Tag Archives: Loss

Dropping My College Kid Off Again: Why Goodbye Still Hurt

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I did not expect to respond the way I did. I thought it would be easy, seamless, but it wasn’t. I mean it was, until I was alone. Then it hit me hard. Since I dropped my son at college in August, I’ve had the privilege of seeing him four times before this past weekend! Granted one of those was the ER visit, and all were quick visits, but still, they were touch points. They were moments to see him, tell him I love him, laugh together, share a meal, care for him, etc.

I left each time feeling okay, so it was easy. I surprised myself each time I left. I didn’t cry, not even a tear. My son was thriving, happy, so I felt happy, good. But yesterday, something hit different and I cried the minute I got in my minivan to drive home. Maybe it was because this time as we drove up to campus – arriving together from our home, he said, “ah, feels good to be back home.” Ouch.

And also, yes. There was so much truth in his statement, and it was a statement he should feel, that I would want him to feel. I so very much want him to feel that the college he chose feels like home. Home *should* feel safe, welcoming, supportive, loving, fun and for my son, his college experience currently feels like home, and that is a mother’s dream come true. But it also hurts, a good hurt because he is good, but a sad one too, you know?

A total grorange moment. Sad because it reminds me of the truth of where we are in life; of the changing season. It reminds me that he now spends more time away from me, than with me. It reminds me that he now is on his own, as he should be, and that our togetherness is just different. Not bad, just different.

It reminds me of all the doubts I still carry about the times we had in our *home*

Did I get it right? (Is there even a right? Yes and no.)
Did I do good? (I did my best and still try, we all do.)
Did I do enough? (I did what I could with what I knew at the time, with what energy I had under the circumstances, at the time.)
Did I create a home that was just as happy to come home to as he feels about college? (I know not a fair comparison, I can’t and won’t compare to college friends!)
Did I create a home that felt safe, loving, welcoming, supportive, and all the good things a home should be? (I sure as heck tried and think I did an okay job. That I feel confident saying.)
Did I show up for him the way I wanted to as a mom? (Yes and no, but when I think of the no, I also think of how I then made changes and that counts. None of us are perfect.)

So yeah, lol a simple drop off yesterday was quite emotional afterwards. Who knew. –>That’s the thing. Big emotions, you never know when they are going to just appear. Gray Happens folks and that’s okay.

We still show up and work through ’em. Let’s be real, we show up because what’s the alternative? It’s one we don’t want. Ignoring the gray bites us in the arse later on, leaves us feeling even heavier, so showing is a good choice, even if it kinda stinks in the moment.

We show up because that’s who we are; because we choose to even though it’s hard. We choose to show up because we are determined to work through the gray – whatever it is, grief, challenges, obstacles, heavy emotions, feeling blech, light emotions, whatever – so we can get to feeling better, lighter.

So yep, I sat there, processing, wondering, questioning, enjoying the sun on my face as I cried softly, college kids walking by no doubt seeing me. Oh well. Eventually I was done:) I started the car and headed to the nearest 7-11 to get a diet coke and peanut m&m’s for my drive home, my go-to comfort foods for the longish drive. They feel like home to me;) A little while into my drive home, I called my kiddo, told him I loved him, how proud I was of him and how happy I am that he feels at home at college.

It was all true, even if the truth also feels a little sad. Grorange. Both/and. When Gray Happens, We Show Up. However you wanna say it. It’s all true. It felt good to talk to him. And no lie, it also felt good to come home to just 3 kids because I miss my oldest and also, 3 kids is easier in some ways! Oh the complexities of life;) How about you? How are you feeling today? Gray and charge-y? Orange and all warm and fuzzy and determined?

Gr—>orange? All of the above?

Sending my warmth to go with your strength, today and always, and especially if you too are feeling a little off, but also perhaps a little lighter, after spending fall break with your kiddo.

xoxo Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

The Christmas Gift I Never Forgot — and the Woman I Just Learned I Lost

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*Trigger warning, perhaps grab tissues, I know I should have* I wasn’t able to keep up with all the supportive comments yesterday as I received some devastating news midday. Oddly enough, it was right in keeping with the message of yesterday’s post – BE KIND.

Every December I write a post (shoot, and here come the tears again, they kinda haven’t stopped since yesterday afternoon) about the first Christmas after I got divorced.

