Category: Grief

  • A Conversation with Grief part 5

    Moving on WITH you not without you

    When my mom passed away, I was given a chakra deck from a good friend. The number 8 has started to be significant since my mom passed away. She passed away 8 days before my 39th birthday in 2024. In 2002, my dad passed 8 days after my 17th birthday. My husband just a few days ago connected that our cat, Jameson, who meant the world to us, passed away 8 days before our anniversary, in 2024. Now, as if that wasn’t strange enough- my husband was born in 1988. That is a lot of 8’s to just be a coincidence.

    I am not religious but I consider myself spiritual, but I lean more pagan. I have a naturally rebellious nature and can’t subscribe to one way of thinking. I have done some research about the number 8 within different spiritual/religious traditions. My mom identified as Christian, so even though I don’t share that belief- I am fascinated by the biblical perspective. Here is what I found:

    • Abundance and Success:
      The number 8 is widely recognized as a symbol of wealth, success, and material prosperity. 
    • Strength and Power:
      It can also represent inner strength, determination, and the ability to achieve goals, sometimes linked to feminine energy. 
    • Balance and Harmony:
      The symmetrical shape of the number 8 also symbolizes balance, both in its physical form and in the cyclical nature of life, suggesting renewal and equilibrium. 
    • Infinity and Infinite Possibilities:
      The continuous loop of the number 8 connects it to the concept of infinity, suggesting endless opportunities and potential for growth. 
    • Spiritual Significance:
      In various spiritual contexts, 8 represents new beginnings, spiritual regeneration, and a departure from the natural world into the supernatural, according to Torah Mitzion and Chabad.org. 
    • In Judaism:
      The number 8 is associated with new beginnings, redemption, and the Kingdom of God, according to LoveIsrael. 
    • In Chinese Numerology:
      8 is a highly auspicious number, symbolizing wealth and good fortune. 
    • In the Bible:
      It often represents new beginnings, resurrection, and a fresh start. 
    • Seeing the number 8, especially repeatedly, is often interpreted as a positive sign, urging individuals to embrace their potential, work towards their goals, and trust in the abundance of the universe, says TODAY.com. 

    My mom was one of the most caring people that walked this earth and she would spread love everywhere she went and to anyone and everyone. She never let her struggles stop her from spreading joy to others. My mom lived with Bi-polar Type 1 with psychosis. She took good care of herself but she was often over medicated during my childhood. She had to sleep a lot to balance her mental health and life responsibilities. We watched a lot of movies together and I have fond memories of making her watch Star Wars a million times, Neverending Story, Lord of the Rings, E.T., and other great 80’s and 90’s sci-fi and fantasy movies. She would take me to the video store every weekend and let me just go crazy and rent a ton of movies and video games.

    Anyway, my mom was the best human and anyone that met her would agree with that. Despite her many struggles, despite being treated less than, despite being over medicated, despite getting Neuroleptic Malignant Syndrome, and then even upon developing dementia- she was always there one way or another. There were times when she was a zombie and I thought I had lost her forever, but she would get a little better. It was a cycle until the final months of her life. The dementia got really bad and I knew she wasn’t coming back this time. This triggered a hypomanic episode and the worst one that I have had to date. My brain finally accepted that she was gone for good this time. She died about 5 months later.

    I have been processing so much anger about the way she was treated. She was neglected so many times it makes me nauseous. My mom sent me a message that it isn’t my fight. Apparently she died in her sleep and just one last final breath. Getting to the after life was like a birthday party and finally going home to be with our ancestors. I won’t go into how I know this at this time because that isn’t the story that I am meant to tell right now.

    My mom is telling me that it is time to move on with her and that she will always be with me no matter what. I do believe that I will see her and my other ancestors again someday but I have a lot of work to do here first. My mom taught me all of the most important lessons that humans need to learn in life and that has always given me an edge. My mom taught me empathy. My mom taught me kindness. My mom taught me forgiveness. She taught me to be the best human that I could and she taught me that I could do and be anything.

    Mom, I would never have become who I am today without you. I am so sorry that life wasn’t better to you but sometimes our perception is skewed. You said you had a happy life and I heard the message. I wish I would have seen it more when you were here but it gives me peace now when I need it most. I will never stop missing you and I know you want me to move on with you and not without you. I love you to the moon and back.

