I'm back. I've missed blogging, but haven't had the desire to resume nor had the time, until today. I decided I need to blog. I need the outlet. It is therapy for me and I've missed my sessions.
So much has happened since March 3, 2011. I started work at the MGM the end of that month, after being at home for 16 years. Jon was hired by the State and moved to Reno to get settled. I always wanted to live there and was so excited for a new beginning - then he was laid off - the rest of us never made it there. It wasn't in God's plan for us. Several months later he was hired by another company in Vegas, then 2 months later his position was eliminated, along with a handful of others. He hasn't worked since, but thankfully we have his retirement from 20+ years with the City of LV. 6 weeks ago he started real estate school and will test for his brokers license next week. He has work lined up already and our future looks really bright and secure. He has a spark ignited in him and is so excited for this new chapter to begin. In 2013 we lost our house, moved to Green Valley, Olivia graduated from high school, and we lost Ian. Max graduated this past June will start college in January, and Meggie starts high school this fall. I'm still at the MGM. My kids are growing up too fast! I can't catch my breath.
We officially dealt with Ian's addiction beginning in 2010. We didn't realize that we had actually been experiencing it much longer, since about 2007, but were too blind to see what was going on. This was a hell I would never wish on any parent - to try but not be able to do anything for your child who has succumb to such a terrible disease, by choice, is a nightmare. You want to make them better, you
want to keep them from harm, but you can't. You can only encourage them to make the right choice, pray for them, and tough love them almost to death. You can force them into rehab, numerous times, only to fail because they didn't want it for themselves. It's not until they, hopefully, reach that point of deciding on their own that they don't want that life anymore. They want to change and try to stay clean. Ian finally made this choice in 2013. He chose his life. He renewed his choice of God. He made right with everyone and, most importantly, with God and himself. We had about 6 weeks of that Ian. He still stumbled, but each time picked himself up and started on the renewed path he had chosen. I believe Ian was not meant for this world. He was a genius, an amazing musician, and so creative with gadgets. He could debate God vs. science with anyone then turn around and cook something amazing from scratch. But he didn't fit. Deep down I somehow knew he wouldn't be here for long and that became evident the morning of November 10, 2013 when he passed at home from an accidental overdose. He was here just 21 short years, several of which were very painful for him and us, but the good memories are there, and the memories of the new Ian we had for 6 weeks. I miss him every day. I think of him every day. Some days hurt so bad I just want to die, but other days I can smile. As a mother, when you lose a child a part of you dies with them. Someone you carried for 9 months, someone who came from your body, I think it's only fair that we get to feel this, even though it sucks. It's different for a father, not to say the loss is any less, but the pain is different for a mother, nonetheless. I have a great game face, though. most days I'm sure no one can ever tell what I'm experiencing inside - the gut wrench, heartache, feeling like I want to break into tears (which I usually do when I can sneak away to an alone place). Some days I can't hold it back and it just comes out in the strangest places...the grocery store - usually the frozen section, the gym, work, driving in the car, at a stop light, or even at the car wash. It's a necessary release that lets me get on with my day. It's part of the life-long grieving process I will go through. Mind you, it's not every day. I have come to terms with Ian's death, but will always have periodic moments of overwhelming emotion that will hit without notice. That's just life. I am happy that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is with God. I received blatant confirmation of that the morning he passed, so that is such a comfort, as strange as it may sound. He lives on through memories and I feel him with me so many times during the week. This is a gift I hope will continue on until I see him again. Meanwhile, we get to enjoy Max, Olivia, and Meghan. We reminisce about Ian and the crazy memories we have. We've learned to cherish every moment with each other and try to not sweat the small stuff. Each month that goes by I feel a little stronger. I'm still mourning, and will always be mourning to a degree, but this loss has brought so much growth to our family. I know that makes Ian happy and he has been pulling for us to make it through all of our trials.
Someone told my husband the other day that we are finally coming out of our Job (Jobe) season. We've lost so much and endured so much pain, but are now showing so much personal growth because of it. We have come to a place where we can move into a new season filled with happiness and joy. We're getting our joy back. I'm excited for what's to come and thankful for all we have been through. It takes fire to refine. It's painful, but necessary sometimes. Our faith allows us to understand and accept this and also gets us through the "firey" times. We will always have trials, but it's the lessons we learn and the growth from it that counts each time. Sometimes it's 3 steps forward and 4 steps back, but each time we're still moving forward.
For now, I will get up from my session couch, put on my superhero cape, and move on with my day. It's good to be back in therapy. I'm taking Dr. Leo Marvin's advice to permanently vacation from my problems. Eventually I will be on a boat sailing. Baby steps, Bob. Baby steps. My goal is to become a local so I can wear the shirt.
P.S. Death therapy. It works. I can say that.
