I'm Still Standing

Hello to anyone who's reading this. It's ONLY been 15 months since my last post. To list the many reasons and situations that came about to cause this to happen would take days, and it would also be super boring. Suffice to say that 2014 wasn't the best year of my life, mostly due to medical crap: surgeries, hospital stays, infections, depression. Did I mention depression? It's impossible to write anything worth reading while wishing that a giant hole in the earth would just swallow you up. 2014 was less than stellar, but it did make me face a few things I've been reluctant to even think about, like admitting to myself AFTER 22 YEARS that I do, indeed, have a chronic disease. Like how in the world I still believe I can work a full time job. Or host a full blown family party. Or walk around the best art fair in the world for 6 hours (five of which are spent "resting") and feel perfectly fine the next day.  Or telling myself lies like maybe I'm just tired and I'll feel better tomorrow, or that I'm "weaning" myself off my cane. I seriously made that statement out loud. Sometimes I even amaze myself. But those are just the physical demons that jump around inside my aching body. The bigger questions, the far scarier ones, are much deeper and so much more difficult to confront. Like who AM I without an income or purpose? How do I go forward from here? Am I a burden? Do I still matter? Those questions that never once entered my happy little mind when I was able to work, to help people, to make a difference in someone's life. The questions that haunt my mind in the quiet of the night. My mother used to say that before you could teach a Biagi anything, you first had to hit them over the head with a 2x4 to get their attention. I think 2014 was my own personal 2x4. So now I'm paying attention and I still don't have the answers, but I have begun to face some facts. I'm in the process of applying for Social Security Disability, which is no picnic in the park but at least it's in the works. I eventually want to check into volunteer opportunities and I'm leaning towards suicide support and education, to honor Beth's memory. I know I still have gifts to share with the world. I know I still matter, even when I don't feel like I do. So yeah, now I'm fully reminded of why it's been so long since I've posted. The reason I haven't deleted this post is because maybe someone out there will read it and know they're not alone. The depression hasn't gone away, and it sucks, but depression lies. It lies and tells you things that aren't in your best interest. I try to remember to tell myself this and remember that daylight always comes after the darkness. I promise. I promise that to me and to you. I also promise my next post won't be 15 months from now, and it will be about a much happier topic: my daughter's wedding. I promise.

STRONG

Here's another completed journal page.  I think it's completed but then again, I never really know for sure.  It's about finding your strength when strength is doing it's best to hide. Specifically, it's about the strength required to go on and make a new life after a loved one takes their life, or in my case, after two loved ones leave this earth through suicide.  You may not understand this type of pain (I hope you do not) but we all have pain in our life and times when it seems that STRONG is hiding, when STRONG has disappeared, when STRONG is not an option. Please remember, strong is the only option.  You may not believe in your own strength, but you're still here.  And that, my friend, it the first step.

CONTINUING...

Continue
Part of Speech: verb
Definition: persist, carry on

                         Life is to be lived, not controlled, 

     and humanity is won by continuing to play 

    in the face of certain defeat.  

Ralph Ellison

I've been having so much fun with my journal and new techniques, it seems I've forgotten I have a blog.  Every day brings much of the same: I look for a job in the morning, apply or find nothing, get discouraged, and spend the afternoon with my art journal.  Painting, drawing, cutting, pasting, just like kindergarden.  My mind may be troubled but my emotions run free on the pages of my journal.  It's helped keep me relatively sane, and when I think back to that magical weekend in April with Dyan Reaveley and friends, I feel happy and carefree.  

journal page in process

journal page - I Want to Know

journal page - Courage

Graduations and celebratory parties are everywhere.  Beth would be graduating from high school and moving on to new things.  I guess in a way she did, just not in the way anyone planned.  I miss her terribly.  I miss her humor and creativity and insight.  I miss her laugh.  I miss seeing her reaction to my latest artistic adventure.  I just miss her.  I continue to go to the LOSS group, and it continues to help.  I continue to heal and I think I will continue to heal for the rest of my life.  Life continues on and I know I will continue to miss Beth for the rest of my life, too.  People say endings are hard but continuing can be harder still. Nothing to do but keep on keeping on.

