Author: tomstroops

Fake it till you make it

On By tomstroopsIn Alpha Lima Sierra1 Comment

Anybody else say this to themselves from time to time? Me, I have said this most of my life. Are you surprised by this? I am the person farthest from being THAT person that has their stuff together but I am working on things. In some areas of my life, I have made it and I don’t need to fake it anymore. Like, being comfortable in my own skin. Am I confident 100% of the time, nope, but I am comfortable enough to not give a #uck about things that really don’t matter in the end. That comes with age, and experience. Also, let’s face it, having to travel a terminal disease and slowly watch someone you deeply love die is truly a life changing experience. It can make you bitter, see only the negative in life and keep you a prisoner to the grief OR it can make you better, be a more positive person and help propel you to the life you should be living, one that honors the life that was lost too soon and allows you to live a freer life.

On the flip side of the disease, as a widow/widower seeing beyond the pain and suffering of the grief is hard to see better days are ahead. That’s when faking it till you make it is a great skill to work on. If you have read my posts, you have been witness to my struggle and how hard it has been to see that better days are coming when you are in the thick of the grief fog. I have a playlist on my phone that have become part of my morning routine. They are songs I listen to in the shower and as I get ready for the day. Songs that have meaning either because I can relate or I want to be able to relate to them. One of the songs I have been listening to for about a year is by Andy Grammer called These Tears. In the song, he speaks of being alright after loss. This song hits hard as he sings about “learning how to be alone” and “I’m not gonna see you again till one day in another life”. Listening to this song, I have wondered if I will ever be alright. Will I ever be alright? In the past several months as I have listened to it, I can now honestly say, I am going to be alright. I am alright.

While Tom won’t be left in my past, I have found a place for him beside me that allows me to look forward to my future knowing I will be alright and yes I will see him again in another life. Letting go of the dream of forever with him has been incredibly hard, but in order to live fully in my future I must. I am still a work in progress and there are days I can’t stand knowing he is not here, but those days come less and less now.

Here are the full lyrics to the song as well as a link to it.

These tears mean I’m lettin’ you go
I’m learnin’ how to be alone
I’m broken, but give it time
I’m gon’ be alright
These tears mean it’s settlin’ in
That I’m not gon’ see you again
‘Til one day in another life
But I’m gon be al—, I’m gon’ be alright

I been missin’ you tonight
I’ll be missin’ you tomorrow
It’s the hardest pill to swallow
But I’m startin’ to get it down
I try to think of all the times
I thought I wouldn’t make it through
But somehow I always do
And I do the same for you

It don’t mean I’m good with goodbye-bye-bye
But it ain’t all that bad when I cry, cry, cry

‘Cause these tears mean I’m lеttin’ you go
I’m learnin’ how to be alone
I’m brokеn, but give it time
I’m gon’ be alright
These tears mean it’s settlin’ in
That I’m not gon’ see you again
‘Til one day in another life
But I’m gon be al—, I’m gon’ be alright

I see you everywhere
On the sidewalks of my dreams
Like a distant melody
I hear you callin’ and callin’ to me
And I love you, but I leave you
In the past, baby, because I need to
To not go insane
I know I love you the same

(Ah-ooh) It don’t mean I’m good with goodbye-bye-bye
(It don’t mean I’m good with goodbye)
(Ah-ooh) But it ain’t all that bad when I cry, cry, cry

These tears mean I’m lettin’ you go (These tears mean)
I’m learnin’ how to be alone (Oh)
I’m broken, but give it time
I’m gon’ be alright
These tears mean it’s settlin’ in
That I’m not gon’ see you again
‘Til one day in another life
But I’m gon be al—, I’m gon’ be alright

Moving forward in grief is hard, so we fake it till we make it. One day I will look up and see, I made it. That day will be the day I make not just myself proud but Tom as well. That is what he wanted for me. To find happiness, to push forward from his passing and my grief, and to find a future for myself.

All my love,

Lara

Rewriting the story I tell myself

On By tomstroopsIn Alpha Lima Sierra, ALS Caregiving, Living Life to the Fullest, WidowLeave a comment
person holding hardcover book with blank cover
Photo by Monstera Production on Pexels.com

That’s right. I am writing a new story I tell myself or at least trying really hard. Today, I turn 54 years young. While this number may have been one that I dreaded pre ALS, it is one that I now embrace, even with it marking a very important time in my life. The importance of turning 54 is that Tom was cheated out of this age by ALS. He died at 53. Tom was older than me by 17 months. Last year, we were the same age and this year I am older than him. My 46 birthday also marked the day we heard the words ALS. I celebrated my 49th birthday in the hospital with Tom, just less than a week after his trach surgery in 2019.

I am not going to lie, it takes a lot of healing and self reflection to change and believe a new story, but that is exactly what I am doing. If I continue to live with the the memories surrounding my birthday or any significant day, without acknowledging it, understanding it and not getting sucked in to the sad parts of it, I will never grow. Never heal. Never learn to accept what has happened. Accepting does not mean forgetting or being okay that something bad has happened. Accepting means processing it, and learning from it and finding gratitude with my new life that the event created.

