Love the Haters

I have a bumper sticker on my car that says "I heart Haters" and it couldn't be more true. The world is filled with negative people, putting out ugly juju into the universe. We all know at least one of these people. They come in many forms. 
*The Poor Me*
Everyone and everything in the known world is out to get them. They turn every situation around and make it about themselves and how much worse it is for them. They could turn even the happiest moment into a pity party somehow. 

*The Debbie Downer*
Nothing ever works out for these people. Their boss hates them, the mailman purposely lost their mail, the restaurant ALWAYS forgets the extra ranch dressing, they're too fat or too skinny, too hot or too cold... I think you get the picture. 

*The Extreme Narcissist*
They want attention for EVERYTHING! From whining to taking credit, they are always turning the spotlight on themselves. You know the ones. They think every facebook post is about them and they just cannot keep from commenting and bringing attention on themselves. 

*The Crazy Ones*
The liars, the backstabbers, the vindictive and evil ones. The people who will talk shit behind everyone's back and then try and turn the tables and blame them. The ones who think their shit doesn't stink and sit so high on their own pedestals that they lose track of reality. The ones who will read this and apply it to everyone they know, but not themselves. Yup, we all know at least one.

The world is filled with people like this. You are bound to come across them from time to time. So what do you do? Well, I am a firm believer in standing up for yourself and never allowing another person to walk all over you or use you. So, sometimes, you'll have to confront people like this. You'll have to be direct and honest and tell them you refuse to let them bring you down. I also believe that this approach sadly doesn't work for all Haters. Sometimes against all our better judgement, we just have to ignore it. Yup, you just have to be the bigger person and let it go. You can't change everyone, nor is it worth it to try to. Haters want to hate. It gives them a sense of power or purpose. It makes them feel like they are better than they really are by trying to make others feel like less. The only thing you can do is to take that power away. Don't give in to their games, and their manipulations and don't allow them to bring you down to their level. Raise your chin and walk away. YOU are the better person. I believe you reap what you sow. Haters create their own sad worlds. Life hands everyone their share of hardships, but it is how you respond to those hardships that make you the person you are. If you allow them to break you down and you wallow in that, you will only bring more of it onto yourself. If you try to rise above it, and find the positive, you will see the good things in life. 
Haters want to blame the world for their problems, when in reality, they are 99.9% responsible for them. When all you put into the universe is negative, how can you expect to get anything else in return? 
Now don't get me wrong, we ALL have our Hater Moments. It's only human. I'm not talking about those. I'm talking about the people who are Constant Haters. They can never truly be happy for another person, because they are jealous or bitter. They want everyone around them to be as miserable as they are, because, as we all know, 'Misery loves company'. 
Well, I've decided that from now on, I am going to love the Haters. They are going to be my motivation to NOT be like them. For every Hater I encounter, I am going to make a point of being the opposite. If you want to bring negative into my world, be prepared to be ignored. After the loss of my son, I am finding it harder and harder to be positive, and I am taking a stand right now and saying that I will no longer put up with negative attitudes. If you want to create drama, piss and moan constantly, be insulting and hateful, go right ahead. But consider yourself warned. I will no longer allow it into my life. I do not and will not hate you. That requires too much of my time and energy. Instead I will love you for reminding me that I am not like you, nor do I wish to be. I recently read a quote that said "Don't expect to see positive changes in your life if you surround yourself with negative people." and I realized just how true that is...

Struggle

Let me start by saying that I LOVE cars. Ever since I can remember, I have been fascinated by the looks and sounds of these amazing machines.

They come in so many different shapes and sizes, you could never see them all. I love the way that people take an automobile and make it as unique as themselves. I love driving. I love the feel of the car under and around me. I love the sound of the engine as you accelerate and the noise of a turbo spooling up. Each car has its own unique and individual sounds, and the best ones can be recognized in an instant. 

When I met my hubs, and found out that he was a "car guy", I was elated. I grew up with four brothers, but even though they all have an appreciation for cool cars, they weren't what I would call "car guys". I love that Dan (my hubs) is into cars. And not only does he love them, but he knows damn near EVERYTHING about them. Seriously, it's kinda freaky. But I love it. I love that I can ask him questions and he can answer them. I love watching him work on cars and learning new things. I love the passion and excitement in his voice when he talks about cars and car parts. It's adorable. And contagious. I find myself getting giddy over carbon fiber and blow off valves. 

