Jena: 5 Years Later

My morning opened with me lying on my back, Savasana, on my mat in the yoga studio at 5:45am. As I waited for our instructor, I breathed in the memory and life of a friend. I breathed out the sadness I still feel, along with any anger or bitterness I had, too.

Today, I owe a special note of gratitude to Jena. 
Jena and I met in middle school, and were best friends for several years, before we started growing into our own lives with school, family, etc.

Five years and four days ago, Jena and I talked on the phone. She was coming back from her then-home in Texas, and I was planning a trip from Cincinnati to our hometown, and our plans to get together were made. It had been over two years since I'd seen her in person, with distance, family and daily life putting a get-together on hold. I didn't realize then that our plans would never find fruition, and that that was the last time I would ever talk to her.

Five years ago today, I was at a dinner party to celebrate the birthday of a friend here in Cincinnati. I snuck away to the upstairs bedroom where my phone was charging; Sydni wasn't yet 3 months old and I was being the paranoid new mom who abandoned her little baby with Grandma for the night [Moms, you've been there.. dramatically worried about nothing at all....]. I found two missed calls and a text message from Hilary, another friend and voice from my childhood. I called her back. 

It was urgent. She was crying. Between short breaths and the unknown place my mind went for what seemed like an hour, I learned that Jena had, that night, lost her battle with depression. With her anxiety. Her fight was over. 

I broke in half. I did what every survivor of someone else's suicide does on impact: I looked inward and immediately said, "This can't be real. Why?! What could I have DONE to keep this from happening?!" 

This wasn't about me. 

This was about what she had experienced. The pain that she must have internalized day in and day out, to the point of isolation from which she believed she would only find reprieve by making the choice to leave.

If there's anything I've learned along the way in this life, it's that time serves a mighty role in lessening the pain of loss, but it certainly doesn't erase it. When a loved one parts ways with their earthly bodies, it strips us of something. A piece of us goes with that person, and we are left to rebuild ourselves to counteract that void. Over time, those gaps become surrounded by the other ebbs and flows of our daily life, and the accumulation of gathered experiences and people that find us after that point of loss. They are still there though. They may be less noticeable on a daily basis, but they are there, and when our mind finds them for whatever reason, it is just as painful to reflect back on that loss as it was the day that it happened.

The beautiful thing that time does provide for this type of loss is the clarity of vision to more evenly focus on and celebrate that person's life, rather than dwell on the emptiness of their absence. It's not always possible to fully reflect back and smile at the thought of someone gone too soon, but when enough time has passed to satisfy our immediate grieving response, the highlights of that person's life are not only more visible, but more vivid, beautiful... gratifying. 

Funny. Sentimental. Inspiring. Teaching. Triumphant. 

It's not to say those gone before us lived without shortcomings and lessons hard-learned, but those things become trivial when we are able to grasp the full impact the person had on us in the first place. 

love. 

Jena, I am sorry.
I'm sorry for you, for those whose footsteps you followed, for those who followed your footsteps, and for those who will inevitably do so despite our efforts. I am sorry that you had to experience that kind of debilitating pain. Pressure. Unrelenting anxiety. I am sorry that, for whatever reason(s), your closest family and friends were unable to penetrate the glass bubble into which you sank by yourself. I'm so, so sorry that we couldn't save you.

I am sorry that you weren't able to recognize the way your presence made the lives of those around you better. I'm sorry that we weren't able to alleviate the afflictions that were consuming you, or at least lessen them to the point of treatment. I'm sorry that I wasn't more available to you. I know I was far down the line of people who may have been able to to intervene in those last few hours, but I hope you know that none of us are better off with you gone, and would have shouted that through the mountains if we thought it would've saved you. You were beautiful, and you still are, now as a guardian over those of us still here.

I do miss you. I miss going to your house, laughing over the trivial things that comprise the life of middle-schoolers: the who's-dating-who, when the next school-wide event would be [& what we'd wear to said event], and what rubber band colors we'd choose the next time we had adjustments with our orthodontists. I miss phasing through those awkward years when our bodies and minds were transitioning from children to young women: When we stepped into high school for the first time. When we thought our high school boyfriends might.. just.. be the ONE for forever and ever after. When we graduated. When, 4 years after that, we graduated college in different states. When we talked infrequently via phone, but still enough to know that the other was still excited to stay connected. When we finally made plans that never happened.

