Today, I intersected with another mom who has also buried a child, which turned out to be kinda cool! By now I hope you realize that my intention with this Diary is never to make you sad. “Sad” just isn’t for me, and although I’ve had more than my fair share of it, I choose not to dwell on it for too long. My intention here is only to remind you that we all have the power to earn an invisible cloak just like the one my favorite “not really a superhero SUPERHERO” dons! You know who I’m talking about, right?
BATMAN!
We’re all superheroes, my friends … some of us just don’t know it yet. I mean, let’s be honest – no parent should have to bury their child. It’s just not the natural order. None of us should have to bury anyone EVER! But having done so myself way too many times to count by now, then lived, survived, RISEN and THRIVED to tell about it? I’m here to tell you that although I didn’t quite realize it at the time, my tiny angel’s death was the catalyst to all the best and most endearing parts of what my human spirit could truly withstand and become.
I’m a living, breathing “Dark Knight Of LIGHT” who’s found the strength, courage, and determination to rise above the demons, conflicts, and chaos I’d internalized at different points that tried to take me down, which for the record, is exactly what makes Batman so relatable to me. He’s the only superhero of the historic thousands whose secret identity IS his mask. Whereas, Clark Kent and Peter Parker wear the masks of Superman and Spider-Man, Bruce Wayne is the mask for Batman. He’s a mortal “super human” hiding in plain site, with a list a mile long of perfectly matched villains that took him to the rails against personal weaknesses that eventually became his strengths.
Two-Face challenged the duality of his personality and the two different paths Fate offered. Poison Ivy challenged his struggle with lust and temptation. Scarecrow challenged his struggle with fear. The Riddler challenged the power of his mind. And Joker? Fuhgettabout it! The greatest fictional anarchist of all times held Batman for ransom against his longing for justice and order.
How awesome is it that a cosmic collision with another grieving mom not only made me smile, but also reminded of how effing proud I am of the cloak I wear that no one sees!
The “Dark Knight Of Light” … That’s me … AND you!
Never forget to remind yourself that YOU’RE a bad ass superhero who has triumphed over SO many things – regardless of whether anyone’s acknowledged it! We gotta keep shining our Lights on our OWN heads … because … it’s the right thing to do and we’re allowed to!
You’d have to know what my prayers look like every hour on the hour to know how much it meant to me when the only man left in this world who’s ever really loved me (and perhaps the only one left who ever will) who “speaks to me in song” sent me this poignant message:
I will not let you down. I won’t be cause for harm. So, today I will do better, and I sure hope this can heal.
I have suffered and risen from MANY losses that would have devoured most by now. I had to watch the best human man I’ve possibly ever known literally “dying out loud“. But THIS loss I don’t think I could bare. Which is why this message from him means everything to me … absolutelyeverything!
People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within.
{Elisabeth Kübler-Ross}
…. when it’s 365 days later and your formerly “shattered heart” has healed in ways that are still yet to fathom, such that now, as you’re sifting through the “9 years of joy in his eyes”, you are simply and unspeakably THANKFUL!
I’m thankful for the honor of getting to be the ONLY two girls he ever gave his heart to, and that we were his first and last of EVERYTHING:
After realizing how I really felt about Gia as my child and realizing that no one in my life ever felt that for me it hit me that you were the first and only person in my life that ever truly loved me, chose me as THE top priority in their life and fought to help me get over myself but also fought to protect me from anything and everything harmful or defamatory including myself. Even though you didn’t do it for me you brought my daughter in to this world and promoted that relationship that I didn’t even know that I wanted and needed so bad until now. You made me a parent and it turned out that was the greatest thing that ever happened to me next to falling in love with you and your daughter. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for fostering my relationship with Gia and being there for me even when I was impossible to live with. I don’t deserve a lot of the things you have done and been for me and I will always owe you for everything.
This has been all but impossible to digest and nope, I will never turn a corner or look in any direction and not hear the sounds of their laughter, the traces of their smiles, or feel the bond that they shared in my atmosphere.
I’m here again, a thousand miles away from You. A broken mess – just scattered pieces of who I am. I tried so hard. Thought I could do this on my own. I’ve lost so much along the way. Then I’ll see Your face – I know I’m finally Yours. I find everything I thought I lost before. You call my name – I come to You in pieces so You can make me whole. I’ve come undone, but You make sense of who I am. Like puzzle pieces in Your eye. Then I’ll see Your face – I know I’m finally Yours. I find everything I thought I lost before. You call my name – I come to You in pieces so You can make me whole! I tried so hard! So hard! {Red}
It was a super early morning as we awoke to a 4:30am alarm for a 5:00am departure to her 5:30am practice. While Gia was getting ready, I popped on to Instagram to find the picture above which literally hit me like a ton of bricks. You see, just before waking, I’d been enjoying a blissfully enchanted slumber, during which my husband had conveyed an message to me in the most surreal of ways.
It washim. I just know it! I could smell his skin, sense his touch, and feel his breathe on my face. While I won’t go into detail, because believe it or not there are many things I’ll keep safe inside the most private places of my heart, in this fantasy he had been shadowing me as I moved from one house to another.
He was there … but he wasn’t. I could see him … but I couldn’t. Yet, at every turn I’d made that day, his presence was lingering behind me in a haunting but not frightening way. At the end, what had ’til then only been an eclipse of his presence, turned into his physical body. There we both stood tightly embraced with our hands locked together when I asked this most profound question:
I know where you are … I believe it in my heart … but I just NEED to hear you say it. Am I right? Are you There now? WILL I SEE YOU AGAIN SOMEDAY?
I didn’t hear his voice, as he never spoke a word, but, indeed, he communicated in the sacred “1-2-3 hand squeeze” we’d shared during our season. His answer to my question was emphatic: “One squeeze for yes”, not “two squeezes for no”, right on cue to my prompt.
As this first year without him has all but flown by, I’ve made absolute peace with his suicide. The heartbreaking pain of his manytragic truths was so far beyond sobering that it still reduces me to tears to sit with. Unless or until you’ve born the cross of seeing a person dying out loud in the egregious way that he did, you couldn’t possibly understand the magnitude of relief I felt upon the release of his mortal shackles. He had held on for dear life as long as he possibly could until the day he died, but when the end of his darkness finally settled in, Fate stepped in with the blow.
Still, let’s go back to how this morning with Gia even started. We’d backed out of the garage to find ourselves greeted by a bright orange moon on fire and ethereal setting in the field that abuts our driveway. We were in such connected tangent that it was alarming, but also comforting. The intrinsic conversation that soon availed tapped directly into our understandings of “all of this”, yet far beyond our simply dimensioned minds have yet to fathom. She knows what I know, and I know what she knows, which is ALL either of us needs to know. It’s so powerful.
Keep in mind that the first song that cued up when the engine started today was “Remember Everything“. That had to have meant something … I just knew it! Sufficed to say, though, that neither of us can listen to it now without being reminded of everything we remember about not just our lives, but Zack’s and Christian’s as well. But here’s where it gets even more interesting. After I’d dropped her off and was headed home, that other song I love to hate found it’s way to my speakers:
The Tragic Truth.
IT DIDN’T MAKE ME CRY THIS TIME! Instead, I just smiled as I rolled on down the road with my gaze fixed hard into the sky from which I heard his voice serenading me with those tragically truthful words:
It’s the demons I’ve created for myself … the Tragic Truth … it’s hard for me to understand myself, so it has to be hard as hell for you.
All I can tell you is that my intersection with the Cosmos this morning was everything! Even as I write this I’m smiling again, because while on the surface it may appear that the demons that devoured him won, nothing could be farther from the truth. The rare few of us who really knew him and were honored to both love and be loved by him, know a “truth” that is much more beautiful than tragic: HE’S HOME NOW! No more sorrow. No more pain. No more tears. No more aching for the “family” who abandoned the “Zack Of Shit”. No more voices screaming inside his head.
My “circadian life” is so much bigger than I will ever know, and my adventure still isn’t over. All it took was one cryptic message from The Cosmos to remind me, yet again, that I’m an incredibly blessed widow. In case I’ve never said this, let me say it now: I truly believe that I’m God’s favorite daughter, even despite the many circumstances in my life that seem to prove otherwise. For this, I am as eternally grateful as I am for the true and immense love I still feel that continually travels the distance from from light years away.
One of our favorite traditions was the once-a-year pilgrimage to the harbor at Lake Ray Hubbard in Rockwall to take “The Picture”. It started by happen chance several years ago when Gia was around age seven. We’d stopped into The Bass Pro Shop that abuts the harbor to simply visit the aquariums we’d heard about, at which point we’d decided to take a walk to the end of the pier. As was par for the course, although our little ball of energy and sunshine was always bouncing at least ten steps ahead of us wherever we went, she was never out of his sight. On that day, however, he was going to make damn good and sure she didn’t get too far ahead and fall into the water, so he grabbed her sticky little hand and walked her down. Thus … “The Picture” was born. The plan had long been that we would take the same picture year after year to memorialize the progression of her growth, then eventually end with “the final picture” of the two of them in her gown on her wedding day, at which point her husband could take it from there.
