Timmy

Word of the week: Stress.

There's no easy way to put it, but on Saturday morning, around 8am, my cousin's husband shot and killed himself. Apparently, he had been suffering from some depression and there might have been financial problems. That doesn't make it any easier to comprehend or understand though.

Timmy was only 40 years old and he had 2 little girls, one was about 6 months old. I remember he was such a great, amazing guy, especially compared to the other guys my cousin had dated. We truly considered Timmy part of the family from the minute they were married. He had a handsome smile, and he could make anyone laugh with his witty sense of humor. His presence brought an ease to the room. He wouldn't let me escape a hug when I left family gatherings. I always looked forward to his Facebook posts of their little girls, Sophia and Sidney.

The last time I saw him was last July at my other cousin's wedding. He had some great dance moves that he passed on to Sophia. He wasn't shy at all! I remember since my father hadn't gone to the wedding (because of Mom/ Dad drama), I said in front of him "Well as long as both of my parents are at my wedding, right?" and then Timmy stepped up and said "If both your Mom and Dad aren't there, I'll go with my bare hands and pick them up and bring them." It made me smile.

Even though we weren't extremely close, my heart is still aching. And it aches for Michelle (my cousin, Sophia and Sidney). Yesterday was his birthday...and his calling hours. Today was the funeral. My mother told me that the wake had over 800 people there, and the funeral must've been as equally large. There is no doubt he was loved by so many people, including me.

I still feel like he'll be there when I come home this summer. But he won't. And he won't be there when I get married. Or at Christmas. Or at Thanksgiving.

I think I'm especially hurt by his death because I know EXACTLY how he felt in the last few minutes of his life. I was there before. I know what it's like to want to die more than anything in the world. I know what it's like to be so depressed that the only outlet you can imagine is the one that ends in your own funeral. I know how it feels to want to kill your physical body to stop your emotional pain. We might have had different situations, but death is death. Death is the ultimate and permanent solution to such a temporary problem.

What made him actually pull the trigger? Why couldn't he have gotten help? WHY did he do this?

There's so many questions, that I'm not sure if I'll ever know the answer to. Like, what was God's purpose behind this? He has a purpose for every little thing that happens, but c'mon, God, why this? I'm not mad at God... I don't think. I'm just confused.



Timmy, I love you so much and you will always be in my heart and mind. I might not have ever openly told you how much I loved you and how happy I am that you were part of our family, but please know that now. Michelle, Sophia and Sidney are strong and even though you are no longer here to comfort them, they have lots of people that love them too. You will NEVER be forgotten. I hope up in Heaven you and the angels are dancing like you were at the wedding and that you get to have some wrestling matches since that was one of your passions. I will see you someday in Heaven, Timmy. Love you always.

How to Save a Life

I knew this day would come. I had been tempted with the fate before, but this time it's real, and I'm devestated.

I went into program yesterday, like any other Monday. I started to get my breakfast ready, and Karen walked over and casually said "Oh, by the way, your insurance told us no more." I knew what that meant. I didn't fret over it at that time because I figured she would appeal, like they have had to do the past 3 times insurance said that. But NO! Karen said, "We will spend our session looking for a local therapist and dietician online." What?!!

It was really hard to say goodbye. Mainly because I only was able to say goodbye to Karen. I sobbingly told her that I'll never forget Canopy Cove because they saved my life. I told her that all of them would forever be in my heart. Frankly, though, I think I should've gotten a more proper goodbye. Maybe even a well-wish? I mean, 2 years with the place. C'mon...

It shouldn't feel like such a big stinkin' deal; but it is to me. This group of people took me into their lives, under their wings when I had a low chance of living. I was at the worst point in my life and these people still loved me, like my family. They were my family. We spent Christmas, Thanksgiving, my birthdays, every other holiday together. They were there for me when my family physically couldn't be. They loved me when I felt so unloveable. They saved me from myself.

So, when someone says, "Yeah it's okay to be sad but this is a good thing" or "Sure it's sad but it's time to move on, you knew it would come at some point", I can't help but feel a little ticked off. If your family who brought you out of your "pit" and saved your life suddenly vanished and you couldn't contact them again because of "boundary" issues, wouldn't you be a little bit devestated?

I never imagined what my life would be like after leaving Canopy Cove. But I can tell you, the way it is now wasn't in the cards. I'm still really struggling, which is why it puzzles me why they didn't try to appeal again. I also never imagined the amazing things I would accomplish during my stay at Canopy Cove. I did things that scared me to death just 2 years ago. I'm driving on my own, living on my own, working, dating, going to school. Those are just a few of the major things I'm proud to say I did with Canopy Cove's help. Karen made a good point yesterday: Canopy Cove has been like my personal cheerleader. They have encouraged me to do my best, pushed me past the uncomfortable phases, and been there when I thought things would never improve. But we can all live without a cheerleader. Right?

I doubt whether I can do this on my own. And by this I mean life. Life is so difficult, and then try throwing in an eating disorder?! Geezum. I need to expect things to be hard, I guess. Expect flaws, expect lapses, expect imperfection. Because LIFE is imperfect. And I am grateful to have my life back now. 



"Celebrate we will because life is short, but sweet for certain."
-DMB