Aug 312012
 

Monkees, I’m okay.

I know things are a little heavy around here. I think sometimes we gotta let it get heavy before we can lighten up. We have to look things in the eye before they’ll back down. Grief and sadness are like that.

I know that there are lots of you who relate to the way I wrote yesterday, and lots who don’t. And that’s okay. I hope I don’t scare you too much when I get like that. That voice. It’s a little scary in its desperation and drama, I know. Maggie’s letter about losing her Sister, well, it did me in for a good twenty-four hours. It took me back and up and inside out and upside down and I cried hours worth of holy, cleansing, thank you-jesus tears. Release. I cried for Maggie and her big Sister Emily (Maggie has a lobster left on this side!) and for myself and for my Sister and my parents and for Katie and for me. When I hear those stories, I can’t help but feel: we lost another one of us. It takes me down. But I’m coming up for air now. I know many of you really want me to lighten up. Thanks for not saying it. Thank you for letting me be me. My whole life I’ve felt like maybe I’m just TOO MUCH. All my feeling and thoughts and sadness and ecstasy. Thank you for helping me let go of that. I can be my too much self and still be loved. Craig taught me that first, and you’ve confirmed it.

Listen. Maggie’s coming to visit me in Naples. We are going to spend two days together, sitting in beach chairs, looking at the ocean, talking about Aunt KK or not, healing together. Maggie will be my first visitor in Naples. Strange, right? Strange and so, so perfect and awesome. Maggie and I both feel like Katie MUST have a hand in this.

Yesterday while we were planning, Maggie said, “I can’t believe you’re having me visit. How do you know I’m not crazy?”

And I said, “Well for God’s sake, I hope you’re a little crazy or this visit is going to be a total BUST.”

I love Maggie already. And I’m so grateful that she still has a lobster on this side. I plan to become her crawfish.

I’m here to tell you. The Love Revolution is REAL. Life is short, as Aunt KK’s family’s learned the brutally hard way. It’s time to take some chances with each other and LOVE BIG and OPEN WIDE and expect miracles.

I invited Maggie to write about her Katie, and she did. Monkees- meet Maggie and Aunt KK.

 

 

Dear Glennon,

Hello friend. I know in your post you told me to write to you about Katie, my sister, my lobster, and you would share it with your readers. Honestly, at first I thought-no way! There is no way I could share these thoughts, these words the way that you do daily, but I have been so touched not only by your post but by all of the comments that continue to pour in from readers. I am amazed at the stories people have shared about their own struggles with addiction, or losing a loved one, or not having a lobster to lean on, and I have been uplifted by their stories. I could not let all of those words linger without a response to you. So here is our story, for only you, or for everyone- either way, I will have shared it and I can only pray that it helps you, or helps someone else. Like I have said before, I don’t open up to many, if anyone, but you have bared your soul to me and to so many, and I feel that there has to be healing in sharing my thoughts, my feelings, our story.

 

Over the last 3 months, for the first time, in my ENTIRE life, I have walked this earth and lived this life without my Sister, my lobster, Katie in it. As the youngest of 3 girls, I have never been without a friend in this world. But our trio is down one, and we are finding it so difficult to march on without her. She was our spirit. She was loud and funny and commanded all of the energy in the room. She taught me how to laugh and how to make other people laugh. She was, without a doubt, the funniest person I know. I can still hear her laughter now- I pray that I won’t forget that sound. She was a shining light- until she wasn’t.

 

You spoke of feeling things more intensely, and that is exactly it. When she loved, it was all encompassing. She loved her friends immensly, and I thought they were the absolute coolest. I was every bit the annoying little sister that followed her around and hung on every word she said. I bawled when she went away to college. When she was gone, it felt like a piece of me was gone too. But she wrote me letters and my parents took us to visit her, and I wanted to be just like her. Beautiful, funny, smart- the person that everyone wanted to be around. As a teenager, she was obsessed with U2. I remember when she found out Bono got married, she locked herself in her room for days. She was so in love with him that she put a poster of him on the ceiling above her bed so that he was the first and last thing she saw EVERY day! (puke). But it was her love and it was intense.  And she loved her family. Our parents, her sisters, her brother-in laws, and my boys- her nephews. We talk about Aunt KK everyday. And my everyday prayer is that they will have some memory of her, some place in their heart that knows her spirit and how much she loved them. 

 

My words will not do her justice, just like now they cannot. But much the way Katie loved fiercely, she hurt with an intensity that I thought I would never understand. Until now. Now I think I have an idea- isn’t that a shame? Now I get it but she is already gone. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t get over the struggles she faced. So our parent’s got a divorce, so she lost her job, so she got a divorce- bad things happen to good people all of the time right?? But she felt it all to her deepest core,  just like she loved us all in the deepest parts of her heart. She could not escape that pain. She could not get it out of her head or out of her heart.  Why was that HER struggle? Why did she have to live that way? I will never be able to reconcile why she was given that lot in life and not me. 

 

As much as she loved, she couldn’t comprehend how much she was loved and cherished by so many.  And so . . . a  prescription for pain medication turned into that escape she needed, and that escape turned into an addiction, and we lost her. It happened slowly and in all honesty, we had no idea how bad things had become.  And then on May 6th, after struggling with an addiction to prescription pain medication, at 37 years old, my beautiful big sister Katie died from what we believe was a drug overdose. We have done unbearable things in the past few months. We picked out her burial site. We wrote her obituary. We buried her. At 37. We said good bye. And cruelly, we now have to try and move on without her.

 

I have no doubt in my mind that she is happy and safe and at peace in heaven. I know that I will see her beautiful smile again. I know all of this in my head, but my heart is broken. I feel broken. Selfishly I want her here with me, even though when she was here I was so frustrated with her.  I am so blessed with a wonderful family. My parents, my other Lobster Emily, my amazing husband and two sweet little boys. I am so lucky to have this life but I wonder if I will be able to pull myself out of this deep sadness. I don’t even recognize myself. There is physical pain in my chest, on my heart, that I have never experienced before and wonder if it will ever go away. Was this what life felt like for her?? I cannot bear that thought. And now I miss her so much it hurts.  How can I be so sad that she did not have this life I have but feel so mad that I have to keep living it, without her, and with this grief? I want to tell her how sorry I am. I want to be there for her in a way that I never was. I want to go to her house and scream and stomp my feet and lock the door and make her better. I want to talk to her just ONE more time.

 

 Even after three months, each day Emily and I say to each other, “I can’t believe this is real, I can’t believe she is gone”. I am repeating your words in my head, Live your life. Lay hers down. Live your life. Lay hers down. MY life has always had her in it. But this is our new normal. I am so grateful for the insight you have given to me and so many. I feel like I know Katie even better now. She spoke to us through you and now I understand. So I will say to you what I wish I could say to her one more time.I am here for you. Always. And I love you so much.

 

Thank you, again, for listening. You have given me an opportunity to release my thoughts and my pain and I am forever grateful.

 

Maggie



Carry On, Warrior
Author of the New York Times Bestselling Memoir CARRY ON, WARRIOR
Join the Momastery community on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram & Pinterest


  150 Responses to “This is the Day, Always”

  1. I too have always felt “too much.” For years my days felt like a roller coaster, the smallest thing could send me plummeting…I never turned to substances to cope, instead I chose the maladaptive mechanisms of cutting and anorexia! I am honored to say that a skilled therapist, years of hard work, and my relationship to God and my church community brought me back to a place of living (rather than merely existing.)
    Several years ago my church did something that helped me a lot, and we are doing it again starting enxt week! It is called Soul Revolution. We call it a 60/60 experiment. During the experience last time I felt for the first time the inherent worth in me, despite all the mess. (I had always known that worth existed in others, just sort of thought that a differant set of rules applied to me.) I would like to invite anyone who is searching for meaning, belonging, understanding, and a foothold on their slipperly cliffside to join us! We are Gateway Community Church in Austin TX and we have an internet campus where people around the word join in for our service on Sundays. Check out the webpage and maybe the book Soul Revolution by John Burke. The Soul Revolution starts next Sunday the 9th (but there’s no harm in jumping in late too!)