Unfortunately, as I have said before, it wasn’t too far into 2019 that Zack’s descent began to avail itself. Sure, we’d had our good days – and plenty of them. But with everything that was going on, somehow the trek down to the pier never happened. So, on this day, the two of us made a poignant decision together: “Let’s go to Red Robin (one of his favorite places to eat) then down to the pier to take the picture in his honor, then keep taking it year after year.”
So, WE DID IT! There she stood, alone and overcome with emotion, and we did it! Only, then there was a twist. A very talented friend of mine took the original picture of them on the pier and spliced him into the picture of her standing alone. Not only was it probably one of the best ideas I’ve ever had, but I’ve also now decided to keep doing the same thing, year after year, until, you guessed it – HER WEDDING DAY!
It’s been a long and sobering year for us my friends. Am I strong? Of course I am! I was forged under pressure and fire! What you see with me is as real as it gets. Am I absolutely refusing to let him down by seeing us fall apart? YUP! That has never been an option, nor will it ever … because … despite the unspeakable realities at the end that are now mine and my daughter’s, that king loved us with everything he had before he got sick, and believe or not, even in his sickness. So, with that, we are both choosing to only hold on to the good stuff and just leave out all the rest. THIS is how we will “remember him” always.
PLEASE REMEMBER ME
When all our tears have reached the sea. Part of you will live in me way down deep inside my heart. The days keep coming without fail. A new wind is gonna find your sail. That’s where your journey starts. You’ll find better love, strong as it ever was, deep as the river runs, warm as the morning Sun. Please remember me. Just like the waves down by the shore, we’re gonna keep on coming back for more, ’cause we don’t ever wanna stop. Out in this brave new world you seek … o’er the valleys and the peaks … and I can see you on the top. Remember me when you’re out walkin’. When snow falls high outside your door. Late at night when you’re not sleepin’ and moonlight falls across your floor, when I can’t hurt you anymore. {Tim McGraw}
It started out as such a beautiful day as we awoke to a bright blue sky, ate breakfast together, worked out together, then split up for the day so that Zack could see his therapist and Gia and I could go run some errands. He seemed happy. Genuinely happy. We’d been working SO hard to keep his head above the water, and I, the eternal optimist, was counting on the fact that everything was going to be okay and we were going to get him out of the darkness. How little did I know that the darkness was truly settling in all around us.
At just after 2pm, while the rest of the world was just turnin’ and Gia and I were shopping, playing, and getting ready for our “double date” with the boys, the love of my life and one of the MOST beautiful souls I’ve ever known was standing at the Cabella’s counter just a few parking lots away buying the Springfield handgun he used to end his life 14 days later.
PLEASE stop what you are doing right now and take a good look around. I implore you to pay attention and take nothing and NO ONE for granted. One of those faces you see either standing right beside you or faded into the crowd just may in fact be the “happy, smiling face” of a human being who is secretly dying inside … especially during times like these.
Studies are showing that as “Atlas has been falling“, social isolation, anxiety, uncertainty, chronic stress, and dire economic difficulties have led to both the development and exacerbation of depression, substance abuse, and a host of other mental illnesses. Given that stress-related psychiatric conditions are often associated with suicidal behavior, it’s no surprise that the suicide rate has skyrocketed.
I find no coincidence in the sobering and twisted fact that while unbeknownst to me, my husband was enacting the tragic plan to end his own life, I was making an entirely different kind of plan later that same night to help slay dragons and demons of my own:
As I’ve become passionate about raising mental health awareness with all my waves and ripples, this particular post that I wrote in a widely read question and answer forum I contribute to is my most prolific pieces so far:
I’ve been writing tirelessly about not only his, but my mental health journey as well, in “The Diary Of My Perfection”. I’d be honored if any of you would care to read, follow or share it, as it is now my mission to try and be a Light in other people’s darkness. Thank you for the kind words and vast support of this post. It means everything to me. I cannot let either his lost battle with mental illness or anyone else’s have been in vain.
At over 150,000 views and 6,000 “shares” and counting in virtually every country and language, while “this day” in my life will always remain a truly bittersweet part of my story, I REFUSE to let this fucked up, “fate-filled” moment in our family’s history have been in vain. It will not define me as a victim, because I am CHOOSING to see it as a “Lions Gate Portal” to manifesting something truly powerful from it’s wreckage.
I saw these words posted on the Instagram page of a friend of sorts. He’s a musician, an inspirer, a widow, and a pirate who I follow whose posts I thoroughly adore:
… listen to her thoughts … adore her like no one could ever do … be more than just a text message … be the air they breathe, future they plan and smile they wear everywhere … live to have her hug you from behind … write her letters and hold hands while kissing … love until your heart is empty … and then love some more … BE HER EVERYTHING!
My King in Heaven is smitten with me, too, by the way … I can feel His hands wrapped around my heart with every breathe. My crazyblind faith in Him pales in comparison to the faith He’s had in me since before I was even born, and He’s loved me like the QUEEN He always intended me to be long before any man on this Earth did. Is there to be “one last king” in this realm for me? Only He knows that and He’s got this! I’ve been there and done that, and the legacies of love the two of them left behind for me are more than enough to fill my heart for the NEXT fifty years without them if that is what’s to be.
That being said, I must admit that my standards are obnoxiously high now. As I’ve long said before, it would take one HELL of a powerful presence to stand with the shadows of the two that came before him. I know EXACTLY who I am, EXACTLY what I’m worth, and EXACTLY who is worthy of my time, attention, and affection. Sufficed to say, I will accept nothing but a king again, so unless and until that day comes that the “one last king on Earth” comes to find me, I’ll continue to reign here in my kingdom happily alone but not lonely. Trust me when I say that this crown on my head is going nowhere. As for the next 50 years? I’ll be having the time of my life and simply enjoy being alive.
And the men who hold high places must be the ones who start to mold a new reality closer to the heart … The blacksmith and the artist reflect it in their art. They forge their creativity closer to the heart. Yes, closer to the heart … Philosophers and plowmen – each must know his part to sow a new mentality closer to the heart … You can be the captain and I will draw the chart sailing into destiny closer to the heart.
{Rush}
I dropped Gia and a friend at the mall today to get them out of the house and let her spend some of her birthday money. When I picked them up, they jumped in the car with a small boatload of shopping bags each.
Just WAIT until you see everything I bought, Mom! I’ll do the grand unveiling when we get home!
Not two minutes had passed after walking in the door when she excitedly started the “unveiling”, but in true Gia style, she’d saved the best three treasures for last. As she pulled them out of their respective bags, my heart all but burst out of my chest! She had a Batman, a Venom, and the “Farewell To Kings” vinyl with one of my favorite Rush songs ever on it, “Closer To The Heart”!
HOLY SMOKES, BATMAN! Have you heard a thing I’ve said? He will be one of my favorite superheroes, although technically he’s not a superhero. He’s a mortal man with no magic powers who epitomizes the endless possibilities of the human spirit and metamorphosis under less than optimal conditions and unyielding pressure. He’s the benchmark of achievement through heart, soul, discipline, and determination – the juxtaposition of light to dark, and ying to yang. Batman became who he needed to become by pulling himself out of himself for the betterment of mankind. My daughter feels the same way about Batman, by the way, and he is her favorite non-super superhero, too. We both have capes, you know? You can’t see them, ’cause they’re invisible.
VENOM! Again, have you heard anything I’ve said? Let me fill you in on the “Venom” of it all by first clarifying who he is. There’s a great deal of debate in the Spider-Man community in this regard. Is Venom also Spider-Man … is he just Venom … or is he both? Factually, the Venom movie has no correlation to Spider-Man, but within the Marvel comics, it’s complicated.
Venom made his first appearance in 1984 as a new Spider-Man suit the “Secret Wars” storyline when Spider-Man came into possession of a mysterious new black suit that gave him extra powers, which suit is later revealed to be a malevolent alien symbiote that attached itself to Peter Parker. Although Peter soon rid himself of the suit because of its inherently evil nature and propensity to channel an inner darkness inside himself that he doesn’t want to channel, the symbiote ended up bonding with Eddie Brock, a reporter with a serious grudge against Spider-Man. Eddie Brock and the black suit then became symbiotically bonded as Venom. So then, no, Venom is not Spider-Man. “The suit”, however, does to me represent the dark alter ego of Spider-Man. It’s a thick, black, suffocative web of enmeshed and entangled emotions that overtakes and chokes the life out of its host, much like the one I fought so desperately to get the HELL off of me for more than forty years, the one my son still wears, and the one my beautiful husband was wearing as he slipped away into the abyss. “The Greatest Battle Lies Within” and the accompanying “Venom of it all” are so much more than words and comic book movie characters to me. And my daughter feels the same way!
