Making Lemonade Out of This Shit ….. The Benny Fund

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MAKING LEMONADE OUT OF THIS SHIT – GRANDMA JILL

Posted in  Paperblog.

The following was written and posted on the internet by The Benny Fund and I subsequently  found it on PAPERBLOG and  decided to post this as it was heartwarming to find it on the internet. Thank you so much Benny Fund for your support as well as for the email you sent me after reading my book. Here is a part of it :-

RE: David’s Story by Jill Sadowsky.

Grandma Jill,

Thank you to my kind (virtual) friend and inspiration, Grandma Jill. I started to read Jill’s blog during the depths of depression. She blogs about mental illness, and her entries on schizophrenia started to resonate with me when I had concerns about my brother. After his suicide this last August,(2014) I reached out to Jill as a resource. She has been an endless source of inspiration and knowledge. David’s Story is a remarkable, yet heartbreaking tribute to her late son. She details her family‘s journey as well as her frustrations  with the mental health system and in this, she is not alone. She tragically lost her son to suicide as we lost my brother. I read most of her book ‘David’s Story’ within days, but I delayed reading the last few chapters for months. I could not bring myself about to deal with the reality of suicide given the rawness of my feelings so did not have the courage to finish Jill’s book. I spent the last hour sobbing uncontrollably. Her book hit at my core. Jill’s persistence was and remains enviable. Her courage is admirable. Her compassion, incomparable. If you have the chance, please read David’s Story which is on SMASHWORDS OR THE AMAZON KINDLE STORE.

‘A person diagnosed with a mental illness, as well as his/her family, is usually the very last one to speak out about it due to the stigma. Mental illness is far more common than diabetes, heart disease or cancer yet is far less spoken about.  It is NOT a character flaw. It doesn’t help to tell someone to get over it. But it helps to show compassion as they are struggling. Find ways to give support. Maybe it’s time to deal with it openly with the emphasis on kindness and acceptance.’

An excerpt from Jill Sadowsky’s book.

 

They slipped flyers of tombstones into our mailbox … ?

             Not long after our son died, our mailbox filled with flyers advertising tombstones. We were expected to shop around. Would you like a rough or a smooth stone? Must it be thick or thin – marble maybe? We were also bombarded with telephone calls asking how much we wanted to spend on our beloved son’s tombstone. One tombstone representative was so argumentative, that I doubt whether he would ever eat food that agreed with him. Another man asked whether we wanted space on the side of the grave for plants or for a memorial candle. Not one of them expressed any kind of empathy or understanding about what we were going through.

Much later, we chose plain, rough marble, as plain as our son’s lifestyle had been.

 

He’s at rest in God’s hands, but ………………

 While attending a dear friend’s funeral, it  triggered memories of the grief I’d felt when our son died; after he ended his life. I remembered some of the things that well-meaning friends and relatives had said to me. One stood out more than the others. It occurred when he cupped my face with both hands and said; ‘He’s at rest in God’s hands.’ My reply? ‘But, it was in God’s hands that I watched him suffer.’ I’d sought out God when in desperate need, only to find his door slammed shut in my face. I’d bargained with him, believing that if I obeyed the rules, he’d protect me, but life does not work that way.

Here are some comments and questions we heard during the days after we’d buried our son.

‘You really should have consulted with a herbalist, you know.’

‘You were supposed to watch over him 24 hours a day.’ What happened? Who was supposed to be watching over him that day?’

‘Why didn’t you change his medication?’

‘Why didn’t you make an appointment to see another psychiatrist?’

‘You could have tried something else, couldn’t  you?

‘Were you and your husband very strict when your children were young?’

What I needed most was to cry. I needed to cry until I had no more tears to shed but was unable to do so. Maybe because I had cried so much over the years. Then, a group of my son’s friends from the Mental Health Society came to visit and told us that they’d held their own private memorial service. This touched me in the deepest crevices of my soul and finally, I managed to release the well of tears I didn’t even know I had left in me to shed – tears that started and would not stop flowing.