    • We’re missing church because of sick kids this morning and I read your post at 10:59am, so when I opened the church website they were just about to start the 11am service…thanks for your comment!

  2. Dearest Maggie,

    I am the daughter of an alcoholic. My father’s alcoholism was so bad that after four attempts at rehab, he finally died. He drank his liver to death at the age of 27. I was 10 years old.
    I spent so much energy and time, even as a small girl, feeling responsible for him. I thought it was MY fault he drove drunk with me in the car; I should have stopped him. If I had been MORE he wouldn’t have needed to drink. But here’s the thing Maggie, here’s what I’ve learned in 25 years: It wasn’t my problem to solve. Did you catch that? It wasn’t for me to choose, or fix, or decide. HE had to do that, not me. And he didn’t choose. He died.
    I truely think that God gave him every chance and every opportunity to change. He had every loved one you could imagine pulling for him, but it wasn’t our decision to make, it was his. When he repeatly made decisions that hurt me, I believe God intervened– to protect me. To protect me from further harm, I believe that God allowed me to grow up without a daddy. I can’t say that I’ve always seen it this way, but I do now. God was trying to protect me in the only way he could.
    Maggie, I am so sorry you lost your lobster. I know that you will always feel a certain incompletness in your soul and I am sorry, I am truely sorry, but Maggie, God’s looking out for you. He may not have solved the issues with your sister the way you prayed for, but she’s at peace now, and you can be too. No more frantic calls from your parents. No more worrying if it’s her– calling from jail. No more blaming. It is finished. But YOU are not.
    Many hugs to you!
    Christine

  3. Dear Maggie,

    Your letter is so beautiful, full of love. Thank you so much for sharing your story, Kaite’s story and showing so much love.

    With the help of Katie, Glennon and you, we have all had the glorious opportunity to grow deeper in our love for each other, deeper in our understanding of each of our struggles.

    I will keep you and your family in my prayers.

    I am thrilled for you and Glennon that you will be spending time together. All us monkees will be with you in spirit!

    xoxo,
    Shareen

  4. Maggie,

    What a beautiful letter you have written. I hear your pain and am praying God brings comfort to you, as I know He will. But I know it sucks, that there are sleepless nights that seem to never end, and that your whole body, at times, ache with the pain.

    But I can tell you this…you will make it through this. You will. My brother committed suicide two years ago and the suffering is so hard. So hard. But as time passes and the hurt of grief subsides, you will be able to breath without it hurting quite so bad.

    Saying a prayer for you.
    Jessica

  5. <3 <3 <3 glennon. maggie. emily. all those missing their lobsters. <3 <3 <3

  6. Maggie, I’m so sorry for your loss. Sending love and condolences to you and your family.

  7. Glennon,
    Your too much self is loved deeply. Sometimes what you say is hard to hear at first when it touches such a deep cord in me, but it ALWAYS makes me understand a little better and in turn love a little deeper. THANK YOU!

    Maggie,
    Thank you for your beautiful letter about Katie. May each day get a little easier for you and your whole family. I am so glad you are going to Naples for a few days of being good to yourself. I hope you can convince your other sister to go too.

  8. I woke up this morning feeling hope. That’s what putting a voice to the demons does. It takes away some of their power. This morning my children and I have each other and we have love and hope. And they are worth everything. Thank you all for allowing me to bare my soul in a very less than attractive [shameful if not for the love here] manner.

    Love to you all and love to Glennon and Maggie and Emily for sharing your grief and love and healing and pain, and for showing that it’s ok for those things not to be mutually exclusive. No black and white.

  9. Oh Maggie.

    My heart is breaking for you — with grief and sadness, but also with hope and faith and love. I believe you have, and will receive what you need. Just keep asking. Keep knocking, asking and seeking, and all will be given to you. A million and one words have winged up to Heaven on your behalf; and I believe that God is whispering them to your Katie, and they’re sharing a private and sacred Joy that can’t help but pour over into you.

    St Paul said Love never fails. Never ever ever, not even beyond death. It’s True. So much is on its way to ya.

  10. I posted about 5 comments last night-all on the previous post to this one. Oops! Only one of them actually belonged there.

    Anyway…you all have kept this song playing in my head for the last two days:
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfoQPcacb98&feature=youtube_gdata_player

  11. Here I go…..The other sister, Emily. First thank you all for the overwhelming heartfelt comments here. And second I am so proud of my little sissy Maggie, for opening up and sharing our Aunt KK. She would be so proud…..she always was, we always knew that. My heart is smiling because our Aunt KK was so so special and everyone who was blessed to meet her knew that. She had a way of making you feel so loved and important. Maggie was right, she was without a doubt, the funniest person you ever met! So to see her name here and all the love others can continue to give to her makes a little bit of this broken heart heal. That’s all I ever wanted for her….to feel love, to find peace to know her importance. She has that now….though we miss her to the core….our entire family knows she finally has that. So here I am….so proud of both my sisters! I know Katie will continue to touch others just as much as she did here on earth. I am happy you all get to know our Aunt KK.

    • So glad to hear your voice too Emily. All this love and healing is for you too. May you find moments of joy and see glimpses of Katie in the waves in Florida.

      Love,
      Shannon

    • Emily,

      My heart aches for you, Maggie, and your parents. As the mother of an addict, I understand how hard this disease is and live in fear that we will lose our beautiful son because of it. Glennon’s post after Maggie’s letter, while hard for me to read, made me understand him a little better and made me understand how important it is to show my unconditional love to him often. May God hold your family in his loving arms and make each day get a little easier to find joy.

    • much love, Emily

  12. Glennon, I am once again floored by your incredible heart and spirit and the amazing way you are able to put the hard things in life into beautiful, healing words. I read a LOT of blogs but there are none that move me the way yours does! What a wonderful, special community you have created.

    And Maggie, thank you so much for sharing Katie with all of us. Sending you the biggest, biggest hug!

  13. Beautiful, Maggie. Thank you for sharing. I am praying for you & your family. Glennon, bless you for sharing with Maggie & helping the healing for her & so many of us.

  14. There are so many thoughts and sentiments triggered by this post, Mostly, I don’t have any new words, just love and prayers for healing.

    And a thank you, not my first directed to Glennon, but to you too Maggie, for sharing and fueling important discussions.

    At 36 yrs old, i have only recently begun to understand that many of the things i hated about myself, that i am still hiding from, are not about me being a bad person, or this strange person that was just not capable of doing what the rest of the world seemingly does without so much drama, but at least partially results from result from me being sick. SICK. Not “bad,” not “a screw-up,” not “something I’ll outgrow,” or that I can “shake it off,” or “get under control. but sick.”

