They say time heals all wounds. There is no way the person that coined that phrase was a mother forced to outlive her child. Grief actually intensifies over time as we face the reality of life without our loved ones. With each passing day, my daughter feels further and further away... and yet, she's closer than she was the day she died.
Time simply gives us longer to assimilate to our new identity and strange existence. Until I decided to walk in purpose, I was stuck in that space between. Sometimes I still find myself there ... but I don't get stuck anymore.
The space between is our struggle within. The internal conflict is made more vicious by unresolved, worthless emotions like guilt and regret. Until we confront the ugly, we will get lost in the apathy between life or death; the ambiquity between wrong and right, love and hate; the numb between despair and peace, forgiveness and anger; the corner between reality and dreams; the identity between mother to two beautiful children and a yet defined soul; the fear dividing truth and blurred memories.
I had to make a conscious decision and then choose to live that decision everyday in order to recover a purpose driven life, it was that or dying. I couldn't go on as I was anymore.
For example - facing down the truth obstructed by blurred memory.
When I've talked about my addiction in the past 2 years, I have omitted embarrassing, agonizing details. In my own defense, I had forgotten so many things as the drugs and trauma of my daughter's death sent my brain into a survival mode. This is a good thing because if it hadn't, I would've lost my mind by now.
The painful reminders of my well intended mistakes and the horrifying consequences are unbearable at times. I found the courage to face them and forgave myself, understanding that, the vast majority of my actions were motivated by love, or something closely resembling it.
Case in point...
I chose to remember in detail how it must've felt for my children to endure my apathetic, self destructive spiral down.
Once for about 2 months straight, my son survived on Domino's pizza, wings and desserts... EVERY night. As a growing, athletic young man, this wasn't the best of diets. Unfortunately, I was writing checks to pay for them until they started bouncing and they stopped taking them. Then, I'd use another account and do the same thing until they refused those too. Eventually, our address was blocked for checks.
My son was an overachiever but like all children, he required discipline. He wanted that discipline so badly, as did my daughter. They wanted and needed me to make them go to school. Instead, I'd make up excuses FOR them NOT to go to school. I have since come to understand that boundaries means love and security. Children not only need this... they crave it. How did I get that so wrong???
I cannot tell you how many times my son came home to a house with "stolen " electricity as eventually the bounced checks couldn't buy me more time. Once the power company realized we tampered with the meter, they would come out and remove it until bill was paid in full - in CASH. It was the same drill with water, gas, cable...
I broke so many promises to my children during that time, I cannot recall or count them all if I could. Each time I would break a promise, my heart would ache. In true addict form, I would scheme and fast talk to make that ache subside a bit for them ... and for me.
My son was an avid athlete from age 4 on. He played basketball and football in high school and was a star player. Until my first love (my children) were replaced by drugs, I took him to his games. I watched on with pride. I signed him up for everything. During addiction? I think I made it to two games... tops. He would come home beaming with pride, recanting in his typical charismatic, passionate way, each play, each score. I was not there. He would say it was okay ...but I saw it in his eyes. The looks stabbed ny heart and yet... it wasn't enough for me to stop the madness. i justified, I didn't think I COULD quit. I told myself I was sick, I needed them to be okay.
I was an excellent housekeeper until addiction stormed in. I went from scrubbing floors with toothbrushes on hands and knees to, pretending 8 puppies hadn't soiled my carpets because they weren't being let out regularly. That's okay, I thought. We will rip out carpet and start over. That never happened. Instead, bare wood floors were also eventually ruined by roaming, unsupervised puppies who were considered dog aggressive at only 8 weeks old.
I got a call once that my daughter was in the next community over, passed out drunk. We took off to get her. Once we walked in, she was obviously obliterated. She started yelling and whining for us to "stop embarrassing her". She begged to stay. HE wanted to throw her over his shoulders and get her out of there. My addiction voided my motherly intuition and I decided to give in to my daughter's demands. Remember now, my children were my whole life, my everything... at least I thought so , until addiction seeped into my blindspot.
We walked out, relunctantly. Fighting on the way home, he and I did not see eye to eye. I thought I was protecting her from him. He thought he was protecting her from THEM. I went home and got more high, telling myself, it's okay. I told myself, it's suburbia. Man, I lived through way worse than a party at a friend's and I'm okay!!! Okay???? Ha. No, I was NOT okay.
IT was NOT okay. Later that night as she laid passed out, she was groped by a few boys and everyone talked about it later. Not long before that night, my daughter had been sexually assaulted by cowards. This night that I chose to give in to her helpless demands, was the night I chose to ignore her screams for help, preferring instead to live in that space between. And yet, I thought I was acting in love.
There are so many things I would change... but I can't. This fiercely protective mother bear went from overprotective to emotional abandonment. My daughter was particularly lost when this happened.
Fast forward two years, Mother bear is now shooting heroin with her daughter's friend for the first time, in a car parked next to her daughter's friend's house in an upper middle class neighborhood.
The space between told me my addiction only lasted 5 years and most of that time my children were adults. No, the last 5 years were only the worst. That space between lied. I will correct the record to reflect life. It was more like 10 years lost to this demon of addiction.
Before that? I took my children to 2 vacations to Mexico, one to Bahamas, 3 to Disneyworld, beaches, all year around. After? I barely left my darkened room for more than a run to the pharmacy.
How? Why???? My babies were everything to me. The thought of losing them would crush me and yet, here I am still. I thought I could not survive detox. Yet, I DID survive after withdrawing in a jail cell in the worst way possible. I've also somehow managed to stay clean after the most traumatic loss anyone can endure.
Facing down the past helps correct your direction going forward.
Yes, it wasn't 5 years, it was 10. Yes, I know. It's okay, I'll make it accurate, even if I can't make it right.