I got divorced in November. It was either a few days before or after Thanksgiving. How’s that for timing? Needless to say I wasn’t really feeling the holiday spirit and if you have followed me long enough, you know I LOVE Christmas. Like, it’s my favorite time of year. It was hard that year though, for obvious reasons. I felt lonelier than ever. I felt worse about myself, than ever. I felt more doubt about my future, than ever. I felt more down, than ever.

So yeah, it was hard knowing Christmas was coming and that I wasn’t in the spirit? Well that just made it harder. I didn’t want to miss out on something so important to me. I just couldn’t lift my own spirits. Christmas for me isn’t about getting presents; it’s about creating magic and memories for and with my kids.

That said, it is nice to receive at least one gift and know that someone is thinking of you, you know? I knew that year, there wouldn’t be any presents for me under the tree when I came down Christmas morning. I knew I would have to wait until my parents arrived later that afternoon. This was a hard pill to swallow and it was bringing my spirits down even more. Right before the holiday break though, a package was delivered to my door.

I was PTO president that year and had become close with the Principal. We shared a lot in common. She too was going through a divorce. She too loved talking about leadership and obviously education. She too had children with ADHD. And she too, clearly liked to do nice things for others because the package was from her. “DREAM.” How appropriate. That is what the handwritten ornament said that laid on the coziest blanket I had yet to own.

Included was also a gift card to Barnes & Noble, Victoria’s Secret, and one to Dunkin’ Donuts. It was a gift basket inviting me to get some cozy pajamas, a hot cup of coffee and then curl up and read a good book. It was a gift to ensure that when I was by myself over the break, I had something to do…that I wasn’t totally “by myself.” The tears came to my eyes then, as they do now, the minute I saw the gift. The thoughtfulness was second to none.

That was in 2016. Nine years ago and it still, STILL warms my heart. That gift got me through my first Christmas divorced. That gift made me

*feel seen
*feel understood
*feel supported
*feel a heck of a lot less alone.

That gift gave me a “flicker of light,” to get through the holiday season. It was the nudge I needed to keep going on the hard days, the days I wanted to crawl back and in bed and hide or just bawl my eyes out. That gift was a lifeline. It invited me to dream of the future; of better moments, of better days, of better feelings.

I learned yesterday that the gift giver passed away unexpectedly. My heart broke when I read the news.

I used the phrase “flicker of light” directly from her obituary. Turns out, she had been the recipient of many “flickers of light” in her own life, during many of her own challenges, of which she had plenty and honestly, way too many. Her family was as grateful to those who gave to her, as I was to her. It was those “flickers of light” that kept my “gift giver” going for all the years that life tried so hard to weigh her down.

She was often misunderstood. But to me? Well, I understood her. And to me she had been nothing, absolutely nothing, but kind, thoughtful. To me, she had been one of the few people willing to listen to me. BE REAL during a REALly hard time. There aren’t a lot of people who have the heart, the courage, or the willingness to do that. I will never, ever forget that gift. I won’t forget the physical gift either, but the gift of letting me be real? Of letting me feel seen and understood? I won’t forget that either.

So I repeat, Be Kind, you never know the power or impact of one small action. And to my gift giver, one last thank you. Thank you for the gifts, and thank you for doing what you loved to do in your last days – teach.

Although I wish your passing didn’t have to be what made me really, REALly come to full realization of what I wanted to do with my life, it did. You taught me what my heart has always wanted and gave me the clarity I’ve been seeking for years. You gave me a final gift. Thank you, again. Your kindness of spirit will continue, I promise. Rest in peace. You deserve it. And to everyone here in this community, thank you for being here. Thank you for being kind, because I know you are. You always show such kindness to me and to everyone here through your comments.

Here, I
*feel seen
*feel understood
*feel supported
*feel a heck of a lot less alone and that, well that is just amazing. I hope you feel the same.

Sending my warmth, to go with your strength, today and always, and today I also send the reminder that it’s okay if you aren’t feeling strong today. Here, here you don’t have to be. Here, you can breathe, be at ease, and let your guard down. You don’t have to have it all together here.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

To everyone who is new here since yesterday, welcome and sorry for such a heavy post as your introduction to this community!

That said, this is me! I write about everything on my heart. I don’t hide. I believe in being real and I don’t really know any other way;) Besides, I know that we must experience the ups and the downs in life; the grays and the oranges so that we can truly live the life we want and be the person we want. We need the warm, uplifting orange moments to make the grays bearable and the grays well, gray happens. We can’t ignore them.