Dan comes from a long line of car guys. His dad, uncles, grandfather, etc. all have this love of vehicles. So, it was no surprise when our son, Zachary, started exhibiting all the usual signs of engine fever. It was in his blood. As a child, he was always in and around fast cars, he probably spent as much time in a garage as a playground. And he loved it. When he got his first car, he couldn't wait to start changing parts and "making it better". So, of course between him & his Dad, they did. Some of my favorite family memories with my husband and son involve cars. From hanging out together in the garage, to car shows, race tracks and more. We were a self proclaimed car family. Team Finn. That was us. We watched car videos together, and bought each other car parts for birthdays and Christmas. On any given day, one or all of us was wearing clothing with our favorite car company logo emblazoned on it. Bickering over our favorite cars or discussing parts was dinner conversation for us. 

Now part of being into cars is understanding all the risks and dangers involved with driving. Especially when driving fast or recklessly. My husband has always been an amazing driver. It's like he has a sixth sense when it comes to cars. He is so in touch with his car, it's like an extension of his body. I am continually impressed by what I have seen him do in a driver's seat. It's awe inspiring. And sexy as hell. But he is also VERY careful to explain to others that he has years of experience doing what he does. So when our son started driving, he had it drilled into his head on a regular basis to NOT do these things. And for the most part, he listened. At least as much as any teenager with oil in his blood and a genetic case of engine fever is bound to listen. He had a healthy respect for the power and dangers that come with the territory. On August 3rd, 2012, our son, Zachary was involved in a roll over car accident. He wasn't drinking or on drugs, and he wasn't driving carelessly. It was just a freak accident. On August 4th, he passed away due to his injuries. He had just gotten a new car less than a week earlier. A Subaru, like his Dad. We were becoming a Subaru family, and he was so excited to show it off to his friends. A few days before, he and his Dad had put a brand new stereo in it and were making plans for all the things they were going to do to the car.

He never got the chance to do any of it. At 18 years old, our son died doing something he loved. Driving. This is my struggle. For all the love I have of cars, and all the joy they have brought me and my family, I now find them in my nightmares. I am haunted by the images of my son's last moments and the twisted metal wreckage that brought them to pass. Although logically, I know the car was not responsible for his death, I cannot help but think that maybe things would or could have been different if he hadn't been behind the wheel. I know that this is a futile battle waging in my mind, because things are NOT different, and no matter how much I wish it so, the past cannot be changed. But I struggle, nonetheless. 

Each time my husband gets in his car to go to work, or run an errand, my heart stops beating, and does not resume its normal pace until he returns home safely. I live in constant fear of another knock at the door or panicked phone call telling me my life is forever changed. Again. 

I encouraged my husband not to give up his love of cars. To keep finding joy in them, as I know our son would want him to. And I am grateful that he has resumed car projects and I have seen his spark return while behind the wheel of his beloved Subaru. I wish I could say the same. I find myself dreading getting in it. I am OK in our daily drivers. They don't bother me too much. Though I certainly don't find the same simple joy in driving as I once did. But getting into my husbands project car makes me feel sick to my stomach. Maybe it's because that is what we drove to the hospital that fateful day, or maybe it's because I know the raw power and speed that car possesses and now am all too aware of what can happen. I'm honestly not sure. But I do know that I am almost grateful for the winter weather that keeps it tucked safely in the garage. I hope that in time, these feelings will pass, and I too can find the happiness I once found in it. Because I DO love it. 

But I still struggle with these mixed feelings about cars. I love them and hate them equally right now. I love hearing my husband get excited about parts and videos, but at the same time, I am struggling with NOT wanting to hear or talk about them because it brings up difficult memories. I hope this is just a temporary feeling, and that in time, I can get over it. But for now, this is just another path the Grief has taken me down, and I have little choice but to follow it...

(My son, Zachary, with his beloved first car. This was one of his senior pictures.)

My Inner Child

I'm going to just go ahead and say what we all think. Growing up sucks. Yeah, there's a few perks, like being able to drink & have sex, but those things are fun. But jobs, bills, responsibilities, stress and life in general, has a way of sucking the joy out of things. As a child, life was filled with happiness. It was everywhere you looked. From an empty box that could be anything from a robot to a rocket ship, to your backyard, which at any moment could be transformed into a magical fairyland or deep dark woods filled with evil goblins. Life was what you made it. Anything your mind could conjure up became your reality. At least until Mom called you in for dinner. 

The same just isn't true as an adult. You can't turn your stuffy cubicle into a pirate ship and shoot rubber band cannons at your enemy. Well, you could, but I doubt it would go over so well. When your spouse or your kids are stressing you out, you can't go hide in your fort and escape into a book. They'll just follow you. So what do you do? How do you keep your sanity in a world that does its best to make you crazy? 

Well, some folks do drugs. Some drink. Some spend entirely too much time on internet porn. I'm not judging. To each their own, I say. But I have taken a different route. I've opted to stay in touch with my inner child. 

