Friday, November 11, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
November 19th: International Survivors of Suicide Day
On Saturday, November 19th, local healing conferences are being held from Indianapolis to India, and Canada to Costa Rica. If you don't live near a participating city, sign up to watch online from home and participate in a live online chat. This year's featured survivors address the questions that so many face: Why did this happen? How do I cope? Where can I find support?
To reach more survivors than ever before, the 2011 program featuresSpanish and English subtitles, plusEnglish captioning for the hearing impaired. Learn more and watch past programs at any time at www.afsp.org/survivorday. Información en español: www.afsp.org/dia.
** I attended this last year for the first time and I couldn't have been more happier to be surrounded by people who understood me and my situation. For the first time, it made me feel like I was not alone. If you reside in the Phoenix Valley and would like to attend the conference, please contact me via email at forgetuknot (at) gmail (dot) com. I would love for you to join us!**
For Veterans: Deals & Discounts
First and foremost, I want to take a moment to thank all the past, current and future Veterans. I appreciate all that you have done, are doing, and will do for our country.
I have been given some resources that I would love to share for our Veterans to get some great deals and discounts on this upcoming Veteran's Day!
http://www.americanlegionpost91.org/uploads/Veterans_Day_Freebies.pdf
http://themilitarywallet.com/veterans-day-free-meals-and-discounts/
I have been given some resources that I would love to share for our Veterans to get some great deals and discounts on this upcoming Veteran's Day!
http://www.americanlegionpost91.org/uploads/Veterans_Day_Freebies.pdf
http://themilitarywallet.com/veterans-day-free-meals-and-discounts/
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Call On Congress to Prevent Veteran Suicides
In honor of Veterans Day (Friday, Nov. 11), let’s come together to pay tribute to the men and women who have worn the uniform of the United States Armed Forces; patriots who have risked their lives in service to their country and the families who support them.
Please join AFSP to ask members of Congress to support efforts aimed at reducing the high rate of veteran suicide.
We are urging our Field Advocates and their family members, friends and colleagues to call Congress through Thursday, Nov. 10, to tell them that AFSP supports our veterans year round and urges Congress to do the same by providing funding at the highest levels possible for veteran suicide prevention and education programs.
Call the toll-free phone number below through November 10. Your calls will be redirected to the appropriate offices.
- Call 1-877-762-8762 to reach the United States Capitol Switchboard. You will be asked by an operator what office you would like to connect with. Please call three times and request to speak with each of your senators and your member of the House of Representatives.
Click here for a sample script you can use.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Resources
Suicide Resources
American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP)
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273- TALK (1-800-273-8255)
Glendon Association
Saving lives and enhancing mental health by addressing the social problems of suicide.
Joining Forces
Responding to the health care needs of returning military, to assist in understanding what returning veteran and their family members have experienced.
Lifeline Gallery: Stories of Hope and Recovery
A safe space for survivors of suicide, suicide attempt survivors, those who struggled with suicidal thoughts and those in the suicide prevention field to share their stories of hope and recovery.
Stories That Heal
African-American suicide prevention public awareness campaign.
We Can Help Us
Teen suicide prevention public awareness campaign.
American Association of Suicidology
The Jed Foundation
College-aged and campus information
The Link Counseling Ceter
Grief, support, education and counseling for families.
National Organization of People of Color Against Suicide
Community-based suicide prevention for minority communities.
Suicide & Bullying Resources
The Trevor Project
24 hour, national crisis and suicide prevention lifeline for gay and questioning teens.
1-866-4-U-Trevor (1-866-488-7386)
Bullying Resources
The National Center for Bullying Prevention
Promoting awareness and teaching effective ways to respond to bullying.
STOMP Out Bullying
Reducing bullying and cyberbulling.
The Matthew Shepard Foundation
Matthew’s Place, an online community and resource center for LGBTQ youth.
GLSEN
Working to eradicate bullying and bias in schools.
The Human Rights Campaign’s Welcome Schools Guide
An approach to addressing family diversity, gender stereotyping, and name-calling in K-5th grades. Great tool for educators and parents!
Claim Your Rights
A resource for students, parents, and teachers to report bullying, particularly in schools.
GLBTQ Online High School
A safe place to complete a high school education and diploma from anywhere you have internet access.
Oddly enough, Cartoon Network has a neat little website with tips and information regarding anti-bullying. You can check it out here: http://www.cartoonnetwork.com/promos/stopbullying/index.html
And for more Canadian readers (do I have some out there?); the LGBT Youth Line is a toll-free Ontario-wide peer-support phone line for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning young people in Ontario, Canada. The Youth Line provides online peer-support through phone, email and text messaging!
1-800-268-9688
askus@youthline.ca
Sunday, October 23, 2011
A Living, Breathing Eulogy
When I was 4 I learned how to:
Braid Hair
Tie a shoe using the bunny ear method
Thread a needle
Read a few words
Count to 10 in Spanish
I also learned how to slap my mother across the face. This was necessary when she’d taken too much medication and would fall asleep in the big orange chair.
