50 years ago... my world changed

Half a century ago, an event took place that changed my family's life forever.

My young parents, had dreams of prosper and visions of a great life. My sister not yet 3 years old and I at 10 months, completed our family. They had recently decided they would soon move us from Indiana to Texas. My Mom was from San Antonio, and with jobs declining, and the threat of my Dad's job on the line, they had hopes of moving our family south so we could prosper and my Mom would be closer to her family.

My Dad had a friend named Bud, that often talked of his Harley Davidson, offering to Dad to take it for a spin any time. One beautiful day, April 6th, 1963...my Dad took him up on the offer, wanting to show my Mom how safe motorcycles were and wanted my Mom to see that it would be a good investment for them. My Dad felt with the warmer climate of Texas, and the small amount of fuel they took, this would be idea transportation for him once they moved to Texas.

My parents left my Sister and I in our Godparents care, and went for a spring ride on a 1948 Harley Davidson. I can assure you, my Dad was driving careful.  He was an experienced rider, his lovely wife was on the Bike with him, and he was trying to prove how safe they were, so she would be in agreement that he would buy one.

While driving along 42nd Street, in Indianapolis, they hit a rather large chuckhole, throwing them from the Harley. My Mom, skinned, broken arm and a good 50 feet from my Dad, couldn't get over to my Dad. He was badly injured with a massive head injury, among other things.

My Dad's vitals were slight. He was brought into the hospital as DOA... Dead On Arrival. A Resident was performing a check for all vitals and told his training Doctor he was certain he was hearing some gurgling in the heart... My Father, was indeed alive. Barely, but alive.

Across the city, his younger cousin, Pam, sat with her family watching television. The phone rang.   Her Mom, (whom not only very close to my Dad, but was a nurse as well), answered....Pam remembers her Mom saying over and ever again "Oh My God! Oh My God!.....

After that she left to go to the hospital. Pam will never forget the utter fear and helplessness in her voice.

 

Meanwhile, my Dad is hanging onto a thread of life. My Mom at 22 years, is watching a priest give last rights to husband, a shell of a 27 year old man... His discolored head cracked open, his body badly broken and torn apart from the pavement and impact. When her friend brings my Sister to see her, Julie is frightened of my mothers appearance, and does not recognize her. My scared Mom feels so alone. She looks at her husband...his  head is as round and large as a basketball. It is purple. He is not recognizable at all. The rest of his body is wrapped in cast and bandages. He does not look human.

 

My Dad survives the night.

In fact, although in a coma for 13 days, he is considered a miracle and many Doctors are amazed that he not only survied, but starts to show improvement. After a lengthy stay in the hospital and several months in rehabilitation, he leaves them... capable of walking out, speaking, and functioning... He has re-learned the most simple task that are extremely difficult to him. He has to learn to feed himself, master coordination skills, thought process, using his young yet damaged body the best he can. My Dad becomes a study case, and enjos the opportunity to assist the many Doctors and medical students in clinicals and interviews.  My Dad received an award from Crossroads Rehabilitation Center for his acheivements.

Over the course of a year, my Dad is back to work and trying to get his life back.

My Mom... she is thrilled to have him back....Alive... and having much of his functions back.  However they are not back to normal, and never will be.  My Dad's handicaps have put a huge unspoken burden on my Mom, who now has two small daughters as well as a handicap husband to care for.

Think for just a moment.

Look around and see all we have that is handicap accessable today. Now imagine 1963. We have none of it.  Nothing.

 

My Mom, kicks into gear, taking care of us all, never second guessing or complaining. She just jumps in and gets it done.  The dream to go back to Texas is gone. She does not get the pleasure of her family to help her, although Dad's family steps in.

 

Over the years, one thing after another, from the impact of "The Accident" as this has been named, has come upon them.  One day, my Dad's boss, (he was working in a manufacturing plant) approached him and told him that he is too slow now. His producting is not near what they need and they "don't want a retard working here". My devastated Dad can't find a job. We do not have laws in place to protect the Handicapped Employee back then. No Americans with Disabilities Act.

 

My parents go through a lengthy lawsuit against the City of Indianapolis, due to the road condition that caused the accident.  My sister and I are placed in separate homes. I am placed with friends, but I am far from my family. Day after day I sit at the window crying for my Mom. I miss her. I am scared and confused. I am around 4 years old. My sister stayed with a neighbor as she had school to attend. I don't understand why I am not with her. Or my Grandparents...Or cousins... I want my Mommy. My parents win. Which all I understand is I get to live with my family again, so I am happy. We move and I think all is going to be okay.

It's not.

Over the next 40 years... my depressed Dad tries to take his life several times. My Mom as well suffers much depression. My Sis & I survive a dysfunctional childhood and learn to take life for what it is. We learn coping skills, yet we also suffer the consequences of things that happened throughout our childhood.

