Once again October is here, and so am I. I have decided to just blog for a while. I feel like I am hurting peoples feelings by posting where I am in this process, and I would never want to hurt anyone. I just thought I could give a little hope to all who are hurting. When I was first going through this journey, I wished I had one person who would talk to me, and tell me that there is hope, and the light will shine again. I wanted to hear these words from someone who had walked in my shoes. I prayed for someone to explain to me some of the process I would be facing. I didnt get any of it. What I got was locked away in a mental health ward with the door locked behind me. I got a belly full of psych  drugs, and couldn't even remember my own name. I was ripped from my family who desperately needed me, and treated like I was threat to the country. I spent 3 years in, and out of the psych ward because after they locked me up I believed I killed my own child. Any time I would get physically ill I was locked in the psych ward when what I really needed was life saving surgery. It didn't end there. I took a lot of crap from a lot of people including my own mother, and siblings. It took me years to put my broken family back together. It also took years to let go of the guilt I carried thinking It was my fault my son died. I had no choice but to learn things on my own on how to cope. So I'm not  a person who doesn't know what she's talking about. I was locked away not because I couldn't handle it, but because the medical people, and clergy couldn't handle it. My psychiatrist told me if he would've known the truth he never would've let all these terrible things happen to me. I have had electric shock therapy, because the Dr.s where I live lied on my chart, and said I was suicidal. Then when my second son was killed I was called a jinx, and a bad mother letting both of my sons die. So as you can see I have been through more than losing my sons. I lost all of my strength, dignity, and self respect. I have had to fight, and scrape the bottom of the barrel to get to where I am today. So I thought that maybe I could lighten someone elses load by sharing my journey, sharing my experience even though every person is different. It's not like I became willing to be a part of life over night. I wasn't just stripped from my children, I was stripped of every human right there is. I wasn't allowed to mourn, and grieve like most people. When I would have a melt down I was called crazy, and off my rocker. This year is the first time in 15 years that I can sleep more than 2 hours without nightmares, and my head all blocked up with whirling thoughts. Like most people I can't take drugs for my insomnia, or migrains, or depression, because they all make me nuttier than before I took them. I've had to figure this whole thing out pretty much on my own. Those first years are forever ingrained in my memory. They will always be a part of me. Everything in my blogs, and posts are the Gods honest truth. I gained 100 pounds during this horrible time because food was the only thing I was left control of. So if others don't think I know what i'm talking about they are wrong. I don't explain all of this to everyone because for one it's hard for me to believe it all happened let alone expect anyone else to. Do I still hurt,,,you bet I do. Do I wish I could wake up, and this all be a really bad dream... you bet I do. Thing is I refuse to let it all destroy me because when it's my time to go I want to go straight up. No detours, no stops along the way. If I hadn't of fought all these years to get to where I am, what does that say to my daughters, and the people I care about. I have respect for life. All life. Should I not live my life? Should I not share my journey? No i'm not in the beginning of the grieving journey, but there isn't one thing that others are dealing with that I haven't, and then some. Because of this I thought I could help others who are new to this. I thought that it was a nice change to be able to tell of the progress I have made, but if my words are hurting others than I will keep quiet. We speak of all the sadness, trauma, and sorrow, I just thought that a little hope would be a gift I could share seeing as I am a  long time veteran. I don't know what others want from me? When I'm sad all I hear is "there she goes again". When I'm happy it's said " she must not of loved her sons much to be taking this so lightly". It's all a load of crap! I'm proud of where I am today. I have worked very hard, and against all odds to get to this point where I have more happy days then sad. Is that a crime? Am I expected to mourn the rest of my life? I love my boys. I will always love, and miss my boys, but carrying on the sorrow, and the sadness wont bring them back. To everything there is a season. There is a season of healing also. I'm sad that there are a lot of us out there that have to feel this excruciating pain, and my wish is that they too get to the place where I am. I'm not ignorant. I know there will be days when the grief, and sorrow will overcome me, but if I have to live my life in grief, and sorrow there would be no point. There's no grieving time limit for any of us. It happens when it happens, and I have learned to not use my time on earth crying over something I cant do anything about. I have been crying my eyes out for 15 years, and it has not brought my sons back. Acceptance is the hardest piece of the puzzle to get to. I have gone from shock, to anger, to sadness, and back again. Acceptance was the hardest of all to get to. I've never been one for denial, but I've been there too a number of times. I have read lots of books on this subject, but not a one of them even began to touch on the terrible things that have happened to me. I have fought long, and hard to regain at least some joy in my life, and I am proud of that.  I want people to remember all the good things about my boys, not just the horror of the way they died. I want to speak of all the joy they spread, and of all the funny things that were a part of our lives. Problem is nobody wants to hear the good stuff. Next week will be the anniversary of the death of my 12 year old son. The 6th was the 6th anniversary of my 24 year old sons death, and I don't care what others say anymore. I will celebrate my sons life, as I did Bens last sunday, and I know God will be at my side cheering me on.  I am always willing to help others. Share my journey, and give hope when it seems there isn't any. If that's wrong than I don't want to be right! Whew glad I got that off my chest. Everyone who has had a child die has the right to deal with their feelings as they alone see fit. That doesn't mean that I have forgotten all the hell I have been through. It doesn't mean I love them any less. What it means for me is that I am a survivor, that I am strong, and that my belief, and love for God has helped me to the point of living again. Not just for the rest of my family, but for me, so that I can show my sons, and God that the devil will not prevail ever. If that's a crime than I am guilty as charged. I have endured, and waited a very long time to feel as good as I do right now, and I will not allow anything or anyone take my feelings away from me ever again. I have learned to handle the pain, and the grief. It's been the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but by the grace of God I am a Survivor, and I am not ashamed of it, nor do I ever want to relive it.  I am MOM hear me Roar!