    Glennon said above: “My whole life I’ve felt like maybe I’m just TOO MUCH. All my feeling and thoughts and sadness and ecstasy. Thank you for helping me let go of that. I can be my too much self and still be loved. ”

    That is me. And i remember a guy once saying that about me to some of my girl friends – “She is just too much.” and it hurt to hear relayed, maybe because i really understood the depth of what that means. My heart knows no bounds in terms of happiness and joy, i can smile the widest, laugh the loudest, and have always been this way, so most of my life it never occurred to me to consider that i might be suffering from depression. But yet the depths of hurt – oh, oh, oh – they are so deep. And often seemingly triggered by very little things. LIfe really. I think Glennon has referenced the idea of being born without the protective shell that others have, and as a result, feeling everything way more intensely, both the bad and the good. And yes, do i understand that feeling, And so, if you do let yourself stop and feel, if you slow down, if you give yourself five minutes of quiet time of sober time, of time in which you are not multi-tasking 20 things, or squeezing a full day of quality mommy time into 3.5 hours after work, and you have to actually be quiet with your thoughts and FEEL SOMETHING UNCOMFORTABLE, what you would face would be just crushing. So many things to feel bad about. Little things, big things. Things that are my fault, things that i probably just imagine people hold against me. Everything. Guilty about everything. And it is JUST WAY TOO HARD to feel that stuff!

    But I am learning: we do hard things. So, we do. And maybe, hopefully soon, i will find a way to face the stuff i don’t want to be present to face. maybe. i hope? with some doctors helping. maybe some meds. certainly a lot of love. Or, even better, maybe i learn that if if can find a way to love myself as i am, and withhold love from myself until i get my act together (which i have been “trying” to do for, well, ever), like Glennon recently said to do, that would be a good step. If i can stop feeling guilty (Seriously, i know logically that failing to send thank you notes for gifts received after my son was born because i was battling horrible PPD shouldn’t warrant a barrage of viciousself-hate, every time the thought sneaks into my conscious space, as it does ALL THE TIME, yet, i hate), If i could just give myself a break, if i could stop hating myself, beating myself up, and start loving myself like i love others, maybe things will change.

    And, if i make it there, or even if i make it a little way there every day, then i get to thank you both for helping me get one step closer there.

    • Lizzie Kate; I had ppd massively and still struggle with depression. I can honestly say though after seven years of counselling that I love myself and now know all my triggers. It doesn’t stop life from bringing me down but I have help and hope from myself and others. A supportive therapist and many key books were part of the journey. At first it’s hard- learning about self… I never liked labels but once I learned that the labels were loving stepping stones to more self and embraced them as understanding tools I began to see myself and others like me;) even if you do not believe these specific labels I know that these books have helped so many women like us feel more understood. Reading may become your salvation in that regard. It did for me and about eleven other women I know of;
      The gifts of imperfection by Brene brown
      Too loud, too bright, too fast, too tight by Sharon
      The highly sensitive person by alaine
      Aspergirls by Rudy Simone
      Neurosiversity by Thomas Armstrong
      Wisdom Distilled From the Daily by Joan Chittister
      I hope you can read these books. They changed my life ( alOng with my therapist) saved my marriage because now my hubby understands me and adores me, aided my parenting because now I know all my triggers, how my brain works and how to give within my gifts and not feel too guilty about the rest!;)
      I also learned about fibro and chronic fatigue because I have those too but that is a different story. All my labels can get overwhelming and depressing too but they have also given me help- its a balance and a process. I hope you find the love within self first and then others comments will still hurt but it won’t burn like before. I got told the same thing by a guy…

    • LizzieKate, I send you buckets of love, sweetie.

    • “A journey of a thousand mile begins with a single step” Lao Tsu (I think)

      I hope you can feel how much you are not alone here. How many of us are speaking the same words, the same feelings of being too much… if nothing else, it is comforting to know that there is in fact (as described in the book “The Highly Sensitive Person”) a small segment of the human (and animal – which is interesting) population that is wired to be this way. We are wired to be on high alert, on high awareness, on hyper arousal and though I’m not sure why, nature (or God if you wish) must have made us this way for a reason. We are often the canaries in the cave… sensing danger before anyone else, feeling the hurts of the world and crying out…. if not us, then who? Thanks for sharing yourself here.

      • Yes, Shannon is so wise. Lizzie- I hope you don’t mind but I added a segment of your comment to my revised post. You put it so well and it is all I have dealt with. I have may quiet readers and I want them to see that they are valued and that there are others like them. I hope you do not mind. I added a part about disdain and this is where I plugged in your beautiful heartfelt words. There is hope, dear soul sister, those like us are starting to get understanding, helpful labels, and advocates…hope:)

      • Your words and the help they give me resonate, thank you. Ery ch.

    • Oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I am ordering all of these suggeted books tonight. 

      Finding Glennon and the monkees last winter marked the turning on of a light bulb for me. Things finally clicked. First, I read about this amazing, beautiful, real and imperfect soul, and in alll her raw admissions, I finally saw someone like me. Someone who put words to my hurt.  And then I saw so many of you do the same, and lapped your words up. 

      Sent from my iPad

  15. Wishing I could express things here without feeling like th needy one trying to hog the attention. No one else sounds like that to me but ironically when it’s me that’s how I feel. Since you all don’t know me I’m going to post again anyway. After my comment last night the responses felt so supportive and good, and not demeaning. I’m laying here in bed and I’m drunk again, last night too. I’m living better in the days with my add meds and my kids can already see the changes. But I’m afraid my oldest, 5, is like me-us- a sponge who feels somuch. Who like me cries when he feels someone else’s pain, and also feels his own so deeply. To the other Stacey who commented your perspective as a child of someone like me broke my heart but I don’t want you to be sorry. I’ve always known somewhere that my kids would take my horrendous moods personally and that when I can’t tolerate the noise and stimulus they will blame themselves. But I have not let it sink in because it’s more pain and guilt I don’t feel i can bear. I can’t ask for help here, but I can ask for prayer. I don’t want my kids to suffer because of me. I can’t die because their dad is not capable of taking the reins, but I cant admit tI the depth of sadness and confusion I swim through or I’ll be seen as a drag, and the negatives will swallow me whole. Thank you for accepting and hearing all the bad in me without tapping your fingers waiting for me to cough up enough positivity to make my down side bearable. Please pray that I survive this for my kids and that I don’t survive it on wine and margaritas and whatever other cocktail I can get my hands on to make me seem like able to those who don’t want to be brought down by the bad. No one needs to save me I just need prayer. I know God can and I believe he will, but I must not be at the bottom yet because I’m too scared to let to of my crutches. I’m sorry for making my posts all about me but thank you for letting me be here regardless. I feel you reading and supporting even though I don’t know you. Here I just have my kids who love me so much that even after I have yelled st them they bring me hearts that they have drawn, a whole collection of them, because as small as they are, they know I am sad and they love me anyway. I just don’t want to be the one to cause them pain.

    • Stacey… I just relate so strongly to what you said. I can’t make it better, but I can tell you you are not the only one and to take Glennon’s words to heart about not carrying shame for the hurt you cant help but be overwhelmed by. I know so deeply what you are saying. I know how deeply it hurts to be the cause of emotional pain in your child’s eyes. But the one thing I try to do is to show my kids that mommy makes mistakes sometimes and mommy also takes responsibility for what she does and can pick herself up, figure out what happened and try to make it right. Like the volcano metaphor from one of Glennon’s posts, sometimes it all has to come out. Finding a safe way to do that is our challenge… so the lava doesn’t burn our loved ones or ourselves. For now, alcohol helps you cope. I believe one day we can find something better, healthier, more healing… something safer and less harmful to get us through those moments. I haven’t found it yet… but i am searching. I hope you’ll keep searching too.

    • I have been there. please get help for your family. As devastating it is for you, it is 1000x worse for your children. you are their world!