It's been five years.

Here's what's happened since then, as it relates to what I learned from losing you. From scratching my plans and taking days off from work to come home for your memorial service and funeral, I've learned. From holding myself together as your parents and brothers stumbled through those things at a loss of words and surprised that they still had tears left to cry - at the risk of disrespecting their pain... I've grown.

Here is what happened:

On that day, and for the immediate weeks and months following: I grieved. I comforted and was comforted by our friends and your family. I teetered back and forth between the sting of knowing you and little Braylon were gone, and the unavoidable mixture of betrayal and guilt, knowing that I had spoken with you just a mere four days prior to this, and somehow didn't detect a thing. I struggled to see through your absence into the bigger picture. I struggled a lot with those selfish emotions, before I could even begin to understand reality:

It wasn't YOU, my FRIEND who made that choice, but the disease that is depression, anxiety, mental abuse.. that pushed you to that point.

I left Mount Vernon and returned to my life in Cincinnati, entrenched in the idea that this should never happen. I researched for almost a full week on ways to get involved, and finally enlisted myself as a Field Advocate for the AFSP [American Foundation for Suicide Prevention]. I had three phone interviews with three different levels of local representatives, and learned a number of ways to make local, tangible contributions to the mission of edification and reach into those dark corners that you must have seen first hand. I wrote a couple of articles as a contributor on AFSP forums for suicide survivors: I was honest and raw about my ignorance to your struggle. I was bold in my call to action, which may or may not have reached anyone at all, even though I hope it did.

I've added to my ability to cope with disappointment, anger, fear and loss. I gained a new layer of understanding for the grieving process, and how to be a real shoulder to others in my life who would come to me in times of brokenness. You serve as a constant reminder and motivator to pour myself into each of my friendships and relationships - even those that have grown apart just by the course of life. I strive to stay connected and make the extra effort, sometimes when it's inconvenient, because I believe those who care for me would do the same. I try harder to love: openly and honestly, without judgment. I try to listen more. I try to instill in my daughter these principles, and the drive to show compassion - always - to everyone. I won't be able to shield her from the harsh realities and heartbreak that come as an essential part of growing, but if I can prepare her heart and mind to be a light in a dark world, perhaps one day she'll save someone in her own life who is on the edge of giving up. On the inside, I made a promise to you to seek help when I am overwhelmed. I'm not good at being emotionally-expressive, but I am not indestructible, as much as I force myself to be at times. I'm reminded that it's okay to be vulnerable.

It's my hope. I'm not perfect and I fail often at doing those things, but I know better than to look the other way.

******

It's five years later and I am still a Field Advocate for AFSP. I still try to partner with them when possible. I think of you every single time. I hope you know that you taught me a valuable lesson: Think. Act. Listen. Love.

In the active form, TALL:
Thinking, Acting, Listening. Loving.
Thinker. Action-taker. Listener. Lover.

♥.

Thank you Jena, for the impact you had on my life as a friend while you were here.
And now, thank you for serving as the mascot for me whenever I start to forget the importance of being TALL.

You're on a lot of hearts & minds today. Smile back at us, ok?

Love you, dear friend.

xo | cmd

All Things Monday

What. A. DAY.

This has been a pure blend of surprise, celebration and mourning. It's all here, on one day.

First things first, today is my cousin Maricor's 30th birthday!

happy birthday!!!!

It's a rare blessing I think, to have someone so closely aligned with you, who isn't technically a biological relative [I'm adopted, remember?]. With splitting hairs aside, this woman is still my best friend, an inspiring soul, a wonderful mother to her beautiful girls and much, much more. Our daughters are 1 week apart, and although we don't see each other nearly as often as we'd like, we never miss a beat. Happy birthday, Maricor!! LOVE YOU!!

On the tails of morning birthday salutes, I found this in the mail:

yay, continued staffing education!