Last, but not least, let’s get a little “closer” to my heart! I’ve always loved this album. “A Farewell To Kings“? Of course, there’s not a bit of irony with this in the circadian life I live, nor a need for me to go any further. The words speak volumes on their own. Sufficed to say, her little shopping spree today brought us even closer than we already were.
As I’ve said many times before, from the first week he married me, there was never a time that there weren’t fresh flowers somewhere in our home for me. Some he sent, and others he picked up, but their method of delivery didn’t really matter, because …
…I JUST LOVE FRESH FLOWERS!
He only had to hear me say it once, and the rest is merely history. As our lives got busier and his career took off, however, there were times that he just couldn’t go get them, so, I started making fresh flower arrangements on my own to fill the voids. My little treks to my favorite flower haunts soon became one of the brightest spots of my week, and still are to this day. It always made him happy to come home and find that I’d treated myself.
~ The Last Flowers He Ever Sent ~
Sufficed to say, not a week has passed since the day he left, nor will there EVER be, that there haven’t been fresh flowers in this castle he left behind for me. I’ll continue to treat myself like the queen he saw in his eyes who deserves only the best treatment from everyone, including myself!
Zack brought Gia flowers fairly often, as well, and sometimes to ONLY Gia, which I loved, and so did she. Part of my process with her now is to deeply imprint into her psyche that SHE, TOO, IS A QUEEN! It’s not uncommon for us to be at the market and her to run off and come back with flowers she chooses for herself. I’ve made her promise that when it’s time for her to leave this nest she’ll remember that she can buy herself flowers, too, regardless of whether there’s a man in her life.
KINGS & QUEENS:
I once again challenge every one of you to and go and get YOURSELF some flowers this week! They don’t have to be expensive. You can make your own arrangement with flowers from the grocery store and wildflowers or even weeds growing on the side of the road, which is par for the course with me. If you do “go and get yourself some flowers”, PLEASE MESSAGE ME A PICTURE OF THEM! It would absolutely make my day to see that I’ve made a ripple in your pond with this thought process!
On November 23, 2019, last year, I attended my first “International Survivors Of Suicide Loss Day” with the one and only man who ever stepped up as a true father to my husband at the Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas. Of course, we attended to honor my husband’s memory and suicide, but as much to honor my daughter, who in case you didn’t already know, was also suicidal the night that Zack left.
It was a beautiful, symposium style conference intended to be a day of healing, where all those impacted by suicide loss could connect around the lives of their loved ones and the experiences of hope, support, and encouragement. It was a wonderful day that did in fact help solidify my steadfast road to the recovery process that I was headstrong determined to conquer!
At the end of the day, each attendee received a packet of memorial “seedling” paper on which to write intentional messages of love, hope and perhaps even notes to our loved ones. I of course brought mine home, but because of the extremely complicated ways that he hurt her, Gia’s road to recovery was not only delicate, but, strictly on her timing. So, the packet just sat in our windowsill for months.
Without going into details, all I can say is THIS: That “love note” you see above? “I forgive you dad“. IT WAS EVERYTHING! I’m not sure when or if the day will ever come that either myself or she will be able to share everything that really happened in the literalpsychosis and insanity that proceeded his death but sufficed to say … my daughter is a phoenix! My daughter is a miracle! My daughter is everything I aspire to be if and when the day ever comes that I decide to grow up.
… who’s famously spent his journey covered in engine grease and smelling like gasoline, even at his extra “bougie college“.
… who’s been chastised and mocked for the foolish wastes of time, money, and obsessive effort he’s spent making a dream come true.
… who called me all but SCREAMING and on the verge of tears late last night:
MOMMA! I did it! I totally fucking did it! She pulled 592.5 at 6500rpm!
That “moron” just made me a very proud “grease monkey GRANDMA”! He found a forged, 4-bolt, 385 cubic inch, 1955 design, ’87 small block Chevy engine at a pick and pull four years ago, and has been HELL BENT on turning it in to a stroker that would pull at least 500hp. Up until now, he’d only ever come close to that twice at 450hp.
I know that none of this either means much or makes sense to most people, and honestly, it doesn’t even make sense to me. Just know that “trash to treasuring” a thirty-plus year old cast away engine into a naturally aspirated 600hp masterpiece is a pretty big fucking deal! Even the owner of the speed shop where they had it on a dyno couldn’t believe his eyes. But, alas, there was this bittersweet moment:
Momma, Zack would have been so proud of me. He knew I could do it and told me I could! He believed in me. Only you and him EVER really believed in me!
Nope! I’m not crying as I’m writing this, lol. Now, if you believe that, it might be YOU that’s a moron. (Just kidding!) Right now I’m an actual blubbering mess of the proudest tears a new grandmother could possibly cry, because they don’t know what I do. After a lifetime of trying to rise above the same shrapnel and less than impeccable words that almost buried us both, all I could think of was THESE most powerful and vindicating words:
They can break him down if it makes them feel right … and hate him now if it keeps them alright. They can break him down if it takes all their might, ’cause he’s SO much more that meets the eye!
People who take selfies are narcissistic and vain!
(The Former Mislead & Completely MISINFORMED “Not So REAL” Cat Williamson)
Yes, indeed, THOSE are the words I used to say about “selfies”! Upon further deliberation, however, I have since changed that narrative to something more like this:
Self-acceptance, self-LOVE, and SELF-appreciation are PERFECTLY okay in appropriate doses, if not a necessary evil, so, JUST TAKE THE FUCKING SELFIE!
If YOU don’t love you, 100% unconditionally, EVEN on your darkest of days, and value, see, and TREAT yourself as EPIC living masterpiece that you are, why would anyone else?
In honor of “National Selfie Day“, here’s a little gift in the form of wisdom for those of you who refuse to jump on board the train for fear of people thinking you’re a self-grandioso, conceited “WHOOPEE! LOOK AT ME!” bus just waiting to run them over with your ego …
If it’s true (and it is) that we should treat others as we wish to be treated, isn’t it about time that you finally reach for a place of self-love, acceptance, and healing in your journey? Not only are YOU the one who “gets” to spend the most time of all with YOU, the last time I checked, The Big does NOT make trash! If HEloves and adores you, SO SHOULD YOU!
Hi everyone, it’s, me, CAT! I am Fifty-ONE-Derful years old and fearfully and wonderfully made! So, please excuse the mess … I didn’t see it from behind. I caught a glimpse, but the reflection’s only mine.
With that, I want to challenge YOU to post a selfie very soon. It’s okay to love yourself, as long as you’re doing it from a humble place, always keepin’ it real, and being mindful that you’re “Nothing. Everything. ALL OF IT“!
Last night, while I was in the closet pondering the idea of tackling Zack’s clothes and personal belongings (which, PS, are all still either hanging or sitting completely untouched and exactly as they were the last time he walked out of this house at 8:00pm on August 22, 2019), I stumbled upon the little box of all the trinkets and baubles my son has given me over the years, not the least of which is the box the Godiva chocolates came in itself! You see, it was empty when he secretly pulled it out of the trash at age eight on the day of my 30th birthday only to put a handwritten love note from him to me inside it. My favorite thing, however, is the Circa 1999 “Valentine Stick” that he wrapped in a napkin a few years before that at age seven.
With this, I was joyfully reminded of the many wonderful gifts this boy has brought to my life over the years, not the least of which is the only unconditional love from a human I’d ever known prior to Zack, and then, of course, the inspiration to LIVE, fight and change a very broken and toxic family cycle.
No matter what “things” I have or never have, have had and then lost, or have otherwise been given or not given, I am still a woman who is blessed beyond measure with EVERYTHING!
I was also reminded of the true and sobering fact about life itself, which is that whenever someone gives to you, they may be giving you all they have. We should never take gifts for granted, no matter how big, how small, or even tangible.
Dare I remember the night that Frog Prince of mine promised to build me “a castle of stone and brick“. Lol, if only he’d known that regardless of the material gifts and “things” he’d given me, I could happily have lived with him anywhere, so long as I had that giant heart of his.
Perhaps the best part of finding this little box of goodies last night, especially in light of what I was mentally tackling in that closet in the first place, is that finding the “little box of everything” literally STOPPED me from falling apart in the midst of all Zack’s “stuff”. I’m serious people … THIS is how my life works! It’s all good. It’s all God. It’s exactly as it needs to be. Just sayin’ …
Last night, while the unsuspecting world was either peacefully sleeping or wresting with the Devil, something cool happened in the subculture I live in called “Knucklehead”. It was the official video release for one of my favorite songs, “A Little Bit Off”. Guess what people? I just woke up to Christmas in June and couldn’t be any more stoked!
