A dear friend lost her son to suicide last night. She was one of the first people to follow this blog and I knew her boy. I won’t share any more than that because it’s not my story to tell. Heartbroken isn’t a big enough word to describe my feelings.
For mothers and fathers who’ve lost a child, we never forget hearing the news.
Maybe some of the finer details are shuffled, but that desperate longing in our souls for one more hug and our irrational disbelief that it can’t be true steals our breath and curls around the edges … Read more...
I started my time of quarantine before the actual outbreak occurred. I had a need to get away for a time of reflection and healing. So, in many ways, I was pre-prepared for a time such as this. Now, after two months, I have learned so much more about myself, family, friends and life.
I am bothered by the excessive use of the term “Social Distancing”. I feel people are becoming more connected during this time of COVID-9. I prefer to call it “Physical Distancing”.
This morning, at sunbreak, I sat outside with my tea and the … Read more...
I am a graduate student studying mental health counseling at the University of St. Thomas, in Houston, TX. I have an undergraduate degree in psychology with a minor in human services. Education is everything to me; this was not always the case.
My childhood was marked by trauma and abuse
My siblings and I were placed in foster care. I was removed from my mother’s custody on April 3, 1998, a few weeks before my twelfth birthday and placed in my aunt’s custody for about six months. After leaving my aunt’s house, I was placed in many … Read more...
When my son, Charles died by suicide on June 5, 2015, my house was elbow-to-elbow full of people by June 7 every day from 11 am-5 pm. That went on for a week. And I was grateful.
Family and friends surrounded me with love and the Southern tradition of dropping by, bringing barbecue, booze, and boxes of tissues. The hugs, food, and flowers from people’s gardens were what got me through that first tragic week and the funeral that followed seven days later was packed with mourners.
I have been volunteering with Into the Neighborhood in the Richmond City Justice Center for 4+ years now but as of last week, we were not able to continue going on visits as we were.
Instead, we have given our volunteers the information they need to write and to email our friends.
Some of us work with drug courts and HARP (Helping Addicts Recover Program) and have continued relationships with our friends on the outside. Into the Neighborhood has organized an adoption process of 16 recovery houses and 3 family units we have been working with. So … Read more...
Once a week on Tuesday mornings, I’m going to be reaching out directly to daily and weekly subscribers and I won’t be posting here. And on Fridays, weekly subscribers will get the weekly blog post recap and daily subscribers will continue to get their daily posts.
Given how stressful it is right now, I’d like to know how I can support you more effectively because we know isolation breeds struggle with the subjects we deal with.
But before we get to that, we’re going to review a few good things that have happened for COVID19:
Tammy is a contributor here at Emotionally Naked. To date, she has written more guest post articles than any other author. She is a middle school teacher who is not afraid to talk about her own mental illness, bipolar disorder rapid cycling. She is a health and PE teacher who has shared with her fellow teachers and principal that she lives with bipolar disorder.
Her candidness in the video below offers you a glimpse into what those who live with this illness endure and the courage and dedication it takes to maintain a healthy life. Tammy educates her students about … Read more...
You can write it, perform it, listen to it but there is no denying that music can heal a battered soul.
It turns out music is connected to the pleasure center of our brains and is a great coping tool because it allows us to release feel-good neurotransmitters without resorting to booze, pints of ice cream, or shopping till we drop.
When grief renders words inadequate, music gives a voice to overwhelming visceral emotion.