      • I once challenged God to “fix” me when I was low. I promised that I would open His book and start reading until I felt better. If it didn’t work, I swore I would become an athiest. Not the nicest challenge to give to God, but He rose to it. That was the day I truly bacame a Christian and put all my eggs in Gods basket. He saved me thrpugh the bible then and continues to save me as long as I keep to reading His manual when I feel low. Funny enough, it worked within minutes! It was the fastest fix I have ever gotten and continues to be so today! I urge you to make the same challenge. You will either become entirely consumed or fall asleep. Either way, you are doing no harm to yourself or others. Love you all and may the Holy Spirit reign down over you like the dew fall.

  16. Thank you for sharing your heart and your story. I feel you.

    Please God, help us!

  17. And He will lift you up on eagle’s wings
    bear you on the breath of dawn
    make you to shine like the sun
    and hold you in the palm of His hand.

  18. Maggie,
    That was beautiful. She is not gone – she just made the transition back to God. I know that sad heaviness you feel seems like it will never get better, But it does. I promise. Really. You have to Warrior On Sister. It will get better. You will get lighter. We are here for you. You will laugh from your belly again, you will just carry your KK along for the ride. Love and hugs to you!
    XoXo Susie M.

  19. My new friends, what can I say?? I am overwhelmed and humbled by your beautiful responses to my words. Even though I am new to this group, trust me when I tell you that I know what a privelage it is to share my story in this sacred place. You are a family, and you have let me in. And I am forever grateful. You have loved me without question and your words have eased my aching heart. I have to believe that God is using Katie’s life and our grief to help others. I will never turn my back on that, ever. Thank you will never be enough for what you have given us. Much much love to all of you.

    • I am sorry that you lost your lobster, Maggie. Prayers your way.

    • Maggie, Sending you Love, Love, Love and more Love! What a blessing you are to so many people. Thank you for sharing your story. I do believe that much good and healing are happening because of you and Kate and Glennon.

      • Bless you Maggie, Emily, Katie, and Glennon. You have no idea how much your painful story is helping. My prayers are with you all.

  20. This is heartbreaking and beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing. I want to reach through the computer and hug you for days!!

  21. Maggie,
    Thank you for sharing Katie with us. The bond between sisters is like no other and I’m sorry you had to say goodbye to her so soon. My heart breaks for you and Emily. I pray for comfort for your entire family. Hugs and love to you all!

  22. […] I’ve sat down to write a few times in the past days and I even have a draft or two of unfinished words to show for it.  But that’s all.  My thoughts are incomplete lately.  Add to that my lack of time, and I don’t have much to post around here.  But I have been reading a lot these days.  A great parenting book that is helping my perspective with a challenging toddler.  And a number of great blog entries that speak to me lately.  Like this one.  And this one.  And this one. […]

  23. Dear Maggie, Your words penetrate my very soul. Thank you for bravely baring your soul.

    Dear G; I understand you are a very busy woman; I wish I was your bff and had your bbm pin so I could instant message you; and you instant message me back. I just want to say …I am so thankful I have found you. I’m grateful for you; You are a beautiful mess; inside and out, and I mean that in the most sincere, loving way. Thank you for sharing what God is doing in and through you. I just want to be counted among those of your monkees who “DO relate”. Keep on. Keep going. Never give up. You are loved.

  24. Maggie and Emily:

    Your lobster lives. The very thing that may have killed her is bringing her back to life for many. This is her renewal. This is her gift. This is her power.

    May God hold you in the palm of his hand as you move thru this difficult time. My prayers are with you and your family.

  25. I love your words and I feel them deeply. They also terrify me. I come from a long line of addicts and you totally describe my 8 year old daughter. Elation and devastation, fierce anger and heart-breaking tenderness. Everything she does is too much. She hugs too hard and she tickles too hard and when she is tired she collapses and when she is not she bounces.

    I see it in her and I have no idea how to keep this precious, shiny girl from disaster. I pray so hard that she will find her way without all that bad juju getting its hold on her. Reading your posts (especially the volcano one) makes me “get” it a little bit more I think, so thank you for your brutiful words.

  26. Much love to you, Maggie, and to Emily. Thank you for bravely sharing Katie with us. And to Glennon – thank you for always sharing yourself with us.

  27. My sister is my lobster….I just can not imagine the unbearable pain Maggie (and her whole family) is suffering through. To lose my lobster would be devastating to say the very least. So, thank you Maggie, for sharing your pain with us; please know that we now share that pain with you.

    G, you have such a huge heart, and when I read your posts I can imagine you standing there saying every word and meaning every….single…word…. that you say. To be able to get your feelings across with words is an amazing gift..never lose it!

  28. Maggie and Glennon,

    Both of you have wonderful hearts. I pray that you will find comfort. Sobriety is so hard. Thank you, G, for sharing. Thank you, Maggie, for showing us who Katie was. She looks so bright and lovely. I miss her for you.

    Jennifer

  29. I felt every word.
    Truly and deeply.
    Thank you for reaching me.

    And Glennon, this was yet another reason that proves why I can’t bear to close the ‘momastery’ tab on my browser. Every day I see its heading and multiple times i check check check for any new words that move me and refocus things for me. Because you always do. Your words are a balm, a relief, and a riot on the crazy days. I love it here, thanks to you.

    So I finally got the guts to post.
    X

  30. I think sometimes that we are afraid that if we name the unbearable feeling, if we look it straight in the eye, it will consume us, overwhelm us, take over. I have an anxiety disorder, and I have known that fear – and I have learned that – for me – looking it in the eye (clearly, for what it really is) is the only thing that will save you.

    I wonder if those who haven’t experienced this intensity-over-which-you-have-no-control are – in some weird way – maybe even more afraid of looking it in the eye. Because they haven’t been there and back, they can’t know that it’s OK, that standing in the middle of the crazy and shouting its name isn’t what happens right before you lose the battle, it’s the only way to win it. I have noticed that friends who have not plumbed those depths (because they haven’t had to! strange lucky ones) are far more worried about me when the anxiety cycles around again than my friends who have ridden this ride.

    It actually reminds me – on a totally different scale – of this ongoing pseudo-argument I’ve had with my mom since I became a parent. For me, naming the irritation and the exhaustion and crankiness and general suckitude of caring for an infant was FREEING and a release – for her, it sounded like I profoundly didn’t like being a parent, and she kept trying to fix the things that were hard. But there was nothing wrong, I was supported and my kids were healthy; it’s just HARD sometimes.

    Those of you who haven’t gotten lost in your own intense crazyland before, but who are parents: think about the “carpe kairos” that might have drawn you here in the first place. Think about the “go the f&$# to sleep” book. Think about the moments when you really thought you had reached the end of your everything and there were still three hours until dinnertime. In those moments, the thing that helps the most is blowing off some STEAM, naming and acknowledging and swearing about and flailing about and joking about the unbearable relentless weight of it all. You just gotta go there. It doesn’t mean you live there, or that it consumes you, or that all moments are this moment. But if you can lock yourself in the bathroom and scream for a moment, or call a friend and just UNLOAD, or when your partner gets home you walk out the door with one secret code word and don’t come back until after bedtime (or, you know, visit a favorite blog and read the frank raw hilarity of another parent’s struggles) – whatever you have to do to name and look at and acknowledge it – that helps you to let it go, and come back home, to carpe kairos.

    Same thing with anxiety. Or depression. Or, so I hear, addiction. The more we can just name it and be with it, the less control it has over us.

    So G, name it. Be with it. I have been on that floor and we are here on the floor with you until you’re ready to get back up again. For as long as it takes. Carpe kairos.

    • Wow Jennie. You sound SO like me. So refreshing to read your post. I, too, feel the FREEING when letting out my frustration with my three little boys. If only the people on the other end could just LISTEN, rather than tryin to “fix” it.