PICTURE IT …
A seemingly “normalish“, 51yo woman sitting in bed singing along to a ridiculous music video, swaying back and forth and waving her fist in the air! (Lol. Yes, that really happened.) If you haven’t figured it out by now, much like the leader of this crazy Pride I’m in, I, too, am an oxymoron, and my Knucklehead card is one of my most powerful flexes. “The REAL Cat Williamson”: Loves people. Hates peopling. Loves Light. Hates dark. Loves love. Hates hate. Loves being broken. Loves being whole. Loves Jesus.
Jean-Claude Van DAMN there are many days that I just wake up feeling OFF. Guess what? THAT’S OKAY! I spent nearly an entire lifetime being ashamed of my “fuckin’ crazy” and even more so the train wreck I emerged from. That was then. This is now. THESE DAYS I FUCKING EMBRACE IT! Leave it to this gang of creatively genius, beautifully disastrous, oxymoronical MANIACS to help me figure out that not only is it okay for me to be a jacked up effing mess sometimes, it’s also okay for me to yell, scream, and holler it out loud any fucking time I want to! So, with that, make it a great day and here’s hoping YOU can embrace your “off days”, too!
I’ll try to keep this as short as possible, but can’t make any promises …
So, let me go back to the very first glimpse of the rabbit hole I almost fell into after an entire week of being chastised, reprimanded, scolded, and all but burned alive on a cross for voicing my opinions, feelings, views and support for the personal “bandwagon” I have jumped on amidst what I truly believe is Atlas Falling. Lol! Of all the punches I’ve taken this week, the worst was a comment by a now former friend who calls herself “a Christian”:
Wow, so glad to finally see you!
No, it wasn’t a compliment. She heard me say “I love oranges”, then took it upon herself to assume that I don’t also love apples and pears. Who the FUCK is she to judge me by picking only the lines that best suit her schooling of my beliefs?
Meanwhile, last night at 5:53pm, this:
… which then led to this at 8:00pm:
… which then led to this at 8:21PM:
… at which point I felt a little better and was able to fall asleep. But alas, that victory was short-lived, because THEN I woke up to this:
This “memory” couldn’t have come at a worse time, since I had just recovered from almost falling backwards less than eight hours prior.
It was Mother’s Day 2019 that was the beginning of his descent, but it was on June 5, 2014 after having had to stay home and take care of us for a while that truly began his unravelling. I’d been getting ready for bed, only to find him waiting in bed lost somewhere inside his own mind:
Baby? Is everything okay? Where were you just now?
I had to physically push him to get his attention. When he turned his head to look at me there were tears rolling down his face:
Catherine, I don’t think I ever realized ‘what I never had’ growing up until now. What she never gave me. What she never did for me, but she DID do for all of them. Going through all of this with you has been a blessing and a curse. She threw me away. They all did. Every one of them. It’s as though I just don’t exist. I wasn’t good enough for her. For them. They never wanted me. I’m nothing.
Meanwhile, there I was laying in bed this morning and unable to face the empty spot beside me, so, I turned the other way to avoid looking in that direction. I became fixated on the wall where the light seeping through the blinds that shroud the windows was trying desperately to reach me. I was all but paralyzed, and too numb to even cry, until I picked up my phone and saw this:
… which THEN led to this at 10:54am:
… and thus, my profound conclusion:
GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!
I’m STILL a fortress. I’m still a queen. I’m still the strongest bitch I’ve ever known, with the greatest King of all Who has never failed me. As par for the course, He’s already got this whole thing figured out for all of us. If I so much as think about letting this fortress I’ve become crumble, He bombards me with signs and love notes from His heart and reminds me that I’m never gonna be alone. This morning, He answered my cry with the most beautiful Molotov cocktail I’ve ever seen through a picture and the words of a stranger:
You fukin’ go kick ass today!!!!
So, with that, “I’m going back in” with everything He’s given me for the battlefield, not the least of which is the Cosmic validation I needed in the words of total strangers. Everything IS gonna be okay!
HEAVEN HELP ME
When I can’t find the words. When I can barely breathe. I’m falling on my knees. Heaven help me. Heaven help me. When I can’t feel You near, and I can’t hear You speak. I’m falling on my knees. Heaven help me. Heaven help me. Help me. Help me. ‘Cause I can’t walk this road alone, and I can’t do this on my own. Tell me. Tell me. I just need to hear You say that everything will be okay. When I don’t understand. When I don’t think I can. I know You have a plan, so Heaven help me. Heaven help me. Help me. Help me. ‘Cause I can’t walk this road alone, and I can’t do this on my own. Tell me. Tell me. ‘Cause I just need to hear You say that everything will be okay. Help me believe it. When I can’t see it. Help me to know it. When I can’t hold it … {Zach Williams}
Early this morning at just after midnight: The porch; My daughter; “The Frog“; THE FORGIVENESS; The very few people who will ever understand; My heart; MY GOD … IS SO GOOD. I am blessed. She is strong. No other words. That’s all.
Please, God, let it be me! Let me be the one to have absorbed the last drops of poison that seeps within the rotting roots of our sick and dying tree so that the branches of my children and theirs will reach up to touch the Sun instead of digging down into hell.
Looking back on the memory of the dance we shared ‘neath the stars above, for a moment, all the world was right. How could I have known that you’d ever say goodbye? And now I’m glad I didn’t know the way it all would end – the way it all would go. Our lives are better left to chance. I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance. Holding you, I held everything. For a moment, wasn’t I a king? But if I’d only known how the king would fall? Hey who’s to say? You know I might have changed it all. {Garth Brooks}
I’d been out running errands and was approaching the house in which I dwelled that was certainly not a home when it availed itself on my cue. From that first solemn chord, the forlorn guitar began cutting me like a knife as I pulled into the garage. I couldn’t shut my car off and was compelled to sit and listen as the words began to play. Then, out of nowhere, a barrage of tears washed over me, literally and metaphorically. I was so numb and paralyzed in the moment that I couldn’t even lift my arms to wipe my eyes. I could neither breathe nor feel my fingertips as the music began manifesting a truly physical aching inside my heart.
When it was over, I just sat there trying to gather myself before having to walk back inside the lie that had become my life. Before I knew it, my son and daughter appeared in the doorway. He was holding her in his arms as they both smiled and waved to greet me, completely oblivious to the sobering reality that I was secretly dying.
That night, after everyone was asleep, I sat down at my computer to write a letter to God in this “Diary Of My Perfection”, which was then merely an outlet for my very private hell. The words to the song said everything that needed to be said at that moment, and thus my entry, “APRIL 21, 2008: I’m A Gift. I’m A curse.“
Here I am, fifteen years to the day that one of the most beautiful “gifts” I never knew I needed became a part of the tapestry of my beautifully woven life. It took a lot of blind faith, time, accountability, honesty, self-discovery, and patience, forgiveness and gracefor and with myself to be sitting in this chair writing this. Not a second goes by that I don’t remember how damn lucky I am to simply be alive.
When I listen to it now, my emotions are a paradox, as on one hand I can smile as I look back and realize how far I’ve come, but on the other, I am sadly reminded of a night just weeks before he left that my beautiful husband also listened to this song while we were driving home from “somewhere” and silent tears began falling from his eyes. It rips my fucking heart out when I think of how helpless and hopeless it felt to watch him dying right in front of me and even more so that he was never able to see what a gift to this world he truly was.
If I had one wish for anyone reading this and struggling to find “The Gift”, it’s that that they listen to this song in a very quiet place and really sit with all the chords and words as you let them break you down. The answer is inside you, I promise that it is, so, challenge yourself to find it. Your weakness is your strength. Being broken makes you whole. The pain that you feel IS the gift! Do the work, take your time, cry out to Jesus, and find your way back home to the place where your soul belongs … WITH YOU!
By the way, it’s okay to feel sadness and grief for the things that have died inside of you, and it’s certainly okay to cry. Now that I think of it, it’s such a blessing that one of my favorite verses in the Bible also happens to be the shortest:
CRY AS OFTEN AS YOU NEED TO! Get mad! Scream out loud! Do whatever you must to let yourself feel everything that has hurt you so you can finally let it go! Then, someday when it’s time for you to sit back and marvel at what you’ve survived, listen to it again. Maybe, like me, you’ll find that ONLY these words remain:
… now I feel relief … I’ll hold on … I do belong here and I’m well … I’m living right … I can face myself when I wake up and look inside a mirror … I let it go … I have something more to say for me …I believe in me … I defy … now I feel complete … like I matter to The One I need … now I’m THIS … I’M THE GIFT!
