Blog | It's Me Laura Lee - Part 2

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She called the meatwagon.  I was disappointed in myself.  I was beating up on myself.  I let her down.  I let Scott and the kids down.  I let my parents down.  I had to reconcile this somehow, but I didn’t know how to, until I decided that I’d try again in 2020.  In the meantime, I’d stay behind and support Pam.  If she decided she needed to be crewed I’d drive the car and meet her – as scary as that would be for me, I’d do it for her.

She called the meatwagon.  I was disappointed in myself.  I was beating up on myself.  I let her down.  I let Scott and the kids down.  I let my parents down.  I had to reconcile this somehow, but I didn’t know how to, until I decided that I’d try again in 2020.  In the meantime, I’d stay behind and support Pam.  If she decided she needed to be crewed I’d drive the car and meet her – as scary as that would be for me, I’d do it for her.

In this time of chaos, with all the people starving for connection…membership and subscription sites are flourishing.  Think Netflix, Peloton, Disney+, Amazon. 

 I feel like I’ve spent seven months in the desert.  Away from the things that brought me structure, comfort, a sense of purpose.

I wanted to discuss suicide from the perspective of what YOU can do and how to recognize the difference between warning signs and risk factors and the six questions you can ask that could save someone’s life.

So many parents avoid these proper names, instead opting for pet names.  Using proper terminology is uncomfortable for many and using pet names becomes a cultural thing.  Now, think about that.  Let it sink in.  Parents are uncomfortable using proper terminology.  They’ll call a penis a weiner, or say flower for vulva, but they don’t call an eye a lookie.  Or a nose a smellie. 

Do you have three children or four?  The answer is – I have four.  But it is a question that almost always needs an explanation.  I imagine that it must be similar to how a mother whose child has died must explain herself.  And, yet, my daughter hasn’t died.

Saying you don’t have regrets is avoiding the truth. The truth is that all of us have, at one time or another in our lives, said or done something, that was wrong, hurtful, or dangerous.  So, why do we have a hard time admitting that we have regrets?  Likely, it’s because we perceive admitting regrets as admitting failures. And worse, personal failures.  Personal flaws.

There are many ways to modulate your frustrations.  Napping is one of them.  In one study, nappers who took a 60-minute nap were less impulsive.   I’m a napper.  Like an everyday napper.  Don’t take away my naps.  Like really.  Don’t do it.

I was in deep.  And, I was falling deeper.  I was Alice – falling down the rabbit hole and watching everything as it passed me by.  Except, my rabbit hole wasn’t fanciful, it was dark.  The dong of the clock bellowed and echoed between my ears.  The mirror reflected back to me an image I did not recognize, and yet it cried when I cried.  It was angry when I was angry.  Falling through the center of the earth was something I longed for.  It was a way out without having to be the one responsible for the path.

He opened the door to the office and in his hand was a plate of food.  My food.  I thanked him and put it down beside me – right of my laptop.  It looked so good and smelled even better.  I kept typing away, answering emails, rat-a-tat-tat on the keyboard and without missing a beat I typed with only my left hand and grabbed a fork full of tilapia with my right.  My glaze never leaving the computer screen.

03

I was a victim advocate, and i was raped

02

he tickled me

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POPcorn almost Destroyed my marriage
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Laura Lee, 52, with invisible wounds and scars.  I've learned to embrace PTSD and depression because if I don't own them, they'll own me.  I don't want to simply survive, but to thrive.  I hope you'll join me on my journey.  It's sure to be a bumpy road.

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