^ Yep. Another year's worth of being certified as an EUCP. Thanks, Express (:  

 

And then THIS: 

finally!! yiiieeee

^ About a week or so back, I gave in and finally ordered some waxed polyester cord; it's the same material [I think] used to make the famous Pura Vida bracelets. I have several of their bracelets, but decided that it's high time I start making some of my own, inspired by their design, but customized exactly how I want them. I started today, and have to say they didn't turn out bad. Marianne is the lucky guinea pig who gets the first set:

fun!

Oh... the possibilities.

Now for the sad - and I mean truly sad part of today:
By now it's been on every headline out there, but today the world lost Robin Williams.

I realized today that we don't always recognize the fact that personalities who as adults themselves defined large parts of our childhood, continue to age just as we do. I won't say I was a prolific follower of all things Robin Williams, but he was absolutely an iconic figure in my mind.

I mean c'mon.. he was the GENIE!
He was Adrian Cronauer!
He was Patch Adams!
He made Flubber!
He was Rainbow Rudolph!
HE WAS MRS. DOUBTFIRE!!

That list is obviously so long that it warrants more accolade than I could give on my own. Outside of his acting career, Robin was a philanthropist with a huge heart; Shriner's and the USO found much of his dedicated time, and the man contributed to the advancement of humanity in ways we didn't always recognize.

And he left this world today, after battling severe depression, ultimately leading to his suicide.

"genie, you're free."
 - the academy of motion picture arts & sciences

And okokokokokay.... to clarify, NO, I'm not propogating the idea that suicide equates freedom.

NO NO NO NO NO. The more I examined that statement, given by The Academy, the more I could justify why many people were offended by it - yes, in its immediate simplicity, it does leave room to suggest that by committing suicide, RW was "liberated."

NO NO NO NO NO. What I'm hopefully assuming the Academy meant to convey was the same sense of remorse so many other people feel at his passing: the long and excruciating struggle is over. It did NOT end the way it should have, at all, but it is over.

I have seen what happens to families ripped apart by suicide. I do NOT believe that the act of taking your own life delivers freedom to ANYONE. My heart hurts to think that, regardless of his celebrity status, RW has family and friends who are intimately destroyed by losing him.

Here's a solemn call-to-action for all of you out there.. from me to you: If you, or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts.......... talk. TALK to someone. It's only too late if you choose to ignore it. I joined the AFSP in 2009 after losing my friend Jena to suicide and watched her family and the rest of us blindly picking up the pieces.

Rest in peace, Robin. The world lost a remarkable soul today.

xo | cmd

Happy Birthday, Jena ♡

It's both a complete cliche and a gross understatement when people say, "Life is short."

...But ya know what, it is.

 

Today would've been the 29th birthday of my friend Jena. Baby Braylon would be 3 now, and I can't even begin to imagine where they would both be in life.

 

Isn't it strange how we can't remember what we had for breakfast half the time, but will remember with diamond-grade clarity the exact moment we were given news that crushed us? I could tell you precisely where I was, with whom, and even how many other people were there, when Hilary called me to tell me that Jena had passed away, along with unborn baby Braylon.

not my best picture, but jena looks beautiful (: | circa 1999

For my classmates from childhood back in Mt. Vernon, or really any of you who grew up in small towns, it's without a doubt impossible to avoid something like this. The entire community ripples from the blow, regardless of whether or not they were close to the person. They mourn together, are angry together, but most importantly, support and heal together.

Not long after Jena's death, I joined the AFSP [American Foundation for Suicide Prevention]. I'm still an active field representative for Southwestern Ohio, and I would encourage any of you out there to at least check out the organization, for either your sake or for anyone you know who may be fighting that silent battle for whatever reason.

Jena, it will be four years this November since I got that phone call. Today I would've called you to wish you a happy almost 30th birthday, and we would've joked about how we never planned to escape high school, let alone make it to 30. I've been fighting tears already today knowing that you didn't, and trying my best to fill that hurt with the things that I remember that were the reasons we were friends to start with.

My heart is broken today for the Fogle family, for Jamie & RJ and their parents, and for every other family who is now comprised of the survivors of a suicide. [For the Gasiorowski,  Savoia and Dollenger families, to name a few: I know this is a very real pain for you, and my heart goes out to you today.]