I don’t know how old I was when I realized that other children don’t stay up all night and watch MASH and eat fried egg sandwiches, then sleep the day away. Or that other children play with siblings and parents during on the weekends, not by yourself or with the dog because “We don’t wake mommy, even if there’s a fire”. And how. When you’ve lived a half-century without a good night’s rest or a healthy image of your body or spirit, or a fear that you have lost your mind because people think you are crazy, stupid, lazy or twenty years older than you are- would you want to be awakened by an 8 year old who needs what you can’t provide?
When I was 9 she was hospitalized for hip and back problems. Of course years later I found out that there weren’t any hip or back problems, but that she was voluntarily hospitalized for manic depression. One of many times to come. More often than not, she committed herself, without struggle. After that many years, you gotta figure, well- if it helps, it helps.
Do I resent my own mother? Yes. All the time. I resent that when I need things, as people do, she’s not there. I resent that for all the times I couldn’t be as much of a child as I wanted to be, I was okay with it because secretly I thought that she would get better, and I would get that back. That somehow, some year, I would get what I thought was owed me. And you know, I did. When she took her life and I collapsed in a heap, I was definitely a child. At 25, I was 7 and I needed my mommy.
When she had cancer, people came out of the woodwork. How much casserole can one person even eat? The love and support poured out of friends and colleagues like water, and we lapped it up. We went on vacations (“who knows, it might be the last one!”), Leeza Gibbons cried at our plight, the soothing crinkling of the cellophane on gift baskets was the soundtrack to our lives. But when the chemo was over, when her white count was up, when she was back to a healthy weight but still couldn’t get out of bed then the casseroles dried up, no one called and we were alone again, naturally.
We talk about fighting the stigma, and if you ask me, nothing has more stigma attached to it than The Big One: suicide. Please don’t think that there is no comedy to be found in the suicide of a loved one. Support groups often erupt in laughter at the pure absurdity of it. My mother wrote in her suicide note that she didn’t want to kill herself because then I would be The Girl Whose Mother Killed Herself. Well here we fucking are, and I am just that.
Let’s not pretend I don’t say What If? Every single day of my life. I didn’t live in the same city and I am just as guilty of abandoning her as anyone else. I tell myself that it’s okay because the guilt she would have felt if I’d lived in my hometown instead of following my dreams would have been too much for her, but guess what? It was too much no matter what, and I could have spent her remaining years with her and I chose not to, so that’s my cross to bear, and it’s heavy as shit.
Who had two thumbs and constantly fears her mind is unraveling? This girl!
Someone once asked me, “Do you ever think the constant fear of going crazy will drive you crazy?” Um, yes. Of course I do. We all worry about inheriting our mother’s mannerisms, her ticks, her voice, her deep affection for Joni Mitchell, her hatred of loud music, rude people and all things electronic. But then eventually you realize that you want her voice, her ticks, her obsession with hot pink and skyblue uniball pens hotpinkandskyblueonlyiftherearegreenintheboxIwilljustthrowthemaway. You want the good stuff.
But we can’t pick and choose and let’s face it. It will all happen. You will have to ask someone to cut your food, remember your name, carry you to bed, calm you down, drive you home and you may have your mail clippers, your lighter, your precious pens, your quiet, regal dignity taken away from you at whatever hospital, whatever program you find yourself in.
Let’s get one thing straight. My mother was never neurotic. She did once drive a car down the sidewalk , but neurotic? No. And let’s not kid ourselves- my mother was a great mother. This is a woman who taught me what strength is, what womanhood is, what wit is. She fought the stigma every day, and even after death she fights it. She’s in my voice, my hands, she’s in this room that I built with nine friends. She’s in my blood sweat and tears and in all of the papers that are filled with her bold, loopy, beautiful handwriting.
The truth is that I’m lucky. For all of the tears, for all of the anger, for all of the questioning, I had (have) a mother who was beautiful, brilliant, and yes, crazy as all giddyup, it was that same woman who looked at me after I was born and said, “I know you, why didn’t you tell me it was going to be you”, because she connected to people on a level that people who aren’t mentally ill, people who aren’t different, people who aren’t bat shit insane, can never understand. And for that, the word grateful can’t even begin to describe.
Contributed by Jessica Murphey Garrett
Braid Hair
Tie a shoe using the bunny ear method
Thread a needle
Read a few words
Count to 10 in Spanish
I also learned how to slap my mother across the face. This was necessary when she’d taken too much medication and would fall asleep in the big orange chair.
I don’t know how old I was when I realized that other children don’t stay up all night and watch MASH and eat fried egg sandwiches, then sleep the day away. Or that other children play with siblings and parents during on the weekends, not by yourself or with the dog because “We don’t wake mommy, even if there’s a fire”. And how. When you’ve lived a half-century without a good night’s rest or a healthy image of your body or spirit, or a fear that you have lost your mind because people think you are crazy, stupid, lazy or twenty years older than you are- would you want to be awakened by an 8 year old who needs what you can’t provide?
