My Journey to Everywhere - Lesson 4 Part 2

Location:       Milford, MI    

Lesson:          Life is disposable – follow through, take risks, fail, dare greatly. Part 2.

Teacher:       Tom

 

Background Part 2:

Over the last two weeks in May, I rifled through Tom’s belongings, his memories, his treasures, and his life. I began to see a pattern with him, based on his writing. I could identify periods of depression from the sprawling, hard to read, shorthand documents, many full of anger and sadness. In phases of mania, he would use bright blue ink or pencil and write in clear thoughts, and plans. 

And there were lists on top of lists. Tom had literally thousands of little pieces of paper. It looked like typing paper he’d cut to index card size. These pieces were everywhere. In plastic storage containers on desks and shelves, in the pages of books, in stacks in drawers, fluttered lonely and forgotten behind dressers and in his closet.  This collection contained pieces of his mind and soul. Flashes into moments he was grappling with, everything from ordering a new breed of roses for his garden to trying to make peace with his own brain.  There were passwords, dreams, ideas, goals, practice conversations, to-dos, not-to-dos and on and on.

There were two I found that felt like they may have been towards the end. One was a song list and the other was a mantra. Both will go with me for the rest of my life.

As I dug through an insurmountable amount of stuff, I walked through so many emotions. For a few days that emotion was anger. Not anger he’d made the choice to suicide. I honor that part of him. I was angry that I was sitting in front of bits and pieces of his life making decisions about what to do with them. A box with letters from his best friend in middle school, school yearbooks, moments from his Boy Scout to Eagle Scout career…. love letters from long gone women, journal after journal, photos of people I don’t know and that weren’t identified.

Tom had briefly been married about 20 years ago to a woman who was battling terminal cancer. He married her in an ultimate act of love in the hospice chapel.  They had a many year love affair before her diagnosis happened. We (the family) never really knew. And there it all was, in a box in the basement behind some old IBM operating manuals. Wedding photos, CD of the ceremony, letters, cards, and legal papers. A love affair worthy of a Lifetime movie (a good one) reduced to a box in a basement. And nobody left who knew or remembered. Not really. I was so angry I never got the chance.

I sat in anger, grief, frustration, and guilt that I had no great ideas for the mounds and mounds of memories. I did my best to open every single box, read through as many letters, notes and documents as I could. I had this duality of feeling like it was none of my business, stay out of it and thinking if I didn’t take this time, Tom would not be remembered for his living. Only his dying. I have no idea if I did the right thing or not, but it’s done.

The cement floor of the basement was cold and unyielding. There was that basement smell all around and spiders that could carry off small children, but there I sat. Day after day making piles, moving piles, re-piling piles. I reached out to family and asked what everybody wanted and the answer was: nothing. Not that they didn’t value Tom, we all did in so much as we knew him. But that was just it. We didn’t know him. None of us KNEW this soul-rich, super smart, delightfully funny, horribly ill man. And I cried for that.

I walked up and down the stairs to the basement dozens of time, symbolically walking around where I would have thought Tom may have hung and cursed him under my breath every single time I brought up or sat down with pieces of his life. “Damn you Tom. You deserved better than ME deciding what to keep.”

End the end; I had to make the choice to call in a salvage service.  All my sorting, trips to donation centers, torture over what to do just wasn’t getting the house cleaned out. So I made the appointment for men and dumpsters to show up and C and I worked to make sure we’d removed anything that could possibly mean something today or somewhere down the road.

The morning the trucks showed…..I went to pick up Tom’s ashes. And that’s where the lesson went from head to heart. My conversations with my brother in law in a box in my next post….

PS  - One of Tom's Lists were songs that completely surprised me. Including Shut Up and Dance! So I've made a playlist on Spotify if anyone would like to hear the songs that touched Tom.

For Tom....

#recoveryposse #wedorecover #sicknotweak #family #backroads #roadtrip #suicide #mentalhealthishealth #nomoreshame #nostigma #bepresent

My Journey to Everywhere - Lesson 4 Part 1

Location:       Milford, MI    

Lesson:          Life is disposable – follow through, take risks, fail, dare greatly. Part 1.

Teacher:       Tom

Back Story:

I had a brother in law named Tom. He was 66 when he made the choice to end the suffering from 50+ years of mental illness. I am ashamed to say that in the 26 years I knew Tom, I defined him by his illness. Even when I didn’t realize I was doing it.  Tom was the guy who disappeared for months at a time and didn’t call or show up for holidays, he was the mysterious kind of nerdy guy who was quiet, a little overweight and super smart…. but tortured. And that’s how we talked about him: “Do you think Tom will show up this year?” “Has anybody heard from Tom?” “Did you know Tom started light box therapy?” “Tom is amazing to push through his depression and start his own business.”

