By Danielle Warren with her permission to repost this message. Moms who’ve lost a child don’t get to have new memories of that child. The existing ones are all we have but we don’t know all of them and always open to hearing a story about our child who died.
There are times that the mental illness or addiction of a loved one leaves you completely and utterly unable to act. Immobile. Stunned. Catatonic.
You are overwhelmed and don’t know where to start so you shut down completely. You just want all of it to go away. There are too many layers
Holidays are supposed to be festive and fun. But I’m not getting that vibe at all. You just bring me heaviness and grief. While people hustle and bustle about, I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. I just feel flat and lifeless. And sad.
Couldn’t you skip a year? This is my
You must be so bored with all my posts about suicide, addiction and mental illness. Why on earth would I continue to assault you with my tirade of posts, presentations and videos about these awful subjects? Why can’t I just get the hell over it? I mean all this shit is not going to bring
I want to hate you but I can’t. You give us life, then throw us into the pit of despair with life events so devastating we cannot even function. Disasters that hit us like a stun gun, leave us shellshocked and wondering how we can make it through and live again.
We dig deep and fight through it
We fail, pray, cry, scream
Dear Addiction Sufferer,
I want you to know that even though you are struggling, maybe even using, you are loved. That last time you relapsed, you think you saw disappointment on our faces.
But that’s not what that emotion was. It was not disappointment.
From Anne Moss: Jason is in his early 20s and is from Chicago. He and I were emailing back and forth for a few weeks earlier this year. I emailed him recently to follow up and see how he was doing since I’d not heard from him in a while. The first time he wrote me,
Dear Anne Moss,
I want to write you from a position of wisdom. First, I don’t want you to beat yourself up for making the choice of staying at home with your boys.
I know you struggled with the decision. You gave up income, your creative outlet, and your ambition. But from where I sit,
Dear Anne Moss,
I didn’t mean to hurt you. I numbed you at first because I had to protect you. One can take only so much pain and agony at once.
I watched you in your agonizing moments knowing that these would be building blocks to emotional healing. You suffered under my weight and tried