Today, my story is that I am embracing the fact that I get the chance to turn 54. I got to wake up and experience a new day. Being grateful for being alive and having the opportunity to create a new life for myself. That is how I honor Tom. Not by sitting in my grief till it swallows me whole, but by allowing it to be a reminder that life, love, happiness and peace are so very precious.

So here’s to my new story, I am 54 and I am have so much gratitude for making another trip around the sun.

All my love,

Lara

ALS is a thief

On By tomstroopsIn Alpha Lima SierraLeave a comment

It steals moments, your ability to move and breathe, it steals your future, and it steals your loved one. When your person with ALS passes, ALS continues to steal from you. Not as often, but when you least expect it.

Many of you know I have been transitioning from the deep grief that comes when losing a part of your soul to a healing journey. Tom  wasn’t just my soul mate, but our souls over 32 years had become bound together for our time on Earth. His death broke me, but not the connection that kept us together.

As part of the healing journey, I have been working very hard to find a safe place in my heart where Tom will always live but also allow myself to move forward in a way that he and I had talked about. Living fully. Not allowing his loss to  prevent me from finding my path forward. My healing has also allowed me to better transition from the depths of grief that still come to accepting them and not allowing them to drag me down.

But I forgot what a thief ALS continues to be for those in the beyond part of the journey.  Yesterday was a good day for me.  Like really good until I saw the date. We are in the timeframe of ER visits. ICU stays and in two days, it will be the anniversary of Tom’s trache. In seven days, which is actually my birthday, it will be the anniversary of Tom’s unofficial ALS diagnosis. This year I will also turn 54, the age ALS stole from Tom.   For thirty-three birthday’s, Tom was older than me or we were the same age. In one week, I will be older than him.

ALS continues to steal joy.  Last night I was restless. This morning during hot tub time, it wasn’t mindfulness or meditation I was able to achieve but an almost manic obsession with finding pictures or text messages from this time in 2019.  Again, ALS steals joy and peace.

Today,I will dig a little harder for the tools to push the thief out of my head. This is the journey of the survivor. 

Lara

[Note: I quickly scribbled this out on my phone while in the hot tub. Which means I won’t make corrections for awhile so no editing comments! This is how I release the big emotions. It is when I am most vulnerable about this journey. It is the reality of my life. My hope is that others facing the beyond will not be afraid but see it as a process. Grief is the valley we walk through, but we don’t stay. There are very dark steps and peaceful,  beautiful ones too. We are survivors, we do survive this part]

In the Kitchen, there was love

On By tomstroopsIn Alpha Lima SierraLeave a comment

The quote I wanted to use but it just didn’t seem right is, The Kitchen is the heart of the home. In every home I have lived in from my childhood home to my current and every one in between, what a true statement. Today, my kitchen, what was once the heart of my home will begin a transformation. While not a full re-model, the kitchen is getting a facelift. Something that is needed now that the rest of the home has been taken from fully handicap friendly to one that is not. While, I kept components of the some of the changes we did to the home, you could say the house is now more perfectly suited for “aging in place” rather than one for someone that was wheelchair friendly. The kitchen now looks out of place with the changes to the rest of the home, which is why the facelift.

Like so many times before, I have overestimated how I would handle things. The excitement of the changes and anticipation of having the house feel calm and peaceful has not allowed me to think about what changing the kitchen truly means to me. That is until about 3:30 a.m. this morning. I tease that Captain Cortisol wakes me around 3-4 am many mornings, but this morning I think it had more to do with being anxious about the start of demolition. As I walked into the kitchen so very early this morning to grab a drink of water, I stood in the mostly empty, packed up kitchen and felt the waves of memories hit me.

We moved in to our home in 2008. Our neighborhood was very small at the time, maybe a dozen or so homes. There were families with kids around Trey’s age and so we began a new season of our lives together. Tom was working and moving through the ranks of TDCJ, I was consulting part-time and being the stay-at-home mom I wanted to be. There were school activities, after-school activities, weekend Bar-B-Q’s and outdoor movie nights. All of which started in the kitchen.

That’s where Tom and I hung out and planned our week. It’s where impromptu outdoor movie nights were decided. The kitchen table is where we helped Trey with homework or where Tom and I would just sit and talk after dinner while Trey was in his room playing legos. The kitchen is where Tom would sneak up behind me and give me big, amazing hugs or a kiss on the neck as I made dinner. The kitchen sink is where I would slap Tom’s butt as he did the dishes, you know, to give him a taste of his own medicine. The kitchen has kept secrets, heard laughter and felt the tears of hard times. The kitchen was witness to fellowship with friends and the love between two people. It was where Tom and I taught Trey how to cook and just off the kitchen in the backyard, Tom taught Trey how to grill. Tom and I were always a team, and the kitchen let us trade who was captain of the team. On weekends, he was, it was the grill master’s domain and I was the sous-chef. On the weekdays, I was the master of the kitchen and Tom was my sous-chef.

It was in the corner of the kitchen in January 2016, while Trey was being tutored in Math in our dining room, that Tom grabbed me , pulled me close and told me in a whisper about his appointment to the neurologist he had that afternoon. He told me, how the Doctor believed his left hand weakness was probably not carpal tunnel syndrome that it could be a something else. On that night, in a whisper, that corner of the kitchen was the beginning of our ALS journey.