We need to acknowledge them and move through them so they don’t grow and cast a huge shadow on the bright, orange moments.

Mother’s Day Can Be Complicated: Making Room for Joy, Grief and Everything Else

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It’s Mother’s Day tomorrow, a day intended to be filled with joy, celebration, acknowledgement, rest and more. But in reality, it’s a day that for many is a day filled with sadness, loss, grief, disappointment, exhaustion and more. This post is dedicated to all the women who, like me, are feeling ambivalent about tomorrow. I see you, I feel your discomfort, your sadness, and I would do anything to make tomorrow a little brighter for you.

Truly. Since I can’t physically send you all flowers and cards telling you how special you are, know that I’m thinking of you and you’re not alone in these feelings. * I’m a single mom to four boys, teenage boys to boot. Mother’s Day will not look like it did when I was married and my son’s dad worked with my kiddos to ensure the day was special and I was acknowledged for all my hard work as a mom. I will not receive a card that says, “Thank you and the boys are lucky to have you as their mom.” The loss of the appreciation will be felt deeply.

Mother’s Day will not look like it did when my kids were toddlers and made cute hand printed gifts and took naps during the day so I too could rest. The loss of thoughtful, unrushed gifts will be felt. Mother’s Day will not look like it did when my kids were in elementary school, and I was newly divorced, but the teachers helped the kids to make cards, ensuring that I was thought of on that first Mother’s Day as a single mom.

The loss of carefully written cards with caring messages will be felt. Mother’s Day will not look like it did when my boys were just pre-teens and had less intense bickering matches because well, they weren’t fully teenagers yet and hormones and stress hadn’t fully entered the house. The loss of more family time together, laughing, will be felt. And Mother’s Day will absolutely, positively, 110% not look or feel like I imagined it before I ever even became a mom.

The loss of that dream will be felt. Life is different today. My dreams of what my life would look like as a mom, how it would feel, how I would be supported, are entirely, 110% different. On many days I have come to terms with that. And on many days, it still hurts. Mother’s Day is confusing for so many. It isn’t just a cheerful, “I love you” holiday. It’s also a cheerful and “I lost…” and “I long for…” holiday.

I lost my mother.

I lost a child.

I lost a relationship with my mother.

I lost my spouse, the one who helped make me a mother.

I lost a partner, and now I help my kids celebrate me because I am alone.

I long to be a mother.

I long for more children.

I long to actually be appreciated as a mother.

I long to find motherhood less overwhelming. 

I long to have a day off, an hour off, a mere break.

𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔, 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆.

It’s a tough day. It isn’t all flowers and brunches and cards and family dinners. There are also tears and quiet wishes for things to be different and reflective moments and feelings of loneliness and “is it Monday yet, but wait, this moment is special too.” Many of us, myself included, will go through the day, smiling then wiping away tears. Smiling some more, laughing even, then wiping away tears. Mother’s Day will be long and exhausting for me, and perhaps for you too.

I will be thinking of you tomorrow and all the moms and women whose hearts are full, but also are hurting, healing, and hoping for things to get better.

Sending my warmth to go with your strength, today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Survival Mode Is Not a Personal Failure

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A moment of real honesty: I am not currently thriving. I am in survival mode. And I struggle with that some days. Carry shame around it even. There is so much unspoken pressure to thrive. To strive even. To not be in survival mode. I go on Instagram and these messages bombard me. 

Are you in Survival Mode? Here’s how to get out!

Are you Thriving? Go you! Rock On!

Are you Striving towards your goals? Why not? Here’s How!

Listen, I am all for these three points. I think you know this about me;) I have nothing against these three points. I have books about all three topics. I love these topics!!!

This is not against them. I repeat. This post is greater than that. I love the feeling of thriving. Who doesn’t? I want us all to have that feeling of flourishing and feeling alive and fulfilled.

And I love me some goals and going after them. I mean, I wrote a book about learning to yell less and how I went a year without yelling 😉 I have been a Type A goal setter probably since I was able to set and go after goals.

And I do not love the feeling of being in survival mode. It’s exhausting, unfulfilling on most days, and makes my body just feel cruddy all over. Hello migraines, knots in my back, blurry vision, memory loss, decision making fatigue. I could go on and on and on. And at the same time, I’m not a fan of how these words are being presented to all of us. There needs to be an asterisk, a qualifier. A more realistic, honest statement after them.

