Welcome! I am Angie B. Prince, child of God, wife of Tommy, mother of 3, Grief and Trauma Life Coach, Psychotherapist, and Mother Grieving. On 8/2/2006, our precious 19-yr-old daughter Merry Katherine was killed along w/ 2 other teens via vehicular manslaughter. Here I share as we agonizingly process our grief and trauma. Email: MotherGrieving(at)gmail(dot)com. Coaching (Tommy or Angie): Call 865-548-4four3four / Counseling (Angie in TN) 865-604-9nine9two. I pray God will minister to you here.
Welcome! I am Angie B. Prince, child of God, wife of Tommy, mother of 3, psychotherapist and Mother Grieving.
Tommy and I met in graduate school in Atlanta, then married in 1979 and started a Christian Counseling/Coaching practice in Knoxville, TN where we still live. We have 1 daughter Merry Katherine, forever-19 in Heaven, 2 sons, Nathan (age 34) (wife Ashley), and Rollin (age 37) (wife Stephanie), and two granddaughters, Ellie and Penny.
In this blog, we process our grief over our Merry Katherine who was killed along with two other teens in a brutal car crash while on the way to the beach on 8/2/2006 (two teens survived). Having lost our daughter suddenly and violently on the cusp of launching her into adulthood, we were thrown into Complicated and Traumatic Grief. We share here our agonizing process of wading through the multiple twists and turns of shattered assumptions, challenged faith, traumatized body-soul-and-spirts, and devastated hearts. May our grief touch some of your own pain as we walk through this difficult but sacred ground together.
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted" Scientifically Documented!
1) Copy the http: address above the line below. . . .
2) Paste it into your web browser's address bar. . .
3) Hit Enter to find the article below.
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/06/080620195446.htm
___________________"Addicted To Grief? Chronic Grief Activates Pleasure Areas Of The Brain"
OR "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted" Has Now Been Scientifically Documented!
. . . . . We now have physiological evidence via Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) that such "comfort" is indeed, a fact! In debilitating, complicated grief after the sudden death of a loved one, "comfort" was shown by significant nucleus accumbens activation in the brain's reward network!
Bible Verse for Today!
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USA since 6/7/09
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Showing posts with label Parents' Angst Over Drugs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parents' Angst Over Drugs. Show all posts
DENNIS MANSFIELD’S MEMOIR OF RAISING HIS SON NATHAN
Posted by Chad Estes
I don’t normally read a book twice before writing a review but this story is different; this is one I partially lived through.
I consider Dennis one of my best friends, a man who stands by me and works hard to understand me when others more easily cast me aside.
Dennis wasn’t always this way towards me, nor was I towards Dennis.
Pain in both of our lives has made us different and better men.
In a conversation today he told me,
“Though I was the birth father of Nate, Nate was the birth father of the reborn Dennis.”
I mentioned that I walked through parts of their story:
I was in Dennis’ home within hours of him and Susan hearing that their 27-year-old son was dead.
I was at the viewing where family and friends gathered to weep over their loss.
I met with Dennis before the funeral, just to let him spill his heart and cry with him.
I was at the funeral with my entire family lending whatever support we could.
I was at the graveside service, holding Dennis’ grandson, who was too wiggly to stay in his mother’s arms. I walked and cuddled with Cole, as his uncle, whom he never met, was placed in the ground.
I read the book the first time when Dennis was looking for feedback about the story, the flow, and how his message came across. The second time was with the finished manuscript, which will be released in March of 2013.
Both times I called Dennis when I was finished and said,
“I don’t know how you will ever get over Nate’s loss.”
Both times we cried together.
But Beautiful Nate isn’t a book about grief or losing a child; though the themes of both are present. It also has themes about intentional child rearing – although not in a How-To outline. Dennis and Susan went into parenthood with purpose. They sought out mentors, they read books, they listened to Focus on the Family – Dennis even worked for the Idaho Family Forum for a decade. The Mansfields choose to home-schooled their kids, being involved in every part of their children’s education. They followed all of the conservative instructions, yet Nate’s life didn’t fall into line with their desired plans and goals.
Our children aren’t born with a printed guarantee or a warranty plan.
Nate made some hard choices in this life – with the friends he choose to hang out with and the drugs he choose to take. These decisions landed him in a county jail and later a prison in Missouri.
The toll this took on Nate’s family can’t really be measured – drug addiction is an ugly monster with tentacles that touch everyone in proximity. Dennis is open about how it affected him, even his career.
Still this book is not a How-To keep your kids from drugs, or what to do if your kids do become addicted. More than anything this is a story about a father and a son, who both dearly love each other, who have some significant ups and downs, and whose time together on this side of eternity was cut way too short.
I sat in a meeting last week in Dennis’ home, his living room full of unique men that Dennis has made his friends. In a moment of humility and wonder Dennis says,
“Gentlemen, what if we’ve been wrong…”
The question lingers and no one easily addresses it because there are no simple answers to that devastating inquiry. We want to be right. We strive to know. It is a huge part of our identity and it is the measuring stick that we use to draw lines in the sand about who is on whose side.
Being right can be its own addictive, crippling drug.
When we think we have life all figured out and have all of the answers, we put ourselves at risk; if our experience doesn’t meet our expectations then what? We usually find ourselves imprisoned by our own judgments – and we try to escape with excuses while the inner turmoil and shame just drags us further into the cell. The only freedom comes from the realization of our own brokenness and the ability to humbly admit we don’t know it all. Dennis is a free man and that is of more value than being right.
Beautiful Nate is a beautiful story; yes there is tragedy, but there is also new life. And Dennis honors his son by sharing their journey together in this book. I hope you take the time to read it. Get to know beautiful Nate, and get to know reborn Dennis.
highlights, mine
Thank you to my Twitter friend Chad Estes for this wonderful review of the upcoming book by my Facebook friend who is the grieving father and author, Dennis Mansfield.
The Mansfield Family
Nate is pictured to the far left, Dennis is in the middle
Susan just spoke of the moment she laid down the burden of burying her boy. And she spoke of the joy that Jesus gave to all of us - "He picked us up and carried us" she said.
Tonight, we as a family watched the first in a series of the Henry Granju story on a local Knoxville television channel (WBIR). This thirty-minute episode is the first in a series about the silent epidemic killing our kids. Sobering. Sad. And haunting.
Katie Granju, Henry's mother, is a new "blog friend" of mine. (You may be familiar with her blog at mamapundit.com.) Katie and her family are graciously sharing their heart-wrenching story with us in an attempt to save other children who may even now be at risk to this silent but deadly epidemic.
Katie's own son Henry, bright, talented, and handsome, got caught up in a drug addiction that along with the drug world that surrounded him ultimately took his life at the tender age of 18. Robert Allison (Henry's maternal uncle) said that the hard narcotics we think of as the ones that hard-core junkies shoot up on, are now available to our kids in pill form...
Tonight's episode traced the tragedy of this bright child whose soul was captured by addiction and whose will was overcome by his craving for more. At age 14 when Henry first smoked marijuana, he said, "Oh, THIS is how I'm supposed to feel!" Scary. It's as though the drug takes the rational part of the brain and holds it hostage, meanwhile slowly destroying his body while his mind is on hold and his body is "feeling" good.
Katie and Henry Granju
The show was very well done, but it was gut-wrenching. Being that my daughter went through a similar process of losing her identity into that swirling world of junk, even if in a different form, it hit home with me...
Then a client calls me to help her walk through what she as a parent should do with her pill-addicted child...
It is all too much.
It literally terrorizes my heart. It paralyzes me. Kids self-destructing. Bright kids. Beautiful kids. Talented kids. Sensitive and Loving kids. It kills me.
Back to Henry's story. This one child had such a huge impact on everybody who was related to him. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. Uncles. Aunts. Grandmother. Mother. Daddy. Step-mother. I was struck in the show by how many lives were emotionally undone by what Henry was into and how it was destroying him little by little, and now, are all undone by his death.
His mother knew Henry was going to have to get clean or die. Everyone was helpless. This was his only choice, and no one knew how to help him. They tried everything, but still, were helpless.
We are professionals in the field, and we didn't know how to help our own child to Stop.The.Madness.Before.It.Is.Too.Late.
And it was.
Katie and Henry Granju picture thanks to mamapundit.com
(Setting: This weekend, remembering her last full weekend home)
June 9, the day my beautiful firstborn son was born.
So why? Why could I not pick up a phone and text him?
It was the least I could do, but I could not do that.
Awful. I felt awful. My heart on the ground. Pounded.
Ground into pieces. Tearful. Sobbing. Continual
tears flowing down my face. Reading about more mothers,
more mothers losing their children to drugs...some alive...
some dead. But it's my son's birthday! Time to celebrate!
He is alive! He is functioning. He is happy.
He is a good kid (with a few flaws, like most of us),
But I cannot move; I cannot stop crying; my heart
is in a puddle on the floor. Why? I have been in
deep pain for two weeks now. What is wrong with this mother?
Then, Tommy reminds me. Four years ago was the last
weekend she spent at home, steeped in her rebellion, not
willing to bend to the rules, and she'd just been found out...
Again. Three years in a row of turmoil. We'd had five
sweet months with her. Then we found out we were being conned,
deceived into thinking all was well. We discovered
evidence to the contrary. Natural consequences
needed to follow. Don't enable. Raise the bottom.
Don't you dare be codependent and allow her to
self-destruct. You love her too much. Too much is at stake.
Her life is on the line. Her future is on the line.
Take a stand. She knows the rules. As she has said many
times, "Mommy, I can't hear what you are telling me; I've
got to learn the hard way."So these were the last days with
her here, at home, home. where. she. belonged. but. could. not. stay.