  • Unpacking Trauma

    Unpacking trauma and unpacking a late life autism diagnosis are both like learning about your life, even though you lived it. -Lindsay Dutton

  • Mom, You Raise Me Up

    Mom, You Raise Me Up

    One of the songs that I played at my mom’s funeral was “You Raise Me Up”. The song really tells all about how much my mom meant to me and how she treated everyone around her. It’s not fair that she had to go through so much shit in life. Despite her mental health struggles, disability, and developing dementia – she was an amazing human being. I could write an entire book just about my mom. I hope to do so, her story needs to be heard. The picture above is the last photo we took together before she passed away on 04/02/2024. I tried to be a voice for my Mom, but it was a constant fight. Our system has to do better in Oregon.

    Lyrics “You Raise Me Up”

    When I am down and, oh, my soul, so weary
    When troubles come and my heart burdened be
    Then I am still and wait here in the silence
    Until You come and sit awhile with me

    You raise me up so I can stand on mountains
    You raise me up to walk on stormy seas
    I am strong when I am on Your shoulders
    You raise me up to more than I can be

    You raise me up so I can stand on mountains
    You raise me up to walk on stormy seas
    I am strong when I am on Your shoulders
    You raise me up to more than I can be

    You raise me up (up) so I can stand on mountains (stand on mountains)
    You raise me up to walk on stormy seas (stormy seas)
    I am strong (I am strong) when I am on Your shoulders (ooh)
    You raise me up to more than I can be

    You raise me up (up) so I can stand on mountains (stand on mountains)
    You raise me up to walk on stormy seas (stormy seas)
    I am strong when I am on Your shoulders
    You raise me up to more than I can be

    You raise me up to more than I can be

    Mom, I am doing everything I can to advocate for those that need help now and in the future.

     The stigma must end, and we must talk about mental health with openness and courage. Right now, it’s scary, but it’s more important than ever.

  • Pills…

    A picture of a tree with the letters LD
    A beautiful tree with red, orange, and black with a tree border. The logo has the initials LD

    I wrote this many years ago for a creative writing class in college. Almost 20 years ago, in fact. Now I feel old. Anyway, this is about a time my Mom had a severe manic episode with psychosis. She was hospitalized for 14 days and she was never the same. She ended up getting a rare, but potentially fatal reaction to an anti-psychotic, called neuroleptic malignant syndrome. I often wonder if that contributed to early onset dementia in her 50’s. That’s pretty young. Between often being over medicated, or incorrectly? she had to sleep a lot when I was a kid. She also dealt with mania and depression even thought she was consistent about taking medication.

    When I was really young, maybe 3 or 4, my Mom had a severe manic episode and she took me in her bathrobe and walked down the street trying to get to my Grammy’s house. I am not sure if I remember or have formulated a memory from hearing about it.

    I do remember visiting my mom in a half-way house. This was a transition home before retuning to your own home, after being hospitalized.

    Here is the poem or short story…

    Pills to help her sleep. That’s all she needed. That’s what they told us. Pills to make her drowsy so she will sleep through the night.

    “Once she gets a good night sleep, she will be fine,” the doctor said.

    He didn’t know anything. He didn’t have to watch her shake herself into a seizure. He didn’t have to tell her everything was going to be okay when it clearly wasn’t. Just a good night sleep. How does one sleep when they shake like 37 shivers running through their bones all at once? He doesn’t have to look into the face covered with anxiety. Covered with fear. I am the one who has to see that face. And I can barely stand to look. I want to hold her arms and keep them from shaking. I want to make it stop. Do everything to be back to normal. A concept I don’t quite understand anymore. I sat there and watched. Completely helpless. It doesn’t seem real but exaggerated.

    I look at the papers. The ones that come in the bag for each pill bottle. There are so many. In 5-minutes, I know more than the doctor.

    It is very serious.

    Not something chased away by a nights rest. These side effects are rare. But they are serious. And she has them.

    There’s a spot for every day of the week. Sunday through Saturday. Four different times each day of the week. So many pills to keep track of.  I was no pharmacist. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I focused my energy on it. Day after day. Four different times. Overnight I became a full-time nurse.