Journal page - Ups & Downs

Dear Beth

It's been one year since your pain ended and ours began.  One year ago I could never have seen myself here, one year later. When it first happened, I couldn't even imagine getting through a day.  How could I possibly live with a shattered heart?  I can't answer that question because my heart remains shattered but I am still here.  I can now put together a somewhat cohesive sentence.  I can talk about you without crying...not all of the time, but some of the time. I spent a great deal of this past year refusing to believe it was true, but even my creative little mind couldn't keep up that facade forever.  It is true, I know that now; my refusals to believe lost out to your obvious absence.  I talk to you every day.  I do things in memory of you instead of for you or with you.  I miss you so bad I ache, and then I think about your Dad and Mom who lost their baby girl, or your sister who is now an only child.  I can't begin to comprehend the incomprehensible pain they live with every day, but they are still here, too.  We all are.  You're the one who's missing and missed, by more people than I could ever know.  Seventeen years hardly seems like a life; I wanted so much more for you, for me, but it was all you could do.   I get that, I really do.  I'm working hard on being happy that you're at peace instead of selfishly wanting you back at any cost.  So my hope and prayer for you today is that you're experiencing peace and love and you know just how much of a difference you made in oh so many lives. You deserve that and so much more.  And my hope and prayer for me today, and for all those left behind, is exactly the same. May we experience peace and love and may we know just how much of a difference you made in oh so many lives, because right now that's all I've got so it's got to be enough. I love you forever and a day, sweetie.

Hope, Hope, and More Hope

Beth's one year anniversary of death is March 16, and I've been making art to honor her memory.  The LOSS Blossoms of Hope Brunch is next month, and my sister and I will be going. In addition to speakers, raffles, a wine table, and a delicious brunch at Drury Lane in Oak Brook, there will be a silent auction; I created two pieces of art that will hopefully sell and bring some additional funds to the organization that has helped and supported me during the worst time of my life.  I couldn't figure out what to make but then decided to make something Beth would like, something I would have made for her.  I came up with a treasure box book/pocket shrine, both with the theme of HOPE.  I wanted something that might appeal to the audience of suicide survivors, and for me, hope is a huge part of this journey.  If I were actually making one for Beth, the theme would be something like Edward Norton or Courtney Love, but I digress. I'm very pleased with how they turned out and I hope at least two people will decide they want a portable symbol of hope, love, and remembrance for their very own. Here are a few photos of Hope #1 and Hope #2.

Hope #1, created from an altoid tin and lots of love.
The adornment on the top is a piece of broken vintage jewelry.
I chose it because the 3 pearls reminded me of Hope, Faith, and Love. 

open the tin to reveal the accordion folded book inside

the book is attached to the tin and pulls out for viewing...

and it's double sided.

a view of the front and back covers

Hope #2, created by the same process as Hope #1.

lots of vintage photos and supportive text

I made each tin with enough room to add personal photos and trinkets.

A support group and shrine, all in your pocket.

front and back cover views

I enjoyed the process of making these treasure boxes and decided to make a few extra with other themes.  They're in my Etsy shop for your viewing and/or adopting pleasure.  The best part of making these little beauties was the opportunity to once again create from the heart. I've struggled to do that since Beth's death.  I'd go up to my studio with all good intentions and end up sitting there, staring out the window or crying or both.  Creating art to honor Beth's memory really woke up my muse and I hope she stays awake.  The second best part of creating these treasure boxes is that I decided I'm ready to teach again.  I think. I hope.  I last taught about two weeks after Beth's death and I couldn't even put together a cohesive thought.  I know the students had a fine time and loved the class but I felt like I was swimming in wet concrete. It's a big step to put myself out there when I've been feeling like I have nothing to give, but I think I'm ready again.  And I think I'll teach this class.  It's a fun project with SO many options and gift ideas - I'll keep you posted.  To those of you who continue to follow this blog, bless you and thanks for hanging in there with me.  I'll never be who I was before Beth's death, but I'm healing more every day.  I hope your corner of the world is treating you kindly.

P.S. If you're interested in attending the brunch or in donating a bottle of wine or a silent auction gift, please click on this link for additional information.  