Do you ever notice how when playing with kids, it's so easy to get absorbed into their activities? How quick to laugh, and be silly we are when surrounded by the innocence and joy of children? It's because we are connecting with our inner child during that time. 

Personally, I have a great relationship with my inner child. I'm not afraid to bring her out from time to time and escape from the all too real realities that are my life. Some people see my gnome collection or the silly pics I take of them and think "She's so weird." Yup. I am. But you know what? It makes me laugh. And if it brings a smile, or a laugh to one other person, even better. I still play with Legos. I wear a tiara when I clean my house. I have stuffed animals as throw pillows on my sofa. And sometimes, when life gets a bit out of control, I build a fort, hide in it and color. Does this make me insane? Who knows. I like to think I'm relatively sane. But if I'm not, oh well. I suppose it could always be worse. 

As a child, I had an imaginary friend, and while some people think that is the sign of a creative mind, others think it is a sign that you  might need therapy. It could go either way. I like to think of myself as a creative individual, but I'm sure a therapist would have a field day with me, as well. I'm not perfect. (Big shock, right?) But I have no desire to be. Where's the fun in being perfect? What could be considered flaws to one person may be charming quirks to another. I am who I am, and I make no apologies. 

So is being in touch with your inner child such a crazy thing? Is it so mad to want to reconnect with a part of yourself that was innocent and carefree? A part that found happiness in the simple things. A part that dealt with the disappointments in life with a snack and a brightly colored Band-Aid. A part that started each day with a smile and enough energy to take on the world. A part that knew the only difference between the bathtub and Atlantis was a matter of perspective. Call me crazy, but I think life is hard enough without having to grow old and cynical too. So, I'm sticking with my inner child. She has a great sense of adventure, and throws a mean tea party, too. 

Messages of Love

Ever since I lost the first person I cared about, I've wondered what happens to them after their passing. But after losing my son, this curiosity has become more of an obsession. I'm just not sure what to believe...

I myself am not religious. I was raised in the church, but I just never bought into the whole God thing. It just didn't click with me. I believe in the concept of being good to one another and trying to be the best person you can, and many of the facets of religion as a whole, but not so much the part about a giant, all knowing, all seeing, yet completely uninvolved entity in the sky. But that is a subject for another day, so back to the subject at hand. 

What happens to us after death? It is a question that has haunted (no pun intended) people for eons. I have talked to many people about this, and have heard everything from "Nothing." to every version of Heaven you can fathom. I really don't want to believe nothing happens. And I find that difficult to believe anyway. It is a fact that we are made of energy. It is also a fact that energy cannot be destroyed. It can however be changed. This leads me to what I have come to believe. 

I think that when a person passes away, their physical body dies. But the energy that they possessed must go somewhere. Since I very strongly feel that ghosts & spirits are real, having witnessed this myself, the idea that a person's energy (or soul) carries on is feasible to me. 

I think we are surrounded by the energies/souls of those that have gone. I believe that just like every person in life was different, so are their souls in death. Some are more energetic, some are quieter, some are angry, some are happy, etc. So their energy manifests itself in different ways. 

I FEEL my son with me. Not in a physical manner, but in an energy that surrounds me. Sometimes it is stronger than others, but it is there. I can't explain it, and if you've never experienced it, you'll probably think I'm crazy. But if you HAVE felt the "presence" of a passed loved one around you, then you know what I'm talking about. 

Since Zachary's passing, myself and others have had signs & messages that we have no doubt are from him. Are we just yearning so badly for proof that he's not gone, that we are reading too much into things? I suppose that's possible. But isn't it also possible that we really are receiving some kind of clue that he is still here? I understand that there are coincidences in life. But when do repeated coincidences become something more? When do we stop making excuses and just accept that some things we just can't explain? Maybe you have to lose someone close to you. Maybe you just have to have faith. Whatever the case, I have chose to accept that my son is still here. That although his physical body is gone, his energy and his soul are not. 

For those of you that have struggled with Grief, and especially the loss of a child, you know the hopelessness and pain that it brings. The sadness and agony that are always just below the surface. If you've ever received a sign or a message from that loved one, you also know the unadulterated joy it gives you. Though it may only be temporary, it is a reprieve from the pain nonetheless. And isn't that the point? They want us to be happy. To carry on. Not to forget THEM, but to try and forget the sorrow. So they are reminding us that they are not truly gone, they have just changed forms. 

Maybe this sounds crazy to you, and that's fine. Sometimes it sounds crazy to me, too. But I am choosing to believe. I am choosing my son over nothingness. So if that makes me crazy, so be it. I can't say I have felt 100% sane these past 5 months anyway. 