  31. I felt every word.
    Truly and deeply.
    Thank you for reaching me.

    And Glennon, here was yet another reason that proves why I can’t bear to close the ‘momastery’ tab on the computer….I see its heading on a daily basis, multiple times. And I check check check for any new words….any new words that touch me and refocus things for me. Because you always do. It’s almost like RELIEF when you write. Thank you bank you thank you.

    So, I got the guts to post…finally!
    X

  32. Maggie your words are so beautiful, such a wonderful tribute to your sister. I am so very sorry for your loss. Enjoy your time with Glennon! How wonderful for both of you!

  33. Maggie, I have no words…nothing I can say could ever take away the pain you’re feeling. (Forgive me if what I do say sounds like rambling, but I’m sobbing here, and I’m finding it hard to really type what I’m thinking at the moment.) I hope that you do find some comfort in knowing that so many people are praying for you and for your family. I have two sisters also, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost either of them, but I’ve heard it said that, “You never know how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have.” I am so sorry that you were left with only that choice. I pray that you find new strengths within yourself through this experience. I am praying for comfort and healing and peace to surround you and your family during this awful time.

    I hope that you and Glennon have a wonderful time together, and I hope that your other sister, Emily, joins you.

  34. Maggie,

    I am so, so sorry for your loss. I am thankful you found us here because you are clearly a Monkee and this is where you belong. You were a wonderful sister to Katie and you still get to be a wonderful sister to Emily. You will one day find some peace in that. Until then, picture us all circling in around you, locking our Monkee arms and loving you through this.

  35. God will provide the love, comfort and peace that you need. Ask, seek, and I will ask too!!! He is loving, good, and provides power beyond anything we could ever imagine!!

  36. No words, just tears. For not being very good at opening up, you are pretty good at it. Prayers for your family.

  37. Dear Maggie,

    What a beautiful written “voice” you have. Your sharing of your sisters life, struggles included resound with so many of us. There are Monkees all over this great country of ours lifting you up and praying for your healing. Glennon holds the best slumber parties, you will come away touched, awakened and renewed by her gift of love and understanding! Much love to you~

  38. […] because my opinion has changed. I’m talking part in a support/love group of sorts over on Momastery.com — a blog of healing written by Glennon Melton. She’s pretty amazing. Check her out, […]

  39. Tears are streaming, but the feel like they’re healing. I hope that’s the case for you too, Maggie. Much love.

  40. Crying heavy tears for you today Mags. Thanks for sharing. Although there is no drug abuse in my family, I have a brother with bipolar disorder – a dear, sweet brother – and I have often thought the same thing – how is this his lot in life and not mine? I have heavy days and I think, is this what it feels like for him all the time? So many questions. No answers. Just love. Sending all my love your way today.

  41. Oh Maggie, I am bawling. First, you did a fantastic job of sharing Katie with us. Please know that your love for her did shine through the and so did her spirit. I am still so very sorry. I am so glad you are going to visit Glennon. I am praying for a sweet healing time for both of you. <3

  42. you should hold a convention. somewhere central and sunny. I would come :)

  43. Maggie….I read this somewhere once and i believe this is what you might be in for with your trip to the sea. ” The cure for anything is saltwater…Sweat, Tears or the Sea.” And because you reached out all three can be yours at the same time. peace to you and your family.

  44. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Maggie! Thank you for your honesty and bravery. I am keeping you and your family in my prayers. I want you to know that your story has helped me heal in an area that I have been struggling with. Many blessing!

  45. This is such a wonderful, beautiful, virtual place in the world.

  46. Laugh til you cry. Cry til you laugh. The dance of grief and joy.

  47. Maggie,

    Your family and sister are in my prayers and I am so sorry for your heartache. May the strength of God pull you through this. Love to you!

  48. Maggie, thank you so much for your bravery. I’m sure your sister is proud of you for it. This was a beautiful tribute to her. I wish you healing and comfort and I hope you have a beautiful time at the ocean, I truly believe it’s the best place to be when you’re hurting.

    Glennon, thank you for being REAL! Light, dark, whatever in between you are real and refreshing and so very loved. Thank you for this beautiful space for us all to be real people.

  49. Thank you, Maggie. Thank you for sharing your beautiful, brave soul with us today. And Katie’s too.

    I continue to hold you, Emily and your family in my prayers as you continue to adjust to your new normal. I hope you enjoy yourself and relax in sun, sand, love and a little bit of crazy with Glennon.

    Much love to you!

  50. Maggie,
    Thank you so much for sharing. I’m so moved by your story and your love for your sister. Sending hugs and prayers to you and your family.
    Have a great time in Florida! Laugh, cry, eat, drink, rest and talk-talk-talk! You’ve made a friend for life in Glennon I’m sure.
    xoxo
    Maureen

  51. Oh Maggie I hope you read this…I never know with these comments. I lost my husband 4 years ago this past June to the same addictions. He had a medical condition that led to the neccessary use of pain pills. And eventually, after three and half years of pain pills, he loved them more than life itself. He left me with a 2 and 5 year old daughter to raise. Alone. SO alone because nobody gets it. Nobody understands what he did or why he did it. Except me. I saw the dept of his sicknes and pain. He was my lobster for many, many years. And then he was a sick, strange, sad skeleton of the man I knew. It was three years of hell leading to his death…which was a total unexpected shock. It has been over 4 years and every single day it is the first thought I wake up to and the last thought before bed. My sweet, amazing, strong, smart, beautiful girls keep me going. And a strong desire to “beat it”….somehow I think everyday..HA I AM WINNING!
    SO keep winning girl. For your boys, husband, parents, friends, family, but most of all for YOU. Life is so short. Some of us have learned that the hard way! I love that you get to meet Glennon. I am jealous!! I never get to escape my simple little life! SO have fun for all of us that wish we were there!!! Be strong!

  52. Thank you both for sharing.
    Glennon, I found your site through Kelle at Enjoying the Small Things.
    I have a lobster in this world.
    Although, it seems she does not want to be in this world.
    She’s a recovering alcoholic, but struggles with deep depression…and treats it only with medication.
    She supports her family by working outside of the home. They lost her brother in law (her husbands lobster) to suicide 1-1/2 years ago. They are going through bankruptcy and probably losing their house.
    She has a 5 year old who tells my mom that her mommy only sleeps.
    We spent a few days together earlier this month…the whole family in a house together.
    She slept, or read her kindle…escaping.
    She’s hurting, but numbing the pain with meds.
    She won’t talk to anybody and says she has always been like this.
    I know she hasn’t always been like this because I have known her all her life.
    I don’t know what to do to help.

    • hugs, Stephany, can you bring your lobster here? send an email with a link to Momastery, and let her find her way here, so she knows she is not alone? love you!

  53. I am so sorry for your loss, Maggie. I lost my brother 2 years ago to mental illness. It hurts. Hugs….

  54. Maggie

    I wanted to share with yo the story of my brother, my childrens’ Uncle Johan. I want to assure you that your kids will remember your sister, Aunt KK, I know they will if yo do,.
    !5 years ago in May this year he left us. An overdose of pinkillers. He had just recently had knee surgery and they were available late one night when he struggled with his emotional self. He could be described pretty much the same as your sister or Glennon or anyone else wholl walks this earth with a heart that is to big.

    The story is so long and the years without him and how we keep his memory alive and how we all found our new norlmal could be a book.

    What I wanted to share is how my children, my sweet boys, 14 and 10, have a very real relationship with him still. He is ever present in our life. The biggest testamnet to this is when two years ago my then 12 year old Erik went back home to Sweden on his own for a month, staying with my relatives. On a visit to my broter’s grave he sat down next to the picture of Johan, took out his camera and proceeded to show his uncle every last photo he had taken during his trip and told him every story that went along with it.
    To him is was as natural as being with any of his other uncles.
    Johan’s memory, his legacy, who he was is a constant part in or daily life.

