Healing Takes Courage

In the weeks following Sam's death, I have learned that I can't depend on time to heal my wounds. Time is an illusion that we give too much power to.

Next time, in time, over time, with time, last time, all the time, none of the time, and the list goes on. If I wake up each day and expect time alone to ease me along the mourning process, I am not going to get anywhere. Time and distance can dull pain but real healing takes willingness, courage, and action.

When I found out Sam was gone, I held onto every morsel of grief that I could. To feel anything but anguish felt like a betrayal. I imagined him cold and shivering, stumbling down the sidewalk, and disappearing through the bushes and onto the field where he died. I was stuck in these disturbing thoughts and images because I was not ready to accept his death or how he died. It had seemed inevitable and impossible all at the same time.

I had somewhat grown "used" to my lack of control over Sam's addiction. After his first overdose, I was crushed and hurt but I had the rally in me. I was terrified but I had purpose. The subsequent ones were terrible as well but I couldn't continue to withdrawal from my other kids or take more time off work each time. I felt pulled in every direction and like I was doing a shitty job of all of it.

Either Sam was going to eventually get sober and be at high risk for relapse and overdose, likely for the rest of his life, or he was going to die. It took me a long time to find my stability while feeling this impossible internal struggle but I didn't have a choice.

Sam's death, in contrast, sucked the life right out of me. All those years of hope and belief gone in one phone call. Writing has always helped me but I needed more. I wanted to rely on the one outlet I always have, physical activity, but I was stuck in cement.

Overnight, I went from the person who jumps out of bed in the morning, who practices yoga daily, and who had just started training for my first 100k to stillness. I knew that I would feel better if I could get myself moving but it felt impossible.

I was scared to cause myself to breathe hard because it may cause me to panic out of control. I felt the same way about hot yoga. I have solved many of life's problems on my mat but this was one without an answer and I didn't think I had the capacity to face it in that way. I could only write, watch Netflix, read bad news, and cry.

When I finally realized that the next step in my healing was just on the other side of my fear, I made the decision to force myself to start moving my body again.

My first hot yoga practice after Sam died was just 15 minutes. I felt vulnerable and I cried but I also felt something inside me wake up. I sensed a new strength, ambition, and most of all, a new willingness to feel each and every emotion during this time. After yoga, I hit the treadmill, I was not ready to run down the street crying yet. I gave myself a minimum timeline of 20 minutes, any speed. There is so much power in just starting.

Little by little, momentum is building and I am connecting with myself again. Instead of making me feel further away from Sam, it makes me feel closer. I didn't start grieving 7 weeks ago when he died, I started 7 years ago when I learned he was using heroin. It has been a really long road for all of us.

The beautiful and dark parts of Sam's short life were so intrinsically woven that is impossible to experience the two separately. The last 6 years of his life are the ones that I really got to know him. It was the gift that his addiction gave me before it killed him and I am grateful for it. Because it's all I have.

I still cry at least once on most days and always after writing a blog or a post, but I am also starting to smile more too. I can once again think of funny things he did and said. I am starting to say things like "Remember when Sam....." about the happier times too.

My sister told me that my pain will never actually get smaller, I will just grow bigger around it. I feel this happening to me and I understand it. My grief over Sam's death is sacred to me and I don't want it to go away. I want it to live inside me forever as a reminder to be fearless during this precious and short life we live.

Where there is Life, there is Hope.

#nomoreshame

These days when I 'm on the brink of the edge

Remember the words you said

Remember the life you lead

You'd say, "Oh, suck it all up, don't get stuck in the mud

Thinkin' of things that you should have done"

I'll see you again, my loved one

I'll see you again, my loved one

Wrecked, Imagine Dragons.