I don't know why you did what you did, Jena. For a long time I was angry; I was more furious than I had been with anyone in as long as I could remember. I couldn't fathom reaching that point of complete exhaustion. Like so many people, I thought it was insanely selfish. My heart broke at your service to watch your parents, your brothers, who in their brokenness seemed to have all aged decades in just days. I was angry that we had spoken the day before this happened and made plans for that following weekend. I thought for a long time that if I had been there one week sooner, .............. who really even knows how to finish a sentence like this?! ... I realized once I became a part of the AFSP that I didn't - and won't - ever understand what it feels like to reach that breaking point. I won't ever know what it means to stand on the edge and feel like the last step is the last resort. I won't, so I have no room to judge or speculate over what you felt, what you experienced. All I know is that I'm sorry, for perhaps not listening more, or not being a more proactive friend... whatever it was that I could've done to remind you that you were - ARE - loved. I'm sorry I didn't understand, and I miss you.

I love you my friend, and I hope that you have the most incredible birthday with little Braylon. You have no idea how much you're missed, every day by your family and friends.

.... missing you.

Happy birthday, Jena ♥

xo | cmd

Bullies... All Grown Up... But Not Really.

... and no, unfortunately I'm not talking about adorable pitbullies.
I'm talking about adult humans, who have both the capacity and the ability to distinguish right from wrong, up from down, and cruel from compassionate.

You'll have to excuse my rant, especially if you're the one(s) responsible for this, because you crossed a line that I've never had to face, but know plenty who have... and the saddest part of it is that YOU have too.

Here's the scoop:

In one of those arbitrary moments of Facebook newsfeed scrolling, I came across THIS picture: 

this makes me sick

Let me explain this:
1. I blocked out faces because really, that's unecessary.
2. This was originally of a girl and a guy standing together. The person who edited this picture did a hack photoshop job of another girl's face and hair onto the girl's body and posted it online for the rest of us to see. The girl whose face was put on here is a girl we all know; she's a sweet girl who, in high school, had something of a slight social disability. In any case, the picture was posted and immediately hit with a range of comments from people thinking it was hilarious to people asking for it to be removed.

It makes me sick. Yeah, I know... Cori, this type of thing happens all the time; your little rant isn't going to stop or change people. Bro, I know. I'm not trying to change the world, but I was honestly just left in a state of simple sadness and pity for the people who did this to her.... but not only just for her.

I think after brooding over it, I may actually feel more pity for the people who actually think this is funny. It's crazy to me, too, since in the slew of comments that had made it there by the time I first saw it, there were only 2 or 3 out of 10-15 that I didn't recognize as people who I knew had met her, likely had classes with her, or crosssed her path at some point in high school. REALLY?

.... No, it wouldn't be any less of an offense if it were a total stranger, but it certainly speaks even more volume to your character for the fact that you are that callous to do that to someone with whom you've had actual contact.

Folks, I know we live in a world that is breaking and fraying at the seams a little more each day. I'm fearful at times that Sydni and any other children I should have will face in their adult lives a society with absolutely no moral compass, value system, or filter of any kind. I force myself to shut out the inkling that boundaries will be completely non-existent by the time they are grown, and that a basic respect for LIFE in general will be something of an obsolete, historical theory as opposed to something tangible taught by and fought for on the behalf of parents to their kids.

A little known factoid about me, while we're at it [this will make sense, bear with me]: I'm an advocate representative still for the AFSP. If you haven't thought about the impact that these kinds of things have on people, you should take a second to read through a handful of those stories. It sounds like a far, dramatic cry, but it's not. I've seen that, firsthand, and it's real.

I'm encouraged, though. In the moments of anger I had after seeing that, I was met by several classmates who took a personal stand as well against the posting and expressed the same disgust. It isn't even a scratch in the grand scheme of things, but it helped to know I wasn't completely alone in the disappointment I was feeling.

For any of you out there who have a relative or friend who battles every day with a disability or handicap of any kind, this is for you... I pray that you're free from this kind of idiocracy and that you have a peace in the face of what you're handling. I'm encouraged by this to re-dedicate nothing short of my best efforts as a parent to raising my daughter the right way: knowing and believing that human life is valuable no matter what it looks, acts or sounds like. I pray that if I fail at teaching, that at least I can succeed at instilling in her a compassion and the courage to stand up for those around her who can't do it themselves... even if that means she's standing alone.