 

You know, I often wonder what might have been had that event had not taken place. What kind of life would my parents have had. Who would Julie & I become if situations were different? Even though I wonder, and I certainly wish things were somewhat better for my parents all these years, I do believe that things happen in life and it's what we do with what we are given that matters. I don't think it was God's will that they were hurt in that accident, but I do think it was His will that they survived. What would have happened if they had died then? Who would have taken Sis & I? And would we have been able to stay together? I am so grateful that we did have our parents to raise us and I am grateful for the person I have become. Far from perfect... and still learning... even at 50, but I am who I am because of what I have been through, who has been a part of me, and for what I have learned through Faith.

 

It has been an eventful life.  A very eventful year.

 

Yet we continue to move forward.

 

My Dad is a survivor.

And so am I.

the movie part 2

morning has broken

I know I have been MIA too much... Trust me, I miss writing as well as reading. How sad that I haven't made time for something I am passionate about as well as is therapeutic. Lord knows I need something therapeutic.
So stinking much has happened.
So very much to express.
I don't know how I will ever be able to catch up.  It will be best if I just dive in and catch up with things along the way.

Thursday evening, I made a frantic rush to meet an ambulance at a hospital that I am not familiar with.
While there I met a rather wise nurse, needing to interview myself and Sister. The nurse was trying to gather needed information as she was accessing our Father, who was here because of a rather traumatic,  dramatic, no make that selfish choice of suicide attempt.  I realize she was more than surprised ...she was baffled, as we answered her questions and poured out a mini version of his life and how he arrived here. 
Body language.
I have learned much about body language from working with the Deaf and learning ASL. 
The nurse leaned in closer and closer..eyes widened and jaw dropping.  At one point, she said, this is a movie! It's truly an unbelievable story of your survival. I have heard so much but this...this is just a movie."

Afterwards, Julie said she would like to start collaborating with me to write our story. It isn't a movie.  It's the story of my life.

 I need to write.  It is what it is. Writing keeps me strong. It helps me to know that I am a survivor.  That I am okay.

I wont be able to re-capture the moments that I missed. But I will try to go back and explain some things to help you understand how I got here at this point.

All is good.  I'm okay.  I am one tough cookie.

The Pleaser

Once upon a time a baby girl was born. She didn't ask to be born, but was grateful. She was born to a Mother & a Father, that were struggling to get by along with their little girl, the Baby's older Sister. The young family struggled, but they were happy. The Big Sister loved her Baby Sister. The parents loved their daughters. But things were tough. Money was tight, the couple were young and inexperienced.

When the Baby girl was almost a year old, her parents were in a horrible accident. They survive but there were consequences. Her father was handicapped, her mother although her injuries were not severe, the emotional scars, and the burdens to follow were heavy.

The girls did not get the same care they once did. The accident changed everything. Their Mother had many new responsibilities to deal with and her time was thinned.

They survived. They made do. They were there for each other when the parents could not be. The little girls figured out the best survival skills they could find and that got them through and made them strong.

The older Sister functioned best by putting things out of her mind. She preoccupied herself with activities, friends, and life. She got thick skinned and learned to let things roll off of her without doing too much damage.

The little sister functioned best by trying to fix everything and everyone. She learned to be a "Pleaser". She tried to make others happy, comfortable and less stressed. This was not the best way to do things, especially for her, but was what she knew. It was how she coped. She always put herself last and served everyone. She learned how to be a good listener. She learned how to make others laugh. She worked hard to make others particularly, her family feel comfort. She constantly put herself in harms way (the thick of the family's dysfunction).

The family continued to have lots of problems. The parents had poor skills of how to make a better life. They would bring joy to the daughters & each other, but their long term thought process never kicked in. A good thing was always followed by a bad thing.

Depression, suicidal tendencies, drinking and blaming always interfered in this family. Growing up was difficult for the girls. Scary.

The older sister learned well that blocking the bad memories out allowed her to flourish, although things sometimes haunted her.

The younger Sister constantly tried to fix people. It carried through with her her whole life. When things went wrong she still blamed herself, as that was what she learned.

When a Pleaser allows to be a target, the arrow always finds the target. She will be blamed and take to heart any of the bad that happens.

The little Girl grow up and found ways not to be overwhelm. But she continued to try to fix and save people, animals and things.

She meet a wonderful Prince that turned her world upside down (in a good way). They had two little girls as well and were on their way to "Happily Ever After".

But the past haunts her. The present haunts her.

The girl's parents continue to have problems. They let their problems get enormous and out of control. They are in their golden years but miserable. They pour that out to the girls who want to help and have tried unsuccessfully.

One day the Girl, now a Woman, became frightened. She knew she couldn't handle it anymore. But rather than fall into the same pattern of her parents, she fought back. She let love ones know she was overwhelmed and needed help. Together with their support she was able to become strong, face her demons and realize none of it was her fault. Even when her Father tried once again to take his life, telling her that if anything happened to him it would be her fault. She got professional help and medical help. She let her daughters, who also are now adults know that it is okay, not to be able to burden the worlds problems. That when the going gets tough, you fight back.

Now, with a little something that helps her stabilize her depression, and a wonderful Therapist that makes her feel "normal", she has become a happy person. She enjoys her husband. She enjoys her daughters. She has learned to set boundaries. And best of all, understands, it's not her fault.

