My life with the Sullivan boys

I have stuff in me. Stuff that needs to exit my body as soon as possible. stuff that makes my back seize up and my joints ache. Thoughts, ideas, judgments, emotions, resentments, longing, to-dos and worries, cravings, regrets. I often think about past relationships. One's I'd like to revisit with the knowledge I have now. I want to direct my younger self to respect myself, to say no more often. I want to actually hear when someone says they don't want me. To not waste any of my time second-guessing my choices and directions that my life might take. I want to tell that beautiful 23-year-old girl to move on. He's trying to tell you, and you aren't listening. You are not a victim in this life. Your choices are made by you. Going through life as a victim is a familiar place. It invites me in to sit in the familiar chair of longing, wishing I could be better but never getting off my ass to make anything happen. Victims think they are rational and sane. I didn't choos...

 As I stand in my decimated backyard with my leaf blower on, I think of the mom's group Facebook post last week complaining about her neighbor leaf blowing after 6:30 at night and how inconsiderate it was. To comment on this post would not be helpful. I walked outside my house this afternoon and was stunned by the stillness and the quiet. It's Easter, people went to church, had an egg hunt in the park, and are getting ready to attend brunch at the country club with friends and family. I don't celebrate easter. not because I don't believe in God. I just don't require a special day to talk with God. My sixteen year old got a shit ton of candy from Peter Cottontail and that's enough. I need to move, I need to accomplish something measurable today. The backyard is a big dogs' playground. All of the grass had worn off from the constant play between my Vizsla and my Doberman. The mud was so bad that I put straw all over the lawn to soak it up. Now, I tell myself, ...

 Suzy, I’m looking at a photo of you when you were coloring. I wanted to tell you a few things. When you grow up you will become a beautiful, strong, smart, funny human. Unfortunately, there will be a lot of pain in your life. I know right now mom just left. I think you know it wasn’t your fault, but I wanted to tell you again. Mom had her own demons to deal with and didn’t have the right tools to figure them out without hurting others. She loves you. I hesitate to say that because it’s still hard to believe that she would leave such a kind, creative little girl such as yourself. If I was your mom I would have squeezed you to pieces every day and been wildly proud of you. You have always had a level of compassion in you that came naturally. Your heart is big. I think that’s why it hurts so much when people let you down. You didn’t deserve to be forgotten or disregarded. Your light keeps getting dimmer because no one was there to be on your side and make you a priority. It happe...

What happened to me. parents divorce latch key kid alcoholic heartbreak dog runs away anxiety attacks depression what happened to you? death in the family get sober special needs child stay sober miscarriage special needs child dog dies kids are born latch key kid alcoholic special needs child anxiety what happened to you? fight with the school fight with the doctors fight to keep going depression got up stayed up can't breathe stay sober what happened to you? helped someone understood someone blamed someone forgave someone loved someone try to keep going got out of bed kept moving special needs child kept breathing kept loving helped someone enjoyed myself felt joy felt sadness felt heartbreak, in my gut discovered gratitude helped someone else helped myself discovered compassion special needs child stopped breathing remembered how to breathe taught someone else how to breathe.

I remember the kitchen floor in great detail because of that day. Linoleum, white, avocado green and harvest gold. The geometric pattern was loud and detailed. I have memories of her on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor dutifully each week. She wasn't going to scrub that floor anymore. My brother and I sat in the kitchen chairs while my parents stood in front of us. My father was telling us that our mother would be moving out. He told us that they didn't love each other anymore.  As he continued to talk my nine year old gaze was fixed to the linoleum. My eyes followed the pattern from one end of the kitchen to the next., I don't remember anything else about that day except the floor.  I remember a few months later my uncle Jim and my cousins Mark and Brian helping my mom move into her new apartment. I skipped down the hallway of the smelly building, excited to see my mom's new "house". It hadn't hit me yet what all this meant. It hadn't hit me ye...

 I just googled "trauma and loss". then "Grief and loss", then "loss over and over". No answers for me there. I recently talked about Dermot to some hockey moms who asked me questions about him. How old is he now? Do you have someone stay with him when you go out of town? What does he have? What is his prognosis. I appreciate these questions. I welcome the opportunity to shine a light on our experience, but I also underestimate the power of saying the answers out loud. more than once in a day. its real, it always is, but when you say it out loud, other people hear it. Other people ponder the possibility. that is scary.  I spend the majority of my time "running " from these feelings of reality. running from the constant loss that permeates my life.  I have "be still" tattooed on my body as a reminder to stop running, but it's the hardest thing for me to stop. I run in various ways. I actually run, 3-7 miles every few days. I run by k...