SUICIDE BLONDE BLOG

I guess I was just a voice and not too much more

can you fall in love with a picture and a voice? IDK...

but letting go of it sure felt like a love bee sting

I saw his picture with her and he was happiness

I want that for him above what I want for myself

I love his happy...

what a ride...

but its over...

I wish him only good things

I want what he gave her...

in real time

I deserve that...

life moves on ..

THE VOICE THREAD

Sometimes the strangest aspects in life are non fiction stories of interactions between people and not always the standard one-on-one face boy meets girl and so it goes...

POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER

I write opening about my post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) derived from the trauma of the sudden death of my husband as I reflect back on the person I was before his death and I think I was so self absorbed and spoiled.   His death has had me on a journey that has been a struggle for balance when all I seem to do is react to situations that are no longer relevant.

HAVE TO FIND YOUR OWN WAY OUT :

In order for me to get past the trauma of my husbands death I had to face my grief , guilt and regret all of these grabbed at me and I felt a panic as if I was drowning. No one could reach me as I went under so many times sinking into the grief feeling the weight of it pull me further down into darkness. I wanted my old life back and I would kick to surface of the depth of it all trying to regain what I felt I lost and not seeing the value of my new life. I wanted that security I had felt and the closeness of a mate to not solve my issues but to listen . I could not comprehend that a certain part of my life was over and to move towards the future I was stuck deep, I had moved to the ocean and would run for miles every day until I was exhausted and looking at it all now I pushed myself so hard so I did not have the energy to do the real work to heal.   I was running from physical and spiritual healing of the self and I often would stop high atop the cliffs as the sunset with tears just falling . I would pray to find a way to want to start over and blamed anyone who dared get close to me as I displaced my emotions.

Many people with PTSD isolate themselves and I was a classic case as I believed I needed to be alone to grieve and that was a huge mistake and caution anyone going through trauma NOT do that as expression of emotion through communication is vital. I lived to run and my skin became a rich honey gold brown as I slowly gained much of the weight I had lost during the first six months post trauma. I started taking photos just because I saw so much beauty on my long distance runs it seems to preoccupy my mind from the focus on my situation. I pushed everyone back, not away just back so I could think except one person the one I had fallen hard for I pulled him to join my pain. I would cry each night and express unfocused thoughts that blamed him another displacement to shrug off what I did not or could not accept . He never said much but was there almost every night and with each change as I struggled to find a life. I was horrible to him on many levels and only "we" know how bad that was, I take no pride in that but I cannot undo it and honestly feel grateful that I now identify it.   I blamed him for my loving him in my twisted thought process I could not face the guilt of the hurt that love caused my late husband so I punished him. He wanted me to be still but I could not handle this in the manner he lived his issues I thought look what his way does for him? He drank a lot and would not open up on his past I think to face it would mean he would have to recognize how exposed his feelings were?  I did not see that I was pulling him down and he was kicking to swim free it was too much for him and he did not want to visit the past.

I started acting out horribly saying things that were treacherous in their impact on people but it made me feel better as I felt the burning of emotions decrease as a slashed out at anyone mostly him. It continued until I went into therapy to help me understand why I was behaving in such a dysfunctional pattern and this where I received the diagnosis of PTSD.

As I learned how to reorganize my thought patterns and identify my triggers I became to understand how this condition had reached into my life to either disrupt or destroy parts and relationships. Its never really fun to see how much damage one has caused but I had to be accountable and tried my best to be fair.

I want so much to let the love that I feel and know is there as my memory returns of how good I felt with some feelings and all the joy. But he finally moved on after a few years of just my hurting him and I understand it but on the same side he has also acted out towards me. Honestly who could blame him but I find my trigger is the hurt I feel in his moving on and his way of abruptly ending everything, I do think that could have been done better. I kept saying " let me get a little better handle on my life " meaning finish therapy and manage the new coping skills I was learning. But he could not and that is his choice but when I want to reach out to him because I still need him and care this huge hurt comes forward as if to choke me . I feel such sadness and that turns to frustration resulting in my acting out. Is he now my trigger? He wont help me defuse it and why should he as how much can one person take? But then I need validation of what I feel and he will never provide it.