Not long after that, a grief therapist brought by a well-meaning acquaintance rang our front door bell. According to him, I had good memories to comfort me and I could look forward to the future with hope. What I was feeling at that moment, was the raw grief of a shocking tragedy and his response sounded like psycho-babble. He insisted that we needed his help and that was when my gentle husband walked him firmly out of the front door, assuring him that we would manage without him … thank you.

 

What to say to someone who is grieving

What I would say to someone who has lost a child?

I’m so sorry. I don’t really know what to say, but I want you to know that I feel deeply for you and your family and I only wish I could do more. I will be thinking of you. It must be impossible to absorb the tragedy of losing a child this way.

Very few people spoke to me this way when my son took his life, and those who did, probably had no idea how good it made me feel to hear their honest and meaningful words. It was so good because they did not ignore all reference to my child. They opened the conversation for me to talk about him at my own pace which helped a great deal. Nothing that anybody said could alleviate my pain but there were things that eased my heartache somewhat.

Being in the company of others who have experienced the same pain and loss, really made a difference. My family stayed home for the seven days of mourning which is a Jewish custom when dealing with mourning and grief after a funeral but, when that week came to an end, I had to reacquaint myself with the world of the living – with ‘NORMAL LIFE’ … whatever normal life was, and that was a frightening prospect. I had to figure out how to live with a huge hole in my heart. I wasn’t really ready for that. I still had more grief to process. I was afraid to attempt normal living in my damaged condition. I needed more time, so this is what I did.

I donned a pair of sturdy rubber gloves and started spring cleaning, moved heavy furniture and waged chemical warfare against any living creature that dared enter our home. In short, I scrubbed my life down to its bones. I needed the physical workout, but even that was insufficient, so I went out into our large garden and dug and weeded till exhaustion left me unable to think straight.

Much later, when I collected the mail, I found flyers advertising tombstones – singles or doubles, black or white, decorative or plain. A friend who dropped in to see how I was, advised me to dump them in the garbage bin, saying: When you are ready to deal with tombstones, you will choose one, but now is not the time. How right she was.

That same friend took me food shopping and from time to time, persuaded me to visit a mutual friend but, we always found more than one guest present. What I needed to hear was; Meet my friend, Jill who lost her son recently, which would have freed me from replying to the dreaded question; How many children do you have?

That question preoccupied me as well as my late husband, as most people tend to ask that question at some stage. My heart raced when I sensed it was on the agenda and I wondered what I would say/could say. ‘ I lost a son but have two daughters, OR I have two daughters.’ But that felt as  though I were deleting my son’s existence. We never managed to resolve that issue.

 

                                                                                                                

Face grief with a smile

It’s difficult at times, to face grief with a smile.

It’s hard to make myself believe it will pass in a while.

And when the pain is sharpest, words do not avail.

When tears fall hot and heavy, the best intentions fail.

And yet, however heavy, the burdens that I bear.

When no one else will listen, my girls will always hear.

When no one else has spare time, they will lend a hand.

Although some may forget me, my daughters understand.

 

From SANE Australia … suicide prevention

The clip below was produced by SANE, Australia, and is one of the most sensitively portrayed videos I have yet seen. It sends a message of hope to a person who is in such a deep depression that he/she is contemplating putting an end to his/her life.  Their message is:-

S T O P. There is help out there.

http://www.sane.org/projects/suicide-prevention

 

 

The first in a series on a pretty taboo topic ….

Suicide is a pretty taboo subject. As if managing the stigma of mental illness isn’t sufficiently difficult, suicide carries its own emotive responses; everything from embarrassment, humiliation, shame and denial, to stone-walling and ignorance. I am one of the many people seeking to change the public perception of what it is to live with and face the aftermath of the suicide of a loved one in a family … our son.

If a person wants to end his/her life, there are usually warning signs. The loss of a parent or another loved one can have a shocking effect on an individual who has an emotional problem; the loss of prestige at work or at school can have a negative effect. That same person could have been a victim of domestic violence, bullying at school or even via one or another of the popular social media.

If a friend starts talking or writing about suicide;  if there is a sudden change in that person’s behavior, it can be a warning sign. If a good student’s grades drop or if he/she stops smiling or ends his/her relatioship with a good friend suddenly and without apparent cause, becomes tearful for no apparent reason, or stops participating in his/her usual activities, beware. If your friend talks about the piles of pills he/she has collected, beware and enlist help.