So to those who think that their loved ones are sending them messages or signs. Whether they are feathers, butterflies, dreams, music or something else. Embrace them. Allow them to fill your heart and bring you some much needed peace. Even if only for a little while. Where's the harm in that?

Five Months...

Today is five months since my son passed. 
Five months without seeing his smile. Five months without hearing his voice, his laugh. Five months since I held his hand and said goodbye... It feels like an eternity. People tell me it gets easier with time. Since each day has been harder than the last, I find that very difficult to fathom.  How long does it take to accept that your child isn't ever coming home? How long before you stop looking for them around every corner? A year? Five years? Ten? Maybe... but I doubt it. I don't think time is the answer. No amount of time will help this make sense. 
Today has been awful. I cannot stop crying. I sit in his room and stare at his face in photos and think "That's it. That's all there is." What we have now is all we will ever have. There will be no new ones. No college graduation pic, no wedding photos, no tender image of him holding his newborn child. I stare at them hoping to see something new. A cheesy grin I might have missed. But they don't change. I know them all by heart. Every memory is a treasure that I cherish. I live in fear of forgetting even a single moment. 
I have one shirt left that still smells like him. I keep it in a drawer away from other things to try to make it last as long as possible. I only pull it out when I need it most. Today it is wet with my tears. I'd give anything to hug him one more time and inhale his scent. As parents, we take things like that for granted. Their smell, the sound of their breathing as they sleep, the faces they make when they are mad, hurt, scared, happy or surprised. We get so used to them, we don't even realize we aren't paying attention to it anymore. Until it's gone. If someone had asked me 6 months ago if I would ever miss the smell of my son's dirty, stinky feet, I would've laughed in their face. Today, I would give anything to be picking up a pair of his ripe socks off the floor and teasing him about them. I see/hear parents complain about their kids and I think "You have no idea how lucky you are." I'd sacrifice everything for even one eye roll and a snarky remark from my son. See, the thing is, when you lose your child, you don't just miss the good moments, you miss every moment. Because even a pair of dirty socks left on the floor, or a glass of spilled juice, or a broken window means they are still with you. You can still wrap your arms around them. You can still tell them you love them. You can still hear the sound of their voice. To a parent who's lost their child, those moments are priceless and we'd do anything in our power to have them back. 
Today is five months. Five months of wishing I had him back. Five months of hoping this was all just a bad dream and hoping I'd wake up. Five months of wondering if I can make it another day without him. 

The Blame Game

Let me start by saying that the horrible and unimaginable event that took place in Newton, CT is a human tragedy, plain and simple. The lives of countless people have been forever changed. As a parent who has very recently lost my only child, my heart aches for those who went home with empty arms and empty souls. There is NO loss like that of a child. There is no pain more intense and unending. If I could reach out and hold each of them, I would. But since there are no words that can ease the pain they feel, I will merely say that I am keeping them in my thoughts and sending them my love.