That space between is where we get lost. But I'm not anymore.
Dedicated to my babies, my first loves. I'm walking through your pain and it sucks. I'm so very sorry.
Love, Mom
What do you immediately think of when you hear the word, "holiday"? The English mean vacation when they say, "going on holiday". For most Americans, our thoughts dart to a day off from work or school and to family traditions.
For those of us that grieve for loved ones, life is divided into before and after. I lost my parents at a young age so my before for their memory is limited. However, after losing my daughter, my brain made the choice on it's own to section off time. I was different now and there was nothing I could do about that, no matter how hard I tried .
BEFORE children, BEFORE Kirstyn left us
With parents: I hardly remember much about holidays but a plastic Barbie or two and gifts delivered through the mail by a grandmother in Texas. We were poor. We survived on my mother's meager waitress tips, my stepdad's cotton truck driving job and their low level pot dealing. We ate pot pies and peanut butter sandwiches. We were in constant upheaval, moving several times in a short period to places like a trailer in the middle of the desert with no one else in sight. But, we felt LOVED.
With grandparents: The first Christmas was over the top. They said my grandfather went in debt trying to make it a good experience since we had lost our parents the year before. Their friends and the folks at the church they attended gave as well. It was overwhelming. I loved to read and there were so many books. It was a good first memory, or as good as possible, given the situation. That would be the last Christmas it was this way.
Each year after, Thanksgiving and Christmas were days off from abuse, not much more. The home would be full of visitors so they would be distracted by their pretense. Still, we had better be on our best behavior and stay out of sight or we would be very sorry. The punishment would be especially bad since they were forced to contain their anger until everyone had gone . Yet, I still have fond memories of the generosity and love from my grandmother's son who was grown and living in Richmond, Va. He gave us our first bicycles. Once he was married, the generosity didn't stop. His wife was silly and childlike and would tell us funny stories. Their gifts were thoughtful and we loved them. They were our angels then.
Raised in the wild: I didn't live there long and after the courts placed me in foster care, I had one good Christmas with my foster parents. Just like when our parents died, the foster parents tried to compensate for my being apart from family. The year after, my foster father sexually abused me and , life changed.
In and out of foster care, group homes, rehabs, youth centers, hospitals, on the run... That was my childhood. One Christmas was spent a few hours at a friend's and a few more in an Arlington crack house doing coke.
My children
One would think I would have no idea HOW to do holidays given THAT childhood. Funny enough, it came natural to me and I tried my best to make the memories as pleasant as possible for my children .
Thanksgiving was my kids' favorite holiday. I would go all out and make 3 meats, every typical side and desserts. It was us, me and them, as even when I was with a partner, it felt like they were the outsider. After my grandfather died, I made amends with my grandmother for a while and would sometimes visit her and sisters on Thanksgiving. She was very different then. She was softer, warmer and treated me with respect, like a guest of honor. But I guess it just wasn't enough to forgive and I eventually returned to a hostile state.
Christmas involved spending an equal amount of money on an equal number of gifts for each child, like many American homes. My kids would sneak to find their gifts before Christmas, just like every child. I would buy the best tree I could afford and I made a point of decorating it as they preferred, colorful and well lit. For a few years we would celebrate 2 cultures, Christmas Eve with my son's family from Mexico and then Christmas day at home. Christmas day was amazing, starting by waking up WAY early and digging right in.
It was magical. It was better than being a child. I was more excited than they were and happier to give than to receive. It filled my heart with so much innocence.
As my addiction took hold, the Christmas tree and those traditions were lost in my darkness. But I still tried as best as I could to pull it off.
After KIRSTYN
No Christmas tree. No Thanksgiving. No traditions, just another day . What I wouldn't do to go back... I can't. What I wouldn't do to correct the course of events... I cannot . What I wouldn't do to be grateful everyday and know I was so blessed to have the life I had, in spite of hardships. I can't. The last Christmas I had with both children was spent running around looking for a 24 hour pharmacy to fill a fake prescription. The day was cold and overcast and a premonition of things to come.
After Ally
My son is now married and has a beautiful, sweet little girl. He will create his own traditions and despite the strained relationship between us, I know it will be okay one day. He has a longing for connection and family and he wants the same for his daughter. He has a large family on his dad's side and his wife also has a large family. He enjoys the hustle and bustle and family invading your personal space. He sees the importance of this now and he's determined to provide that for his daughter.
I respect him immensely for that and I'm so happy he has that opportunity for his child.
He will miss his sister and have the "what ifs" forever, but, he is marching on in strength for himself and his family, as his sister would want.
Ally will enjoy those holidays and God willing, carry on the same when she becomes a mother.
I will indulge my family as I did before but with a difference. I'm the walking wounded and I'll never be the same. My little moment of innocence is gone, or so I thought . When I sat on the floor playing ball with Ally earlier this year, I felt that stirring again. It is the feelings of love, renewal and innocence. I also felt Kirstyn's playful spirit all around.
Traditon
Whoever reads this, I have 3 things I want you to know.
1) No matter who has hurt you, forgiveness is love for yourself, not them and it lightens your burden. They know what they did, your grudge won't make it worse for anyone BUT you.
2) Be grateful for this moment right now . It's a beautiful memory or ... a sad lesson but once the moment has passed, it can't be altered. It's HISTORY.
3) You can break the cycle. No matter what you've lived through, the future starts with you.
4) Being a parent is the most important job of your life. You are personally responsible for the soul that impacts future. No matter what you have suffered, you must put on your game face and do this right.
5) Love your time with family, you may never get the chance again.
With gratitude to my children, thank you for giving me innocence and love. To Ally, I'll spoil you to pieces, someday. Until then, thank you for the gift of HOPE.