THE GIFT
Hold me now,I need to feel relief. Like I never wanted anything. I suppose I’ll let this goandfind a reason I’ll hold on to. I’m so ashamed of defeat. And I’m out of reasontobelieve in me. I’m out of trying to get by. I’m so afraid of The Gift You give me. I don’t belong here and I’m not well. I’m so ashamed of the lie I’m living right on the wrong side of it all. I can’t face myself when I wake up and look inside a mirror. I’m so ashamed of that thing. I suppose I’ll let it go ’tilI have something more to say for me. I’m so afraid of defeat. And I’m out of reason to believe in me. I’m out of trying to defy. I’m so afraid of The GiftYou give me. Idon’t belong hereand I’mnot well. I’m so ashamed of the lie I’m living right on the wrong side of it all. Hold me now, I need to feel complete. Like I matter to The One I need. I’m so afraid of The Gift You give me. I don’t belong hereandI’m not well. I’m so ashamed of the lie I’m living right on the wrong side of it all. Now I’m ashamed of this. {Seether}
Every time I tried to make it on my own. Every time I tried to stand and start to fall. And all those lonely roads that I have travelled on.
There was Jesus.
When the life I built came crashing to the ground. When the friends I had were nowhere to be found. I couldn’t see it then, but I can see it now.
There was Jesus.
In the waiting. In the searching. In the healing and the hurting. Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces. Every minute. Every moment. Where I’ve been and where I’m going. Even when I didn’t know it or couldn’t see it.
There was Jesus.
For this man who needs amazing kind of grace. For forgiveness at a price I couldn’t pay. I’m not perfect, so I thank God every day.
There was Jesus.
In the waiting. In the searching. In the healing and the hurting. Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces. Every minute. Every moment. Where I’ve been and where I’m going. Even when I didn’t know it or couldn’t see it.
There was Jesus.
On the mountain. In the valleys.
There was Jesus.
In the shadows of the alleys.
There was Jesus.
In the fire and in the flood.
There was Jesus.
Always is and always was.
No, I never walk alone.
You are always there.
In the waiting. In the searching. In the healing and the hurting. Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces. Every minute. Every moment. Where I’ve been and where I’m going. Even when I didn’t know it or couldn’t see it …
Some days I wake up with endless words to say, while others find me trapped in the silence that often accompanies my waves. Like this morning, for instance. She sent me this selfie she snapped while she was at her Dad’s playing in her make-up bag last night. When I saw it it took my breath away! How is that after all the mistakes I’ve made and the wrongs I could never make right that, she is this?
She is everything a mother could pray for her living legacy to be, and this world I’m lucky enough to live in with her is so much better with her in it. There aren’t that many people that know the magnitude of what she’s been through, but those who do find it no surprise that she IS her mother’s daughter. Please also let me include my very handsome first born in this regard, because well, he, too, is one of the strongest survivors I’ve ever known. Damn, just look at this people! I’VE MADE TWO MASTERPIECES!
So, with that, I’ll let these two pictures speak the volume of words I can’t possibly begin to quantify, with the exception of these words, because in this very moment, they’re exactly what I need to say to my son and daughter …
YOU’RE GONNA BE
Six pounds and nine ounces lookin’ up at me like I have all the answers. I hope I have the ones you need. I’ve never really done this. Now I know what scared is. Sometimes I’ll protect you from everything that’s wrong. Other times I’ll let you just find out on your own. But that’s when you’ll be growin’, and the whole time I’ll be knowin’ …
You’re gonna fly with every dream you chase. You’re gonna cry but know that that’s okay. Sometimes life’s not fair, but if you hang in there? You’re gonna see that sometimes bad is good. We just have to believe things work out like they should. Life has no guarantees … but always loved by me … you’re gonna be.
I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through some of my mistakes. Lord knows I’ll be trying, oh to give you what it takes. What it takes to know the difference between getting by and livin’. ‘Cause anything worth doing is worth doing all the way. Just know you’ll have to live with all the choices that you make. So, make sure you’re always givin’ way more than you’re takin’.
You’re gonna fly with every dream you chase. You’re gonna cry but know that that’s okay. Sometimes life’s not fair, but if you just hang in there? You’re gonna see that sometimes bad is good. We just have to believe things work out like they should. Life has no guarantees … but always loved by me … you’re gonna be … someone’s everything. You’re gonna see just what you are to me.
You’re gonna fly with every dream you chase. We just have to believe things work out like they should. Life has no guarantees … but always loved by me … you’re gonna be … always loved by me.
Yet another bittersweet day for me with the passing of one of my favorite comedic actors, Jerry Stiller. For those of you who know me well it’s no secret that one of his best known sitcoms, “The King Of Queens“, is, was and probably always will be my favorite TV show! Williamson and I watched it every single night from the beginning of “us” to the end, and “Arthur” was one of his best impersonations. We all spoke fluent “King Of Queens” in our daily banter (as well as “My Cousin Vinny” and “Birdcage”) and Gia and I still do. Lol, Zack had always promised her that when he was old and if I was already gone, he would move in with her family and be their “basement Arty”.
It’s also no secret to those who know me that cooking is not my thing! Are there are some decent dishes I manage to pull off from time to time? Sure. No one has ever starved on my watch, but there’s not a person who I’ve cooked for who’s a stranger to my “interesting dinners”. I fondly remember an “episode” set at our table as if it were just last night: “The Night Of The Hot Pink Chicken!” It was the first meal I’d made for our brand-new little family on the third night we were married. I’d marinated some chicken in raspberry dressing, which chicken ended up literally turning pink. As I set the plates down, Gia turned to him as discreetly as she could with her hand on her little forehead trying not to let me see the look of fear in her eyes. Then just as sweet as he could be with nothing but appreciation for the effort I’d made, he quickly came up with the perfect line:
Well then, have a biscuit. Some of them came out PRETTY well!
It was an “Arthurism” from one of our very favorite episodes, “The Food Fight”! From that night forward throughout the entirety of our decade together there were SO many times he would chime in with that line, his very favorite “Arthurism”, at every one of my mealtime flops! Every time he spoke those words, I fell in love with him all over again!
While I’m saddened by his loss, especially for his loved ones, I’m again encouraged that death is nothing at all. He was so much larger than the life he lived itself, just like the “King” of this very lucky Queen, and their legacies both I shall treasure!
Zack once said that if he could have met any actor it probably would have been Jerry Stiller:
I can only imagine what a riot it would be to shoot the shit with that crazy old guy!
Well, if God is the God, I know in my soul He is, perhaps now he’ll get the chance! Godspeed Jerry. The comedic spirit and “crazy old man” you infused into the fabric of our lives will remain in our hearts and “Arthurisms” forever!
So, what was my thought behind the title of this post, “When Someone Dies And You SMILE”? Oooh but let me tell you! While I was waiting for Gia to wake up this morning, anxious to share the news of “Arthur’s” passing, I just sat in bed thinking to myself and smiling. That funny man brought SO much into our world … laughter, hilarity, and heartfelt joy! Which man you ask? Both Arthur AND my husband! I thought about crying, especially given the torrent of “first Mother’s Day without him” emotion I ran the gauntlet with yesterday, but couldn’t. Instead, I just sat there with my thoughts and countless memories cherishing the most beautiful ride of my life!
PS …
Perhaps our hands down favorite episode was “Spicy Sausage & Peppers”! I cannot tell you how many times Williamson asked unsuspecting waitstaff who were taking his order at restaurants: “How’s your spicy sausage and peppers?” Most often, they looked at him absolutely dumfounded, as if he were actually crazy, but the ones who got the joke always got an extra tip from him! This clip is a go-to on any of my “down days”. I CANNOT watch it without laughing until my sides hurt, so please do watch it and ENJOY! As for me? I’ll be spending the entire rest of this night binging The King Of Queens in tribute to both Jerry and my husband!
While I am more than thankful to claim the highest honor of “mother” of two living children, a son and a daughter, and one angel baby in Heaven, I am ever so mindful as I end this bittersweet day with the heart-breaking awareness that not every child got to celebrate with their mother today. As you’ve already read in the admonishment to his “mother THING” one year ago this day, the abandoned and motherless man who I was honored to call my king began his painful descent into the darkness she left him in that literally devoured him alive and indeed ended the most beautiful chapter of my life.
It wasn’t your fault!
You didn’t deserve that!
So, with that, if you are a mother THAT (not “who”) has abandoned and forsaken a child of her own body, know that the unfathomable wound you left them with will never truly heal. If, on the other hand, you are a child whose “mother THING” abandoned you? Please know that just like the battalion of mothers in this world who understood the magnitude of the job we were given, you are always in my heart and I pray for you daily.
YOU are a gift to this world!
From the depths of my soul, I’m am so sorry that happened to you, but remember this one thing always: Our Father in Heaven DOES NOT make trash!So, “Chin Up! Knuckles Out!”, and never wonder “WHY”. You are loved, needed, and valued here on this Earth.
The fate of a mother is waiting for children. You wait for them while pregnant, you wait for them when they return from nursery. Wait for them when they leave school. You wait for them when they start their life when they come home after a party. You wait for them when they come back from work so they can always find a hot meal. You wait for them with love, with anxiety sometimes with anger that immediately passes when you see them and you can hug them. So make sure your elderly mom doesn’t have to wait any longer. Visit her, love her, hug the one who loved you like no one else ever will. Don’t ever make her wait. Because they age limbs but a mom’s heart never grows old. Love her as you can. No woman will love you like a mother.