    It was one of these pills that caused it all. The uncontrollable shaking. The pills made her so drowsy I had to stop her from falling asleep in her dinner. She lived like a zombie. I woke her up to take more pills. Ironic. To be woken up to take sleeping pills.

    This was the alternative. The other end of the ultimate high. Mania, they call it. This was the other end of the spectrum. There was no middle ground. I lived with the high and I lived with the low. I have been there and back. Been the hero and the enemy.

  • A Conversation with Grief Part 3

    Me: I was reading a fascinating report about the state of Mental Health for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. It’s an interesting read but also triggering.

    Grief: That’s understandable.

    Me: It is, but it’s a challenge sometimes working within the realm of disability and mental health because I inevitably think about my mom and get sad. I kept reading the report and thinking- where were these things for MY mom? Why did it take so long for the system to catch up with humans?

    Grief: How amazing that you get to be a part of changing it for others.

    Me: It is, but it also tugs at my heartstrings.

    Grief: Your mom would be so proud of you and the advocacy work, fighting for people who don’t have a voice.

    Me: I wouldn’t change it for the world, but it can be draining and emotionally exhausting.

    Grief: That’s where that self-care you teach about comes in and it’s even more important when we can identify with those we serve.

    Me: I can relate to it for both my mom and myself. We have both struggled with getting the right support. My mom was more affected by the broken system. I was able to watch and observe to learn what to do and not do, who to trust and not trust.

    Grief: Systems can be tricky to navigate; you humans like to make things difficult for yourselves.

    Me: We do have that problem and especially right now. The focus is on all the wrong things and meanwhile people are suffering and being killed for being who they are and being proud.

    Grief: Humanity was on the right track for a while, we were cheering you on, but then things took quite a turn. The fighting got worse, and everyone turned against each other. It’s sad to see since humans are capable of so many things.

    Me: I find myself often wondering why I try so hard to help humans when they can be so awful. I watched the love my mom and Grammy had for everyone. They were the only people that made me feel unconditional love besides my hubby. They didn’t judge people like so many and they accepted everyone. My mom once gave someone who was without a home the coat off of her back. My Grammy always gave what little she had. That seems to be how it works, those that have the least give the most.

    Grief: I have watched humanity for a long time and I have noticed that too, money can definitely corrupt people.

    Me: The wealthiest have had control for far too long and it’s time for it to come to an end. What we are going through was likely inevitable. Things always get worse before they get better. Reflecting on the civil rights movement reminds me that we must fight hard for change. I just wish that more people would wake up to where we are at. We are at a crossroads in not just the US, but the entire planet. We have destroyed our planet and each other. If we turn this around fast, we might recover, but much of the damage has already been done. Hate is a powerful force. Love is more powerful, but we need more people to make the choice- will you show up with love or hate?

  • A Conversation with Grief- Part 2

    Me: I saw my mom’s picture today- I have them everywhere.

    Grief: That is good, we want to remember those we have lost.

    Me: I still can’t look at them for very long without getting sad and tears coming to my eyes. Then I can’t breathe, and my eyes feel puffy. It’s a lot of work to grieve.  

    Grief: Normal

    Me: Listen, just because it’s normal doesn’t mean I like it. I mean using the bathroom is normal but it’s annoying and a hassle.

    Grief: Again, using that sense of humor. Resilience is very important when grieving.

    Me: Yes, I know. I teach people about it.

    Grief: Teaching and doing are not the same.

    Me: Well, sure, but I try really hard not to be a hypocrite and practice what I preach. Nothing pisses me off more than people who say one thing and do another constantly.

    Grief: I’ve noticed but seeking justice for those around you is a good thing.

    Me: It really angers people, especially right now.

    Grief: That’s not my department but anger can be difficult to deal with. Hate even worse. Anger can be misunderstood though and often there is a different emotion behind it.

    Me: Been there and it’s usually sadness and depression. Anger is easier than making yourself feel. I have been angry about my mom’s death for over a year and I still am, but I am starting to let go of the anger.

    Grief: When we feel like we don’t have control over a situation as impactful as death, it leaves us feeling vulnerable and helpless at times. It’s paralyzing. I serve a purpose, but I’m supposed to be temporary.