Here’s my take. I accept that there is one common denominator in all three of these words: Thrive, Strive, Survive. The thread? the three letters I-V-E. Which are all part of the word LIVE. To me part of the definition of TO LIVE means to Thrive some days, To Strive towards goals most days and To simply Survive other days. All three modes are NORMAL and a part of LIFE.

There is no shame if I am in survival mode and there is no extra glory if I am in thriving and striving mode. I go in and out of all three modes constantly. While I love striving and thriving, I do not always need to, nor is it necessarily good for me. And while I accept being in survival mode at times, I know I can’t stay there because that too isn’t good for me.

This week has been a blending of Surviving and Striving to get out of survival mode. Hopefully next week will feel more like Thriving. Who knows. I just keep moving forward-ish.

What I do know is that this morning, I momentarily felt uninspiring because I have been “just” surviving* and then I remembered THAT IS OKAY. I am Surviving. I AM LIVING. I am showing up. I am still charging towards the life I want…which is one where I no longer let the obstacles overwhelm and overshadow my days so much that I miss out on the good that still shines bright.

So sure, I feel blech about life this week because I am “just surviving” but honestly, that in itself is inspiring. Life can be hard. Parenting is hard. Remaining determined, courageous, hopeful through it all? WHICH ALL OF YOU ARE…inspiring. Sending warmth and strength to you today – to live your day today without shame of where you are on your journey today. Surviving, Striving, Thriving…You are Showing up and Living and Moving Forward and that my Friend is Awesome.

*If you too are in survival mode, but it feels more heavy than just survival and just a phase, please reach out to an expert for support. Life is hard and complicated and all those who love you, need you.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Talking to Kids About Suicide, Loss and the Importance of Staying Here

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I have debated back and forth a lot this morning about posting this because it is sensitive and I want to get it right. But it is all that is on my mind and I feel it is ever so important to share. Love to all. TRIGGER warning, suicide.

Disclaimer, I am not a mental health professional. If you need help, please call or text 988 because you matter – and we need you here.

One of my sons came into the kitchen last night and said, “Mom, did you see who died?! The guy from Ellen I used to watch when I was younger. I loved him. He was the best.” The sadness and disbelief crept onto his face and…tears come to my eyes now.

I loved watching my son watch Stephen ‘tWitch’ Boss. When he did, my son’s eyes filled with awe and his smile with joy. It was always, always, one of the sweetest moments during our chaotic days. Such an incredible loss. Oh my heart aches for his family and all those who struggle. I just can’t. I can’t.

My son then asked how he died and I replied, “He died by suicide sweetheart.”

“Oh.” His face fell even more. The silence became heavy.

“But he seemed so happy. I don’t understand.”

“Yes. I know. I don’t either. It’s tragic beyond words. Heartbreaking. It’s a good, albeit very sad, reminder that you never know what is going on in someone’s private life or in their mind. It is why I always say, just be kind. You don’t know everyone’s story. What they have been through in life or that day. Just be kind.”

“I know.” he said softly.

And I know he did. He is one sweet, loving, empathetic kind kid. I could see he was also thinking, pondering. He knows some people in his life who have struggled.

This is, and rightfully so, a hard, subject for him, for me, for all of us. But it can’t be avoided.

“Hey kiddo. I want you to remember. In life, you might feel some really crappy, heavy, feelings and feel like they will never go away, that they are permanent, and that you will always feel miserable. You are young so you won’t have experienced yet that these crappy and depressing feelings will go away, they will pass. I promise. You won’t have experienced yet that you can get through the hard times. But you can. I promise you. And you know you never, ever have to be alone with your feelings. I am always here for you. And remember, I love you. You make my life better!”

“I know, mom, thanks.” And off he went to sit with our dog Hope, for some love and comfort. And off I went to try and focus on dinner when really I just wanted to cry.

I have had days where I have said to my therapist, “I just can’t anymore. The pain is too much. This is too hard. When is it going to end? I need it to end.”

The sad part is – even though I love my therapist and I trust her implicitly – I always cushion those statements (the few times I have said them) with “I am not going to do anything, I am in just so much deep pain and I don’t know how to explain it in other words.” Lest my therapist think I am *gasp* actually in that, THAT much pain.