No Worries

I had an appointment near our family cemetery so I decided to stop by Beth's grave.  I hadn't been there since the interment last month and I was surprised to find her headstone in place. Surprised and devastated.  I sat there sobbing and pounding the ground screaming NO! NO! NO! even though I knew it was really yes; yes...yes.  I finally calmed down enough to look at the stone again and a peace came over me when I read the words at the very bottom.  Beth's favorite movie was The Lion King and there were the words I needed to see: HAKUNA MATATA.  If you've never seen the movie or heard the song, Hakuna Matata is a Swahili phrase that means no worries.  No worries, can you even imagine?  I miss her terribly.  I get nauseous when it hits me that I'll never again see her on this earth.  I hate that she won't physically be part of future weddings and family events.  But no worries, eternal peace, and the light and love of a power greater than us?  I realized my tears were not for Beth but for me.  She is at peace, I know this with all my heart.  We'll be together again one day, but until then, Hakuna Matata, sweetie. 

4 Months

The nightmare has been going on now for 4 months.  Since I've yet to wake up I must conclude that it isn't a terrible dream but indeed a terrible reality, a reality my heart has yet to embrace. I know these feelings are normal, I know they will ease, but for right now it's all too much to comprehend.  I'm seeing a counselor privately and I'm also planning on attending an SOS support meeting with my sister.   I will be attending the same meetings I used to facilitate for survivors, but now I'm a survivor.  Again.  It isn't any easier the second time around. Life is upside down and inside out and my stomach still drops down to my toes when I remember I will never see Beth again on this earth.  Last week we put down Gomez, our four year old cat. He was born with kidney disease and the disease was progressing rapidly.  It was the kind and responsible thing to do but it was terrible and his absence is almost greater than his presence.  We are all devastated, including his two brother kitties who continue to yowl and search for him.  Just before the vet came in with the shot, I cradled Gomez in my arms and told him to look for Beth.  Beth wanted a cat for the longest time but didn't get her wish.  I do believe they are together now and keeping each other company.  He couldn't ask for a more loving playmate.  

Senor Gomez O'Brien Stinkbottom
2008 - 2012

Art continues to be a sporadic escape.  While I previously found tremendous comfort creating in my studio, these days I find myself most often sitting and staring out the window.  I did take a mixed media techniques class with Donna Downey, a talented and engaging teacher and all around great person.  I concentrated for most of the five hours but got home and hit the wall.  Tears, questions, and fatigue continue to visit me.  It was also Taylor's birthday (Beth's only sibling) so I'm sure the importance of the day effected my mood.  I do have some ideas for new projects but haven't been able to pull the energy together to work on them.  The heat has been unrelenting and tomorrow comes with a warning to stay inside with air conditioning, if possible.  Thankfully it is possible, so maybe I'll find a bit of inspiration tomorrow.  How do you find inspiration when there's none to be found?  Any tips are much appreciated!

Me and Donna.
My turquoise hands match her hair.

Arms Wide Open

Love is always open arms.

     If you close your arms about love you will find 

     that you are left holding only yourself.

~ Leo F. Buscaglia

Today was a day of wide open arms and spilling hearts. We gathered as a family and interred Beth's cremains next to my brother Richard. An uncle and his niece, meeting for the first time in heaven. It's been three months since Beth's death and yes, it felt a bit like ripping a bandage off of a slowly healing wound. No, today was not closure. I think the word closure is misused and misunderstood. Some things can have closure but not the death of someone loved. The most we can work toward is a reconciliation of sorts, an adjustment to the reality of the situation. Today was not closure, it was another step in the journey of a lifetime. Death doesn't end a relationship, it changes it, and the challenge is to figure out how that change effects your heart and soul and not just day to day life. Not a one size fits all option. Not something that's accomplished in a 3 day bereavement leave IF THE DECEASED IS A DIRECT BLOOD RELATIVE, because lord knows our hearts only love along direct blood lines.  Not something to complete or get over or forget or replace.  Ever. Beth will always be in my heart and I'm confident that her life will eventually shine brighter than her death.  That's just how it works and as it should be.  Be forget? How?  And why? Her death is part of my life's landscape whether I want it to be or not, and I'm keeping my arms wide open because I don't want to miss a single drop of love.

These are the memory pins I made and gave out at today's service.
I also gave extras to my brother and sister in law to give to friends
and relatives who were unable to come today.