That being said, I just cannot sit idly by any longer and read post after post, and tweet after endless tweet where people are laying blame and pointing fingers. 
This is not a political issue. The political party that the man (I refuse to give him any notoriety by using his name.) who did this affiliates with is not responsible for his actions. Heinous crimes are committed every day by people from every class, creed, sex and political affiliation. So let's move on.
This is also not a gun issue. Whether you are pro or anti gun, there is an argument to be made either way. To those who think more guns are the answer, to that I say this: Where does it end? If teachers need guns, then what happens when a teacher freaks out and shoots their students? Do we then give all students guns to protect themselves as well? What happened in CT was in an elementary school. The majority of victims were under 8 years old. That is an illogical and irrational attitude. I for one do not want to live in a world where teachers need to carry arms. I cannot help but picture war torn countries and terrified children, and this is not what I want for my America. So you probably think this means that I want no guns. In an ideal world, we would never need guns. This is not an ideal world. Guns are a very real part of our existence. The idea that we can ever live in a world without them is idiotic. I grew up in a family of hunters, and my husband is a registered hand gun owner. Do we need it? No. Has he ever used it? No. It was passed on from his grandfather, and it is locked safely away where it will probably remain until he decides to get rid of it. I am not pro or anti gun. I can see both sides of the picture. But let's be real honest here. Guns were invented to kill. Plain and simple. So we should not be surprised when they do. I am 100% for better and more strict gun laws across the board. Though they will not keep all of the guns out of the hands of people who intend to use them for harm, they MAY keep some out, and if that means saving just one innocent life, then how could I NOT support it. But banning all guns is not a realistic attitude in this day and age. Period. Do I think your Joe Average needs a military grade, assault rifle? Not in the least. But that is a subject for another time. The bottom line is that a gun did not walk into that school and kill those people. A human being did. And as we all know, it doesn't require a gun to kill people. Bombs, knives and various tools have been used throughout history to do just that. So let's not make this a discussion about gun control, because that is another topic altogether. 
I would also like to point out that this is not a religious issue either. Whether you believe God belongs in schools or not, it is NOT the reason this twisted individual did what he did. Period. GOD can never be banned from schools. If you believe that God is a part of you, and that he is with you always, at all times, than he can never be banned from anything. If you think your children need more God, feel free to send them to a religious school, or attend regular church. That is the beauty of living in a free society. You have the RIGHT to practice any religion you choose. As does everyone else. Prayer was banned from schools in America in the early 60's. I personally grew up in the public school system, religion free. As did nearly everyone I know. I have never, ever even considered committing such an unbelievable act. Have you? Probably not. Is this because you were or weren't allowed to pray in school? Doubtful. It's more likely that you grew up in a home where you were taught right from wrong. You were taught that there are consequences to your actions. And you had the love and support of a good family. The world is indeed changing, and not entirely for the better. Speaking only for myself, I do not practice any religion. Nor does my husband. So obviously my son did not either. Yet somehow, he still managed to grow into a kind, loving, respectful and generous person. God had nothing to do with it. 
And God had nothing to do with the actions of the sick and twisted individual who, of his own free will, shot his sleeping mother in the face and then walked into an elementary school and killed 26 innocent people. 
It is high time that we start placing blame where it belongs. On the individual responsible. A lack of responsibility for our own actions is the biggest issue facing us in the world today. We want to point fingers and make excuses. Well, I find that disgusting. If you get drunk, get behind the wheel and kill 3 people, it is NOT the alcohol or the car's fault. It is yours. If you smoke two packs a day, and get cancer, it is not the cigarette's fault. It is yours. Start owning up people. You have free will, and you make your own choices. It is time to start accepting the consequences for those choices. There is only one person responsible for what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School. All the finger pointing and blaming and excuse making in the world will not change that fact. 
I know that in times like this we want answers. We need to know why. But does it really matter? Would knowing why bring those lives back? Is there ANY reason or explanation that would be good enough? The answer is no. 
So maybe instead of looking for answers to unanswerable questions, let's instead focus on things we can control. Look around you. Take a good hard look at the people you know. Start making honest assessments and paying attention. Someone doesn't generally become a mass murderer overnight. If you see a child, or an adult that seems to fit a certain profile, reach out and do something. Parents, PLEASE start being proactive. Wouldn't you rather be the parent of a child in therapy than the parent of a murderer? Mental illness is a very real thing, and it can be helped. Do your research. Ask questions. Be involved. At every stage of your children's lives. There is no shame in asking for help. Let's take all this energy expelled at pointing fingers and making excuses, and use it towards preventing another heartbreaking tragedy. No matter what your personal beliefs, I'm certain we can all agree on one thing. It is a heart wrenching blow to our human spirit that we will never forget. 

Pain...

Today I ran errands. I looked around at the cars I passed on the street, and the people in line at the store. They all were just going about with their lives. Listening to the radio, buying groceries, being normal. I wondered if I looked that way to them. I didn't feel that way. I felt like a ghost. A shadow just passing through other people's lives. I passed an old cemetery on the way home, so I stopped. I just walked around the graves. Somehow I felt more at home there. Just another lost soul. It was oddly peaceful. For just a little while, I didn't have to pretend. I didn't have to put on a fake smile or hide my emotions for the sake of others. 
Tomorrow would be my son's 19th birthday. I should be baking his cake, picking up last minute supplies and wrapping his gifts. 
Instead it will be the 4 month anniversary of his passing...
There is no cake. No balloons. No gifts this year. There is nothing. When I wake up tomorrow, I will remember that he is gone, and that his special day will be just another incredibly painful reminder of that. As if each day isn't hard enough already. 
I keep thinking that we should do something. Celebrate for him somehow. But it's just too hard. I tried to buy a cake mix today. My hand shook when I picked up the box, and it took everything I had not to break down in the aisle. So I put it back. It's just a stupid cake, but I couldn't do it. Just seeing the candles and birthday decorations made me sick to my stomach. How can I celebrate when he's gone? Just thinking about it nearly drops me to my knees. 
I just want to pinch myself and wake up from this nightmare. I want my family back. I want my life back. I want to see my son celebrate his 19th birthday. And his 21st, his 30th, his 50th... I want this pain to stop. I want to hug my boy and tell him I love him. Is that really so much to ask for?