Showing posts with label a ti-bullying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a ti-bullying. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Expect The Unexpected

Expect The Unexpected

Sometimes it seems that the harder we push, the less things get done. When faced with something we are passionate about, that resistance can be hard to feel and harder to swallow. After Joshua died, my heart for children grew. There is no place more important than school. Maybe that is because Joshua might have been able to go and talk with someone about being bullied, if someone was there to listen. Just listen. An office with a door open and a kind persons face ready to talk. Someone who could point them in the right direction or make them feel validated. In Townsend at our previous school system, my passion was embraced. They called on me numerous times to help in bullying situations and even asked that I come and address the teachers with Joshua’s story. It was hard, but it felt right. There was no shortness of tears as my daughter Danielle and I teamed up to give the presentation. I showed them a boy I a trench coat with a bowler hat. A boy who wanted to be different in order to live the life of the kids who were different, a boy who was taking up a cross for others. I then read the police report of the boy who was called “faggit”, the boy who ended his life hanging by a rafter.

Rockport is beautiful. It has beautiful people. It has wonderful families. It’s a small town. It also has children, children who cut like Joshua did. Children who need help for pain that is inside of them. One day I found that alongside its lunch,gym,classes and nurse it needs to provide mental health help. It like many schools is suffering with an increase of anxieties, cutting and behavioral issues and it needs to be pro-active. One day my daughter just needed someone to talk to in the high school. She wandered unsure of where to go and ended up in the wrong place and we found there was truly no place to go. Upon my numerous questions I got no answers. There are no answers. Where does a child go that needs mental help that needs to talk if they have a bad day? The question continued to bug me.

In my frustration for schools all over the country and my questions as to why kids can spend that many hours a day at a place with no answer for how they feel, I emailed our congressman a letter and begged for help. Our school like many wants to do more, but seems unable due to a lack of funding and someone to lead the way. I gave details of my life and showed my heart for the issue to Congressman Tierney's office.  Amazingly Congressman  Tierneys office called back and assured me they feel strongly on this issue. That Mr. Tierney has sisters who are teachers and knows this frustration. I was pleased as they put me in touch with some funding and programs, in Gloucester. But that was not the end of the story. Not by a long shot.

This morning at breakfast with a dear friend the conversation went like this:

(she) “well aren’t we excited about the meeting our daughters are at right now?”
(me) “I’m ashamed to say I am not sure what you mean!”
(she) “well a few months ago Annabelle and Katrina wrote a letter with school to Congressman Tierney about bullying and strangely enough Congressman Tierneys office called last week and want to come out to Rockport.” “Right now the girls are with the principal preparing their questions”.

My jaw dropped as I told her that I had no idea my daughter Annabelle had done that and Annabelle had no idea that I had just done the same thing and had been on the phone with the Congressman's office. I got goosebumps as I told her. We sat with our hands over out mouths afraid out tongues might drop out. “When did they call” I asked. “Last Week” she said. That was about a week after my call I told her.

The reality that my daughter Annabelle and I had been traveling on a parallel track and we had no idea knocked me over and I almost cried. Congressman Tierney will be coming to Rockport soon, and it was not me who did it…it was US. It was those of us who chose to speak up. It was the voices of children!

I struggled after my letter and conversation, feeling like I'd almost hit a dead end. I now understand that I was just part of a bigger picture that needed to play out. I might not have made changes, but I listened to my inner voice and was part of a bigger effort. Please stay tuned as this story continues to work it's way through the lives of many.


~Joshua’s Mom
and sister….

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Life Is A Highway and I am always both coming and going.....

I often walk the black edge. The fringes of this world, the places most people don’t often even know exist. They stand out once in a while as people walk through life in times where goosebumps, dejavu and panic show their faces. I stare at this life both as a lurker and a participant. Every moment of every day is sliced down the middle with the icy cold edge of fear and the hot sweat of enjoyment. He did this. He made tears come even during laughter as if there is no end to the pain even in the good times. The water does not meet the land, it rages amongst it allowing me to get my footing whilst the waves crash around me, knocking me down. I see from the angles of both life and death. I see opposites as if they are both pure truth. Prospective is the robe I wear. The bridge is both beautiful and an arch to cover water, just as it may quickly be an answer to my pain. The light is both refreshing and painful all captured inside one prism. Running is exuberant and yet I am weary. All good, all bad, all black and all white.






One fateful day, June 3rd 2005 all of what was good and bad in life collided inside of me. Joshua both took a life and gave a life. I am forever thankful and in angst at the same time.





Every day, every moment, everything is true.



To those who struggle with the thoughts of taking your life, please remember that you will take more than just your own. You will sentence many more to death here on earth! No more person can that be more true for than your family!

Sunday, October 16, 2011

GOD

You might recall, Dear Lord that I loved you once. You might remember this child of 5 turning to you when my own father gave me no shelter from the storms all around. I was the little red head with pigtails in Sunday school. The one who was so excited to have learned the song Jesus Loves Me. The girl who proudly sang it, knowing that you would take care of each of your little sheep and bring them back to the flock with gentle kindness. It is I that child of yours, the one you took into your arms and promised eternal life forever.




The years have passed haven’t they? The violent savage attack on my being in 2005 when Joshua hung himself has left me but a shell of that trusting child. My hope for eternal life has come crashing down around me and fear and rage have replaced any song in my heart for you. For years I moved back and forth between blaming you for taking him and the easier place of you not ever having existed. I hoped I had made you up, for that would be easier to bare than what you have allowed. The truth is that somewhere in the blackness of the driveway that night, up on hearing the news I knew it was you. I felt his body and his spirit travel through my body as you extracted him from my life.



The bleeding might have stopped. I am not sure. Sometimes a wound seems to re-open but the pouring of blood from my veins has stopped. The distance between you and I has begun to shorten and I have slowly entertained the thought of you again as my father. This morning I woke hoping I could make my way to church again. The first such thought of wanting to understand you and allow you again. But what will you take, what could loving you again open me up for? I have other sweet children that are mine and you cannot have them. How dare you?!



Jesus Loves Me

This I Know

For The Bible Tells Me So.



I know you have him and I want him back.



~Joshua’s Mom