I Don’t Believe We’ve Met

Recently, I said to a friend, in regard to my time of deep depression, “I was either drunk, high (on old prescription medication I found around the house) or taking high milligrams of melatonin.” He quickly glared at me in disgust, and quietly snapped, “I don’t want to hear about that.”

While, I realize his response was because nobody wants to hear the gory details, that I freely give, I want people to understand how I struggled, how I survived and how I overcame. It was a darkness like no other, and a long hard road out of it. I am not the same person I once was and it’s all a part of what continues to make me.

Irrevocable

ir·rev·o·ca·ble /əˈrevəkəb(ə)l/ adjective: not able to be reversed, or recovered; final.

I hated the idea of that word, when it first crossed my mind, as a description of my life. The finality of it felt dark and infinitely hollow. My entire life had burned down, right in front of me. Everything I was and everything I had known, completely irrevocably gone.

Over the next several months I began looking for “myself” by visiting places that I thought might give me comfort. Familiar places I had known before Ross, as well as, places we had been as a couple, or as a family. Not surprisingly, I wasn’t in any of the places where I’ve been. Sure, there were memories in those places…wonderful ones, but just like looking at a picture, life doesn’t return to us by remembering it. It stays on the paper. No matter how I wished myself back, the only way to Tammi, was to accept that who I was, is a reflection of the past. Who I am becoming…that’s where I am, and where my focus needs to be.

I have come to accept that we do not go through trials in life to “find ourselves again”. Though, that is the sentiment many will use in an effort to give comfort. After all, the past is where our comfort lies…it’s what we know. Becoming a new creation of ourselves is to walk out, into the unknown, and that is terrifying, but oh, so necessary.

Who am I now?

I am evolving…unapologetically so. That’s the best way to describe me.

Everyday, I am more “me” than I’ve ever been. I speak differently than I’ve ever spoken, I think differently than I’ve ever thought, I find humor in things that used to seem taboo and beauty in things others may dismiss as ordinary. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I am freer than I’ve ever allowed myself to be.

I’m assertive and I set boundaries with people. I let my thoughts run wild when I speak and when I write. More often than not, the things I’ve processed may fly out of my mouth during the simplest conversation and it becomes my testimony.

I quote C. S. Lewis in basically, every other sentence, and I smile when I do it, because I can feel how the words apply to me and continue to bring healing. You may not understand a word I say, and that’s okay. If you can’t or don’t want to comprehend my thoughts, then they aren’t for you. You will leave my presence either, inspired or more concerned. Any initial concern for your potential judgement of me, is worth the risk, however, it never really crosses my mind. Maybe you’ll learn something, and I wouldn’t want my selfish fear to stand in the way of that.

I am who I am and I love me

I don’t mind the word “irrevocable” so much, anymore. In fact, it’s kind of liberating, like a “clean break”. Of course, there are things I would love to recover, namely, Ross, and the family we used to be, but His plan does not lead to the past (Jeremiah 29:11). I still have Ross, in my precious kids and Nico, and our path moves forward.

This was from Mother’s Day 2021, but we still cute 🙂

May you be aware of your blessings during this week of gratitude and always,

~Tammi

How did I get here?

I was happily married to my best friend for nearly 25 years. We have three amazing, beautiful (now) adult children. Our family had grown, to add a son-in-law and a new grandson. Then, on Christmas Day 2019, as we were finishing our family dinner, my husband, Ross collapsed from his chair at the head of the table. Before long, our house was full of EMT’s and police officers.

Our happy day had turned into tragedy.

He was stabilized and taken to the hospital, where he “officially” passed. It was a massive heart attack…the “widow maker”.

Such a beautiful life, completely devastated, in the matter of minutes. Right there, in the middle of Christmas Day.

As the days and months passed, without him, my children and I trudged through the depths of sorrow. Outside the grief-stricken walls of our very broken family, the world was being terrorized by a virus. We were on lockdown.

Passing through the ‘valley of the shadow of death’ during a pandemic IS HELL! We had been locked away from our support system. Regulations caused us to suffer without physical or social interactions. All help and hope…gone. There was no way out of our darkness. The whole world was dark. So, I settled into a deep pit of depression.

Catching my breath

After 5 months of overwhelming anguish, I desperately needed to escape this horrible reality. A sweet friend of mine, lives in Dauphin Island, Alabama. Understanding my grief, she generously invited me to come stay with her. I had never traveled alone, so she gave me all the shortcuts and safe places to stop along the way. Within the next few days, my son and I packed our bags and headed to the Gulf Coast.

When we hit that 4 mile causeway, leading from the mainland to the island, it was like a sudden gasp of air. We could finally see the ocean and all of our problems suddenly, though momentarily, seemed to drown in the depth of its beauty. Everywhere we looked was water and sky.

“Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” Genesis 1:2 The breathtaking mystery of it is simply overwhelming…but the most beautiful kind.

We arrived at the house in plenty of time to get settled in and enjoy the beautiful sunset over the Mississippi Sound.

Just being in the presence of my friend, felt like I was home. I hadn’t felt “at home” in my heart in a long time. Suddenly, a light had come on inside me. It was dim, but it was bright enough to begin to pierce the darkness I had fallen into. At last, I had found a place to process the heavy emotions, to which I had become enslaved. My friend and Dauphin Island immediately became my safe place for thinking, instead of just feeling so much. A place to breathe…

The journey to “Me”

Over the next year, I visited Dauphin Island 5 times. Whenever I would have a break from school, I would rush down as soon as I could. Usually, I would either hang out with my friend or go to the beach, while she was at work. One weekend, my friend and her husband went out of town and I was left to housesit. I decided to explore the other side of the Mobile Bay. Which is jokingly referred to as “The Dark Side”. It definitely does not match the serene tranquility of Dauphin Island, however, if you’re looking for all the beach touristy stuff, that’s the place…or places.

On the other side, I went to the outlet mall in Foley, drove on down into Gulf Shores, hit Beach Boulevard and took it through Orange Beach and Perdido Key. Before I knew it, I was in Pensacola, Florida. I googled a place to get fish tacos where I could sit outside by the water. This was the first time I would be eating at a restaurant alone, so I wanted a distraction from noticing people looking at “lonely me”. I found a place called The Oar House. It was mid-day, so there weren’t a lot of people there. I walked in, sheepishly asked for a table for one, and requested to be outside. I got “the look”, but did my best to ignore it and held my head high as I followed the host.

My table was in a corner of the outside deck, perfectly facing the shipyard, located next to the restaurant. There were pelicans to watch, and fishing boats going in and out, which created the perfect distraction for my loneliness. I ordered my tacos, and a watermelon margarita.

It felt a little heavy to be sitting there alone. I may have teared up a time or two, but I kind of enjoyed the peacefulness of it. It was almost like I had gained a new confidence. I always feared being alone, but there I was, and it didn’t feel as devastating as I thought it would. It felt…powerful.

Becoming Tammi

So, here I am, 8 months, several trips, restaurants and life experiences later…completely empowered…uh oh! I believe God knows what He’s doing, but sometimes I wonder if He’s sorry He took the lid off of my little can of worms. Of course, He’s not…and though, I was mad at Him for a very long time, I do believe He has a plan and He is working it out, even as I type.

All the tears, screaming and wallowing in the darkness of my grief…all growing pains of becoming Tammi.

Please follow along as I walk you through the next phases of my journey. I will try to help lead you to some great experiences of your own.

Blessings!

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