When I was 9 she was hospitalized for hip and back problems. Of course years later I found out that there weren’t any hip or back problems, but that she was voluntarily hospitalized for manic depression. One of many times to come. More often than not, she committed herself, without struggle. After that many years, you gotta figure, well- if it helps, it helps.
Do I resent my own mother? Yes. All the time. I resent that when I need things, as people do, she’s not there. I resent that for all the times I couldn’t be as much of a child as I wanted to be, I was okay with it because secretly I thought that she would get better, and I would get that back. That somehow, some year, I would get what I thought was owed me. And you know, I did. When she took her life and I collapsed in a heap, I was definitely a child. At 25, I was 7 and I needed my mommy.
When she had cancer, people came out of the woodwork. How much casserole can one person even eat? The love and support poured out of friends and colleagues like water, and we lapped it up. We went on vacations (“who knows, it might be the last one!”), Leeza Gibbons cried at our plight, the soothing crinkling of the cellophane on gift baskets was the soundtrack to our lives. But when the chemo was over, when her white count was up, when she was back to a healthy weight but still couldn’t get out of bed then the casseroles dried up, no one called and we were alone again, naturally.
We talk about fighting the stigma, and if you ask me, nothing has more stigma attached to it than The Big One: suicide. Please don’t think that there is no comedy to be found in the suicide of a loved one. Support groups often erupt in laughter at the pure absurdity of it. My mother wrote in her suicide note that she didn’t want to kill herself because then I would be The Girl Whose Mother Killed Herself. Well here we fucking are, and I am just that.
Let’s not pretend I don’t say What If? Every single day of my life. I didn’t live in the same city and I am just as guilty of abandoning her as anyone else. I tell myself that it’s okay because the guilt she would have felt if I’d lived in my hometown instead of following my dreams would have been too much for her, but guess what? It was too much no matter what, and I could have spent her remaining years with her and I chose not to, so that’s my cross to bear, and it’s heavy as shit.
Who had two thumbs and constantly fears her mind is unraveling? This girl!
Someone once asked me, “Do you ever think the constant fear of going crazy will drive you crazy?” Um, yes. Of course I do. We all worry about inheriting our mother’s mannerisms, her ticks, her voice, her deep affection for Joni Mitchell, her hatred of loud music, rude people and all things electronic. But then eventually you realize that you want her voice, her ticks, her obsession with hot pink and skyblue uniball pens hotpinkandskyblueonlyiftherearegreenintheboxIwilljustthrowthemaway. You want the good stuff.
But we can’t pick and choose and let’s face it. It will all happen. You will have to ask someone to cut your food, remember your name, carry you to bed, calm you down, drive you home and you may have your mail clippers, your lighter, your precious pens, your quiet, regal dignity taken away from you at whatever hospital, whatever program you find yourself in.
Let’s get one thing straight. My mother was never neurotic. She did once drive a car down the sidewalk , but neurotic? No. And let’s not kid ourselves- my mother was a great mother. This is a woman who taught me what strength is, what womanhood is, what wit is. She fought the stigma every day, and even after death she fights it. She’s in my voice, my hands, she’s in this room that I built with nine friends. She’s in my blood sweat and tears and in all of the papers that are filled with her bold, loopy, beautiful handwriting.
The truth is that I’m lucky. For all of the tears, for all of the anger, for all of the questioning, I had (have) a mother who was beautiful, brilliant, and yes, crazy as all giddyup, it was that same woman who looked at me after I was born and said, “I know you, why didn’t you tell me it was going to be you”, because she connected to people on a level that people who aren’t mentally ill, people who aren’t different, people who aren’t bat shit insane, can never understand. And for that, the word grateful can’t even begin to describe.
Contributed by Jessica Murphey Garrett
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Welcome to Forget U Knot
Welcome to Forget U Knot!
I would like to take the time to welcome you, share with you who we are, what is our purpose and goal, and invite you to share with us!
Who we Are:
The creator of Forget U Knot is a survivor of suicide and has been a victim to suicide and bullying. She is working toward earning her Master's degree and professional license to mental health counseling in order to help those who have loved and lost; have been bullied; or suffer from suicide ideations. Our future goal is to add an outreach program for those in need starting locally and expanding statewide as well as nationally.
Our Purpose & Goal:
The purpose of Forget U Knot is to bring awareness to bullying and suicide; educate others in bullying and suicide; and prevent bullying and suicide through awareness and education.
Forget U Knot will be offering handmade items for purchase with proceeds benefiting anti-bullying and suicide organizations. Donations will also be accepted for anti-bullying and suicide organizations.
Please Share!
Forget U Knot has contributors who have shared their stories, poems, memories, photos, etc. with others in order to bring awareness, education, and prevention to bullying and/or suicide. We ask that you share what you are comfortable sharing to be posted on our blog. You can have your name be known or you can contribute anonymously. Please email your stories, poems, memories, photos, etc. to forgetuknot (at) gmail (dot) com.
Contact Us:
Email: forgetuknot (at) gmail (dot) com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Forget-U-Knot/232092923510855
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