MIKAELA LAUREN TICK!

I WRITE A DAY LATE. YOUR BIRTHDAY was yesterday: LITERALLY, I AM a DAY LATE.

On July 27, 2014, you passed, PHYSICALLY; it was a rare HEART CONDITION. YOU HAVE A RARE HEART. A golden HEART. Check that, a 💜! (your FAV COLOR) and an attitude akin to an 🐘 with its tusks ⬆️. You had those up EVERYWHERE

EVERY SINGLE PERSON feels a DAY LATE, A DOLLAR SHORT occasionally and it was those moments that you INFUSED YOUR SMILE to LIFT THEIRS UP!

That SMILE FEELS PRICELESS to EVERYONE; it IS PRICELESS EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY SINGLE DAY, FLOWING WITH GENUINE and PURE LOVE no MATTER WHAT, BUT, LIFTING people’s TUSKS up is YOUR SUPERPOWER!

YOU LITERALLY took the OCCUPATION out of OCCUPATIONal therapy: VOLUNTEERING at St. Mary’s, and ALWAYS HOLDING HANDS with EVERYONE!

KALS LOVES HOLDING HANDS -especially for people with DIFFERENT ABILITIES: Camp HELPING HANDS is where it started!!

So PLEASE put YOUR “HAND IN THE JAR and give ANY AMOUNT of MONEY AND/ OR TIME

LY, ALWAYS!!

Until we meet again,

🐘 ⬆️

Jakey!

Credit: Picture from MLT’s Instagram Page

I could say I’ve known you forever, but that wouldn’t seem quite right. I guess I’ve known you for as long as I can remember. But even then, I’ve only known you partially. You’ve revealed yourself in different ways over the years and given me new reasons to love you. You’ve made days worth it. You find meaning in the little things and you know how to dress up a dollar. You go out of your way to make things inclusive and memorable. Most of all, you keep trying when you feel like you have no clue what you’re doing or where you are going.

We lose contact every once in a while. Sometimes I think I’ll never be with you again. It’s not like I lost your phone number, or you moved far away. It’s just sometimes I forget you’re there. I forget how to access you. In the past, I’d retreat further and further away before I remembered you exist and how to make contact. But now, I know to reach out a little sooner. You always know what to do and how to make things better.

There’s really no difference between me and you. The separation happens when I compare parts. I look at you as the “healthy version of me” but I should just be seeing me when I’m healthy. Rather than thinking of you as the “me” that I love, I’ll just love me. I’ve learned it’s a lot easier and more genuine to love when you aren’t doing it in parts. So, one day soon, I’ll just love me. After all, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

I’ve been where you are. I’ve always been a bit of a perfectionist myself. I don’t think that’s all bad as we are called to excellence. However, it can make life kind of stressful. Your need for perfection can then spiral into overthinking every little move you make, criticizing yourself for things outside of your control, and shame that is totally unnecessary. You look in the mirror to find that your own worst enemy is staring back at you. You worry that if you make one mistake that people will see you as incapable and incompetent. You’ll show them you can do it all. Until you can’t. Suddenly you feel yourself teetering on the tightrope about to plummet to the ground. This was me before the pandemic started. I believed the lie that this rat race world feeds us that we must stay busy, we must produce results. So I took on added responsibility thinking I could juggle it all and also what was going on in my personal life. But really I was on the edge of burnout. My mental health was not good. My work was suffering. I was exhausted. To make matters worse my boss talked to me about my performance without asking what was going on in my personal life that was making it that way. She seemed to see my poor performance as a character flaw rather than the fact that a check engine light was on, and I desperately needed help. Deeply distressed and beating myself up for my mistakes I ended up with a fender bender. Luckily no one was hurt, but inside I was really hurting.

In 2020 the pandemic forced everything to a screeching halt. I went to my parents, house with no idea of how long I was going to be there. My parents and I were all working at home under one roof. The extra family time was a much needed blessing. My schedule usually filled to the brim with things to do was completely open for the first time in a long time. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up doing a lot of thinking and realized that I don’t need to do everything. I am human, I make mistakes and I’m going to continue to. When I do make a mistake I can choose how I respond. I can choose to respond with grace and self-compassion. I don’t have to spiral, I don’t have to walk the tight rope. A mistake doesn’t automatically mean falling. I started to prioritize more and suddenly I was worrying less and less about what others thought about my mistakes and taking the opportunity to let my mistakes teach me a lesson.

Sweetheart I know you want to move mountains and you will. But spiraling won’t get you there. Beating yourself up won’t make you stronger, instead it will tear you down more. You need to learn to rest. You need to learn that your mistakes don’t define you. Learn to embrace your humanity. Learn to love yourself the way that you would love a friend. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of self-forgiveness. You are worthy to live a life that includes mistakes because if you haven’t noticed everyone else is too. When you learn these things you’ll be freer, happier, healthier, and holier. If you don’t hear anything else in this letter hear this; unlike St. Paul, you can’t be everything to everybody, but instead of being your own biggest enemy, you can learn to look in the mirror and embrace yourself in grace and self-compassion.

With love,

Fidgeting and nausea must be a natural state for you. Movement seems to disperse a bit of that nervous energy, but the feeling of your stomach turning is enough to make your mind go blank. I spent most of my life stuck in this mode, chalking it up to a hyperactive personality and a sensitive stomach. But looking closer at my life, I could see the mismatch that was provoking all of this movement. My body was telling me to go somewhere and all I was letting it do was twiddle thumbs and do internal somersaults. I needed to move, but not just physically, I needed to move into my body and start listening to what it was telling me.

I’ll never forget the beginning of my therapy journey when I explained my visceral anxiety and the advice I was given was “You need to breathe.” Breathe? I’m always breathing. How could I be breathing any better? I came back the next week to tell her “This breathing thing isn’t making a difference; I need something else.” She laughed at me and said, “That’s all I got for you.” So, I kept breathing. Deeper, longer, more fully, more expansive, more peacefully. And now when I start to squirm or my stomach starts to turn, I can take a deep breath and get clear about what I am feeling.

I know it feels like trying to stop a freight train with your bare hands when the nervousness gears up, but the more often you recognize that chugging and start to pump the brakes, the more often you won’t have to compare your feelings to four-ton vehicles going 50 mph. Also, the more often you get to be present in moments and make conscious decisions. Breath is a place of peace as much as power. And life is so much better when you take a deep breath.

From the moment I was born you were mine. My parents had chosen you to be my godmother, a duty which you took very seriously. When I look back you were always there for every one of my milestones; my Baptism, my first few words, my first steps, my first haircut, my Confirmation and First Communion, my high school graduation. You were even there when I got my acceptance letter to St. Joseph’s College. When I moved into St. Joe’s you took me under your wing and made sure I always knew that I had a safe place to go when I wanted to get off campus. You enjoyed spending time with me and even invited me on outings like going blueberry picking with you, your daughter, and your granddaughter. You became my second mom when my mom was 7 hours away.

And then unexpectedly you passed. There was no warning. There was no chance to say goodbye. You were gone. I remember where I was when I got the call. My entire floor had just gone to a trampoline park and we were hungry so we went to get ice cream. I saw my mom had texted me but thought nothing of it when she said “call me.” My sister texted me and told me to call mom. I texted back “why? Is it an emergency?” She responded “yes.” I excused myself from the group and ran to my RA’s car and called my mom. I could hear on the other end she was crying. She told me that you had passed and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I crumbled in a ball. I remember my mom asking “Hannah are you ok?” I don’t remember what I said. I remember my RA, a guy I didn’t know very well, and the girls on my floor coming back to the car and finding me weeping. My RA asked what was wrong and all I could get out between sobs were “SHE. IS. GONE.” It didn’t take long for denial and then shock and then loneliness to set in. I remember after the funeral we walked the middle aisle to the back of the church as a family. I remember everyone grabbing onto each other’s hand, but I had one hand free. The hand that you would have held if you were still alive. I didn’t know how I was going to live one day without you, let alone 8 years.

