You matter… you always did.

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For those out there that suffer alone, who say they are okay when they aren’t,  who think they don’t matter to anyone, it’s a lie your brain is telling you!  Trust me – just this once. Ask for help… please?

I don't think anyone realizes how alone I feel

You would think 40 years would feel like a lifetime and in some ways, it does.  In other ways, 40 years almost feels like yesterday.  Forty years ago today, my family received the devastating news that my brother had died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.  It couldn’t be….he had just turned 20 years old on the 1st of January. He was not much more than a boy.  While I knew that my brother was troubled, or at least as much as a 13-year-old girl can know, it never occurred to me that this is how dark his thinking was.  He was broken.  Why didn’t he reach out for help?  Why didn’t he trust a best friend?  Didn’t he want to get married some day?  Didn’t he want to see us grow up? Didn’t he love us?

It took me a long, long time to come to terms with his death.  I now believe that a person who is in that dark, dark place and sees death as their only option must be in such incredible pain, more than anyone can truly understand.  They must feel that there are no other options and the loved ones they are leaving, I suspect don’t even cross their mind. They hurt so badly and they just can’t stand it, not for one more day.  While it’s hard for me to comprehend feeling like life will never, ever, ever get better, I believe that is where they are at that moment when they decide that death is the answer.

I know he wasn’t thinking clearly that day because if he was he would have known how loved he was, how important he was, and how so very needed he was.  The pain that occurred that day has lived on for 40 years and will no doubt live on for the next 40.

You are not forgotten my brother.  You are loved and no longer broken. ❤

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The Secret Keepers

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This post is amazing and I hope that it leads those who continue to suffer some help. We all have secrets, many of which are lies. Shining the light into the dark. Susie

Mended Musings

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I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. I’m going to ask you to share this post. Reblog it, share it on Facebook, tweet it. Someone out there needs to hear this message today. Even if you think you don’t know anyone who has been abused. Even if you don’t read the entire post.

About a month ago I was asked by Dawn at WTF words, thoughts, feelings to contribute an essay for an anthology that she and Joyelle are creating for parents who are survivors of childhood sexual and physical abuse (learn more at https://www.facebook.com/TriggerPointsAnthology).

I submitted my essay but I also want to shine a bigger spotlight on this project because I fear that they may not get many submissions. Not because it’s not a worthy cause or because there aren’t enough people out there to contribute but because survivors of abuse are secret…

View original post 1,196 more words

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His Name is David.

HIS NAME IS DAVID.

It’s Saturday and it’s a beautiful fall day in New Hampshire. Everyone is out enjoying the mild temperatures and the warm sun shining down. Knowing, but not acknowledging, that a northeastern winter will soon be upon us.

The call I got telling me that you died today is engrained into every part of my being. You died with a needle in your arm at 12:20 pm. My heart was screaming but no words came out. You’re only 23. You’re not suppose to die.

I don’t want you to be remembered by the way that you died. Another statistic that gets filed away in a drawer somewhere. You were more than that. So much more.

You were a sweet young man and had the type of personality that drew people to you. Your smile…your beautiful smile. I want people to know that you were a son, a brother and a friend to many. That your life held so much promise and there was nothing you couldn’t do if you set your mind to it.

I don’t want you to be judged by a disease that you never asked for. You fought to overcome the demons that haunted you. Did you have a choice? Maybe. Maybe not. You wanted better but something happened and we will never know for certain why the grace, the unmerited gift, could no longer be yours.

You touched many hearts and you will not be forgotten. I will remember you for the kind, gentle soul that you were and not how you died.

Watch over us. I will miss you.

His Name is David.

Her broken heart.

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Her broken heart.

She plays along and buries her pain where she thinks no one can see. If she doesn’t look perhaps it isn’t real. If she doesn’t utter the ugly truth, perhaps it won’t be real.

The love. She holds her cards so close to her chest for fear that to let go would deem her unlovable somehow. How can she forget the lifetime of dreams, how she longed to make the plans she hadn’t dare dreamed of? The laughter, so much laughter that transgressed any words. They just knew they had a secret language that only they spoke. The type of connection she never felt before.

But there it is again. In her face. The reality that his love isn’t real. She reaches to me for comfort and I have none. I can’t make this terrible ache stop. I can’t make all the old fears and doubts that keep her from sleep go away. I tell her she is amazing and that anyone would be honored to call her his love. But the love she wants has foresaken her, again. The love that promised her that she had finally found the “one” has lied. I can’t, no matter how hard I try, give her comfort.

A part of her died today along with the others. She thought they’d grow old together. There has never been anyone like him. He is so loving and kind and his words tell her everything she has always longed to hear. She opened her once closed heart only to have it broken.

I offer her friendship, hugs and hope that she will be okay. I don’t really know how she is feeling, but confess it’s my greatest fear. She no longer believes in him or in her and all hope is gone. She can no longer reconcile what has become the truth. So she isolates and anesthetizes her pain to try to carry on. I so want to offer something, anything to restore her hope. Hope is gone. There are no words I can give this amazing woman to hold strong and instead I must pray for her safety, for her faith to be restored and for all things beautiful in her life to be enough…even now when she can’t see them.

I believe in her even now even when she isn’t believing in herself. I have seen her move mountains and return better, stronger than she was before. I pray this isn’t too much. Those matters of the heart can take us places we never thought possible. Be strong my friend. Let me be strong for you while you find your new wings. You are so loved by so many. Hold onto to that and let us love you and keep you.