Wednesday, February 1, 2017
It turns out that my nighttime episodes stopped 3 days before my son's death. The last time I texted him was 3 days before he died. He started taking an anti-anxiety medicine 3 days before he died due to his high stress levels from work and school and life. I had gone to Saturna island as a get-away with a friend to de-stress from the attacks 3 days before he died. The episodes occurred only at night, which were like a countdown... getting closer and closer together since Sept 28th when the first (bad) one started, until they were once a week, to a few times a week, to every other night, to every night, and finally several times a night. I was convinced that I was going to die in my sleep... but it was my son who died in my sleep.
It was prophetic. Psychic. Spiritual connection. (see my posting from Jan 7, 2017) I am known to have these, but it is usually hindsight before I figure out the full meaning of my premonitions. I had even figured out the gun (he shot himself in the head) part, and did not know how true it was, or would be. I had no idea it was my son. I kept thinking it was a physical health problem. Then the spirits started making noise and I saw a tall thin male figure in the night during one episode, but no face, so I couldn't see who it was. I was veiled, probably for my own protection. But some part of me knew.
My spirit knew... somehow... even a passing thought, like an intuitive moment 2 years before, where the saying that "it is harder to lose a child than a parent" made me ponder, and the first thing I thought of was, "Oh no, not my Jeremiah..." and even the age 21 came to me, so much that--just in case there was an accident (I never ever expected suicide)--I decided from that moment forward that ALL moments we have with our children, and parents, and loved ones, and friends, are a gift... a blessing... a temporary time that we can celebrate and appreciate and be grateful for their existence in our lives. Life is too short. I absolutely made it a habit to appreciate these precious times with my kids, and my parents, and others. It can all end in a snap. You never know. Even I could not predict this, but my spirit knew.
The nighttime episodes were difficult. The first one was different than all the rest. The first one was as if blood was pooling in my head. My entire head was numb, as were my limbs, as if plastic were over my skin and I could not feel. My circulation felt like it had stopped, yet I was alive. My entire body felt ill, and I almost called 911. I went to the clinic that morning and they started tests, but after 3 months and desperate visits they still could not find a cause, calling it anxiety or "panic attacks" at that point. I was picking up on my son's anxiety, and adding my own to it (I was afraid to sleep at night because I thought I was dying).
After that all the episodes became less severe, yet more frequent, and as if there was no blood in my head (rather than pooling), like they were getting closer together as if counting down to the moment of when death would occur. I wasn't getting rest. I had insomnia, like my son... and anxiety. Always between 1-4AM, being the worst of it. I stopped dreaming at night. I could not focus on anything spiritual in the day. I tried to meditate but only saw a waterfall or water or such, glimpses of things that were indicative of too much emotion and not enough answers. I knew I had to wake up and understand what was happening, but it was not available to me for whatever reason. Jeremy also had troubles at night, insomnia, and thoughts that haunted him. Existential anxiety. Guilt and voices in his head that he couldn't shake.
3 days after learning to de-stress at the island I found out my son killed himself. I lost it. I had to use what I had learned to cope and de-stress and worked on accepting what was happening... what had just happened. It helped me, although it did not take away the pain or the fact that we all missed him.
Somehow a mother's connection with her child is stronger than we realize. All of the nighttime attacks stopped except for the one night (3 days after he died) after I first flew into El Paso and stood on the spot where he dropped to the ground beside his car at the Sunset parking lot at "A" mountain on the NMSU campus in Las Cruces, NM. The attack that night was all me. I was responsible for it, for living out the anxiety from before, for the empathy I felt, and had trouble letting it go. I learned quickly that what I learned on the island is true... "stress is not something you have, it is something you do." Evidently my own son also experienced the doing part of this, and chose his fate the only way he knew would stop the stress once and for all. I do not blame him, I understand. I wish I could have shown him what I learned, but it is too late. I can only pass on the knowledge and hope it will help others. We cannot always know, even if our spirit knows, what is coming. Just be prepared for anything, and remember to love deeply and authentically, and focus on positive things.
As for me, I will focus on my son's life, not his death. He was a joy and a wonderful human being, full of compassion and love and sweetness. He was a straight A honors student in philosophy and we are proud of him, even though it was too much for him to bear. I will always love you Jeremy, and I will see you soon enough. I love you more than you could ever know.