No, I can’t have her think that. I can only have her think I am in a mediocre amount of pain. Oh, how I wish we were more free to fully share the depths of our feelings without fear of judgement. I know my therapist won’t judge me; she is the best.

But the world, my inner world? It has, and for this, I hold back. I keep my dark, ugly feelings to myself. The thoughts no one wants to hear but that I am certain everyone also has.

Except one thought – and that one I shared loud and clear – that I yell at my kids. It worked out okay sharing that dark truth. It felt great knowing I wasn’t the only one; it brought such comfort, such relief.

So, I share this today – hesitant as can be – because I know there is at least 1 person who follows this page who needs to read this and who needs to know, You aren’t alone. I see you. I feel your pain all too well. I know you are hurting. I know you are wondering if you are loved. I know you are feeling tossed aside and that you don’t matter; that you aren’t good enough and never will be. I know that you are feeling that nothing is getting better, just worse, so what’s the point.

The point is your children. They need you. They really do. Anytime you hear, “Mama? Mom? Mommy?” It really means, I need you. It really means, where are you – I need your comfort, I need the support only you can provide. It really means, are you there because I need you here because you make me feel safe in this world. And your kids do love you, even though they show it sometimes in the oddest of ways. Your friends love you and need you.

Your family – whoever you may call family – needs you. Things will get better, they just haven’t, yet, but they will. I am living proof that they will. You are more than good enough – the fact that you follow this page, that you are interested in learning about how to yell less shows me that you are interested in self-growth and being the best you can be which tells me you are a great parent. If you doubt yourself as a mom, remind yourself that the mere fact that you ask yourself that means that you are kicking butt at parenthood.

We work hard and try to improve at what we care about – at what we love. Loving our kids and wanting the best for them is the core of being a good mom. That is you. You care enough to self-reflect and make sure you are doing your best. That means you are present and working hard – keep it up.

And remember… Life can be painful. Pain can seem like it will never, ever get better. Days can seem like they refuse to end. Months can seem to be filled with constant bad news, always something new to overcome. But it all passes. It might go a heck of a lot slower than desired. It might be painful as heck and hard as heck and undesirable as heck to go through – but one can get through it all. You will be exhausted as all get out – from motivating yourself daily, hourly even, to find perspective, to find the good, to find the positive thoughts, and to find the strength to not lose hope – but you will sleep and then live to make it through another day that will hopefully, and eventually be better than the day before.

I got through a lot of crap with the help of not one, but two therapists. You read that right. Oh, and my friend, Wellbutrin, an antidepressant. No shame. No shame at all. I have four kiddos who I love fiercely and who need me at the best I can be. And despite all the pain and yuck in the world, there is also beauty and I want to be able to get out and fully experience it without being held back by darkness.

Again, life can be painful. Life can be hard. Life can be overwhelming. But you can get through it. I know you can. Repeat. I know you can. I hope you have a friend you can reach out to today to say, “I’m hurting. Like really hurting and I need to talk. I need to tell you my truths.”

If you are hesitant to share, I want you to remember,

  1. In all likelihood, you sharing your truth is actually a gift to the person you share with because they too have probably felt the same and will feel a bit less alone as a result. They will feel a sense of relief.
  2. If they judge you – you have given yourself a gift of knowing who to remove from your life. Painful gift, but a long-term one that will keep giving. And if they judge you see #1. Likelihood is they aren’t ready to fully admit to their own feelings and their response has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. They perhaps envy your strength and courage and they didn’t know what to do with it, except judge.
  3. If you are worried you will be judged because you have been by others in the past, it is still worth the risk. Sharing your feelings instead of carrying them as a burden will be a start in moving forward.

And if you truly know that there is no one that you can trust with your darkest feelings – your true, real feelings that are ever so valid – please text or call 988. You are so very, very needed. You are so very, very loved. And you can – and will – get through whatever darkness you are experiencing.

With so much love to all who are hurting and doubting, I just can’t say it enough – you are loved and we need you here, in this life. And to all who aren’t hurting today, smile at someone who isn’t; you might just make their day. Compliment someone; you might just help them see their strengths. And know that if and when you are hurting, I will see you then too. * AND if you have time, please read the comments.

I do not want to miss anyone being brave enough to share their truths. Please take a moment to share love and encouragement.

 xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino