Depression, public speaker, Suicide, suicide prevention, susie reece, Susie Reynolds, susie reynolds reece

Second Annual Rock the World

There have been moments in my life when I have felt unworthy of the blessings I have known due to the work I’ve found myself doing. The moment I connected with the Yorks and the Joshua York Legacy Foundation was most definitely one of them. I adore this family and the work and love they are spreading across the world.

On September 10 2019, the The Joshua York Legacy Foundation (JYLF) hosted their first annual Rock the World global event. Their first event reached 4,534,000 people across the U.S. and 58 countries.

On September 10 2020, for their second annual Rock the World event they are hoping to break the Guinness Book world record for painted rocks displayed in a single location.

This is a chance for individuals and rock groups across the globe to unite by dreaming big!!!

They are currently in the planning stages and are checking for interest. They need to see the support of 10,000 or more individuals in order to have a chance at Rocking this Record. Would you be willing to mail SPR/JYLF one or more rocks to help them promote suicide prevention and be a part of a global community of healing?

After losing their son to suicide on 28 Jul 2018, the York family started a FB rock painting group entitled Suicide Prevention Rocks to spread positive messages to raise social awareness and prevent suicide. To date their group has been shared by 3,144 rock painting pages worldwide reaching over 8.8 million people. Their motto is “Strengthening Lives With Love”.

Suicide Prevention Rocks is currently active in 88 countries across the globe. If you know someone in a country not yet reached, we encourage you to invite them to spread our message and mission.

suicideprevention #jylf #guinnessbook #globalevent #rocktheworld #jylfrocks #suicideawareness #suicidepreventionmonth #love #rocks #rock #paintedrocks

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public speaker

Six and a Half Weeks Ago

The world showed me six and half weeks ago how little it can care about us and the worlds we build. Six and a half weeks ago the world took so much within only a matter of moments and it left no time to pick up any shattered pieces.

Those first 9 days, people paused a little more. They stopped and spoke and remembered I wasn’t normal or whole. They were delicate and gentle. They gave time and words and made moments linger when everything was grey. God, how I wish I could remember things other than that grey. Those first 9 days people seemed to recognize how hard the pain must be and they showed up in ways I can never forget. Those first 9 days it was okay to not be okay. Those first 9 days I saw humanity at its finest. What a sight I saw, too.

On the 10th grey day, when the to do list had been too done, I sat.

I sat in murky air and tried to recall those first 9 days. I tried to remember names, places, faces, something, anything. Some stood out, in those moments when we needed them. In those moments when the black and white had been pierced by love and compassion. Color had shown through at times, but still my monochrome mourning had seemingly won. That 10th day though, the quiet was resoundingly loud. The clock ticked, ticked, ticked away desolate seconds in my emptied heart. I couldn’t stand that day, the longest day, the day of solitude and sadness. The quiet day.

On the 11th grey day, I did something. I don’t really recall what. I talked, posted, spoke, wrote. I think I ate. Maybe I didn’t, but I did something. And the people saw their expectations of “my” normal once again. The 11th day, when I was grey the world around me continued along at its usual pace. And my heart had no choice but to cry a little more.

Then there was the 12th day, I must’ve been cracking a little bit more because I misspoke and someone laughed. They made a joke and I laughed too, but I didn’t tell them how I couldn’t remember. I didn’t say, it was because I am here, but not. I didn’t ask them to pause and consider, because those first 9 days were done now. I was told time moves on, and so must we. On the 12th day, the words weren’t as aware. The eyes weren’t as lingering. The hearts hadn’t quite held on like mine had and so I held my tongue so they wouldn’t have to sit in pain. I held my heart back for them not to feel unnecessary agony. There were more of them, and I am but one. It made sense to let them live, even though I didn’t remember how.

On the 16th day, is when I was finally forgotten. My pain was no longer seen and the anger I felt from someone close, someone who found ill intention in my absent-mindedness, told me my grief was no longer allowed. They saw my forgetfulness and were frustrated. And I had no excuse to use in my defense. 15 days had come and gone, it’s time to move along now. To be normal once more. Damn, I didn’t know my vacation time should be used to mourn and return back at the regularly scheduled time. I guess I should have saved up more sick leave.

On the 20th day, it happened more and more. So, I mentioned it less and less. I no longer spoke of the unforgettable things I saw. I no longer shared the heartache openly, because it was uncomfortable. It was hard to see, hard to hear. And my time to share was up. My time to love and mourn those who I would never again see, or hear, or hold a single day in my life was up within the first 9 days of losing them. I can never correct my mistakes. I can never grow or know. I can never…. but those first 9 days are gone, so no need to consider these thoughts anymore.

If only I had known on day one that I had to get all of my grief and pain out in the first 9 days.

I will never again underestimate the cruelty we place by confining grief and mourning to an unreasonable amount of days. I am sorry to all of you. All those who have loved and lost and will never be the same again. I am broken for you, here in my Six and a Half week setting. You can be grey with me, you can be forgetful. You can be broken and pained. You can overlook and even walk through me, and I will never tell you it isn’t okay. Because it simply is. I will do my best to be more compassionate in this because I have seen it now. I have lived it.

Grief has changed me. All I ask, is please, be kind to one another. We never know what pressure time has placed on our hearts.

-Susie Reynolds Reece

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About Me, Acceptance, Blog, Depression, Love, public speaker, Strength, susie reece, Susie Reynolds, susie reynolds reece, Thoughts, Writing

Learn From Us

You don’t necessarily know me. You may not understand all the facets of why I function as I do, or all the aspects of my anything-but-simple life. But there is one thing you should know, putting words around my thoughts and expressing my struggles has saved my life more times than I could ever count.

It started in journals. Dozens and dozens of journals have been filled with terrible grammar and punctuation throughout my decades. I scribble illegible notes everywhere. I have hundreds of half-started pieces in my phone. There are books in different stages on my computer begging to be finished.

I write. Even when you don’t know it, I write. I have since before I can recall anything else.

When I share things publicly, please understand it isn’t necessarily a way of asking for attention but a way of sharing a piece of my soul to you in a moment I felt led to do so. Not all of my soul is beautiful, or clean, easily explainable, selfless, sensible, or even parts I’m proud of. There’s a lot of me I’m not proud of.

But still, I write.

Sometimes when I share, it’s done on days like these where my mind cannot stop. Days where I know misspellings and cluttered thoughts may make me sound like a rambling mess, but still I write. So here I am, exhausted in ways I’ve never experienced before in my life, lying in my bed knowing I need sleep, writing because it is the comfort I can grasp at in this one second.

I need to say this, please, please, I beg of you Learn from Us.

Don’t let me be misunderstood here. I don’t want to teach you anything. I don’t want to share some poignant life lesson in the hopes of coming off as having learned some valuable wisdom. I don’t want credit here. I don’t want kind words saying how beautiful anything is, all I want is for this pain, this soul-wrenching pain to do one good thing. Just one. Please. I’m begging you now, don’t let our pain be ignored. Please, learn from us.

This hurts. It hurts every part of me. My family is broken right now. Pieces who belong here with us were stolen. They are now the empty spaces at our ridiculously large table. They are laughter, and memories, and beauty that we cannot look across our plates and laugh along with. Our family is dynamic. We are diverse. We are the epitome of resilient, but man, we want nothing more than to be whole right now.

And what hurts more is the fact that each and every one of us who is left is broken at this moment. Everywhere I look I see pain seeping out of souls longing for peace. This hurts beyond words. These words are meaningless compared to what could be said. But what should be said?

There is much I never stopped to consider. I never realized so many things. I don’t know how anyone could endure something like this alone. I don’t know how it wouldn’t destroy the humanity of a person.

You will not sleep. You will not eat. This week has been a rollercoaster of emotion. Grief has been woven into things that must be handled, quickly, efficiently, without any mistakes because we want everything to be perfect. But we are not okay.

We have moments where we put our faces on and someone says, “man you’re doing good for someone who…”

No. Just no.

We don’t know you. Our family is me. I am them. We are not the same but we laugh. We joke. We work our asses off. We are a force unmatched. We are intimidating women who will get it done and that is what we are doing now. We are working because they need us to. We need to. Everything is depending on it. We are depending on it.

And the second we can, we break apart all over again. The second we sit down, or drive, or see a photo, we fucking shatter. Understand this, that word is the closest I have to express how badly we shatter.

We can’t remember who said what. Who was where. Where we are. We can’t remember our people. We walk out of the room and don’t know why. We’re looking for our phones that we’re holding. We get lost driving. We can’t remember how to finish our own sentences. And to anyone who has no idea, we look absolutely abnormal.

We have been judged all week because we laugh and push through in front of those who have no idea what has happened. But believe me, we are not okay. We simply have the grace of being a part of a huge family who is leaning hard on one another right now. When one is strong she takes the lead until she can’t. Then another picks it up. And this was definitely not planned. This is simply how I have witnessed it for us, through us, these past few days.

Please learn from us.

Stop moaning about having to put your pants on to go be around people. Stop putting the events off. Stop avoiding the memories simply because it means you can’t binge watch tv.

I swear. I absolutely promise you, the second or third thought you have after your heart shatters will be regret for every missed opportunity to share time, love, and memories with those who have been ripped from your world. And that word, that 6 letter word, it eats into you. Even when you know better. Even when others try to comfort you and say it isn’t a logical feeling. It doesn’t matter. Regret will win.

So, do the thing. Love them. Be with them. Don’t waste time on people who do not love you. Don’t waste energy on the people who want you to look bad. Don’t waste time on half or partial feelings. Go all in. Love them more than you’re capable and show them. Please. Please I’m begging you, show up. Stop finding excuses why you can’t or why you shouldn’t. Stop being lazy. Stop giving yourself outs and okays. Set your issues down and work through them if they’re worth it. Go to them. Be with them. Make memories. Hold your babies. Please hold those who live in your heart in any way as tightly as humanly possible for as long as life will allow you.

Because let me tell you this, we are not in charge of life and death. It will happen and it will destroy whoever you think you are. And all you will be able to do is push the pieces of yourself back together and hope it makes a new workable version of you.

Please, please, as I’m crying in the dark, please learn from this pain. Let it do something good. Let it be for some reason. Let it help someone because right now, it’s all I have to offer anyone.

That and my imperfect love. I love you all. I really, truly, deeply do.

All.

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