    When I lost him I vowed to never again feel the way I did on that fateful day or the months thereafter, never again miss an oppurtunity to be there for a friend or family member, never again wonder if I could have done more.
    I have very much used all my expereinces from this journey as tools in parenting my children, and I never let him be far.
    As hard as it is to live without him I know in my heart that he is at peace now, and that we needed to learn from him, his job is done. My work since that day has just begun. He guides me every day to be a better person, I don’t ever want his life and his tragic death to have been of waste.

    My thoughts are with you and your famiy
    Jeanette

  55. Love to you for sharing Maggie. I lost my father to suicide and I recognized your words at how he could be frustrating and extreme. But, god, everyday I want and long for him just to hug him one more time. When he first died I used to pray that he would visit me in my dreams so I could have some closure. It has come more with time and as you stated, we WILL see them again. Much love and peace to you and your family.

  56. This November will be 5 years since my little brother overdosed. I still have days often where I wish that I could call him just one more time and hear him tease me and laugh. So much love to you Maggie.

  57. You rock, Maggie! Thanks for sharing your hearfelt thoughts and emotions. Hugs to you and prayers for you and your family.

  58. Maggie:
    this was lovely. As a Highly Sensitive Person and my children having this also – AS High Functioning Aspies with High Empathy but a tough time displaying this sometimes- I understand that with deep love comes deep pain.
    I have a younger sister who is more capable at life than me ( riding the ups and downs) I make her laugh all the time, I am the vivacious one but also the one phoning her up in tears telling her that I need to be committed into a rehab center for healing * there are none here and it is usually only when I am desperate. She is nine years younger and sees the dramatic ups and downs I have. I do not expect understanding as it is something that is rare for those who feel so deeply in normal living. But I know I love so much that to naturally hurt so much is part of my equation. What I am trying to say is to not feel bad looking back for thinking you do not understand. I think she got that you gave her gifts from your own personality. You helped ground her and balance her out. You helped her cope with life just by laughing at her and with her. You gave her meaning by admiring her and having a good time with her. Sometimes, those of us who struggle so much with the daily living, need more than anything- someone who admires us. You did your part. You could not have prevented all the other painful matters of everyday living but you did give her your light. You were her valued soul sister and she knew you were there for her always.
    I know this for my sister even though I can not begin to explain to her all the pain and depression I feel so much. She knows bits but I would never expect her to fix it all and she cant. She just gives me the gift of self by letting me be light and funny sometimes. She allows me to love deeply even if it seems a bit silly to her…
    I hope this helped instead of hindered. I hope that my point of you loving in your way got across that it is not less and gave a different sort of gift she valued SO deeply. Love and prayers to you.

    Glennon: you serious heavy posts are what keep me here. You are real. You are genuine. You hit my soul with every post because my life is similar. Never have I read any popular blog that reveals myself in it. I feel like we are kindreds even though I have A.S. and you do not. You are better at articulating in a good way but all in all your posts make me feel more “normal”. You make me feel like less of a drama queen that I am accused of and more of a queen of love and tolerance because of who I am and what I experience. THANK YOU:)
    Love

  59. Tears and love.

  60. Maggie, which one in the picture is your dear Katie?

  61. My sister is in a detox facility as we speak. I am taking care of her child. I can hardly breathe everyday feeling the weight of all this sad on me, her, all of us. I tried to figure out from your writing what I can do or say or not do to help her. I told my mom a while ago that I’m not so sure that I will have a sister my whole life, that I have just accepted that and hardened myself to prepare for it. Maybe fate has decided already that I don’t get to have her, but dear lord, her little person definitely deserves to have her. Anyway, enough about me. I hope we are gettting another chance for it to all be right. I am so so sorry for Maggie and her whole family. I can’t imagine it.

  62. Dear Maggie,

    You just gave me the biggest gift of my life. I am sobbing over my keyboard. For the first time, through your words, I felt like someone was writing that letter to me – a preview of what would happen if I gave up now. All of my life, all of my 37 years, all I have ever wanted was for someone to understand how INTENSE it is for me. To tell me they finally see me, from the other side. How much it hurts when it hurts. How lonely and hard and TOO MUCH it all is. Glennon gets it and speaks my thoughts, but YOU…. YOU spoke TO me today, as if giving me a glimps of my own funeral, turning me around and telling me “it’s ok, you don’t have to escape… you are ok and I can be with you, want to be with you, no matter how much I may not relate to your experience of the world. Don’t go, just hold on and trust that I love you.” I am so deeply grateful to Katie, for her life and her suffering, for it has given you the voice and the courage to speak in a way that means more than you can ever know. Thank you Maggie. Thank you Katie. Thank you Glennon.

    • And thank you, Shannon. I feel you.

    • YES. I echo this too. Very much. Thanks for saying it so well dear soul.

    • Thank you for opening yourself up here. Holding you in the light. xxx

    • One worried thought… after re-readin gwhat I wrote, Maggie, I hope you don’t take this to mean that you didn’t say the right thing in time to save her. God, I don’t mean that at all. It was just the right words at the right time for me… I could hear them today.

      • Shannon: I quoted you on my blog with two of your comments- I hope that is ok? They were just so fitting:)

        • Wow, thanks Kmarie. I am honored. If my words can help someone else, then the ripple effect of Katie’s death reaches farther and farther. I read your blog… beautiful. The Highly Sensitive Person book is so helpful too. Glad you’re out there speaking up.

    • Shannon, first of all, thank you for your honesty, trust me, I know how hard that can be. I have had to come to terms with things I never dreamt of these past few months, and I know it isn’t easy. I m so grateful for all of the responses on here but yours has brought me to my knees. I cannot tell you the strength you have given me. I emailed this letter to Glennon late last night and then woke up and sent her a message saying, no- nevermind, can’t do it! I was terrified to put myself out there in this way that I NEVER do. But then I thought, if I can help someone, just one person, then it will be worth it. Katie’s life and her suffering will help heal someone. And then your message- and I could barely speak. My husband copied it and sent it to me and said- look what you did, I am so proud of you! And I cried and I thanked God that he sent me to this site and to Glennon, and to you Shannon. I wish I had words to heal you, but I also know that words alone cannot do that. You are so loved. You are needed here. You have given me so much hope. Thank you- please stay. All all all my love, Maggie

      • I am so touched Maggie. Thank you so much for those words. I am so glad that from all of this, we are reaching each other in ways I could never have imagined. I am humbled and grateful and shaking and can see for the first time that we human beings really are all connected. What a gift your sister has given. What a gift you have shared. May there be the deepest kind of peace for you and your family in the days ahead.

  63. Thank you, both Maggie & Glennon, for being so very real and honest. It is a brutiful life; being heavy is sometimes necessary. I, too, have felt the too much/not enough dichotomy throughout my life and hearing from others about their struggles and triumphs helps in a way that I can’t express.

    Maggie, I am so very sorry for your loss. I hope that your memories and your friends and family and the Monkees will be a comfort to you during this difficult time.

  64. So much healing and love going on here my heart feels like it’s going to burst right out of my chest. I love it. This place, this community…it’s so special. Words fail me.

  65. Glennon and Maggie! I also feel like I’m sometimes “too much.” That I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders and feel things too intensely – sometimes the pain is too much to handle, and there have been many times in the past where I’ve thought that it would be better to just let the pain encompass me until I ceased to be. I’m so touched that you understand how that feels. Glennon, I’m so glad you are the beautiful and strong person you are and can encourage the rest of us to keep going. Maggie, I’m so sorry your beautiful lobster isn’t with you any more and I hope peace finds you over the next few weeks and months. My best wishes go to all of the Monkees.