Students should turn to an adult for guidance. It is advisable not to hesitate as you might be able to save a precious life.

What my life is made up of ….

 

---

I seemed to spend my time dodging from work to family and to friends, as well as endeavoring to keep my health intact. If I missed a day’s work, I knew that I could make up that lost time. But, family and friends are made of glass and if I dropped one of them, our relationship would be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, marked or even shattered. It could never be the same again. Health? I knew I had to live at a slower pace, but could I? I am not sure.

So, what I’d been doing was striving for balance in my life. But, how could I achieve that? I tried not to compare myself to others because I thought it was the very difference in each of us that made us special.

I learned not to set my goals by what other people deemed important. After all, I was the only person who knew what was best for me.

I learned not to take anything for granted, especially appertaining to near and dear ones. I handled them with kid gloves as my life would be meaningless without them all.

I had learned how destructive it was to live in the past or in the future. By living life one day at a time, I hoped to enjoy all the days of my life.

Knowledge is weightless, a treasure that I could carry easily, so I was no longer afraid to learn.

While I still had something to give, I wasn’t about to give up. Nothing was really over until the moment I stopped trying.

For a very long time, I shut love out of my life, not wanting to expose myself to hurt again. Now, I no longer do so. Once again I have learned a lot along the way. The quickest way to receive love, it to give it; the fastest way to lose love is to hold onto it too tightly;  and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.

I very often admit how less than perfect I am and maybe it is this fragile thread that binds people together.

I’m trying not to run too fast lest I forget not only where I’ve been, but where I’m going.

I am no longer afraid to take risks. By taking chances, I’ve learnt how to be brave.

I’ll always be aware of the fact that a person’s greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.

I now endeavor to use time and words more carefully as neither can be retrieved. Life is not a race, rather, a journey to be savored each step of the way. But, I still have a lot to learn, and one day at a time, I hope to enjoy all the days of my life.

Knowledge is weightless, a treasure that I can easily carry, so I’m no longer afraid to learn.

While I still have something to give, I won’t give up. Nothing is really over until the moment I stop trying.

I very often admit how less than perfect I am. It is this fragile thread that binds people together.

I’m trying not to run so fast that I might forget not only where I’ve been, but where I’m going.

I am no longer afraid to encounter risks. By taking chances, I’ve learnt how to be brave.

I’ll always be aware of the fact that a person’s greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.

I now endeavor to use time and words carefully as neither can be retrieved. Life is not a race, rather, a journey to be savored each step of the way.

 

‘Making Lemonade Out of This Shit’ Grandma Jill

I decided to post this as it was heartwarming to find it on the Internet.

Grandma Jill,

MAKING LEMONADE OUT OF THIS SHIT

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January 28, 2014 Mental Health

Grandma Jill

HNdavid’s story, depression, Jill Sadowsky, making lemonade, mental illness, Schizophrenia, the benny fund

Thank you to my kind (virtual) friend and inspiration, Grandma Jill.  I started to read Jill’s blog during the depths of depression.  She blogs about mental illness, and her entries on schizophrenia started to resonate with me when I started having concerns about my brother.  After his suicide this past August, I reached out to Jill as a resource.  She has been an endless source of inspiration and knowledge.  “David’s Story” is a remarkable, yet heartbreaking, tribute to her late-son David.  She details her family’s journey as well as her frustrations — although she is not alone — with the mental health system.   She tragically lost her son to suicide just as we lost my brother last August.  I read most of  ‘David’s Story’ within days, but I must admit that I delayed reading the last few chapters for months.  I couldn’t bring myself to deal with the reality of suicide given the rawness of my brother’s death.  As I came close to the end of a train ride, I finally mustered up the courage to finish Jill’s book.  I spent the last hour sobbing — uncontrollably.  Her book hit at my core.  Jill’s persistence was and remains enviable.  Her courage is admirable.  Her compassion is incomparable.   If you have a chance, please read “David’s Story.”