CHOICES MADE :

I have two choices : one is to continue this resulting in my acting out causing everyone new to scatter away, I know I would which is only hurting myself . Or to let him finally go regardless of what I feel so I can find some peace? I already know the answer and I accept it all as sometimes love can not heal the hemorrhage that remains between two people. I need what he won't give me which is closure in a honest equal "lets fix this " conversation as I am blamed for it all. Am I to blame alone? I don't think so but that is pointless as well, as I soaked in the hot bath I felt defeated an the need to let it go. Some how it feels better to let go of this one sided life rodeo .

Is this how it should have been? I will never know but the pain has to stop and it can if I let go as I need to survive this life and deserve peace too.

None of it's his fault but then not mine either and really does blame matter? I think not, and I need to move forward into the many new opportunities happening around me. My creativity is on level high and I cannot stop creating art, comedy and writing.

This is the best time of my life and I see it now and its clearly directly in front of me.

WAKING UP ALONE....

I think unless you've ever been a widow or someone that has lost a loved one suddenly it's really hard to understand what I'm going through and why I think the things I do. How I react to the world around me as I try to put everything back together again and I've never been on my own before I don't really know what I'm doing I know how to buy things but I don't how to be alone. It's three years out since the sudden death of my husband and I'm better I say that and it's true I'm better I don't think about him like I did I started actually feeling really happy and carefree and remembering things from before his death and feelings that I had before everything went bad . I had such a wave of guilt and insecurity it was like how could I enjoy my life and think about other people while he was dead and was cremated and he's in a bag in the cupboard? I started feeling unloyal to his memory and Un loyal to my family. I felt like a traitor in the truest sense of the word and I felt like a had before my husband died I had feelings for another person I never cheated I told my husband everything he knew , we were separated well we were divorced,

Why does this start to sound like a funny comedy story "we were separated but well we were divorced " ????i'm glad I am typing this because I have a little kids voice and it really would sound like some dork telling a comedy story. Most days I'm 100% myself well my new normal but I guess I had to face and have to think about like I don't have any right to be happy or to care about somebody else? I cried myself woke up with a big headache . I had one glass of wine last night I was not drunk although I was a little dizzy. I was taking the last shots of the evening and all of a sudden tears just you know started coming down my face and so I called the driver and I came home and all these feelings just hit me like a wave and I was overwhelmed. I'm better today 😳😳😳 I am I can't tell anyone about this that knows me personally because they would start to say oh " Bonnielynn is getting sad again " but I don't want that because I am not sad . I had already written the chapter on guilt for my book I guess I'll just Add with an edit.

I tried for so long to bury my feelings and I started remembering yesterday all the good things that I felt and they WERE good feeling and it gave me such happiness. I want to feel that way again sometme soon. i guilt is natural it even has a label call it "survivors guilt " it's a part of Grieving. I know that as a therapist but when you're actually going through it and it's really hard it doesn't matter how much education I am still a person with feelings and failings. I never hide my feelings and express them even if I offend people I don't ever want there to be a misrepresentation of who am as a person.

Just my thoughts on my weird.

FOSTER CARE

The Only thing Real:
IRISH POEM

A man takes but one woman as wife
and that the message secure that she stands before all others
one cannot wash away the proprietary of the last name on the second who
should have been first,

Out calls the day :

Choices made as a grave marker
A man gives a woman worthy or not his last name
Choices made
I dance away ..
Put it in a box and push it away
his choices are his own to burden down with late night ...

Blame it on the mist of the sea:

I sail away from a point once you would have had to fight me for..
I do not want it anymore ...
I cried the sails full as it moves towards open sea..