The following are the thoughts and feelings that have tumbled around in my mind since March 16 and finally came together in a poem.   I read it at today's service. 

how were we so unaware

of troubled thoughts you had to bear

desperation now beyond repair

we carry every day

sadness, anger, disbelief

the feelings come with no relief

unanswered questions echo grief

we’re left to wonder why

broken hearts and shattered dreams

are all that’s left, or so it seems

no one hears the muffled screams

coming from my heart

your spirit rests in blessed peace

our hearts are torn with no release

and still the questions never cease

we wonder every day

but time will pass and pain does ease

your spirit’s felt on every breeze

you’re in the flowers, rain, and trees

you’re with us every day

worries no more haunt your mind

you’ve found the peace you longed to find

we’ll carry on, those left behind

remembering the love

our lives were blessed with the gift of you

we treasure memories strong and true

we’ll meet again, until we do 

rest in God’s loving care.

©Laure Janus 2012

The Book of Life

Everything that has a beginning has an ending.

Make your peace with that and all will be well.

~ Buddha

I've always looked at life as a novel.  Each experience, big, small, and in between, falls into a chapter in the novel, then on a page, then into a paragraph.  Some of the events don't earn a listing in the index but they are all there just the same. Sometimes we don't want the chapter to end and sometimes we want to read ahead to find out if the book is worth sticking with.  I'm trapped in the latter category right now.  If someone happened to pick up my life's novel and flipped it open to the current chapter and started reading, they'd never buy the book. They'd shake their head and say this book sucks and walk on to the next novel that caught their eye.  I get it.  This book does indeed suck.  But there must be more chapters ahead, right? They can't all suck.  They haven't all sucked.  There's volumes of happy in my novel, chapter upon chapter of joy and success and everything coming up roses.  But this particular chapter is so dark and so deep, with sadness saturating every page so that no matter how hard I try, I can't see the end of the chapter. I can't read ahead.  I can't even put the book down.  I can only read the page in front of me and remember that chapters eventually end and new chapters begin.  Hopefully better chapters, the kind where you can't wait to read the next page. The kind where you look back and you're so grateful that last horrible chapter ended and you're able to see the lessons learned.  The kind where all loose ends are tied up nice and pretty and everything makes sense; but that only happens in fairy tales, and fairy tales are not books of life.  Life novels don't always end up pretty.  Sometimes they end pretty abruptly. The author had nothing left so the readers are left with nothing but volumes of questions and buckets of tears.  A very unsatisfying ending to what was a promising, engaging novel.  Beth's book of life was short but it drew in countless people.  And it continues to do so, just as it continues on.  Endings are new beginnings.  We'll be able to catch up when our life novel comes to an end here on earth. Until then, we can only imagine the joy and peace and unconditional love she is experiencing in her current chapter.  And we can only continue reading our own book of life.

Beth ~ 2004

2 Months

Mourning is not forgetting. 

It is an undoing. 

Every minute tie has to be untied and 

something permanent and valuable recovered 

and assimilated from the dust. 

The end is gain, of course. 

Blessed are they that mourn, 

for they shall be made strong, in fact. 

But the process is like all other human births, painful and long and dangerous.

~ Margert Allingham

Time is a strange concept.  It's been two months since Beth died but it might as well be two hours or two weeks or two years.  It feels fresh and forever at the same time.  Even reading the words 'Beth died' is shocking, and I wrote the words.  Unbelievable and unbelievably real all jumbled up together and fighting for attention.  Time continues to move forward and so do we, just in a new and horribly altered reality.  

Last week, my two sisters and I got matching tattoos in honor of Beth.  Bittersweet but beautiful:

The photo is a bit blurry but the tattoo is vivid and clear.    The yellow ribbon and SOS stands for Survivor of Suicide. The butterfly (transformation, rebirth, short life span, fragile, beautiful) is blue for Beth's eyes and also for the ring in the diabetes symbol, and the veining inside the butterfly is purple, her favorite color.  Lisa and I both have it on our wrists, and Rosann chose to have hers over her heart.  Beth will be with us forever and we now have the visual reminder as well.  It was a hard day but we were happy to spend it together remembering someone we could never forget.

For those of you who are still reading and keeping score, this is the CHAOS part of the blog.  I'm nothing if not honest and CHAOS has been the dominate force in my life lately, with ART snoozing and dreaming sweet dreams. I do believe the ART part of Chaos and Art will eventually reappear but for right now, CHAOS is pretty much it.  My biggest creative effort was coming up with the tattoo design.  I need to add new pieces to my shop but in the words of Paul Simon (the singer, not the former Illinois senator) I "got a short little span of attention." Shorter than usual.  I offer continued thanks for sticking with me through the chaos and for supporting me and my family.  I don't have the words to convey just how much your thoughts and prayers mean to me but I send abundant blessings to each of you for your kindness and love.

