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acceptance, balance, coping, fear, future, healing, inspiration, joy, loss, love, memories, self awareness, self expression, writing
Reading the story of Mike Penner / Christine Daniels led me to a greater understanding of struggle. From the article’s perspective Mike/Christine entered a downward spiral of confusion and hopelessness despite what looked like overwhelming support from an outsider’s perspective.
That’s just it- its an outsider’s perspective. We never know what is happening in someone’s brain, in their heart. Nor can we grasp the immense pressure that we sometimes inflict on ourselves, unbeknownst to others.
As a parent I react by questioning how I can help my child to keep talking, keep relating what she needs and what she feels. As she gets older I know that the lines of communication naturally get strained, but how do you keep a child feeling safe enough to share intimate feelings and realities? Love? Stability? Security? Leading by example?
It’s funny… before I logged on I emailed my sister. Earlier this morning I had a little surgery that brought about a revelation. As the flurry of preparation buzzed around me in the cold operating room I slipped into a trance like state (meditating has proven a success in the face of uncertainty here, and the kirtan music didn’t hurt) and went to my happy place. In my email I reassured that I was fine and then I went on a tiny tangent saying that I felt like I must have been a prisoner of war or a hostage or something in another life because I have an uncanny ability to transport myself to another place when I need to endure pain. I did it giving birth. I did it for my marathons. I do it when my back pain ceases to be manageable.
I guess I did it for my emotional pain as well. When my father died I had just survived a near fatal injury months earlier and was, for all purposes, emotionally tapped. I’d been isolated in the hospital and near silent for hours and then days on end. I went inside myself for comfort and reassurance and it worked. I guess.
After his death I was left without words. It wasn’t that I kept my feelings hidden, it was that I could not sort out the shock from the pain from the grief from the fear. “Jenny doesn’t talk,” was what I heard in my bubble, but I felt too overwhelmed to try and piece apart my confusion and despair. Was this what Mike/ Christine experienced in some way? The inability to translate the tornado of emotions inside. The guilt for not being able to bring something to the table, so to speak. The hatred building because I couldn’t make anything better. The fear that if I said a single word I would lose myself completely.
Now thirty years later I have found my voice and my courage. By writing I’ve found a way to unzip my armor, let every emotion spill out into words, expose the most vulnerable parts of me and witness the reality of where I am at with love. It’s not perfect. It’s not logical at times. But it’s real. And it’s out there. I am grateful that this journey leads me to this result. Standing in my truth.
Sat Nam. Truth is my name. It rang through my ears as I laid on the table today and I was peaceful despite pain. It’s all I could hope for. Maybe tonight I will sit with my kids and talk about my experience honestly. I’ll tell them that I didn’t know what to expect, but I took a deep breath with the knowledge that I could face whatever comes my way.
Lots of thoughts rolled into one post, a mental burrito with some emotional sauce for flavor. Thanks.
We will never know what Christine felt and thought, and all the signs we think we see aren’t real or true, but both the expression of the depressed person near suicide and our perceptions of those expressioin, hoping we see right. And sadly, nothing could be farther from the truth. I lost a nephew to suicide a few years ago and his parents said they did everything right. They didn’t and didn’t see when it was near.
Needless to say my words weren’t appreciated when I tried to explain why they missed the clues and why, in part, it wasn’t them, and in part, it was them (like they wanted to hear that – except stupid me was trying to say there was nothing they could have done to prevent it, only then but not in the future). In short, you will never know what your child feels and the best you can do is just always be there to listen and ask. And hope.
And if your child trusts you enough, then they will open up enough to let you in if there are going down that road. It’s a complex set of factors with any young person prone to depression, and even suicide, and thankfully, rare, and the vast majority of parents never have to worry, let alone fear for their children about this.
I can understand the writing freeing yourself. My Dad rarely spoke to us kids, and even less to me. He only shared with his friends, even Mom felt alone and isolated too often. A year after he passed way she gave me one piece of advice, “Don’t be your father.” I took that to heart and slowly over the years opened up to friends and then in retirement where my words won’t hurt my career (although I shot a lot of holes in my career) I decided to say what I thought as long as I followed everyone’s grandmohter’s advice with a caveat.
It’s the old adage, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything.”, to which I learned as supervisor, “If you can’t express a negative as positive, don’t say anything.” Even when a friend got wasted and stupid at a party, all I said was, “Well, it’s not the worst thing you done in your life and it certainly won’t be the last.” Change life to career and the same applies to what I said to a staffer who screwed up.
It’s cool to see what 50 years has done for children who are different in just being themselves, and the parent(s) love and support that shows what’s possible and what can and should be done for children. I am grateful you’re sharing your experience, your voice and your wisdom.
I can’t hear aynhintg over the sound of how awesome this article is.
I appreciate that Barbi!