The day is Irish done:

in my family we wait up for the last one working to come home then we sit down together to eat.
Always wait for the one who works ...

He would fly away in the sky full of hopes and dreams and all I thought was? " I will wait until he lands"
I saw the man ...

I do not make tea anymore:

Let that cloud go by as it carries a wife with his last name one he thought to give her not you and that will be the last shovel of dirt in a grave that laid awake long to long to be filled.

I do not want her burdens.

WAVE GOOD BYE TO THE IRISH SKY

THE PRICE IS RIGHT AND OTHER LIFE MYSTERIES

I felt the rush of the hot air as I entered the garage located on the second floor of the high rise unlocking the door I turned on the air conditioning as soon as I started the engine. I have little tolerance for humidity unless the location is an exotic topic island with there is an open doorway direct to the beach .

THE PRICE IS ALWAYS RIGHT:

I had organized for the nurses on my unit to attend a filming of the game show "The Price is Right", we six in total with the final nurse an elder who worked almost everyday. I smiled when I saw her approach and hugged my welcome as I think she is such a positive personality. Her husband died years before and since she worked to support her daughters. Lately I noticed her stressed as her hands shook while writing her notes.
She was nervous and giggly but balked when we had to have our photo taken pulling back behind me, "you go ahead Bonnielynn", shrugging I agreed. Her turn she asked the technician " do I have to take my photo?" he instructed her, " well if you hope to be a contestant" . She took her photo smiling but looked sad getting back in line ," I am fat and old", I turned to face her looking rightly in her eyes. There is a multitude of people who were never taught to love themselves in joyous wonderment of this life, " my dear friend never ever verbally put that negativity out into space for some horrid troll to use against you. You are beautiful and thinking that projects that, do you really not like yourself?" She looked up," no I ..like myself ...I did not realize how that sounded." I offered her my unopened water instructing her to drink to keep hydrated, she complied.

Life will run you down if you let it so dance and sing :

My childhood is a story of overcoming barriers of poverty and having idiots for parents, the one saving grace was my Grand Mary. She was my Great Grandmother from Scotland born in Ireland, she was tiny with natural platinum hair. She had what I called the " family sky blue Scot eyes", and was very tiny. An easy laugh thick accent she traveled to help my mother who had married the "Catholic" my father right before my birth.

Scotland right in the middle of Michigan:

My family were immigrants from Scotland, Aberdeen, a fishing economy , my Grand Mary a young wife found herself unhappily married to a miserable hard drinking man. She had a daughter named her rightly "Margaret" the first name to all the first born female in our family, this goes back generations. Her daughter sullen and heavyset grew up in the small Scotland village traveling to the United States with her then husband to start a life anew. They traveled with their two daughters, Margaret and Betty to make a home in Detroit. During her years as a young wife she became the neighborhood mid-wife a skill she had brought with her from Scotland.
Her family life seemed to fail as to why no one really knows she wouldn't speak on many things. Soon she remarried with my mother her last of three daughters born at home to the neighborhood midwife. My grandfather was a highly educated American Indian graduate from Georgia Tech, he died before I was born of alcoholism. No one spoke of him, frustrating as apparently when you died in my family you name no longer fell from anyone's lips. Did not their memory deserve a mention ever?

The dreams of a young purposeful wife:

My mother married my father much against Grand Mary's warning, " those Catholics are a treacherous lot " being raised Protestant my mother was heating the already hot disdain my family had for that particular religious faction. For a long time I thought my fathers name was "Catholic" as that is how he was addressed. My mother remained quiet to their vocalization of her perceived bad choice and had six children in less than ten years, my Grand Mother used to say ," those Catholics get the dick right" , she was a colorful personality .