I recently stumbled upon the most beautiful passage about “the fate of a mother”, and I couldn’t have said it better myself. Stumble as I may have countless times in my motherhood journey thus far, the gift of all my children has been my highest calling and honor. But what do these words mean to you? You never waited for you son – he only ever waited for you – because you left him, like trash, to die in his own remains.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, your “son” stopped living the day he was born, but it was one year ago today that the hands of Fate threw the very last spin of the wheel that ultimately led to not only his demise, but the end of the most beautiful chapter of my life. Looking back, I can say that the very first hint of change in him was June 5, 2014, as that was truly the day the “rock” that was OUR Zack began crumbling. Slowly, subtly, yet ever so steadily, he began slipping down the hole that devoured him on January 11th this year, but it wasn’t really until May 12th last year that he started coming apart at the seams. I remember that morning as if it were right now, down to exactly where he was standing, what he was wearing, the look of angst on his face, what he was saying, and the tears falling from his eyes. Sufficed to say though, it was “Mother’s Day 2019” that earmarked the beginning of his end.
Still, on the surface, he seemed to have made peace with it all, so he moved on down the road. We made our own little family and he left you all behind in his dust. “Their loss, not mine”, he would say, and he couldn’t have been more right, as none of you were worthy of his presence! Trust me when I tell you that because of our professions, we knew plenty of people who “know them”. The general consensus about all your other Williamsons? You know, the ones you actually managed to want? “They’re selfish, shallow, greedy, social climbing wanna-bes in one of the greatest shows on Earth.” Everything about Zack’s character was so far removed from theirs that no one who realized the familial connection could fathom it. Watching random strangers literally scratch their heads and hearing the things people would say about them were amongst the highest compliments he ever received. He absolutely reveled in knowing that no one could begin to correlate him to “all of them”. But I’ve digressed. Sufficed to say, indeed it was “every Mother’s Day” that hurt him the most, even more so than all the birthdays you forgot as he waited year after year, phone in hand, for you to fucking remember him.
So, with that, today is bittersweet, as not a Mother’s Day had passed since he walked into my life that I wasn’t cherished, celebrated, and placed so high upon the pedestal he built for me that there literally are no words. It was no secret to anyone that your “son” was hell bent on making sure that I was abundantly aware of how revered my role was in not just his life, but my children’s as well, and especially on Mother’s Day. When we first met, he told me about his past and how not just you, but his entire “blood family”, abandoned him for what reason only God knows. He was so ambivalent about the things you people had done to him, but it still outraged me to the core of my being to not only hear the stories of his maternal abandonment and fucked up beyond reason childhood, but to have watch, live and experience the abysmal things his “family” did to him, all of which were completely unacceptable. As for those other “Williamsons” you spat upon this Earth who still get to live and breathe in the very same city where their “brother” slipped through the void? If a stranger were to meet a single one of them and not know who they really are, they’d be so impressed with the personas they present. But his truth is the truth, he spoke it, I witnessed it, and God watched every single bit of it! So, congratulations “mother”! You made self-consumed, dressed up narcissists with the plastic smiles and shallow hearts that only a “THING” like you could possibly be proud of!
Here’s all you really need to know now …
It’s Mother’s Day 2020, and 264 days ago your “son” shot himself in the head with a Springfield handgun and a hollow point bullet at just before midnight. You were nothing to him but a stranger, and what a shame you never knew what an amazing human being you threw away and the gift he was to this world.
Only God knows what was going through his mind in the very last moments of his life, and “what that may have been” will break my heart forever. Alas, he’s at rest now, finally at peace after the legacy of abandonment you chose to burden him with. But here’s what I do know was about the things that were in his mind during the years I was lucky enough to give him the only real home he ever had and the only real love from a woman, other than his Grandma, he had ever known:
Your “son” hurt us all with a broken mind and heart that were jaded beyond comprehension. “He must have had mommy issues” is what some will surely say, and sadly? IT WAS TRUE! He wasn’t quite two when you left him behind – him, and only him – but not your other kids, because for what good reason he could never understand you just didn’t want him like the others! You never turned back to see the tears that burned through his heart every day for the rest of his life.
When your “son” was just a boy, he had to sit in classrooms making Mother’s Day cards that he never really knew what to do with, so, he would tear them up and put them in the garbage as he was leaving the school grounds watching all the other kids being greeted by their mommies as he walked home to nothing all alone!
When your “son” was just a boy, he would go to his friends’ birthdays while his heart physically ached because you apparently couldn’t remember the day he was born. (It was October 5, 1982, just in case you forgot, which by the way, I know you did, since you never once called him on his birthday.)
When your “son” was just a boy, Mother’s Day broke his heart into little, tiny pieces that none of us who really loved him could ever put back together. He cried for you. He ached for you. He longed for you. He dreamt of you. He disappeared inside of himself waiting for you to want him!
Despite all these words and my more than apparent hostility, I have forgiven you and yours to the best of my ability for all the ways you destroyed my beautiful husband, especially given that I wholeheartedly believe that the entire lot of you are truly evil:
I really can forgive anyone for just about anything, and as God is my witness, I HAVE! But I’ll just keeping taking people on a case-by-case basis. The Devil’s Own really do walk among us, but I’m not even sure they’re “people”. They’re a different kind of breed “thing” altogether. I’m not quite sure I’ll ever get to the point that I stop avidly praying that God really DOES sort us all out in the end. I’m just a mortal human, not a god or Jesus Christ, so I’ll just keeping asking for “forgiveness” for not being too excited about the idea of “mercy for the merciless”.
But never will I forget the last ten years watching him try so hard not to break because none of you gave a FUCK about “the Zack of shit”, your “son”, their “brother”. You know, now that I think of it, there were so many things I was prepared to do for your son over the course of our lifetime but having to pick out his urn was never one of them. It’s all good though, because his remains will forever be mine, and not yours, because as he famously and repeatedly said to me:
Catherine, if they couldn’t be bothered with me when I was alive, then they don’t get to have me when I’m dead!
So, with that, Happy Mother’s Day to you, “mother THING” of my fallen king. May you sleep well this night and at the end of every Mother’s Day going forward that you’re able to enjoy with the other kids you did somehow manage to “mother”. Hold your hand over your chest now and breathe in all that you feel.It’s the still beating heart of the one woman in this world that was supposed to love my husband forever! Also? It is my most avid and fervent prayer that one day you will burn in ACTUAL hell!
IN HIS REMAINS
Separate. He sifted through the wreckage. He couldn’t concentrate – searching for a message in the fear and pain. Broken down and waiting for the chance to feel alive. Now in his remains are promises that never came. Set the silence free to wash away the worst of him. Come apart. Falling in the cracks of every broken heart. Digging through the wreckage of your disregard. Sinking down and waiting for the chance, to feel alive. Now in his remains are promises that never came. Set the silence free to wash away the worst of him. Like an army, falling one by one by one. {Linkin’ Park}
A cousin of mine in Rome posted this earlier today and it just made me so emotional. There are really no other words I could say now. These echo every one of my sentiments already. Just keep breathing everyone. Keep breathing.
If you could sit on this bench and talk to anyone for one hour, who would it be and what would you say?
I saw a post very similar to this on a social media feed earlier last week and it struck a chord in me so loud that my answer was instantaneous.I would sit down with “younger me” and THIS is what I’d say:
Hey there young lady, it’s so nice to meet you! You don’t know me, and I don’t mean to scare you, but let me assure you that one day we WILL meet again. For reasons I can’t explain, and may sound a little insane, I already know a heck of lot about you. Right now, you’re feeling scared. You’re feeling lost, abandoned, and alone. You’ve been betrayed by people you thought you could trust, and your glass heart has been shattered into pieces. You think no one can hear or see you, and when you face yourself in the mirror each day you see nothing looking back but an abyss. Worst of all, you can’t see her yet, but there’s a dragon circling above you like a carcass. She’s gonna hold you for ransom inside her solitary cave, but YOU are going to slay her!