Even at 48, I find myself fearing the overwhelming guilt of not being able to "fix" everything. One of the parents, is again, threatening suicide. Throwing the guilt and Damning life. Amazes me that it still can grasp me and shake me up so. I am doing a really good job of keeping my head high and embracing the good things in life. I speak lovingly to the parents. I realize they haven't a clue what they do to me. I pray even harder. But... I also have made peace with myself. "I can't fix people". It's not my job, nor responsibility...

Suicidal

adj.1. inclined to commit suicide 2. of suicide. 3. self-destructive; rash. from the Pocket Oxford Dictionary

I don't think that is the best definition, but it comes from my dictionary that is always by my side.

Suicidal. Scary word. Familiar word.

I come from a family that has many suicidal attempts, few "succeed". I think suicide is often more of a cry for help not a reach for the end. I guess I feel that way because of the history I know.

Without identifying these family members here is what I have known.

A was so unhappy with her life she sat her daughter in the bathroom with her. Sat up against the door and slit both wrist. The terrified daughter couldn't stop her Mothers bleeding and escaped out the window to get a neighbor's help. She survived.

B was so overwhelmed when she was told that her son was arrested for selling drugs at a grade school, she felt responsible and took a knife and sliced up her pain in her gut. She survived.

C was overwhelmed by her life unraveling. She couldn't take it anymore and overdosed on anxiety medicine. She survived.

D takes the prize. One time, D was so frustrated with his broken body, his broken spirit and his feeling of inadequate. He overdosed big time. But, in an afterthought, he realized his young daughters would find him first. He was able to call 911 before collapsing. Another time, D was frustrated again. This time he tried to hang himself. The shower pole at the motel snapped. A third time D tried the overdosing again, didn't work. Just made him very sick. The last time D attempted. He first made a call to one of his adult daughters. Told her how horrible she was and how much pain she caused everyone. He then told her that she was responsible for anything bad that would happen to him. He then drove his car into a train trusses. he succeeded in only mutilating his body more and causing him more pain. He wife shared the pictures of the bloody car with that daughter during his surgery. He succeeded in hurting the daughter more than he could ever imagine. She knows he didn't mean those words. She knows he was sick. But the words haunt her today.

E Sweet loving E. Always the lost child. Just looking for some love. Tragically it did not come from his parents. The rest of the family could never replace what was missing in his heart. His one and only attempt, left him in his front yard with a terrified wife & son behind a closed door. He shot himself in the chest with a riffle, and bleed to death a horrific death.

I could go on. More family members and friends too. I sadly miss. I wish I could have made things better. I understand.

Suicidal thoughts come easier for some than others.

Visions of cutting into ones wrist. The feel of a gun in hand. The thoughts of how easy to just sharply turning the wheel and crashing your vehicle. Thoughts of mixing bleach and ammonia to that potent mixture.

The feeling of making all the bad go away. Feeling spent.

Luckily, some that do feel this way also feel the joy of love. Have family and friends that show they care as well as say it. Having faith and religion can make a difference.

I do think that often the suicidal is about, "Hey! I need some help here! Not Goodbye cruel world!"

Be good to each other. You never know when someone is hurting deep inside. If you are hurting, sharing your feelings with a loved one is way better than sharing the pain when it's too late.

Haunting Images

This is going to be depressing so forgive me, I just have something heavy on my heart and want to get it out.

Today, I saw a TRACKER. It is a little SUV wannabe. I hate them. They make me think about the last time my father tried to commit suicide. This was a few years ago. He drove his Tracker around for an hour. Passing the same Train Trestle again and again. Until his timing, speed, and nerve was in sync. Then crashed the Tracker into the Trestle. Although, like his other attempts, it was just not his time. He gave himself substantial injuries, but nothing life threatening. After time in the hospital & rehab, he returned home, but with more pains and more handicap. Trestle make me sad too. This attempt was different than his past. This one was personal. The night before, he had made a phone call to me, letting me know what a disappointment I was. And that I was ungrateful. That I was mean. If anything should happen to him, it would be on my shoulders. My fault. Thanks Dad. I still love you. I sat with my Mom through Dad's surgery. Mom showed the nurse and I the pictures of the bloody Tracker. Thanks Mom, I still love you.

Years earlier, he hung himself in a hotel room. My uncle found him just in time.

Prior to that, he overdosed when I was about eight.

My cousin, Rob, in a depressed fit shot himself with a shotgun in his front yard with his common law wife and son in the house. Rob, bleed a slow, painful death.

My Mom's mother locked herself and my Mom (she was around 9) in a bathroom and slit both her wrist. She blocked the door but my Mom was able to crawl out of the window to get help.

I somehow can picture these events even though I was not there. I have also been known to have haunting visions of hurting myself. I wont hurt myself. I have more respect for myself and my own family. I also feel this is an unforgivable sin. I love my family, my husband and girls. I have a good life and I want to enjoy it for a very long time. I wish I could make the visions go away. Surely it is a combination of genetics and the dysfunctional childhood we had. I do not blame anyone. I love my parents and know they gave me the best they could. It is not any one's fault we are all a little crazy. Kook Koo as Sergio says :) You have to teach yourself to laugh or you will cry.

Yeah, we have a few skeletons in our closets. Just a few.