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Shame

19 Tuesday May 2015

Posted by karenmoorephillips in explaining his death, shame

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“Beyond the combination of normal grief and traumatic grief, survivors of suicide suffer an additional insult to injury—the societal stigma that surround suicide. It may be relatively easy to tell a friend or coworker that a person died in a car accident, or of leukemia; it can very difficult to form words, “She killed herself.””

Grieving a Suicide, by Alber Y. Hsu

I went in for my yearly physical this morning.  The nurse went about getting my family medical history.

Did your father have heart disease? It was her first question.

Yes, I said.  Then those loud thoughts in my mind chanted.  Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

Several years ago, my husband and I bought some life insurance policies; a nurse came to our house to take some vials of blood and took our family history.

How did your father die?  She asked.

He died of a gunshot wound to the head, I said. My answer tumbled out of my mouth full of anger. She looked like I had slapped her.

It’s been seventeen years since my father’s suicide, and those questions still bother me.  Some ask if he’s still alive and when I answer in a monotone no, they might ask how.  The answer sticks in my throat like someone’s stuffed cotton down it. I am just now realizing my anxiety comes from shame.  It’s one thing to feel shame; it’s another to realize I’m actually feeling shame.

Ahh, shame is slippery and is such a shitty feeling. It comes out sideways. I have wanted to blame others for making me feel shame.  Like that poor nurse.  You know.  How dare she ask me that question!  Or shame can stay inside and constipate.  I have pretended I’m fine and not let friends comfort me. Sometimes, I’ve had the insane thought that even God couldn’t comfort me.

Anyone who’s lost a loved one to suicide needs and deserves comfort not shame.

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Gratitude List

07 Tuesday Feb 2012

Posted by karenmoorephillips in depression, explaining his death, feelings, grief, Higher Power, Jesus, PTSD, shame, suicide, Thanks

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           Today, I woke up feeling shame that I always dread Easter.  This year that dread seems to be at a higher level than usual.  It will be fourteen years since my father’s suicide, the Friday after Easter, and I still feel weighted down.  And even that feels shameful.
            I don’t talk much to my church friends or pastor about the reason I tend to disappear during Easter.  In a nutshell, I’ve got Daddy, Jesus, and death rolled up in a pretty tightly knitted ball.  I feel pain, so I retreat.
            This morning I thought maybe a gratitude list of what is going on in my life right now might help me out of my funk.  Here it is:
·         I am grateful that my Higher Power loves me and allows me moments of doubt as well as moments of clarity.
·         I am grateful for my marriage.
·         I am grateful that my mother is still alive and seems to be doing so well.
·         I am grateful for my decision to write even though I struggle for ideas and scenes.
·         I am grateful for the Spring season coming.  I saw buttercups sprouting this morning.
·         I am grateful for my Codependence Anonymous support groups that I attend on a regular basis. 
·         I am grateful for the friendship of my dog.
·         I am grateful for grocery stores.
·         I am grateful for new friendships.
·         I am grateful for the realization that I grieve today.

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