I suppose I'll stop ranting now... but I hope that if you've found yourself in the position of going along with the crowd just be cool..... it's not worth it. I hope maybe you heard something here, if that is you... and if it's not.. welp, thanks for hangin' in there with me (: 

Tomorrow's FRIDAY!

Let's make it count (:

xo | cmd 

Mount Vernon - Remembering Carl & Jena

Today was kind of a hard day to digest.

It's easier now, if you want to put a level of intensity on it all, but definitely not by much. A couple different reasons....

I grew up in a small town. It had every bit of a small town feel to it, especially when it came down to everyone knowing everyone else and nobody having any real sense of privacy. Haha. It wasn't all bad though. We had the chance to grow closer to a smaller group of people and be plugged into things that are oftentimes foreign to the big cities.

clockwise from top left:
martina. emily. courtney. greg. carl. hilari.

A small town can be a blessing and a curse, all wrapped up into one small per capita headcount. By the time I graduated high school, my peers and I had said premature and bitter goodbyes to a handful of our classmates. I know that happens [unfortunately] everywhere, but it doesn't dull the pain when it's your friend, your sibling, classmate.

As it relates specifically to today, I'll just say that 2009 was a rough year.

I'll start with Carl. He was the oldest of six kids in a family everyone in our town knows. The Culbertsons are a staple family back home, and what happened in February rocked all of Mt. Vernon. I graduated with Carl's sister Courtney, and while I didn't know Carl all that well, I knew that his loss would fuel something intense. Carl passed away in February 2009 from an accidental heroin overdose. My mom and sister both worked with their dad, Dave, and so through them and through frequent fb updates, I was able to follow the creation and explosive reach of the Arms of An Angel Foundation, the tribute to Carl's life and educational outreach program.

Today was Carl's birthday. From here back to Ohio, to the Culbertson family: My heart goes out to you as you celebrate his life and everything it meant to you & now means to others (:

*****

As it happens, today will always be a haunting one for the Fogle family back home. This one, for me personally, is severely hard to digest and accept. It's both been "already" and "only" three years all at once and I still fight back that overwhelming emotion every time I think about it.

tribute from 2009

I met Jena in 6th grade, and we made quick with the whole becoming close friends right away. I don't think I need to tell you all the stuff we went through together as friends as we battled the regular teenage angst that comes along with conquering adolescence. Everyone can identify with the fact the each of our friends has something unique that characterizes them; Jena's was her laugh. Her laugh was a stark contrast to her typically quiet demeanor, but good grief was it contagious.

oh, the days | mvhs 1999 | corin. allison. amy. jena

^^ Yeah, I know... I've had issues dressing like a real girl for a long time now.. haha. [Jena used to give me grief about it, too.. well.... at least I'm consistent?] (:

I can't say what the tipping straw was to push Jena to the final breaking point, but it grips me to this day. I talked to Jena on November 12, and had made plans to see her the following weekend. I remember very clearly getting the phone call the very next day that she had been found in her parents' basement after she'd taken her own life. I was at Kim's house when Hilary called and told me it was over. There was no arguing, no negotiating, no begging that could change it. That desperate, paralyzing feeling that hits you in the knees and brings you straight to the floor came over me and I went numb. It was nearly an hour before I could cry, but when I did, I didn't stop for nearly two days. Jena was five months pregnant with little Braylon; my heart still breaks for both of them.

We aren't meant to know the reasons behind why certain things happen. It's heartbreaking to thinking about it sometimes, but I do still find comfort in the absolute rallying power of a small town when things like this happen. I've seen them do it before this and since this, too. 

Jena was fuel for me to join the AFSP: American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I began as a field advocate rep for the Greater Cincinnati Area, and still serve remotely in that capacity even from Illinois.  Check it out - it's worth a second, especially if you've been impacted....

Today is for the Culbertson & Fogle families. You have my thoughts, my prayers, and my honest hope that you found PEACE and GOOD memories in today and every day moving forward. 

Carl Culbertson 13Nov1981 - 15Feb2009
Jena Fogle 19Jun1984 - 13Nov2009

:: Gone, but NEVER forgotten. ::

xo | cmd