Trouble brews and the family makes tea :

My mother became ill with my older sister Laura Jean and doctors informed her that she could not have a fourth child as it might end her young life. My father ignored those cautions again the family concerned, Grand Mary sailed for the Americas. She had remarried her husband Bill an English man devoted to her letting her boss him publicly but in private she fell to his feet nightly. She was going to attend my birth and perhaps bury her grand daughter, she was Irish furious. The story tells of her first meeting my father while sipping her tea in Grand Margaret living room as she refused to visit " that Catholic shrine of the idiot" . My father would not let my mother name any of her children and it sent lighting through out the family when her first born daughter was named, " Rebecca " , my Grand Mary seethed.

It's a Bonnielynn Day :

I was the first to be born at the hospital as my mother's heart required monitoring, delivered safely I slept in my mothers arms when Grand Mary entered her hospital room. My father stood at the side of the bed, taking me from my mothers arms she exclaimed " look her red hair and how tiny she will be, it's a Bonnie day" , turning to my father, " you will not name this child she is of our blood too", no one spoke an answer. They say my father was so shocked by my Grand Mary and her forcefulness that he hardly spoke to address her. And so it began the bond between my Grand Mary and her great grand daughter and she would be more a mother.

Turn out the lights :

Waking to the sounds of chairs crashing mixing with my mother's screams while she was beaten, I lay frozen in thought " am I dreaming ?" I laid still, my sister Laura Jean hiding under the blankets. Another sound of pleads from my mother as she was man punched to ground, like so many nights before this one. She would carry the black eyes and bruises for weeks after never hiding them or explaining when anyone asked. My father the leader of the idiots had started drinking nightly coming home to beat his wife to make her sorry for his heartless soulless life. I was four and I hated my father with a child's passion and listening to the beating. I had enough as I jumped from bed a fury rose up in me starting from the center of my heart I thought, " one day he will kill my mum" I ran to the living room and pushed him. My mother was on the ground in a bloody heap, " no no Bonnie girl stop", as I kicked my tall father back. He stood to back up his huge brown eyes grew wider, I stood with my hands on my hips in my pink nightgown, " get out and leave my mum alone you Catholic " I was in such a rage, this ended tonight. Drunk he looked at my mother, " I am never coming back here Delores never", and I kicked at him , " good devil leave " and locked the door after him, I helped my mum to the couch. I went to the brightly painted yellow kitchen to stand on the chair I used to wash the dishes a job I took control of as it matters that the dishes are clean properly, I prepared a cold cloth. Turned on the kettle for tea returning to the living area to attend to my mum's cut lip, she had her head down, " it's OK mum he won't hurt you anymore", she buried her head against me, " oh Bonnie girl you should not know of these things", perhaps I thought but this is the way of it .

Life promises :

I saw my mother crying that night and I vowed no one would harm her again or make her cry or they would face me rightly.
I promised myself that one day I would have a life I deserved if not this one perhaps the next life but for this time I had to take care of those I loved.
I swore I not be indebted to any man or person who could take it all away with violence and I shut down that part of a woman's heart at age four.
I understood my parents were idiots who did not deserve to have children because my father was a prick and my mother unable to fight back in life. With my father abandonment we faced extreme poverty and episodes of starvation these life lessons given by my parents failure.

Go forth and join the Army:

I remember holding the door handle of our kitchen door and glancing over towards my mother who sat at the table, she smiled " go on Bonnie girl it's OK" , I nodded and felt my entire being terrified. I was leaving for basic training location Fort Jackson and I had never been away from home . I pushed through the doorway into the dark morning, the car was there to drive me to airport. I do not recall if I talked to the driver I felt my world spinning into the great unknown. So many things I did not know about or even knew they existed and I could not hide that aspect from people becoming afraid of being the object of cruel bullying. I had finished high school while working two jobs during day and attending night classes. I wanted college but I understood there was no money for that and I had to utilize the military for this opportunity. I was well aware of my five foot one ninety five pound frame but i also knew I was very strong physically due to all the hard work at the neighborhood grocery where I stacked milk crates in the cooler for hours each day. I knew I deserved a better life and I would have it no matter how afraid I was or how little my height.