The kitchen was where we learned to cook differently to accommodate Tom’s changing needs. It’s where I would make batches of different meals, blend and freeze them so we could use them with Tom’s feeding tube. It was the kitchen that instead of fellowship with friends, it was where nurses and caregivers went for Tom’s medication. It was that same corner of the kitchen that I would stand and cry as the disease progressed and it was in that kitchen, I stood alone after my husband died in shock and the heaviest of grief as I realized, he was gone. The love and laughter that once flowed in the kithen was replaced with anxiety, fear and lots of crying. The kitchen was just another room in the house.

The changes to the kitchen are cosmetic and I know they can’t erase the memories, but this morning, it was all I could do to not have that fear along with the emotions the memories stirred in me. Since Tom’s death, I have tried to find my way back to cooking and re-creating the heart of our home. It’s just not the same right now. I don’t really find the joy in cooking like I once did. I am working on that. Actually, tonight I am off to a Thai cooking class with my bestie. Maybe this will spark something in me. My hopes are that the updated kitchen will do the same. Help me find my way back to enjoying creating happy memories, like laughing and dancing, fellowship with friends and ultimately bringing the kitchen back to the heart of the home.

All my love,

Lara

brown wooden blocks on white surface

A NEW AUTHENTIC BEGINNING

On By tomstroopsIn Alpha Lima SierraLeave a comment

When I first started to think about this post, I had a completely different thought, but as I stare at the screen, I decided to take a different approach. What I had planned on talking about was the end of grief therapy for me. The end of therapy is actually due to the fact my therapist is retiring. She is someone I first went to see in 2010 to finally process the loss of the babies. Then it was to help me through the stress of a business divorce and most recently, the ALS journey and beyond. She has been there off and on for me for awhile.

However, during our session last week, we stumbled on a topic that I was aware of, but one I haven’t put a ton of thought in to. That topic was the new version of someone that develops after a traumatic event and in this case, the loss of my husband of 32 years. I was talking to her in terms of “this new me” and the changes I am making in my life. She countered with the idea of, is it a new version of myself, or the most authentic version of myself. That’s hard to wrap my brain around. How am I more authentic today then before Tom died? While I am still exploring this, I do see the changes in myself. I am most definitely not the same person as I was before ALS, I mean how could I be? I am not the same person I was during the ALS journey nor am I the same person I was just after Tom died. This version of me, while still somewhat broken from his loss, is putting herself back together in a way that feels right.

Pre-ALS, I was someone that was more of a people pleaser, always wanting to make everything okay, make everyone happy. The old version of myself, would feel guilty for things outside of my control. The old version of myself, didn’t want to upset anyone and I was most definitely not confrontational. That may come as a shock to many. Without a doubt, Tom was my protector. He was confrontational. He gladly stepped in for me when things were tough and yes, was happy to fight my battles for me which I let him. He gave no f*cks about guilt or being a people pleaser, of course Trey and I were the exception. He was an absolute marshmallow with us. During ALS our roles changed. As he turned inward to absorb the diagnosis and later spent his energy fighting the disease, it was I that stepped in and became his protector. When left with the choices of fight or lay down, I chose to fight. Fight for him, our son and our family. I fought ALS for him, the State of Texas with regards to his retirement and the Veterans Health Administration all for him and our family. Love and fear are powerful motivators aren’t they? Since Tom’s passing, I have had to step in and again, do the uncomfortable. Life without my husband. Be a solo parent. Be a solo person. For 32 years, I was part of a “we” and now I am learning to live as “me”.

How am I different than the old version of myself. Well, for starters, I am learning to set boundaries and for seeing those that can’t respect them as trespassers. I am learning that boundaries are important and necessary for your mental health. I have learned to be unapologetic about how I was grieving which in turn, has helped me to be better at not always going for the quick, “I’m sorry” as a reaction. Now, I am okay with the silence or break in a conversation where I would say those words. Post Tom, or Tom A.D., I am learning to be protective of my time, my space and my peace. This form of self care means that I don’t let guilt have a say when it comes to things that make me happy or that is fulfilling to me. I have more patience with others and for myself. I am leaning into things that are outside my comfort zones and finding new avenues of joy and happiness. Where Tom was my sounding board and provided me with guidance, I listen more to my inner voice and I am guided by experience and wisdom with a hint of “oh shit, I hope this works out” attitude. The version of me today is learning to quiet the chaos in my head using tools in my toolbox like mindfulness and meditation, and that is a powerful thing. The version of me today is placing more value on peace probably because peace has been something I have been hunting for some time and now that I have felt it, I want more and will do what I can to protect it.

I am still getting to know this new authentic version of myself, but so far I like her. I scare myself sometimes with the things that I do or say, but it is a fleeting fear as I know it is coming from a place where I had to do hard things and I know, I can do this Tom A.D version of life. Honestly, I think Tom would really like this version. I like to think he is smiling that smile of his and saying, “she finally got it, she now sees in herself, what I saw in her my whole life.”

All my love,

Me!