I did it… #projectsemicolon…SUICIDE AWARENESS….

“A semicolon is used when an author could’ve chosen to end their sentence, but chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life,”

Project Semicolon; I recently discovered this movement;  I have always wanted to acknowledge my fathers suicide very openly to bring awareness to mental health and suicide;  For 18 years I felt guilt, shame and I wouldn’t talk to people about what happened…. Then I wrote a book….. huge step;  I have also lost an Uncle and cousin to suicide.  I just found out that my ex-husband jumped in front of a train 3 years ago;

This weekend a friend visited that I have known since I was a kid; A very honest, open person and the kind person that doesn’t hold back an opinion;  When I have discussed my fathers suicide with people that didn’t know me, or my dad… who just weren’t THERE I usually blow them off because they just don’t fucking know!! Yes, I know my father had a mental illness; Yes I know that it wasn’t “my fault”, but you weren’t there; You will just never really get it unless your dad or mom shot, hung themselves and set the attic on fire all at the same time; Coupled with the facts that you and the parent were in a fight, not getting along for 8 months after they wouldn’t let you back into the house, and said horrible things to each other 3 days before his death which included you lying; An even bigger issue I deal with is that my dad was my best friend my entire life until our falling out 8 months before his death; My mom, my dad and I were a team and we did everything together; He wasn’t physically abusive.  He didn’t drink. I got everything I wanted; I was treated like a princess.  He even built me my own little castle;

When someone was around at that time, and they have known you their entire life and your family, you kind of have to listen to what they have to say….. because if you don’t you are just an ignorant asshole; The added benefit is you get to call them out on their shit too;

#projectsemicolon

#projectsemicolon

I’m not going to recap the conversation… A few tears were shed….I listened AND heard…..and later I got this tattoo…. So thank you friend….

Dad, Uncle, cousin, friend, I wish you didn’t choose to end your sentence with a period.  My sentences will continue to end with a semicolon;

If anyone is interested in reading my story Google my name on Amazon.

Left Behind A Book for Suicide Survivors

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After Effects of Suicide…. A daughters search for understanding 24 years later and counting

Most of the stuff I write no one really “gets”, and I’m ok with that. I write to journal. I just have it public. This blog with be a step into the post of my having my Fairy Garden Tea Party. I said I was going to keep planning parties, and trips because that’s what keeps me going.  Well this week end an activity didn’t happen that I was hoping would. I was sulking. However in my sulking I was 100% aware that I was being ridiculous and I am one of the luckiest people in the world.  I have everything 98% of the people on this planet would hope for; two amazing kids, a house, food,I love my work (when I get to do it), and I have gotten to do things in my life most never will.  But I couldn’t help wondering.. “Is this it?” The day to day routine, the laundry, dishes, telling the kids to do stuff they don’t listen too, watching movies, going to bed, making breakfast, taking a nap.  Yeah sure there are fun things like when I have an audition or book a job, or do get to go somewhere special….. but… “Is this it?” Am I just going to be as my father predicted “Never Happy”…. nothing is ever going to be good enough for me.

Today my son had a basketball game and all season I have really been getting into his games more and more. When he played his first year of football in the fall, again I was getting into the games. One game I had to turn away as it was too intense. Today at his basket ball game I was on pins and needles. Recently, a friend of mine has gotten me into hockey, and I’m kind of like really legitimately routing for the Blackhawks. Sometimes its so intense I can’t watch. I have been wondering what the hell is wrong with me.  I haven’t given two shits about sports or games in over 20 years.  I even went to a Superbowl game like 12 years ago and didn’t even pay attention.  What the hell is clicking in my brain to care?  However, I now think what was clicked in my head 20 or so years ago to stop caring?

When I was a kid I LOVED routing for The Chicago Bears. When they played and won the Superbowl in what 85? I was a wreck that game. The Superbowl Shuffle? ….Forget about it….When my dad used to take me to the race track I was so excited during the race. I screamed for whatever horse I had bet on.  It was so exciting, enthralling if my horse won or lost. I thought I would just burst seeing them race to the finish line.  Hearing the announcer call the game, the beating of the hoofs on the track, seeing the jockeys so determine, the roar of the crowd, it was a sensory overload.  I used to study the racing guides like an adult. I loved the track. I can even take this into board games as a kid.  My family and extended family LOVED board games. I wanted to WIN, whether it was Candyland ,Rummy the quarter game, poker, or Masterpiece, jarts croquet, or miniature golf.  In Scrabble I would be challenged all the time for making-up fake words (I was usually right 30% of the time- it was worth the gamble.)  For the past 24 years playing games, I just don’t care. I don’t care if I win. I don’t care if I lose. I will let people win because I know how happy it makes them. Now my friends that play Words With Friends with now will say that’s a different story, but all I can explain it is I do it for fun now. When I was younger winning was this all encompassing consuming drive.  I was in the game and that’s it.  Total focus and I would push the “could be cheating ;limits” to their fullest.

Seeing myself now starting to really really get into my sons sport games and myself getting into hockey scares me. It’s like jumping back into the “Old Vanessa”. I have come to the realization that I just stop caring about most things after my father died.I saw most things in life as trivial. Sports and games seemed stupid and completely ridiculous to get wrapped up in.  There were more important things in life. I just stopped wanting to care, care, or having any kind of fun I used to have.

I find myself at a precipice. Is this it? If I am not happy with the things I already have what makes me think I would be happy with more? I have a habit which was taught to me by my father suicide which was it really is possible to just leaving one life behind and starting another.. another life.. another Vanessa. Leaving my home at 19 and buying a house with my first husband and starting a business; leaving him for husband #2 and moving to California; Loving acting but getting pregnant on purpose and moving to Montana on a whim; Working for Hawaiian Tropic; Coming Back to LA to resume acting… there is more… However all the different lives of Vanessa are all merging, thanks mainly to Facebook.  All my different friends, and hobbies, and pasts are now becoming intertwined.  Is this it? How many more Vanessa’s do I need to have? Can I survive in this being it? Can I survive with all my years melding together and my memories all coming out through the darkness abyss of my mind? Will something so simple as routing for a sports team with passion freak me out so much because I used to do that when I was a kid with my father.  That was a happy time; playing Monopoly with my parents for hours and hours fighting over properties and hotels. We had fun. We laughed.  Getting into sports is bringing that all back. Will I be able to handle it, or will I freak out, abandon yet another Vanessa and start from scratch again because it is easier to run away that face the “Yes, this is it”.

I really don’t think anyone who has ever been through losing a father to suicide on bad terms will understand this post.  I really don’t, but that’s ok.