    P.S. Glennon, I used to live in Bonita Springs (right near Naples) and work in Naples. Great area=)

  66. Oh Maggie. My heart hurts for you. My 10 year old daughter feels pain and sadness so much more deeply than anyone I know — and I struggle with wanting to just brush it away and not let her experience that. Maggie there are no words that will make you feel better. There is only this life and sometimes it sucks for reasons we don’t know. It sounds so effing trivial, but I’m praying for you. Right now. Here are the words in my heart: “God, why? Why do people hurt so deeply that they can’t seem to get out of it? Why Maggie and Katie? Why why why God??? I don’t even know if you know the answer to that. But God, I DO KNOW that you love us and that you are hurting too. That helps, as irrational as it is. God surround Maggie with your love and comfort. Use the people on this blog as a support system for her. Thank you for Glennon embracing Maggie and I pray that a crazy strong friendship would come out of this. I pray that Maggie will have the strength, emotionally and physically to live live her life and lay Katie’s down. Give her that much God. Amen” That’s all I’ve got. I hope its enough.

    • Christi,

      I know you want to spare her the suffering, but just want to share this thought: In wanting to “brush it away, not let her experience it” she will just learn that it is ugly… that she has to hide it, that her feelings are not ok to share and they will turn inward instead of spilling outward and the more they turn in, the more she will feel misunderstood and alone. If I could have asked my Mom for one thing growing up it would have been this: Let her feel the feelings, in all their intensity (she can’t do anything to stop them anyway) and show her that those feelings will eventually subside, that she will survive them, they are not to be feared and you will love her through them. I hope that doesn’t feel judge-y… just want to offer some thoughts from the other side.

      • Thank you Shannon! You’re exactly right. I know what our bedroom chat will look like tonight :) Thank you being brave enough to correct that in me.

        • she is lucky to have you and you her. Each can help the other navigate this big big life.

        • I am so impressed by your willingness to think about this so deeply and your courage to write about it. Your blog post is amazing and your little girl is going to have the best person in the world on her team listening to her and holding her close when the pain of the world is too much. Such a beautiful thing!

  67. Glennon, your truth, your honesty, your willingness to show the heavy in your life has helped to save my sanity. I have 2 daughters that are, like me, ones that feel too much. We call ourselves sponges. We soak up the pain we feel from others and feel our own so deeply. We also struggle with feeling we are too much or too little. Not worth the difficulty we cause when people love us. My youngest has struggled the most and your “heavy” blogs, along with the words of the other Monkees are what keep me going, make me stronger and help me know that my other Monkee sisters are out there making it through . . . one way or another. You have helped me to understand my 15 year old daughter who has been through enough to be 50 years old. You have helped me to help her. You all are my lobsters, from afar. Maggie, remember that your Katie probably didn’t want you to understand her pain while she was here. She wouldn’t blame you, but I’m sure she will be there when you stand at the side of the ocean with Glennon and hopefully Emily. My heart goes out to you and Emily. Laying down her life and picking up yours will be a process. Little by little you will lay down more, pick it all back up on some days, and then be able to let go again. Trust the process. Our world of “instant” changes is not real. The process is really very sweet. Bitter sweet, but the way our hearts and mind were intended to heal.

    • Lisa Mac, my little girl (10 years old) is also a sponge…but I am not. I struggle with letting her be herself and really feel that deeply while I just want to push it away and forget about it because it hurts to see her worry and hurt! But as hard as it is, and as much as I can’t relate to it, I know that she needs to experience it. She needs to learn to handle it because soon enough she’ll be out on her own and I won’t be able to push it away. Thank you for your words

      • I love this blog. i love Glennon and i love all of you. This is the first time I am reading a description of my son! He is only 5, but it like your daughter- he worries all the time, needs to scream and cry for five minutes-then is fine! thank you for sharing this!

  68. Oh sweet Monkee Maggie,We hold you and walk with you and love you…every blessed/cursed step of the way.

    Much love.

  69. Wow….the loving so much it hurts sounds so familiar. When you love people with such intensity, of course there are times when it is not returned and your heart gets broken. But to paraphrase Khalil Gibran, the things that bring you great sorrow have also brought you great joy….and that’s the part you need to remember.
    Maggie….Your sister will be with you, always, minus her pain and suffering. She will be in the memories you share with your other Lobster and your boys, she will be there when you recognize her laugh in your own, she will be there when you need a reminder of how to love fiercely. And Glennon, what you’re doing, having Maggie come and visit you, is a lovely thing. But I know you don’t want to hear about how kind and generous you are, so I will tell you another truth. You will get so much out of your visit with Maggie. It will knock your socks off, maybe in a quiet way, or maybe in a scream-out-loud way, but you will be forever grateful for this decision. Wishing you both healing tears, heartfelt prayers, cleansing laughter, and wicked good room service!

  70. My eyes are full of tears and my heart is full of love for you…and for the beauty of the realness that you have shared with us. Your sharing gives us all permission to be real and honest with ourselves and with others. The world is a better place because of that. Sending lots and lots of love your way…

  71. It has been a hard way to start the day lately — weeping over the keyboard — but it has given me the tiniest bit more understanding of what addiction means to those caught up in it and to those who love them. I am thankful for the raw courage and ruthless honesty of those who have shared their stories.

    So in the words of Leonard Cohen:

    “Ring the bells that still can ring,
    forget your perfect offering.
    There is a crack in everything;
    that’s how the light gets in.”

    Shine on, my sisters.

  72. Glennon thank you for your honesty and openness about addiction. Sometimes people don’t have the courage to say what needs to be said. Thank you. And thank you Maggie for your willingness to share. I’m so glad you all will get to visit with one another! What a treat. Thank you G for all the care you give.

  73. Please don’t ever lighten up, Glennon! I cannot say the number of times I have clicked over to Momastery and found exactly what I needed, whether I’d known it was what I needed or not. I have been lucky enough that addiction has not been my problem, but I know the feeling of being a little too much some times. I was so grateful to have a name for my diagnosis – Dramatic Personality – and everyone who knows me that I share it with get it. If I need a laugh, I know how to use the archives; the vacuum story helps every time, as does the Lupus Society donation bag story – see? I’ve smiling and laughing now!

    You are a gift and I know you would reflect that back and say that we all are that gift and I am starting to get that.

    Thank you for being you and sharing yourself no matter how heavy and dark you may be feeling. That is a gift, too.

    And, Maggie, I am so, so sorry you lost one of your lobsters. I’m so sorry. Much love and many fierce hugs to you and to you, too, Glennon.

  74. Maggie,
    I am sitting here in tears as the youngest of three sisters knowing that although I love my sisters so much, they are not my Lobsters. So I grieve with you for the loss of this amazing, lovely, funny, woman but I am also a bit jealous (crazy right?!?) that you had Katie in your life, that you were loved so fiercely and that you loved her back just as fiercely. What a light she must have been. She sounds like a beautiful soul. I am so sad for you.

    My Lobster has always been my husband…I knew it right away. We just intrinsically knew each other on the inside. Well now he is struggling with depression and addiction and won’t let me in. So, no I have not lost him to death (at least not yet) but he is so far away and I am scared. And he is alone in his depths and I believe I am still his Lobster and I can’t fix this. And man, it is so hard. All we have is each other and God…I hold on to both every minute of every day.

    You are in my heart Maggie.