    Me: I am grieving much more than just the literal death of my mom, it’s complicated.

    Grief: Humans have a lot of work to do if you are going to stop harming each other. You Mom was a victim of a broken system and stigma.

    Me: Tell me about it, I never thought I would see anything like this in my lifetime. For many this is nothing new and everyone else is waking up to it. Grieving while the world is on fire is quite the experience.  

  • A Conversation with Grief

    A Conversation with Grief

    Grief: Good morning, today is going to be a rough one?

    Me: Again, but why?

    Grief: Because I need you to feel me.

    Me: Haven’t we done this enough, can’t you move on? I’ve done this so many times, I’m tired.

    Grief: Yes, we have spent many years together.

    Me: No offense, but it hasn’t been pleasant.

    Grief: I understand, but my intentions are good. You don’t need to hide from me.

    Me: I just have shit to do, a job for one.

    Grief: ALL of it can wait.

    Me: Easy for you to say, you’re not in my head. Are you going to pay the rent?

    Grief: Oh but I am in your head, I exist everywhere. Your mind, body, and spirit.

    Me: That seems like too much access.

    Grief: You will get used to me again, but we have a lot of work to do.

    Me: Why do you hurt so much?

    Grief: The harder you love, the more I hurt.

    Me: Right, but that sucks, and I don’t want to do this anymore.

    Grief: The only way is through, delays and running only make it harder.

    Me: This better be the last time.

    Grief: You know I can’t promise that. Death isn’t my department.

    Me: I don’t really like you very much.

    Grief: I get that, it’s lonely here sometimes.

    Me: What exactly are you anyway? I’m sorry you get lonely, I understand.

    Grief: I am a reflection of the love you had for your Mom. Each experience of me is different.

    Me: Well, some of that is kind of cool, I love Psychology.

    Grief: I think so, but I’m hard for people to understand,

    Me: Now you’re speaking my language.

    Grief: I thought you might relate.

    Me: So, how long will you be with me this time?

    Grief: As long as you need me, I prefer to not leave things unfinished.

    Me: I understand, it makes it worse, I have run from you many times.

    Grief: I’m too quick this time, and powerful. You loved your Mom deeply.

    Me: She was an amazing person and she loved everyone. It is unfair the life she had.

    Grief: I know, that is part of what we will process. She had many happy times too, especially with you.

    Me: I wasn’t always patient towards the end, but I tried so hard to be there for her. I was having my own mental health struggles.

    Grief: She knew how much you loved her, that’s what makes me even more difficult to me. A mother and daughter have a very special bond. You and your Mom went through a lot together.

    Me: I’m not ready.

    Grief: Nobody ever is, I come on fast but I am experienced differently by all.

    Me: Why is death so hard for humans to process?

    Grief: Death is complicated, even they would agree. They have a very dark sense of humor as you can likely imagine.

    Me: I’ve noticed, I do too.

    Grief: Many who have a close relationship with me do, I try to make it easier when I can.

    Me: I appreciate that, you do come on strong and you are quite painful, no offense.

    Grief: I get that a lot, but I do slow down in time.

    Me: I remember, but this one really hurts.

    Grief: When you feel pain, sadness, and me -grief- you grow in your resilience if you let me in fully and completely.

    Me: Alright, but I am trusting you to lead me through. I don’t give trust easily.

    Grief: I know and I understand. I will be your guide to the end.

    Me: Deal, but just in case, do you have a refund policy.

    Grief: Good one, there’s that sense of humor, but no and I don’t do layaway either. People always think I do for some reason.

    Me: Humans can be stubborn. I have been told I know something about that.

    Grief: I’ve noticed… are you ready?

    Me: Is anyone ever ready for you?

    Grief: No, but they eventually get used to me hanging around and checking in on occasion. I’m an acquired taste.

    Me: I’ve never liked bitter things, but I know you have a sweet side to. Please  be gental with my heart, give my mind strength, and help me set my spirit free. We might eventually be friends.

    Grief: I would like that, I will do everything I can to make this ride smooth, but there will be bumps. No road is ever perfectly paved, we have to do the work to smooth them out.

    Me: Well, luckily, I’m a good driver, just hang on because I like to go fast.

    Grief: Noted, but I am also here to help you learn how to slow down.