“A person diagnosed with a mental illness is usually the very last one to speak out about it due to the stigma. Mental illness is far more common than diabetes, heart disease or cancer. It is NOT a character flaw. It doesn’t help to tell someone: get over it. But it does help to show compassion as they are struggling. Try and find ways to give support. Maybe it’s time to deal with it openly with the emphasis on kindness and acceptance.” — Jill Sadowsky.

Visit her blog (https://jillsmentalhealthresources.wordpress.com) or read “David’s Story.”

Reviews on “David’s Story

“Jill Sadowsky bravely and generously shares her experiences with her son’s schizophrenia. While her story is harrowing, her strength is inspiring. She has led the way to removing the stigma associated with mental illness. Despite the heart-ache I felt, I could not put it down. Well written and without a whisper of self-pity.”

“My sincerest thank you for sharing your family’s story with us. Your book is a wonderful tribute to your late son, David. By having the courage to share this story, you ensure that the dialogue around mental illness will continue, which ultimately will lead to greater understanding and compassion. After reading through your blog, I purchased David’s Story trying to find some solace. Less than five months ago, my 24-year-old brother, Ben, died by suicide. Although he was never officially diagnosed, there were many similarities between Ben and David. I shared the book with my family with the hope that they too would find some solace. It has helped us all with the healing process and has made us feel a little less alone on this journey. Thank you again for your courage. You are a remarkable and strong woman.” My deepest gratitude, Holly Neiweem (http://bennyfund.org)

“Sadowsky has written a wrenching memoir of her son’s mental illness, which was eventually diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenia. The book is not as dark as I expected; there are many moments of joy and humor and family togetherness. But Sadowsky’s fear and worry for her son come through, as well as at times fear of him, what he might do in the grip of a delusion. I appreciate her honesty and openness. Through all the fear and anger and frustration, what is most apparent is the love, not just for this difficult and damaged boy, but between all members of the family.”

“I didn’t know what to say or do — How many of us have been caught up in a guilt-ridden conscience battle when considering contacting people whom we know are dealing with specific problems. Somehow it is easy when there is a physical situation that can be referred to in terms that we all know and understand. BUT it is the OTHER situations that cause us the most difficult of decision making. But beyond the decision there is the feeling of “not knowing what to say or do.” Many life situations have rituals that give us security to deal with a specific event – religious traditions are most helpful and are guidelines as to what is expected and we can lean on these rules to guide and give confidence as to what is to be done. But then there are the matters as “mental health” that is not so clear-cut or so obvious and do not have the ground rules to follow. We are lost, we feel guilty that we do not know what should be said or even if something should be done.  That is why “David’s Story” is going to be a bible to many who have watched from the sidelines not knowing if they should or how to get involved. So many social taboos are associated with mental illness that no guidelines are there or modes of behavior or social etiquettes to deal with these situations. There are many such cases where society has not given us the tools to cope, not only as the actual participants directly affected but also those of us who are on the periphery and who would want to help but are at a loss as to what is expected or what will not be offensive.  At last an open book, a true exposure by those most affected, is going to offer key codes of reaction that will be treasured guides to those many, many people who just were at a loss as to what they could do.
Jill Sadowsky not only has opened her heart and soul to relate such painful aspects of her life but she has opened the world of mental health to the better understanding by all of us, giving us vital information that can guide so many, to be able to reach to those in need of support – hopefully we shall know what is needed.  From a friend who was lost – I thank her for her courage to help us know better what to do whenever it is necessary.”

 

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‘Grandma, what happened to Papa’s brain?’

I had a problem explaining Alzheimer’s disease to our young grandchildren. After agonizing about how to go about this, I sat them down, and came up with the following:

Your papa has an illness called Alzheimer’s disease that makes him act the way he does. It’s like having a broken bone, but with Papa, a little piece of his brain is broken and doesn’t work the way it should. Because of this, he can’t remember what you told him yesterday. Because of this, he forgets how to use the television remote. Because of this, he falls asleep sometimes when you are telling him something important. Because of this, he forgets things as well as people’s names. BUT, the part of papa’s brain that is for loving, is still working well, and I know that he loves you all very much.

I have reblogged this as I received so many requests to do so. Whenever I read it, I get tears in my eyes when I remember the looks on the children’s faces during the above explanation.