Inching and Lurching

I spent Easter with my family.  It was the first time we were all together since Beth's funeral and it was difficult; firsts usually are.  Lots of talking and tears but plenty of laughter, too.  We are moving forward.  Each of us in different ways and on different paths, each stumbling and falling, each with questions that have no answers, but moving forward.  In spite of ourselves and the circumstances, it seems, but inching and lurching forward.  I know that's how life works.  I know that's what has to happen in order to survive.  I know that living in the pain doesn't keep Beth any closer to our hearts, but maybe the pain helps make the reality real?  Just until we can see a new reality and hold Beth in a place that doesn't hurt quite as much. Until we can remember without our heart plunging into the pit of our stomach.  Only until her absence isn't the elephant in every room.  Until...

BEFORE Beth, my SIL asked me to create a memory book for the family of a 6 year old who died suddenly.  This type of request produces anxiety on all kinds of levels.  Aside from not knowing the family, it's a balancing act to create a memory book that doesn't look like a baby book but still celebrates the life of a precious child.  I started on the book and then Beth died and the book was forgotten for awhile, but last week something urged me to work on it again.  I completed it and the book will be given to the family just in time for his seventh birthday.  It has a nice flow of energy with images of childhood mixed with messages of hope and healing.  Kinda like what my family and I are dealing with right now.  I'm happy with it and I hope they will be, too.  Here's a few peeks:

I used a vintage children's dictionary for the cover.
You look to a dictionary to help you
learn and understand, right? 

Hope, kindness, and space for pictures.

Always. Remember.
Like you could ever forget.

Angels and prayers.

Forever and ever and always.

Before and After

My life has a new time line, an invisible automatic marker that separates events into BEFORE Beth's death and AFTER Beth's death. The before part seems so much sweeter even when the before was full of unemployment, unhappiness, and uncertainty.  Lots of 'uns' indicating lots of lack.  What I wouldn't give to have just those 'uns' again.  I'm a grief counselor.  It's what I do when I'm employed and I know my feelings are normal and appropriate. My head knows, but my heart hasn't caught up.  I trust it will eventually but right now it's still in a million jagged pieces, scattered like bits of glass twisting and crunching and glistening inside the tornado that's currently my life.  I'm not even convinced my heart is still in my body.  It feels like it's on the outside trying to get back in where it's safe and familiar, except nothing's safe and familiar anymore.  It's all just too much to comprehend. I'm doing the best I can each day and I appreciate your prayers and concerns for me and my family.   I haven't been in the studio since this happened.  This is very unusual because I've always been able to process my feelings through art but not this time, not right now.  No energy, no focus, no desire. Empty.  Then the door bell rang and I received a package.  I had ordered these shoes BEFORE and forgot all about them.

shoes - before

Cute, right?  But something was missing, something was not quite complete.  These shoes went up to the studio and became the canvas for my mindless doodles while I took the time to think and cry and breathe and pray and even laugh. They may not be a priceless work of art but they symbolize the possibility of healing, and it felt good to hold a pen again.

shoes - after

SO much cuter, and so very me.  Beth would have loved them. She would have said they were way cool.  I will smile and think of Beth whenever I wear these shoes.  That's my plan for today and I'm sticking to it.  

Beth
Before.  After.  Forever.

Thank You.

from the arms of Love, to the arms of Love, 

Love will keep us.

Thank you.  If you left a comment or sent a card or called or brought food or silently sent thoughts and prayers my way, thank you.  Thank you more than words could ever convey.  I can't begin to respond to each of you for all the genuine acts of kindness shown, but please know it means the world to me and my family.  Beth will be in our hearts forever.  

Broken Hearts, Shattered Lives

Love Doesn't Die, People Do.

~Laure Janus

Beth, my beautiful, talented, wildly creative, and loved beyond measure 17 year old niece, took her life on March 16.  There are no words, only questions that will never be answered.  My head knows we will somehow survive and eventually move forward but my heart can't begin to believe it.  Right now we are just trying to breathe.  Please send kindness and prayers toward my family and all survivors of suicide.  When the world no longer makes sense, loving kindness helps people survive a living nightmare.