    (I am going to hit submit and be brave and share just as you and G have been!! Here goes…)

    • Thank you for being brave, Colleen. This is a beautiful tribute to your husband. Prayers that he finds a little bit of light…

    • Colleen, I salute you for your tremendous courage in sharing your situation with us. I am praying that your husband finds his way out of the darkness, back to himself and to you.

    • Colleen,

      Prayers and healing energy to your husband and to you, friend. You are not alone.

      Lisa

    • Praying for you and your husband Colleen. Lean into God…he will NOT fail you—ever.

  75. Tears. This is such a great explanation of a life lived, a sister lost, and what the new normal feels like. Maggie, thank you for sharing Katie’s story. Your words will help heal others (sisters, brothers, mamas, dads, aunts, uncles, memaws, pawpaws, other extended family, friends) who have lost loved ones from addiction. “Live your life. Lay hers down.” These are powerful words of advice to let soak in. Great words Glennon. I’m very happy for you both. You’ll bring kairos to each other as you sit on the beach, sharing love, laughter, and tears about your respective lobsters and experiences. Love to all and thanks again for sharing.

  76. Maggie,
    Thanks for sharing. I know your pain. Much love to you and your family. Hang in there and remember all the good and don’t try to figure it out. There really is no figuring it out. Just love.
    Mary

  77. Thank you for being brutifully honest and open. Glennon, your post yesterday and Maggie’s today are amazing. Amazing because you are being open and honest. Life is messy. For all of us. Messy. Few of us are willing to be open about our messes. I wish we all had the great strength or abandon or whatever it takes to be so transparent. Glennon, you encourage me in my own struggles with my own mess. Thank you! Maggie, I am so sorry about your sister. Thank you for sharing your grief.

  78. amen………………

  79. Glennon, thanks so much for sharing! And thanks to Maggie for sharing her broken heart. I have been reading this blog for a month or so I think I have gone back and read them all maybe but I had to speak up today. I don’t have this relationship with my sister but I do with my brother and a few friends who love me unconditionally and a husband who has stood by my craziness for 20 years.

    Today you spoke straight to me when you talked about feeling like “too much”. My negative mantra in my head most of my life is the feeling that I am “too much, or not enough”. I have never done drugs or smoked a cigarette and didn’t even have a sip of alcohol until I was 38 but emotionally I SO relate to you. I have often felt like a stranger in this world, like there is the left and the right and I’m in some strange middle spot.

    Thanks for being you, you help me keep breathing:) Your vulnerability is something I have always craved in this world.

    Much Love,

    Marti

    • Marti,
      Me too! I completely relate to what you wrote about feeling like too much or not enough. It sucks! When I can get over and fight past innate shyness to really be myself, that horrible little voice speaks up to tell me to calm it down. That I’m being too much and maybe people don’t need or want to see the real me. Because if tey did it would certainly be more than they needed. My answer has been to shove it all back. Shove it down and not show it easily. Then the horrible you’re not good enough voice comes in. It’s an awful voice and yes, not a good one to numb with alcohol. Because then it’s just a drunk voice! Haha!
      Through Glennon’s very much more sane voice I’m beginning to think may e I’m okay just like I am. And maybe it’s okay to be open. Because closed can turn mean. I’ve seen that happen too. So I’m working on just loving me the way I am. I don’t know you, but I am confident you are loved just the way you are. I love you for spurring me to my first comment and for tw realization that I’m not the only one.
      G-you are most certainly NOT too much! You’re just right and just exactly who God meant to make! And so are you, Marti!

  80. Glennon and Maggie…… you do this thing called Life the way it was meant to be done…..with hearts wide open. To love deeply is to hurt deeply and so many shy away from the love to avoid the hurt. And yeah, hurting sucks, grieving sucks. I have been mired in my own hurting lately and to be frank, have had moments of envy of those who can shut down and not feel. I have been struggling too. But I want you all to know that sharing in your grief and struggles has reminded me…again…of what I also know to the core of my being is true. We are here to love. Even when loving hurts, we are here to love. And I want to! I don’t want to shut down and I am not really envious of those who choose not to love deeply. I actually grieve for them at what they will not experience. So today…I still hurt, but you have reminded me that it is a gift to be embraced not just a cross to bear. Thank you for the boost of faith and reminder of what I know but was losing touch with. Peace and love to you both.

  81. Maggie- there aren’t words for a loss so deep. I can only say my heart hurts with yours. I have only one sister, one lobster, and I can’t fathom the pain you and your remaining lobster-sister must be going through. As a sober adult in a family riddled with alcoholism and drug abuse, as a child who lost her daddy at the young age of 9 (his 29), I can only say it sucks. And you’re not alone in your sorrow.

    G- i know you don’t really need to be convinced, but please, please, please don’t ever edit yourself for fear of being “too heavy”. The biggest lie I’ve told myself throughout the years is that I’m too much and not enough- not enough reward for the trouble and effort people have to put into me. My husband has let me see that this is not true, too. I was and always have been a very somber person, and it took me well into my twenties to realize that it was okay to be who I was and not constantly try to change myself to fit other people’s preference for who I could be. I respect your heaviness, and your craziness, your life-of-the-party danciness, and I thank you for being okay with who your are in each day, because it reminds me that I’m okay just being me, too.

  82. Maggie… I have two sisters, I have three daughters (including a Katie), and I cannot imagine your pain. Your letter was a beautiful tribute to your Lobster. You and your family are close in my thoughts.

  83. Love to you, sweet Maggie. Thank you for being so brave and sharing your story. xoxo

  84. Maggie, This is exquisite. Thank you writing Glennon and thank you for writing us.

    Much Love to you and your family,
    Lou

  85. We love you Maggie. You wrote a beautiful tribute to a sister who clearly adored you. Thank you for sharing your story with us and for honoring your precious sister in this place of love and acceptance. Based on what you said, I think Katie feels right at home here, don’t you? I’m hoping that each day your load of grief feels a little bit lighter. You’ll be in my heart.

  86. Bawling, the ugly cry kind. Maggie, powerful words; you released alot, don’t hold anything back. Take your words, in a letter, with you to the Ocean with G and send them into the waves to let them go. Lay down your words and live your life, it will be a blessing with an special angel watching over it; this I know.

  87. Glennon, I have no idea who wants you to lighten up — but, please don’t listen to them. Your pain and your joy, every untidy, unpredictable bit of it is what I love, what I come for, why you are able to help so many. You are some days the only authentic voice I hear. Please don’t be censored.

    • HELL to the A-MEN!!! goddess help us from any more sugar-coated bullshit that doesn’t get to the heart of the matter. Real is the only way to truth, and that Jesus guy was right when he said the truth will set you free. Trouble is, the truth ain’t always pretty, and America doesn’t care for un-pretty. Glennon, you’re a rock star. Because you’re telling the truth. Lightening up is for sissies. Life is mostly shit, but wading knee-deep in the shit, you can still look up and see the beauty of the wide blue sky. To ignore either one is to live a half-lived life.

    • Completely agree!

  88. Thank you Maggie for sharing. I am so terribly sorry for your loss! Sending love and prayers your way.

  89. This is one of my favorite songs and I don’t even have a sister. But it tears my heart apart all the time

    Dave Matthews – Sister
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=111-D99br0I

  90. so touching this letter, Maggie. So sad that love sometimes just isn’t enough. I am so glad that you will be getting away and spending that healing time in Naples-I hope your sister is able to go with you! Take care!

  91. WOW…there are no other words -

  92. Enjoy your trip to Naples, Maggie! Soak up everything you can in the time you are there. Blessings.

  93. Tears…streaming. Hugs to all of you!

 Leave a Reply

(required)

(required)

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>