I never meant to reduce him to his illness. I see clearly now how easy that would be for family or friends to do to me, as my battle with addiction has been anything but subtle. We (the collective we) are much larger than any one thing. I know that I preach that and I hope today I live that, but shortcutting someone in discussion with friends or family can sometimes be easier. Tom – where ever you are, I am sorry for shortcutting you.

My Father-in-Law, Dan and Tom at our wedding

When we received the call that Tom had chosen to complete suicide – it was not a huge shock. Mostly we were sad he was at a place that living for him was more painful than not. At the time of his death, he’d disappeared for almost a year from his family. We had no idea what was happening with him, with his life, but then again we rarely glimpsed his day-to-day life so that was not unusual.

Tom is the reason for this journey of mine. When he died, he did not have a will or any estate planning. In the note he left, he designated his brothers to help with his estate. That included traveling to Milford, MI to clean out his home. He’d lived there for almost 20 years.  Post graduation, I was in a position to show up for my family and help do this. It seemed like such a small thing after the years and years of loyalty and love my husband had shown me during all my embattled moments. So I packed my car and set off with a list of stops and 3 map programs on my phone.

Arriving in Milford, I checked into a local long-term shit-hole and plugged in Tom’s address. I was met in Tom's driveway that first day by his long-term companion.  She is a lovely, intelligent and (at least that day) totally devastated woman. We stood in Tom’s driveway and held each other while she sobbed at the loss, the unknown, the shock that suicides can bring. I didn’t really process the outside of the house then. I got a sense of the pale pink brick, the mid-century ranch style that included a large front window over a concrete porch. It looked nice. Tidy. Rational. Not at all the kind of home you’d expect to house the mental torture Tom endured inside its walls.

She led me around to the back entrance and unlocked the door while I took in the detached garage, the remains of a raised garden, how close the neighbor’s houses were, and a forlorn canoe peeking from behind the garage. The canoe was mostly encased in wild ivy and vines and I recall thinking that I hope he’d used it sometime before he died and smiled while he paddled.

When C (not gonna use her whole name here to respect her story) opened the door, I was struck by a wave of scent: shag carpet, furniture polish, and that unique smell that places seem to acquire when they aren’t occupied. Brown and tan shag-ish carpet lead up a single step and into the open den. But, I couldn’t see that yet. 

My eyes were riveted on the rail that divided the entrance from the stairway to the basement immediately to my left. A set of carpet-covered stairs descended sharply into a basement that was inky black from my vantage point. That railing was the spot that Tom took his last breath. The place he closed his eyes and said “yes, now”. 

I was frozen. I couldn’t breathe. I had more love and empathy for him in that moment than in any of the time I knew him before. As C was inviting me in and talking about all she’d done in the house to make it “workable” for us – I just keep seeing Tom get up from his sofa, take his rope (Or was it a tie? Or a ripped sheets?) in his hand and walk to the banister. Had he measured the distance? Had he pulled on the bars before to make sure they’d hold him?  Did he clamber to the top of the banister and jump?  Did he stand on a chair and kick it from under him? Did he find a way to do a slow hang so he drifted into a blissful everlasting peace?  I didn’t want to think this way. I didn’t want to gorify his death but I couldn’t stop. 

I pictured what it looked like when the son of a friend found him. I saw him walking in and out of his house for 20 years, glancing at the railing and the staircase and wondered how many time, how long he'd looked longingly at that space and decided "maybe tomorrow." I stood outside of myself and absorbed what this place had been to him and felt some gratitude that he was somewhere he felt comfortable and safe on the last night of his life. 

After what seemed like an eternity, I pulled my eyes up and focused on C’s endless conversation. She was explaining the state of the house when she’d come in after Tom’s death. The piles, the chaos, the lack of care and cleaning. I blinked and began to take in the room. It was painfully normal, neat and well appointed. Tom apparently loved arts-and-crafts. Who knew? His furniture, his color scheme, his décor were all well put together and could have fit into almost any home.  Forest green, mauve, and browns flowed throughout the whole room. C started pointing out glazed tiles that Tom collected, a piece of furniture that had been his grandfather’s and other treasures Tom had painstakingly collected over the years. This told me more about my brother-in-law in 10 minutes than I’d known in a lifetime. Let that sink in for a moment. He had to die for me to know him.

