I'm learning. 

Every day I'm learning. 

For instance, today I'm learning how to blog. Thanks to a very talented friend and encouragements from many others, I have decided to give it a go. I thought I'd share some of the things I'm learning as I live through my challenges. We all have them, right? Maybe sharing will bring us closer. However, before we get started on this new adventure, there are some things you should know about me.

• I am NOT a writer. I am a talker. I much prefer it if we could sit down and talk, one on one, each sharing the ideas and thoughts of our hearts. I would like for us to share the stories of our lives. I operate much better in those circumstances where we can ask questions of each other to understand one another better. Writing is so one-sided. So I hope you'll forgive my lack of proper writing skills or training. What you read is the real me. I'll just do the best I can and you do the best you can. OK? OK. 

• I am NOT perfect. (HA! As if!) I'm just doing the best I can, just like you. That's why this blog is called "I'm Learning" and not "I Learned". We are on this journey together. I'm learning new stuff every day. Just like you. 

• I pretty much tell it like it is. I'm open about my life and my experiences. This makes some people uncomfortable. I hope you can work through that.

• I do care what you think. If you leave a comment, I WILL read it. If it is positive or supportive, I will like it. If it is honest feedback, I will learn from it. If it is mean and hateful, I will delete it. I don't have any time for that. 

So ... here we go.

Today, I'm learning to live through my son's 14th birthday without him. On October 15, 2012, my son, Ethan, died from suicide. He was 12. 

I'm learning that it was a chemical imbalance (or the lack of certain chemicals) in his body that caused his death. Now some of you may think that I am suffering from denial and have not been able to face the fact that he made a choice. But what you don't understand about me yet is that I have lived through chemical imbalance. Not like Ethan's. Not that severe. I have never thought about how to hurt myself. But I have lived in that dark space of depression where I just wanted to disappear. I can still remember thinking, "If I just pull the sheet over my head, will I disappear from view? Will they notice I'm gone? Will they care?"

When my kids were younger, we used to play hide and seek in our house with the lights off. The "seeker" was allowed a flashlight (because we're all scared of the dark when it comes down to it, right?) but everyone else had to wait in the dark. My husband was working with a young seeker. I was in a depressive episode, but agreed to play anyway. I hid upstairs in the corner of my closet. Literally in. the. corner. Under the hanging clothes. Curled up in a ball. Wanting to disappear. And guess what? I did! They came into my closet and looked around, but they didn't see me. I'm not sure what hurt worse: the emptiness inside my chest from the depression, or the emptiness inside my closet as my husband and child walked out without me. 

I've never told anyone about that. Including my husband.

The point is the chemicals in our body are there for a reason. Even I, as an adult, couldn't control my emotions. My feelings overwhelmed me, so much so I didn't want to participate in every day life activities. If someone is missing the chemical that regulates moods, then what is there to help control the intense emotions we experience, especially during puberty? Would any of us ever want to live through middle school again?! It was bad enough getting through those raging hormones with reasoning ability. What if that reasoning ability was no longer there? I'm learning that that is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Ethan's experience and many others who suffer from mental illness. (More on what I'm learning about mental illness in another post.)

So what I'm learning about living through Ethan's birthday without him is to spend it being grateful for his birth. That's what birthdays are for, right? And I am grateful for his birth (even if he was my only baby born without an epidural!). I'm so grateful that I was able to know him for 12 wonderful years. I'm grateful for his "I LOVE you, mom!" multiple times a day and his backbreaking hugs. I'm grateful for him jumping out from behind the door to scare me (even if it did make me pee in my pants a little bit). I'm grateful for his giggles. And his dimple. And his jokes. And his "I like pie!" I'm grateful for his calls down the hallway for just one more hug or one more "I love you" after I had already tucked him in to bed at night.

I'm learning to spend the day with people that I love. I spent the morning supporting my daughter through a tough experience. I spent the afternoon with my husband talking. (Who would have thought it possible to have an uninterrupted conversation? All we had to do was get in the car, lock the doors, and drive around for 2 hours!) I spent the evening having dinner with my kids at home, then taking a blanket to the cemetery so we could all sit down and have a piece of pie with Ethan. (Because we all know Ethan likes pie!)

Yup. I'm learning that those 2 things have helped me get through my son's 14th birthday without him. 

Gratitude and people I love. 

I'm learning.