Wonderful New Year’s Eve!

A Brand New Year Is Almost Here!

I have nothing to do today (except probably 3 loads of laundry . . . ) other than enjoy the fact that 2017 is coming to a close.

We’ve had a lot going on all year long, some phenomenal, other stuff not so much. I think I am excited about 2018 because it represents a brand new life’s course. New roads, new experiences, new everything. The past is buried safely on the back side of BEFORE THIS and we are far enough into AFTER THIS to face forward without any threat of old ghosts. I can “look back” on it and see it’s farther away, farther than it’s ever been and nothing I give much thought to these days. 

For those unaware, I am referring to my former husband’s suicide.

While on the surface it may sound insensitive when I write I don’t think much about it or him anymore, it’s been 3 + years. His opting out was prescription drug related and who knows if it could’ve been intercepted in time or if he was already that far off the rails but his doing so upended our lives in the absolute worst of ways and I’m still wholly pissed about the whole ordeal. It never should’ve happened. As for “forgiveness” – there’s nothing to forgive. I’m not angry at him either way. I feel it was a tragic story but I am pissed about our lives being upended and the crap that resulted from that one single act. It wasn’t anything he did or was responsible for.

It seemed he was some sort of buffer between our lives and an avalanche of utter bullshit I never knew was waiting on the other side like a dam ready to burst. Then it did and the torrential flood of bullshit was non stop until March 2017 when we finally got out of the way to solid ground.

All of it is over now. It’s finally over. We’re clear of it, though a couple of minor areas are not as fortified as they could be. If they spring a leak, though, it won’t be anything that pulls us back into the nightmare of “Surviving Suicide.” And let me tell you, it’s a goddamned nightmare. I am at a place now where I don’t even want to put “widowed” on a form because inevitably I have to explain something and I am so sick to death of telling the story over and over. I don’t want this to be my story.

I don’t want to be “The Widow.”

Neither does anyone else, so here’s an end of the year PSA for anyone who thinks clocking out is a reasonable solution. It’s fucking not. 

Any of you contemplating doing it – get some help. Unless your goal is to exact utter revenge on people and get the last laugh, just get some help already. The ones in your wake are going to suffer far worse than you and not everyone has the luxury of suicide to escape dealing with bullshit in life. It might be a solution for you but you will also leave a legacy in which your relatives will end up fighting and turning on one another in ways you can’t comprehend (especially if you leave money on the table).

You’ll be the big news for approximately 3 days to two weeks and then people will put it down and get on with it.  People will make up shit about your life and your death when you can’t do anything about it. They will pick through your stuff to keep mementos (but really, it’s just cool stuff they want. It’s not really about you). You’ll be surprised how quickly some people you thought you were close to are more relieved than not and are quick to unload your shit and be done with it.

Then there will be those who refuse to accept the official explanation and their final memory of you will be that you’re a weak, spineless coward – when all you had to do was just tell someone. Even a stranger. The kindness of strangers is sometimes more of a life saver than turning to a relative who’s used to shitting on you anyway. 

And if you leave children behind who are old enough to think for themselves, all they’re going to see is you fucking left them. You abandoned them. You decided being dead was more appealing than being a parent. They will not just cry and move on. They will hate you for it and there won’t be any forgiveness for a long, long time. To leave that scar for your children is unconscionable.

Those scars are real so again, unless that’s your end game to disrupt lives, just find another way to deal with it. We’re all dealing with shit. So can you.


That is the first and last time I will ever address that or tell that story, even though I didn’t actually detail the story.

That’s because I’m on the other side of AFTER THIS where it’s no longer part of our here and now.

I’m excited about the future. Making plans. Creating and customizing my new 2018 Life planner (it’s addictive as all get out). I’ve got a dozen ventures I need to focus on or weed down to one or two. I’ve got a head full of ideas and sites to get launched and lots of things to get handled so that 2018 is the first year that belongs to us. My son and me. This is our year. Ghosts are rid, haunting’s wrapped, and the world lies ahead. 

It’s the first year in a long, long while that I am at peace again, content with where we are, falling asleep imagining fun things instead of curled into a ball of stress. 

I am finally happy again.

There is so much I want to do.

Except for maybe laundry. 

See ya next year!

La Bella Vita * Nessun Rimpianto The Beautiful Life * No Regrets Mom, activist, gamer, binge watcher, writer, designer, Armchair Sleuth, militant atheist. I've got a Voice and I'm not afraid to use it.