I’m going to end this for now.  There is so much to tell in one post. I am working to find the parts most relevant. If that’s possible. In the two weeks I stayed at Tom’s, I discovered he LOVED books – had close to 1,000 on shelves and boxes, that he never threw anything away – including the remnants of a love story that played out in 1988, that he had been battling mental illness since he was 17 and had documented the journey endlessly along the way and finally that he had DREAMS – big audacious amazing dreams and he had pages and pages of planning written about how to take the leap and fulfill his dreams. But he never did. It’s as though he was walking forward, toward them, doing everything right but when the time came to take that last step and “do” he lifted his let, reached for the next space but could not put his foot down again. That is what I will write about in my next post: the space between doing all the preparing and starting the work. I can clearly see myself in that. My own “stuck” and Tom helped me see that clearly.

 #suicide #depression #bethechange #endthestigma #wedorecover #mentalhealth #compassion #kindness #family #journey #roadtrip #backroads #lifelessons #kindness #compassion #multiplepathways #mentalhealthishealth #dotherightthing

My Journey to Everywhere - Lesson 3

Location:

Louisville, KY           

Lesson:

Sometimes you have to sit in it before you act or Be Present

Teacher:

Glenn

Back Story:

I’ve known Glenn for 7 or 8 years now.  I worked with him when I was still pretending I could manage my addiction and my career. Neither was accurate, of course. But I am learning that the experiences I had while deep in my addiction are not delegitimized or lessened BECAUSE of my addiction. There were some rich, wonderful moments despite my disease and self-destructive, self-loathing behavior that accompanied it.  The project I worked on with Glenn was one of those moments. Glenn is a former military guy. Infantry. He served our country and came home carrying his experience with him. More than his military experience, Glenn is a kind, generous and loyal friend. And that’s really the part that matters.

We had not seen each other since an, especially horrendous night in NYC at a gala at the Plaza Hotel. The night wasn’t horrendous. He wasn’t horrendous. My disease was and I had begun feeding it every single thing it screamed for and demanded of me. I am certain my loud, screaming inappropriate behavior was less than appealing for any friend to witness and I have always carried shame about that. Over the years, though, we’ve stayed in touch via Facebook and he said to me once, in the middle of the worst of my hell,  “I’ve got your six”. Not sure if he knew it – but that kept me sober that day and I cried for a very long time. Mostly because he was present and he was a friend that didn’t leave.

When I stopped to see Glenn, we settled quickly into our friendship and as I breathed a sigh of relief and let go of some shame, we caught up with life. I discovered Glenn has a dream.  It’s a good damn dream. Glenn wants to use his passion to change the world (BIG picture climate and clean earth) by building a sustainable business or nonprofit local (helping one person at a time).  I won’t share the details since it’s his story, but even the skeptic that I am when it comes to starting new nonprofits/businesses sees the potential in this one.

Dawning:

My lesson came from our conversations about what he’s planning next. I am always full of a sense of urgency, a need to move, jump, leap or GO. I’ve always been this way, but in recovery, I find it especially so. It's as though I am afraid that if I slow down at ALL, I will lose. No idea what the loss would be, it's an irrational fear. I had turned urgency into running and didn't see it happen. I had not realized I was carrying that panic like urgency into every aspect of my life. And with it, the fear.

Immediately after Glenn mentioned his dream to me - I was asking him a million questions like: “do you have a business plan?”, “what’s next?”,  “have you looked into starting the 501c3?”, “who are you serving?”, “what’s your elevator pitch?”, “what’s your reason for people to give?” and on and on. My "sense of urgency" taking over and I was going to move this forward no matter if he wanted it or not. 

We were riding around in his ancient amazing jeep with the top off, heat blasting and touring Louisville. And he wasn’t answering. So, I looked up and realized we’d been speeding through the most amazing architecture and were entering a park that was full of green rolling hills and the smells of southern woods. I had noticed nothing. I was so busy doing what I do that I wasn’t present. I almost missed this moment with my friend. From the drive, we went to throw axes. If there is ever a sport you need to stop, breathe and stay present, it’s slinging an ax over your head and flinging full force to a target in front of you. Took me about 20 throws to slow down enough to breathe through it. But, when I did….I hit the bullseye.

I know Glenn will follow his vision and dream on his own time. I believe in his ability to do this and I believe in his ability to move at a pace that makes sense to him so he builds this right the first time.  I believe I need to see that in myself as well….

In some cases, that sense of urgency is a good thing. It gets things done, allows me to help clients (both nonprofits and people) move from “stuck”. I don’t dislike that part of myself, but my time with Glenn helped me see that I no longer need to fear it.

This day in the chilly wind, ancient jeep and beautiful scenery, that lesson dropped. My sense of urgency was/can simply be another way of running from the present. From the here and now. From the place that is gone the instant it arrives. What good is the other side of anything for me if I did not breathe into every moment getting there?