Annivers'ry syndrome. Unbeknownst to my conscious
mind, but real, in-your-face to my subconscious mind. It
was taking me down. I couldn't breathe without crying
for her. Missing her. Mourning her. Bemoaning why she
could not "hear" in time to save her life. Could not seem to
"see" the error of her ways. We had her brother's birthday
party here that weekend. She loved her brother, but
she stayed in her room... Crying. She could not be reached. We
could not risk being conned out of our good sense again.
It would have been too dangerous for her. She was on
the cusp of Dangerous Denial. We could feel it.
We could sense it. It was breathing it's deadly breath down
our necks, necks already bent over in grief from loss,
loss of the little girl with the sweet, fun, spunky wit.
To let her go on in her Denial would have been
derelict in our duties to love her, guide her, warn
her, and let her suffer the consequences of her
choices. So on that Sunday night, she left, with a sweet
friend, but she would not choose to stay with that friend. She left.
And the choices she made from there led to her demise.
Yes, she returned home to visit. We got out a lot
of her misunderstandings. Love was exchanged. Hugs were
given. She responded. She turned to God. She restored
her broken relationship with her estranged boyfriend.
She hugged me tightly. I softly cried out in angst, "I
don't want you to go!" but she pulled away. Despite God,
love, reconciled feelings, humor, laughter, she went to
the arms of the drugs that evidently held her fast,
and. would. not. let. her. go. Even amidst the terror
they brought with them. the destruction. the devastation
they wreaked. ...Drugs people had told us were "harmless," she'll "be
okay." But she wasn't. We knew she had to feel the
terror for herself. Terror we were always feeling.
We thought the terror would lead her to seek help. Well, she
did feel terror... She did not know her driver had toked
up that morning, combined with his antidepressant...
She got in his car, catching a ride to the beach she
so loved. But only three hours into the trip, on a
straight-a-way, with no rain mind you, he passed out at the
wheel... Subsequently, the four-wheel drive Tahoe careened
off the road heading for a row of trees. Her scream of
terror awakened him. But he still did not have the
wherewithal to put his foot on the brake, to stop the
madness. The cruise control was still on, the car trav'ling
at highway speeds. into. the. trees. that. could. have. been.
avoided... She felt her terror... But it was too late. Too
late for her and two of her friends. The driver and his
brother survived. My child does not have the choice now to
come home. To get treatment. To receive love. comfort. and
help. Four years ago. The Watershed Weekend. All for
Naught...
*****
Merry Katherine loved the band "Evanescence." Its music can be lilting and haunting, and some of it captures the very dark aspects of life. Today, I heard one of their songs being played on a grieving mother's poetry site; I had never heard the song played in the context of grieving over your child...
I had just written the above poem to express my prolonged angst, and the lyrics and longing of this song grabbed me. I've changed the lyrics a bit to fit my mourning song to my child... As you hear the singer, replace her words with my words to turn it into a more apt child-loss mourning song... I think you too will be grabbed by its poignancy...
"My Immortal" (Adapted)
Evanescence
(Adapted Lyrics I sing tonight to my child)
(My changes will be italicized.)
(Original lyrics are below the adapted lyrics.)
I'm so sad you are not here;
Since you left, I drown in my tears.
Why did you have to leave?
This grief's too heavy to heave!
Though your presence lingers here,
You still will not come home...
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real...
There's just too much that time cannot erase!
When you cried,
I'd wipe away all of your tears;
When you'd scream,
I'd fight away all of your fears.
And I held your hand through all of these years,
But you still have
All of me.
You used to captivate me by your resonating light;
Now, I'm bound byyour absenceleft behind.
Your lossit haunts
my once pleasant dreams.
Yourdeath it chased away
all the sanity in me.
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real...
There's just too much that time cannot erase!
When you cried,
I'd wipe away all of your tears;
When you'd scream,
I'd fight away all of your fears.
And I held your hand through all of these years,
But you still have
All of me.
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone;
But though you're still "with"me,
I've been alone all along!
When you cried,
I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream,
I'd fight away all of your fears.
And I held your hand through all of these years,
But you still have
All of me,
me,
me...
The original lyrics:
My Immortal lyrics
Evanescence
Songwriters: Hodges, David; Lee, Amy; Moody, Ben
I'm so tired of being here,
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave
Your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase!
When you cried,
I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream,
I'd fight away all of your fears.
And I held your hand through all of these years,
But you still have
All of me.
You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase!
When you cried,
I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream,
I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years,
But you still have
All of me.
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone,
But though you're still with me,
I've been alone all along!
When you cried,
I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream,
I'd fight away all of your fears.
And I held your hand through all of these years,
But you still have
All of me,
me,
me...
http://twitpic.com/y0p7p Thank you to @LillyAnn !
Poem - The Subconscious Remembers, or The Body Remembers What the Mind Forgets - Angie Bennett Prince - 6/13/10