There’s a long, dark road that’s coming up ahead and some of the places it’s taking you are gonna suck. But listen to me, and listen good: Don’t you DARE change a thing that you’re about to do or even ONE of the decisions you’re gonna make! Life’s gonna burn the wings off your back that you don’t even know you have yet and some people who claim to love you are gonna leave you on the ground while you’re choking on their dust. But alas, your wings are eventually gonna heal and take you so high above the ashes you almost die in that even YOU won’t know how to stop them. Through it all, you’ll become a queen, a Light in peoples’ darkness, and a legacy your kids will be proud of. So, buckle up sister and hang on for dear life … I’ll be waiting for you on The Brighter Side Of Grey. In the meantime, there’s a song you haven’t heard yet because it hasn’t even been made, but let me put “us” in some words you’re gonna love as you STAND and sing it to the world …
You felt like a candle in a hurricane. Just like a picture with a broken frame. Alone and helpless like you’d lost your fight, but you were alright! You were alright! ‘Cause when push came to shove you tasted what you were made of. You almost bent ’til you broke ’cause it was all you could take. On your knees you looked up, decided you’d had enough. You got mad, you got strong, wiped your hands, shook it off – THEN YOU STOOD! Our life’s like a novel with the end ripped out. The edge of a canyon with only one way down. We’ll take what we’re given before it’s gone. We start holding on. We keep holding on. Every time we get up and got back in the race one more small piece of us just keepings falling into place … ‘CAUSE WE STAND!{Rascal Flatts}
Just for the record, there’s around seventeen eff-bombs in this salt-encrusted message from me, “the NICEST bitch you’ll ever fucking know”, to “WHOM IT MAY CONCERN”! Sorry, not sorry. This is me … take me or leave me … ’cause I don’t really care … and by the way, don’t EVER fucking touch me unless I tell you to.
Oh, and for the record, my name is CAT, not “Hey, Sexy!”, you Jean-Claude Van DAMN fucking douche nozzles who think it’s okay to speak to a QUEEN like she’s some kind of fucking thirst trap skeezer. Okay, that’s all. Now, go grab yourself some fucking Lucky Charms and have a really nice fuckin’ day!
Every morning when I get in my car, I play a fun little game with my stereo. I just spin the dial and leave it to Destiny’s roulette wheel to see which song my cue is going to land on and help me find my groove for the day. It’s kind of the best game EVER, part of my “music thing” therapy, and one of the little life nuggets I enjoy the most. So, this morning, the first song up was Iron Maiden’s “Wasted Years”.
I will never forget that Saturday afternoon in June of 2008 as I settled into my seat on Flight 438 and listened to this song as we flew. Thirty-eight seemingly “wasted years” in my rearview mirror and ZERO idea how many more were yet to come. Little did I know that an actual angel would show up in the seat beside me and change the course of my life forever, but he did, and here I am, “so far away” from the person I used to be who was then, indeed, “just a stranger to myself”.
From the coast of gold, across the Seven Seas. I’m traveling on, far and wide. But now it seems, I’m just a stranger to myself. And all the things I sometimes do, it isn’t me but someone else. I close my eyes and think of home. Another city goes by in the night. Ain’t it funny how it is? You never miss it ’til it’s gone away. And my heart is lying there and will be ’til my dying day. So, understand. Don’t waste your time always searching for those wasted years. Face up, make your stand! And realize you’re living in the golden years. Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind. Can’t ease this pain so easily. When you can’t find the words to say, it’s hard to make it through another day. And it makes me want to cry and throw my hands up to the sky. So, understand. Don’t waste your time always searching for those wasted years. Face up, make your stand! And realize you’re living in the golden years.
There comes a point in every parent’s life when all of a sudden it just hits them in the face, “WOW, this is how I’m doing.” A few nights ago, this little 3am “quarantine conversation” happened with my beautiful, SPARTAN daughter, and indeed I was punched in the face with the reality that something I’m doing is RIGHT, and indeed my “legacy” is an enigma! Every mother’s child has that one special gift, but this child’s mother is in awe, and by the way: I MADE HER!
We can’t just tell them what they’re wings are made for then sit back and “hope for the best”. We have to actually show them! And if, like me, as an imperfect parent you somehow manage to break their wings while they’re learning how to fly? ACCOUNT to yourself, AND to them, APOLOGIZE for letting them down, then pick yourself up and try again … TOGETHER!
I hope you enjoy this video. It’s a little long, but well worth watching. Meanwhile, here’s to learning why the callouses on our feet can be a useful! And hey, future son-in-law, wherever in the world you are right now – YOU’RE WELCOME! Or, I’m sorry, whichever is more applicable!
I’m sure you’ve heard me say that I have suffered from, battled, and overcome a mental illness. I’m not sure, however, that I’ve ever said which one.
So, Cat, which one was it?
Drum roll, please! Now, wait for it! Wait for it:
Hi! I’m Cat Williamson, f/k/a “Girl, Interrupted“. I HAVE BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER (“BPD”). Well, I did that is. This month marks the seventh year of my recovery, and I’d like to tell you about it.
WHAT IS BPD?The National Institute Of Mental Health describes BPD as an illness marked by ongoing patterns of varying moods, self-image, and behavior. These symptoms often result in impulsive actions and problems in relationships. People with BPD may experience intense episodes of anger, depression, and anxiety that can last from a few hours to days.
Was This Me?
√ Check!
WHAT MAY HAVE CAUSED MY BPD? As is the case with most mental illnesses, many mental health care professionals believe that BPD is caused by a combination of either genetic and/or environmental factors. I strongly believe that my BPD was environmentally predisposed, inasmuch as I was exposed to many adverse childhood experiences (“ACES”) that may have triggered the development of my symptoms. Although I don’t recall any sexual or physical abuse as a child, there were a vast number of instabilities that likely contributed to my illness.
I was ripped away from a closely interactive paternal family when my parents abruptly uprooted us from our home at a very young age. Keep in mind that because our family was enmeshed, my grandparents, aunts and uncles were consistently present and close caregivers at that time. So, the immediate, unexplained loss of them literally overnight was deeply traumatic. Likewise was the damage to my impressionable psyche from both the inconsistent emotional and physical presences of my parents at different points in time due to issues of their own beyond my control.
This Really Happened?
Check √ Check √
WHAT WERE SOME SIGNS AND SYMPTOMS? Most adolescents and adults with BPD lack the healthy coping skills required to handle even minimal amounts of stress or emotional discomfort and therefore often present with these signs and symptoms:
Someday, I’ll revisit the somewhat comical story of how my diagnosis came about, but sufficed to say that when I first realized what in actual HELL was wrong with me, I was shaken. Not only did I have a mental illness, but it was one of the most stigmatic and difficult to treat. Borderlines already think that “everything is wrong with them”, so having THAT label all but plastered across my forehead like the “SCARLET BPD” really was kinda like a storm. It was a torrential fucking cataclysm pummeling me 24/7, complete with lightning bolt surges of voices in my mind screaming “YOU’RE BAT SHIT FUCKING CRAZY”!
Is it true that your mom is a sociopath who’s been in a mental hospital and is unsafe to be around children?
Yes, that really happened! The “first do no harm” medical professional leveled me and my daughter with my “girl interrupted” secret. Meanwhile, here I am, nine post-diagnoses years later. I did the work, know who I am, where I’ve been, and exactly where I’m going. That part of my journey is all but a distant memory, except to say that moving forward I have and will take any opportunity that avails itself to share “my little secret”, as in below when I did so recently in a very public forum. It’s the one thing I’ve published that I’m proudest of so far, because just as saying the words out loud to those closest to me was the most healing part of my journey, so too was writing the words out loud:
Oh, how I love and appreciate this question! Seriously, it means so much as a recovering Borderline to see these words out in the Cosmos in bold set black and white letters. It means you genuinely care and therefore desire to understand it, which for your average Borderline is more than half the battle! For me? The best thing anyone ever did to comfort me in my BPD darkness was to “look beyond the cover of my book” before casting unwarranted judgments, opinions, or assumptions about who others thought I was: “Crazy, dramatic, histrionic, spoiled rotten Girl Interrupted Catherine.” And by that, I mean this …
Obviously, as with any mental illness, there is no way to take a human brain apart and actually see the twists and turns that can “Molotov cocktail” a person into madness, but there is widely held belief that Borderline Personality Disorder tends to develop in a person with a history of: Emotional, physical or sexual abuse; Being exposed to long-term fear or distress as a child; Being abandoned or neglected (either physically or emotionally) by one or both parents; Growing up with another family member who had a serious mental health condition. [See Also the National Institute Of Mental Health’s overview in this regard.] In my case? Yup. My “childhood trauma resume” from cradle to this minute includes but is not limited to: ALL OF THE ABOVE! Although I do not believe that any of my primary caregivers intentionally and knowingly harmed, abused or traumatized me in the ways they did, but the resulting fallout was and is still very real to me, nonetheless.
I spent a lifetime (39 plus years) just trying to survive “me”, completely unaware of what the HELL was actually wrong with me, especially inasmuch as that “on the surface” at many junctures it did appear that my life was picture perfect. Even I sometimes told myself, “How dare you effing feel this way Catherine, you spoiled, crazy BRAT. Your life is absolutely PERFECT”. I hated me for hating myself and being “so unappreciative” of what ultimately revealed itself to be a farce of an existence, and especially hated knowing that the emotional storm cloud that seemed to follow me everywhere was raining on my loved ones’ heads as well.