Grief still steals the air right out of my lungs sometimes, but I like to think that since you have gone I have been managing my grief and learning to breathe again. In the 8 years since you have been gone I have been working to build and live a life that you would be proud of. There are so many life milestones that I wish you could’ve been here for. Still I have to believe that you’ve seen them or at least know about them. Let’s start from the beginning. I graduated from St. Joseph’s with a bachelor’s degree in theology with minors in secondary education and psychology. From there I moved to Southern Maine and started my first job working for the Diocese. 4 years later I am still working there and I love what I get to do and who I get to meet through this job. Shortly after I graduated undergrad I decided to apply for grad school and was accepted to Felician University’s Master of Arts in Religious Education program. In the middle of this the pandemic happened. I began counseling in order to heal wounds from the past. And oh what a year 2022 was. I graduated with my Master’s and our family had a party to celebrate. I know you would’ve been there if you could’ve been. Family was your number one priority. I also went on a service trip to Kentucky to work with the Christian Appalachian Project in honor of you and all my loved ones who have passed away because you all were people who served others with love. We were doing home repair. And oh my gosh that trip was probably the best thing I did this past summer. I learned and experienced so much. I know if you were here today we would’ve gotten together to discuss it over coffee and donuts. I am so grateful to God for giving me that opportunity. I have no idea what 2023 holds (maybe you do….I don’t know how that works), but I hope that each day I do something that makes you proud.

This letter is getting long, so I’ll conclude with some things that I always want you to know.

I celebrate because you lived.
I still grieve because you died.
I am still impacted by your love and kindness.
I will always remember you.
I wish you were here.
I love you still.

Love,

Dear Father-In-Law,

I have had the pleasure of spending the last 11 years with your son as my life partner. We have had our ups and downs, that has not stopped us from enjoying our lives together. When I walked into your son’s life there wasn’t much he would talk about with me when it came to you because he was still in pain. I know it must have been hard knowing you were leaving him and your wife so soon in life.

While I know you only got to spend 9 years with him physically, I know you have been here for his whole life. I want to thank you for giving him something I never had the pleasure of experiencing, what a father is supposed to be. When he and I met I had children already and your 22 year old son took them as if they were his! He has given our children the best gift possible, the gift of having a father, something every child should have.

He has spent majority of his life going to school and building a career and he is excelling even beyond his expectations. He now has a Masters in Financial Analysis. He has become a major asset within the company he works for in FinTech. FinTech, is a major player in todays world and it is 100% where you would want him to be! Your son has the potential to run this world if he truly wants it.

He and I have been working on healing individually and together and you would be proud to know, that healing is trickling down the line. Our family has never been stronger! We are all learning to lean in and onto each other. I know the conversations you and your wife, him mama, my madrina, had in the past and I’m here to tell you she has kept every promise!

I know you moved into the spiritual world long before I came along but you have presented yourself to me before I even knew it was you. I know you walk closely to all of your grandchildren and you will never truly know how much that puts this mama bear at ease. Your grandson is named after you and he and Abualita are best friends! If you cant find one, look for the other.

Having the honor of watching him grow and be a small version of you and your son makes it me smile on the inside and out. I watch that little boy and get lost in how much I now know you because of him. Everyone tells me all of your traits they see in him; like when he walks around like El Hefe with his hands behind his back observing closely or when he puts his hand on his hips as if to show he is the man of the house. I know when your close because he will carry the same limp my husband’s siblings tell me you had.

Your money clip was given to my husbands brother when you passed because you two share a name. Well, he had your name taken off of the money clip and turned into a necklace for your grandsons second birthday. Your grandson, the opinionated boy he is, refused to wear it, so I wore it for a while. Thank you, the time I wore that necklace is the time I felt you the most. And during that time I felt like I was blessed enough to somehow get to know you the best.

