wanted to make sure she knew just how much I loved and adored her.  I know she knew it.  I think she always knew.  She had this way of seeing through peoples crappy selves to that better self deep inside.  That place in your heart where you're the person you really want to be.  She really knew what love was.  She lived it out loud. She extended grace to so many undeserving people in her life over the years.  A few of which I have wanted to beat the crap out of on her behalf.  She was an amazingly, beautiful, wonderful girl.  I cannot wait to see her again some day in that perfect place where we will all be able to love like she did.

Settling In to the New Normal

Everyone talks about this "new normal" thing surrounding the loss of a loved one.  Nothing can ever be the same after they are gone.  As time passes the wound does begin to heal and the raw pain of the initial seperation does get less intense.  Although you may be bulldozed out of no where with a load of intense feelings it's not an everyday, minute by minute occurence that makes every day feel like a million years. 

I'm beginning to experience life again and it's nothing like I've ever experienced prior to her dying. It's easy to go through life always waiting for the next big thing.  Focused on days, weeks or months from now instead of enjoying the moment.  Instead of really being in "it", whatever "it" might be.  This was really hard for me to do as I was watching her die.  I wanted to be anywhere but in those moments.  It sounds horrible, but it's true.  I didn't want to be in the moment where her little body was falling a part before our very eyes and everyday seemed like it could be her last.  I didn't want to watch her pain and suffering, grieving her own life as it was being taken from slowly but surely.  I mean, a huge part of me knew I HAD to be with her, there was no other choice for me, I would NOT not be there when she took her last breathe.  But I had a really difficult time just being in the moment with her.  Savoring every last conversation, every last touch, every last act of service to help her be more comfortable.  The regrets that torture me come from wishing I could run away almost every second I had to watch her suffer and be powerless to do anything about it.

We weren't real touchy feely in our relationship over the years.  We both had lived our lives pretty gaurded and physical touch was uncomfortable for us.  We never curled up in each others arms or held hands or played with each others hair like some sisters do.  We talked, all the time we talked.  And we loved each other deeply.  But I wish I had touched her more, especially at the end.  I regret not curling up in bed with her every chance I got, savoring every last second we had together.  I wish I had had the guts to do that now, now that the moments are gone forever.

 She didn't want to talk about the fact that she wasn't getting better.  She just wanted us to live life around her with hope.  She bought a wall hanging that read "We Must Choose Hope Over Fear" about two weeks before she died. It's hanging on my wall now.  I believe she is in the arms of  Jesus, experiencing His perfect love in it's purest form.  He is being the lovey, touchy feely sister I wish I had been to her for me. 

The new normal is continuing to unfold for me as the days have turned into months, almost 5 months now.  I am staying in the moment more than I have ever done before.  I am desiring life today, life to the fullest.  I want to let people in more and more and to be less afraid to reach out and show that perfect love to others.  I am practicing "Carpe Diem", ceasing the day, living life with as few regrets as possible and trying to enjoy every moment with the people God has blessed me with. It's harder to hold a grudge, harder to push people away and harder to not extend grace to those in my life who aren't perfect when I think about how I would feel if I lost them.

Lean Into It

Lean into it.  That's what they said at the grief group I'm attending.  Lean into your grief.  Feel everything you need to feel. Grief has a mind of it's own. You don't get to choose when you feel sad, or when you cry, or when you get angry.  You just have to take it as it comes.  When you feel good, feel good and enjoy it.  When you feel sad lean into that too.  I have a problem with this concept when the bad feelings come.  I happen to be a master escape artist by nature.  For me to lean into feelings that are extremely painful is nothing short of a miraculous act of God.  It is the last thing on earth I want to do.  It's like seeing a tidal wave coming your way to take you out and you're just supposed to stand there and let it devour you.  Does that sound like something you'd want to do?  Not me, I'm  hauling ass in the opposite direction running for my life.  The weight of sad feelings that come from loss make me feel threatened for my life.  I don't see how I can survive such pain if I just let it wash over me like that. My only hope for survival, in my mind, is to run for the hills.
 It was actually a great week for me emotionally.  I have been on a high for life, in honor of Rachel, that I have not experienced since she died.  I felt hopeful again.  Then yesterday, I called one of her best friends, who happens to be an Artist.  I want a tattoo of Rachels name and I thought it would be meaningful for him to design it.  So I got a hold of him and we had a conversation about it.  After I got off the phone I could feel an anxiety begin to rise in me as the afternoon went on.  I started to feel bad again.   I shouldn't have sounded so happy I thought.  It's only been four and a half months since she passed.  I shouldn't sound so good.  He probably thinks I'm the worst sister ever.  Then I started reeling about getting a tattoo.  Maybe if I get a tattoo I'll go to hell and never see Rachel again. And deeper and deeper I went into that bad neighborhood in my mind. I realized what I was doing and tried to talk myself down.  He isn't judging you Skylar.  You don't have to get the tattoo if you don't want to.  He's just designing it, that's all.   I got through the next 24 hours ok.  Now it's 6pm on Friday night and Ive been curled up in my bed since 330pm and I do not want to get out.  It's so warm and comfy here when I'm sad.  I told my son I would take him rock climbing so I better find the motivation to rise from my self loathing and be of some usefulness to him.  Isolating is always top choice when the bad feelings come.  I still just can't seem to trust people with my feelings, complete vulnerability is usually still terrifying for me.  I'm just sure they'll do it wrong.  It's really for their own good, I justify, that I stay away.  But the more I isolate the longer the bad feelings seem to last.
So I guess the moral of the story is I'm making it.  I have a lot to be grateful for.  My son is amazing and worth showing up for.  My husband is here for me if I lean on him. My God is bigger than my grief and all the feelings it brings. I shall continue to ask Him for help in my "leaning into it" endevours, and remember, if she were here she would choose life! 

Dying to Live

So this is my first blog entry, ever.  I have been putting off starting a blog because it seems intimidating for some reason.  It somehow feels too revealing and vulnerable to just put whatever comes out down and sending it out into cyberspace for anyone to judge.  Seems silly to care now that I'm writing it out. I think it's partially that I'm still quite co-dependent and I wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable if I write about them.  And then theres the whole judging my writing thing.  Maybe that's the real truth. Oh well, I'm just gonna go for it.

I start a grief group tonight at a church I've been to a few times that we have loosly claimed our own.  I lost my younger sister, Rachel, to cervical cancer four months ago.  She was 29.  She didn't want to die. Obviously, only those were her words to me just days before she went. She loved God and had total peace about meeting her maker.  However, she was dying to live.  She wanted to do things.  See things.  Experience things.  She wanted to live up until the very end.  And she will live.  Forever.  In a perfect place, doing only the coolest things ever.  In God's perfect Love.  Never to be seperated from it.  Romans 8;38.

I really miss her the most when I want to share something with her and I realize shes not here.  She was my best friend.  She was the first person I would call when I had something cool I did or got and wanted to share it.  She was appreciative of the coolest things in life.  She was sooooo cool.  I have decided I will live the rest of my life in honor of Rachel.  I will be doing only the coolest things, as this is what she would do if she were here.

The first of which I started yesterday.  Skateboarding.  Yes, I'm 35, and I am learning to skate and I am absolutely and completely addicted already.  It's better than any anti-depressant I've ever been on.  My son Isaac and I are learning together.  He's six and tells me I'm too old, but I don't believe him:0