Repost from 3.23.18: Trying to See the Light
I originally posted this on my Blogger site in 2018. This post is hard for me to read, but Zoe is proud of what I wrote and asked me to reshare this on our new site. Its an uncomfortable subject, but as tomorrow starts National Suicide Awareness Week, it seemed the right time to re-share this. Two and a half years ago today, on March 5th, 2018, my best friend since kindergarten, at 28 weeks pregnant, died by suicide. This is the first in a series of posts I wrote about that life altering event.
A few days a week I start my work day with a writing prompt journal, I set a timer for five minutes, flip open the journal and scribble until I’m out of things to say or until the timer goes off. I’ve always loved writing and it helps me gain a bit of focus to start my day. On Monday, March 5th the prompt was about an unfulfilled life goal and how to achieve it. My unfilled goal is to publish my own blog. I’ve had one set up for over five years now…and I’ve yet to publish any of the dozens of things I’ve written. As I went about that Monday, a few thoughts ran through my head about what I should write about, but mostly my thoughts lingered on things I needed to do including my actual job I get paid to do, work on the gymnastics yearbook, pay the dentist, send Heather a picture of the pile of baby stuff I had for her, tell Heather about my younger daughter’s issues with the name “Beyonce”, among a variety of other things. What I had no way of knowing until the following morning, though, was Heather was already gone.
Since that awful Tuesday morning nearly three weeks ago, I’ve become a self-proclaimed Debbie Downer. Anyone who knows me, knows this isn’t my usual demeanor. I’m kind of pissed that I can’t pull myself out of this phase. Here’s the thing, though, there is no script for how to grieve, especially in a situation such as this. There is no instruction manual that tells you how life will turn out, and nothing can prepare you for the unexpected suicide of your lifelong best friend. I’m struggling to get around this hurdle, because I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that I will never get OVER it. I know I’ll be able to move beyond it, but nothing will truly fill that void in my heart. I’ve had difficulty sleeping, which my husband will tell you is extremely unusual for me. I’ve had trouble eating- again, not something that I normally find difficult. I’ve been short tempered with everyone, especially those closest to me. I’ve had difficulty focusing. At times, I’ve had trouble putting together a coherent sentence. I’ve even had moments where I couldn’t catch my breath. And the thought of her – – its there constantly. Having known Heather for most of my life, it wasn’t unusual for things to make me think of her throughout any given day…just as things remind me of my husband, kids, or parents. But now thoughts of her almost consume me. Things that I normally would have likely overlooked remind me of her, things I don’t want to associate with her…like suicide prevention posters. I took the train to New York for work last week and nearly every stop between Lancaster and Penn Station had a suicide prevention poster. Have they always been there? Have I always lived in such ignorant bliss?
While I have struggled immensely through these last few weeks, the one thing I keep coming back to is that we failed her. I don’t blame myself. This wasn’t any one person’s fault. This was a systemic failure by everyone involved, this was a failure by all of us to see what was really happening. I’ve analyzed and over-analyzed all our texts from the last 6 months and replayed all our conversations in my head, and sure, with hindsight I can see where I missed things. We all can. And obviously realizing this outcome, every single one of us close to her would have done things differently. Unfortunately, time machines only exist in movies and there isn’t a damn thing we can do now to change what happened. What we can do is educate others in the hope of avoiding this outcome for anyone else. And while I’m far from a psychology expert, Lord knows I barely passed Psych 101 -what I do know is those who don’t learn from history are condemned to repeat it. I know I’ve made many friends uncomfortable; as there is no script to grieve, none exists to tell you how to console a friend in a situation like this. I’m sorry for the discomfort the subject has caused. I’m sorry I’m a scatter-brained nut job at the moment, but here’s the thing, I’m not going to stop talking about her. I’m not going to shy away from explaining how she died, because I owe it to her. I owe it to every other pregnant woman suffering in silence right now. And I will do whatever I can to prevent a tragedy such as this befalling any other family.