Thank you Glenn. Be present. Take my time. Seek the path that keeps me present even if that means confronting my fears to do so. 

You’re amazing and I’ll ALWAYS have your six.

#roadtrip #backroads #journeytoeverywhere #lifelessons #warrior #veteran #friend #bepresent #recovery #lifejourney #selfseeking #findyourvoice #beyourvoice #bepresent #remembersilence #rememberstillness #yesand #recoveryposse #wedorecover #growth

My Journey to Everywhere - Lesson 2

Location:

Montgomery, AL:      

Lesson:

There is Power in Humanity - YOU HAVE TO WORK FOR IT

Teacher:

Nobel Prize Winner Jody Williams

Back Story:

Like most kids of my generation, I studied Civil Rights in social studies classes. We knew of the magic and power of Dr. Martin Luther King, the courage and determination of the young people in Greensboro’s Woolworth Sit-In, of Rosa Parks and her determination to claim her seat on the bus. I recall being impressed, engaged and outraged our country was a place these protests needed to happen for change to occur. I also know that once the lesson was done, I thought little more about the movement. I celebrated heroes, respected their courage and admired their ability to raise their voices….but I admit I saw this period in history through the lens of a teenager in 1986. Respectful but removed.

Dawning:

I decided to drive through Montgomery and stop at the 16thStreet Baptist Church – the site of a Ku Klux Klan bombing that took the lives of four young girls in 1963.  The assailants were known. But the wheels of justice move very slowly and the first incitement happened 12 years after the bombing. Two perpetrators lived their lives without ever paying for their crimes in court. And two others were tried in 2002. 

16th Street Baptist Church, Montgomery Alabama

As I sat in front of this church I began to cry. I will not make this post about white privilege or what right/reasons I had to cry. I believe those concepts are deeply personal for each of us to consider and discuss when it makes sense. I am comfortable with my awareness. I am also aware I will spend my life working to ensure I am part of the solution for fairness and equality – not the problem.

What really brought me to tears this day was the power of humanity when we band together.

During the fall of 2018 at the University of Houston, I had the privilege of studying Empowerment and Chaos Theory with Professor Aabha Brown and Noble Peace Prize winner Jody Williams. The class was really about Social Work and Global Justice, but my take away was “movement making”.

We talked a lot about various social change movements here and around the world, including the Civil Rights Movement. I recall Jody being especially animated and emphatic when she challenged us: “Do you think this just HAPPENED?” She challenged us to look at incredible and brave women like Rosa Parks and to ask ourselves what work had been done in preparation of that (and other) moment(s). She demanded we dig deep and recognize Mrs. Parks was the one who sat and refused to move and THAT WAS INCREDIBLY BRAVE. She taught that we also needed to recognize there had been tons of planning, people in the movement were ready for that moment, knew it was coming and capitalized on every available front: media, public outcry, demand for justice and on and on.

Jody used these same techniques when she led the International Campaign to Eradicate Landmines in the 1990s and now works to eliminate AI war machines. She carries with her the power, learning, and ancestors who came before her to demand “no more”. She is joined by a group of (insert most positive praise word you can think of here) women at the Nobel Women's Initiative that have used everything from withholding sex community-wide to the power of the force for what is right to change this world.

Sitting by the memorial for the girls who were violently murdered – I clearly saw the power of humanity to change and to destroy.  Jody’s words came back to me and I also clearly understood the power of coming together, organizing with a plan and goals AND the exponential courage it must take to be the person who sits down, stands up, refuses to walk in or refuses to leave that catapults a movement into public consciousness.

Kelly Ingram Park on the Civil Rights Trail

I wept at the certain realization that we had to do this at all in our world.  I wept for the potential we have to make a change. I wept for those four girls and for the millions and millions of movement makers who lost their lives in taking their stand. I wept because I knew that I would not be happy on my journey if I were not part of such a change. I am not THE face or THE voice of anything. Very few are. I am A face and A voice and when I find my tribe and we raise our thoughtful, planned and organized voices together…. we will be a power for humanity to change our own direction.

Won't you join me?

Thank you, Jody Williams.  I still have a hard time calling you Jody. So I say your name as one word: NobelPeacePrizeWinnerJodyWilliams - but I say it with respect and love for your kindness and willingness to stay in touch! I’d follow your change anywhere. 

#change #empower #chaos #humanity #joinus #bethechange #ittakeshumanstochangehumanity #recovery #roadtrip #backroads #middleage #livejourney #28days #findingmyself #soultravel #solotravel #soultrip #civilrights #humanrights #socialjustice #socialwork #dosomething