Yesterday, I finally broke down in tears. After spending the morning moving furniture from our flooded basement family room, I wrote out the first $1000 check towards repairs with another anticipated thousand or so to be due after our carpet is dried, wall repaired, and our room put back together. I felt beat up by an unseen power bent on knocking me down and sucking out my sparkle. Continue reading
The past week has been a week full of emotion for me as I prepare for the launch of my book, Hope after Suicide, on August 12. My daughter has set up Linked-In, Twitter, Goodreads, Amazon Author, and Facebook accounts for me to reach out to whoever can hear—so that I can tell my story. And she has helped to schedule a blog tour where the book will be reviewed by bloggers who have huge followings—again, so I can tell my story.
But why tell MY story when there are hundreds of others’ stories worth telling? I have asked myself that a hundred times as I have Tweeted or blogged or Facebooked or emailed in an effort to gain my own “followers.” A selfish endeavor in a ME world.
Why share MY story? I ask myself as I lie in bed trying to recover from a computer induced brain freeze. The answer has come to my heart as many times as I have asked it. Why share MY story? So others can feel safe to share their own stories—stories that may have been buried for years or even decades.
My own heart breaks a little each time I hear another story—a grandma whose fifteen year old grandson took his life, a new mom who wanted to end hers. A daughter whose dad chose death over darkness, and a mom who nearly died when she felt she could no longer live. A doctor who described her teenage son as “wailing the most panged wail she had ever heard” when he lost a best friend to suicide. A husband, a son, a daughter, a friend—stories buried in the hearts of those who loved them, still love them.
Why tell my story? So others can tell theirs. For it is in the sharing of our stories that we can begin to heal. It is in the sharing of our stories that we can remember. We can open our broken hearts and allow love to penetrate deep within. And with that love we can wrap our arms around another broken heart. We can lift the “heavy laden.” It is in the sharing of our stories that we can truly bear one another’s burdens. We can become the Savior’s hands for we can feel his light heal our once broken hearts. Why share our stories? It is in the sharing of our stories that we become whole. And we create space for others to share theirs—so that together we can LOVE.
Today, I am extremely grateful to the many people who have helped me and continue to help me prepare for the launch of Hope after Suicide one month from today. Not only is the book being released on August 12, 2014, but I am approaching the three year anniversary of the bicycle accident which changed my life. Due to my brain injury, without the continued assistance of family, friends, and the talented Cedar Fort staff, this book wouldn’t be possible.
Thank you to my husband who printed countless manuscripts to share with family and friends and endorsers, and for holding me up when I would otherwise fall. Many nights he has cradled my spinning head in his hands and tried to will the pain away. He is my steadier, my loyal rock, and my best friend – forever. I love him with all of my heart.
Thank you to my children who each have shared their unique talents and their support. My oldest son has offered his legal expertise; my second, his webmaster skills; and my youngest, his faith and prayers. My daughter, an author herself, has been my right arm from start to finish. She helped prepare my manuscript for submission and completed the editing with the publishers prior to it being sent to press. She set up my Facebook page, my Twitter, Goodreads, Linked-In, and Amazon Author accounts and helps to maintain them as I am still not able to look at a computer for longer than thirty-minutes at a time. She cooks and shops and gardens and cleans and wonders if she will ever be able to leave home.
Thank you to my good friends, Melissa Pahl and Janelle Stopa, who read each word I wrote from start to finish. They laughed with me and cried with me, and encouraged me to tell the story. Lisa Bullock encouraged me to see the heavenly hands in my life – and helped me write my first Facebook post. Barney Hadden, my old debate partner and friend from high school, offered his editing expertise and reminded me to “show” and not “tell.” He helped with revisions and made the story better.
My class of 2007 MBA friends – Jason Russell, Jamie Morningstar, Matt Warner, Wayne Wengreen, and Bob Wood – continue to advise me and help with publicity. Thank you for your assistance with market research, press releases, social media, networking, endorsements, etc., etc. I count you some of my dearest friends.
And thank you to the wonderful staff at Cedar Fort who never seem bothered by my many questions. They have helped transform the manuscript from rough words on a page to a beautiful book that can help others on their own healing journeys. Thank you for making the book better and for allowing me the opportunity to unashamedly share my story. Indeed, there is Hope after Suicide.
I LOVE my dad! I am amazed at his strength and perseverance despite overwhelming odds. It has been more than thirty-nine years since he found his high school sweetheart lifeless on the bathroom floor. He shared with me awhile ago that there isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t think of her. And yet, like the good soldier he trained to be while still dating Mom, after her death he stood with head held high and shoulders back, and he marched on with determination. And like a soldier who has seen too much bloodshed in wars meant to win freedom, he seemed to bury his sorrow and silence his pain. Continue reading