It has been and continues to be an absolute honor being your sons wife and your grandchildren’s mother. I want you to rest easy knowing I’ve got them! I appreciate you continual protection and being there with them when I physically cant. Please know they are all safe and loved! Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to continue to remind them, especially your son, how proud you are of them!

You may be gone; however, you will never be forgotten. Take care of my Angel babies for me please.

With love and light,
Your Daughter-In-Law

“It is my duty, as an air rescueman, to save life and aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts. These things I do THAT OTHERS MAY LIVE.”

This is the code of Air Force Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR), my profession, and a sentiment that reflects much of my life. From 6 years of volunteer firefighting and EMS, to my 12 years in the USAF as a Combat Systems Officer (CSO) on HC-130’s the CSAR version of the C-130 cargo plane. I have spent my entire adult life even starting in High School training and preparing in hopes that I can prevent someone’s worst day from becoming their last. I have been blessed with the opportunity to do this a few times as well, and it is a level or rewarding bested only by being a husband and father. My life is dedicated to helping others, but sometimes, I need help.

I was always able to deal with the traumatic experiences my work has put me through by leaning on friends who understand. This is often the first line of help one can get and it is VITAL even if not always sufficient. Whether it was my first dead body, or seeing an unconscious classmates broken face wedged between the dash and windshield of her car 2 days after graduation, my many close calls, or losing a close friend; I could always find help and relief in the arms and ears of my friends and family. They gave me the strength and support to ensure post traumatic stress never became PTSD. But that doesn’t mean it was easy. All of these events gave me nightmares; sometimes for a night, sometimes for a week, occasionally for a month. There would be sadness, depression, anxiety. But all of this would fade with time and help.

But what about when that wasn’t enough? For the last 4-5 years I have been struggling with bouts of depression and anxiety. Nothing new, except that it was not tied to anything. I couldn’t get past it because I didn’t have a trauma, life event, or anything else I could associate it with and thus, could not worth through the cause.

In the early days I just shrugged it off, pushed through and got on with life. But the episodes were getting worse, and more frequent. After years of this I was sick and tired, I needed help. After all, being a good husband and father are my top priorities, and this was degrading that ability…

But… I’m a military aviator…

Now, no doubt some of you think you know where this is going. After all, you have seen movies about military aviation, aviators are macho, tough, so surely there is a stigma with getting help! No, actually there isn’t, in fact we share our feelings with each other pretty regularly. No, I was scared I would be grounded from flying and bound to a desk either temporarily or permanently. But enough was enough.

With the encouragement of my wife, I made an appointment with the aviation psychiatrist at my unit. He reassured me that grounding was unlikely and only even a possibility if I was diagnosed with a mental illness. Ok, so now I am less worried!

So I opened up about how I was feeling with the psychiatrist. He gave me some great techniques for dealing with the depression and anxiety such as mindfulness and grounding that have been helping. I have follow up appointments to keep working on this and life is already getting better

Emboldened by that experience, at my annual flight physical with the flight surgeon the next week, I discussed the issue with her as well. She asked some questions about other aspects of my health and determined we should check my red blood count and vitamin D levels. My RBC was in normal limits but low considering I live at 5500ft above sea level and do a lot of running and mountain biking. Probably not contributing to the issue but worth addressing. We also checked my iron which is good so I am now on a B complex supplement. But the real concern was my vitamin D, it was severely low. I never would have thought of it as I spend a ton of time outside. But one of the symptoms is mood swings and depression (hmmm… sounds familiar). So now I am on a high dose vitamin D supplement.

After 5 years of suffering and worrying I would lose my flight status, my fear was unfounded, and what I needed was vitamin D and professional counseling. My only regret is that I didn’t seek help sooner.

Please, if you are struggling, even if it is something you have handled without issue before, reach out. Talk to a friend or loved one. If that doesn’t work, or is insufficient, seek professional help. Please don’t suffer in silence. I am still flying, still doing my job, but I am now also a happier and healthier person on the road to further improvement. And most of all, I am able to be the best husband and father I can be.

Thanks for reading,
SEZ