Most Borderlines truly hate themselves at their darkest, deepest core because of the words and judgments of clueless people who’ve never walked a day in their shoes. They are programmed to believe that they are weak, dramatic, histrionic, ungrateful human train wrecks whose accompanying chaos darkens even the brightest room. BORDERLINES BELIEVE THEY ARE A CANCER TO THE WORLD, as so often this is what they’ve been told. My point being this: The best way to comfort a friend with Borderline Personality Disorder is to simply “hear them”. Listen to them. Dig a little deeper and ask them: What did your eyes see? What did your ears hear? How did your heart feel when it was a child? Then say these words to them: “I’m sorry that happened to you. It wasn’t fair at all, and I don’t think you’re a crazy, weak, spoiled rotten, histrionic train wreck of a human disaster. I’m sorry if no one ever told you that before.” Again, I am so thankful to see this question here and hopefully anyone reading my answer can find some value. “Girls Interrupted” are often just broken, yet powerful, very loving ANGELS that need their hidden scars and wounds acknowledged so their broken wings can finally get them off the ground. I know this all too well because that was me: “Girl Interrupted”. I spent so much time avoiding the Sun that I DIDN’T THINK I DESERVED that I cannot even tell you. I’m just so glad I lived to tell about it and finally start using my wings! Have a good day, and again, THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS QUESTION!
So, there you have it! I’ve said it out loud, but I’m not a “girl interrupted” anymore. I’m the woman who’s a miracle … a STORM that finally “broke free”. My husband used to call me “The Borderline Whisperer”, because as I’ve walked side by side by side with the brave little “dark passenger” I’ve all but become best friends with, I’ve become accustomed to recognizing it quickly. In the last few years, I’ve had “the conversation” with quite a few people, most of whom have since sought treatment and are now fighting their way out of the storm. He was so fucking proud of me … his “beautiful disaster” of a wife … and everything he saw me go through to conquer it it. He was my number one supporter and never once threw it in my face or made me feel less than because I was sick. There’s no way I’d be writing this write today if it wasn’t for him. I know it. He knows it. GOD KNOWS IT! He carried the torch that God, Himself, prepared that lead me out of the darkness to The Brighter Side Of Grey, and I know he must be smiling right now as he watches me go public. How bittersweet is the irony that he that couldn’t find his way out of the darkness? Nevertheless, I am no longer ashamed to “say the words out loud”, because guess what? They don’t define me. That little secret makes me sick no longer, because it’s NOT a secret anymore!
BREAK FREE
Help me – I’ve fallen further in myself. I’m stuck here again. And I can’t see that I’m not digging my way out – I’m digging my grave. I’ve become my own demise. Paralyzed inside my mind. Arms are weak from holding up this front. No escape and no surprises. Complicated compromises. Hold me down when what all I really want is just to break free. Break free. Break free from everything. Break free before it breaks me. There’s got to be another way to start again. Tell me how you can be the brightest star and light up the sky? Well, I can’t seem to even light up my own way and I’m burned out from trying. I’ve become what I despise. Paralyzed inside a lie. Arms are weak from holding back the flood. Sinking as the waters rise. Drink myself to sleep each night. I’m going under and all I really want is just to break free. Break free. Break free from everything. Break free before it breaks me. There’s got to be another way to start again.
{Like A Storm}
If you or someone you know may be struggling with BPD:
… that moment your memory is reminded once again that it was “6 years ago” you “remembered” … and how lucky are you to be the luckiest women you’ve ever known, because now you have not one king, but two living safely in your heart, and some women never find one at all …
THE HEART WILL GO ON
Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you. That is how I know you go on. Far across the distance and spaces between us you have come to show you go on. Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on. Once more you open the door and you’re here in my heart and my heart will go on and on. Love can touch us one time and last for a lifetime and never let go ’til we’re gone. Love was when I loved you, one true time I’d hold to. In my life we’ll always go on. Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on. Once more you open the door and you’re here in my heart and my heart will go on and on. You’re here, there’s nothing I fear, and I know that my heart will go on. We’ll stay forever this way. You are safe in my heart and my heart will go on and on. {Celine Dione}
This morning I was daydreaming and making plans for a future I’m not so much planning as I am visualizing. It’s this thing he taught me to do: “If you want it, SEE IT, then make it happen!” Now, I’m sure some of you may be thinking, “Well, then why the hell didn’t he just SEE himself out his darkness?” Well, unfortunately, mental illness doesn’t work that way, especially when a human mind ends up literally splitting in two.
Zack and I always talked about the little cottage I want so badly, and he vowed to make that happen before my time was done. So, he would make me visualize it until then:
Close your eyes, Catherine. Tell me what you see. Tell me EVERYTHING you want at the cottage.
Then I would close my eyes and tell him:
It will look like a fairy tale … small and cozy … surrounded by trees … covered in climbing ivy with a stone chimney up on top … SURROUNDED BY HYDRANGEAS, YELLOW ROSES, SILVER BELLS AND COCKLE SHELLS …
This morning, while I was daydreaming, I once again closed my eyes and “saw it”. The little cottage that I’m going to have with the climbing ivy, stone chimney, and all my favorite flowers. Then, all was well and my day progressed.
Twenty minutes ago, my doorbell rang. “Who in the world?” When I opened the door, my stomach hit the floor in every best possible way with that all too familiar adrenaline dump I’ve come to know so well during the worst and best moments of my life. It was his florist … the only one he EVER patroned … and his partner in all these flower crimes when it came to knowing how to make me smile … with this beautiful arrangement for ME:
Hi, Cat. These are from Diane. She just wanted you to know we’re all thinking of you constantly.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
Dismiss it as just coincidence if you must, but nope, not me, NOT EVER! Never will I fail to heed the signs of life that still flourish in the darkness! To me, it’s serendipity! My husband, my fate, and even God Himself all screaming to me out loud!
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I am one hell of a truly blessed woman! Zachariah, not a single one of your years in this realm were in vain. Every gift you gave and dream you dreamt is going to carry on for as long as I’m still on this Earth, because that’s just how it’s supposed to be.
The push is always part of us, and gravity’s never a friend. Deciding on who we can trust and finding our way to crescendo to the unknown. We’ll never make it outside unless we unlock the past and release the future that we’ve left to die. For too long we’ve taken placebos, but the unknown is awakening. Don’t give up now! There’s already so much at stake! If Atlas falls, I’ll rise up and carry us all the way. No we can never look back. Return to the salt and the sea. The quiet is only a trial and I will not take the placebos ’cause the unknown is awakening. But I will crescendo. Don’t give up now! There’s already so much at stake. If Atlas falls, I’ll rise up and carry us all the way. It won’t hold me down … the weight of impossible days. I’ll stand tall. I’ll rise up and carry us all the way. Keep moving forward now. Keep your head above the clouds. I’m right with you. I will lift you. Just hold on. {Shinedown}
The worst mental illness someone can have is any mental illness they are afraid to be honest about for fear of what will people think. So many broken people choose to live behind a mask, perhaps thinking it’s the only way they can protect the people they love, and perhaps even themselves, from the monster that is lurking within them.
Case in point: I just lost my husband to suicide on August 22, 2019. He had been diagnosed with childhood abandonment related depression a year prior. However, no one that thought they knew him had any idea what we had been dealing with at home, such that on August 23rd, when the news “hit the wall” on my Facebook page that he had taken his own life, everyone was shocked beyond belief. No one saw it coming, because he wore a mask. My husband was always the brightest light and happiest face in every room with a larger than life presence. His smile was infectious. But behind every one of his smiles, jokes, and laughter, he was secretly dying inside. He believed for the longest time he could manifest his depression away by “faking it until he made it”, but sadly, that was not to be. He literally drowned inside himself, and the demons that had been circling his living carcass for his entire lifetime finally won.
I personally believe that mental illness is still such a stigmatic issue that people who are suffering in silence are less likely to be forthright about their situations and seek the help they need for fear that in doing so they will be seen as weak, crazy, ungrateful, or just plain lazy.
“Mentally” and “ill” are not two words people want to be associated with in conversation. I myself struggled with a debilitating mental illness of my own for many years, so I do have that very personal point of reference as well. I was ashamed of myself and so afraid to let people see what was really going on inside of me for fear of “what would people think”. So, I, too, hid it behind a mask with the biggest smile I could fake. Thankfully I survived to tell about it.
I’ve been writing incessantly about both my, my husband’s, and even my beautiful daughter’s mental health journeys in “The Diary Of My Perfection” and specifically wrote a piece that I believe correlates to this topic in an entry entitled “SOLITARY: Life Behind A Mask” if anyone cares to read further on my perspective with this. It’s a commentary on The Joker movie, which I believe was a sobering eye-opener on this subject and really delves right into what I am saying.
This is a great question, by the way, and an extremely important one at that. Chances are that someone you know, and perhaps even someone very close to you, could be hiding behind a mask of their own and fighting an invisible monster alone in solitary. It’s imperative that as a society we find a way to enable those who are living in such darkness to take off their masks and start walking towards a light. The more awareness we bring to this? The more lives will be saved!
The Diary Of My Perfection 