Into a New Land

So it’s funny - I seem to tap into a completely different part of my brain when I type versus when I write by hand.  My handwritten journal is freeform, random thoughts, stream of consciousness.  Mostly though, handwriting seems to let my feelings stream forth, unrestrained by logical thought.  It works well for me letting my real feelings emerge from the subconscious, unfurl onto the paper and then have a chance to recognize, own and accept them.  When I type, it’s a more contemplative, thoughtful writing.  I think, I connect, I communicate with others.  

Last night I was overtaken by grief over the loss of my old life.  It was triggered by missing Athena.  I have a new dog now & she is a sweetheart.  But she’s not Athena.  There will never be another Athena.  Athena was the dog I had dreamt of all of my life.  And after 2 years together, she was able to read my signals with a precision that constantly astonished me.  Nala, the new girl, is still adjusting to me and I to her.  We’ve been together 2 1/2 weeks now.  She’s 9 months old and needs lots of training still.  And sometimes she brings up how much I miss Athena.  

From there, I just went into how much I missed my old life.  I guess what I really miss was the predicability of it, even when it sucked.  My husband and I were heading for divorce just before he died.  I wanted more from him than he was able to give.  We were in process of trying to let go of our old relationship and see what was left.  So it’s not like my life was terribly “stable”, but between my husband, my father & then my dog dying, I’m just don’t have any illusions of security anymore.  Even when Jim & I were fighting, I knew him, I knew us, there was that familiarity that 16 years together brought, even when it sucked.  So many connections to who I was, severed.  Thank the Universe that I still have most of my friends (oh yeah, I lost a few friends in the midst of the losses), I still have my home, I still have my store.  But on a deep, core relational level, I am adrift.  

I’m in a new relationship.  Didn’t plan it, didn’t look for it, it just happened.  Kinda freaked me out, but after writing 10 pages, the Universe told me to get over my “plans” and go with it.  So I’m trying.  I’m trying to practice new behaviors and learn from the lessons of past relationships.  I’ve spent the past few years moving out of codependency.  Looking back, I was doing it not too gracefully and inflicted a lot of emotional damage on my husband.  So I’m doing my best to do it different.  And I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.....  I’m in a new land with a new man and I’m trying to find my way.  And I don’t have a map!!!!   

So I’m a stranger in a strange land.  I’ve changed so much in the past four months and everything in my life has changed.  I’m little by little emerging from the fog, gaining clarity, but sometimes it’s so damn bright that I can’t see and just stumble around.  

And some days, I just miss the familiarity, even the familiarity that sucked.  I guess that’s part of grief too.  

It's His Birthday - and He's Still Dead....

I'm feeling contemplative tonight... Three months ago today, my husband Jim died.  Tomorrow is his birthday.  He would have been 54.  Things had been rough with us for several years.  Looking back, hindsight being 20/20, I can see how his diabetes (undiagnosed & unknown) affected him and us.  Little by little, the compassionate, loving man I had loved disappeared; to be replaced with someone increasingly intolerant, impatient, and rigid.  It was a slow, gradual process of erosion of love.  I tried and tried to figure it out, to fix it.  There would be hope and then everything would go to hell again.  Until I was exhausted.  We were in the early stages of divorcing & letting go.

Luckily I was finally able to hear him, how he just wanted peace and calm and for everything to be okay.  What he really, really wanted was to avoid pain.  In my quest for growth & development and confronting pain face on, all I had done was inflict more pain on him.  I kept trying to get him to hear me, but I didn't listen & hear him.  When I finally did, I was rocked to my core.  I was able to see my part & set about to do my best to make amends and heal the harm I had caused.

To this day, I am so grateful I had come to that place about a month before he died.  I realized that what he wanted & what I wanted were mutually incompatible, stellar opposites.  There was no way to remain married and happy.  Any way I looked at it, at least one of us would be discontent.  Most of the time, both of us were miserable.  And so we were letting go.  There were still so many connections - we had been together 24/7 for 16 years, completely intertwined in both our business, creative & personal lives.  There were so many filaments to untangle, and to see what bonds remained that were healthy.

So there we were, disengaging, while I did my best to heal the wounds I had wrought on him.  And then he got sick.  And I was able to be present & loving... most of the time.  As he got sicker, he said more hurtful things.  And in my head (and sometimes to others), I would say "Fuck him." and be ready to walk away.  But there were still these connections and feelings.  Shortly before he got sick, he told me "You're my best friend.  You know me better than anyone ever has.  Sometimes you know me better than I know myself.  I don't want to lose you completely from my life."  I replied "I know.  I wanted you to be my best friend and you can't, or won't.  I don't know what we'll have after the hurt has healed."  I couldn't walk away.  So for the last week of his life, I focused on doing whatever I could.  It wasn't much, he was intubated and unconscious.  But I stayed on top of what was going on in the hospital, Googling like crazy to understand his health.  I was able to, actually encouraged, to bring our baby Athena, our tiny toy poodle, into the hospital.  I read healing meditations & visualizations, I used every suggestion from energy healers.  I tried to will him back to life.  I threatened him with the thought that if he died, he'd be stuck having to listen to me talk about my feelings, non-stop, for the rest of my life.  Whatever I could come up with to reach him, deep in wherever he was, I tried.  I just wanted a divorce,  I did not want him to die.

And then he started failing and I could feel him slipping away.  I grasped, but I could feel him going.  And then he was done.  And he died.  I know he's in a better place, whatever that may be.  He wanted to avoid pain, and he did.  I've been left with the Mt. Everest shit heap of pain to face head on.

It feels like I'm through the major upheaval & confusion.  I've emerged from Zombiehood.  A friend described death & grief like going over a waterfall.  For awhile, I didn't know which way was up, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think.  The waters are still tumultuous, but I'm finding the currents.  Sometimes I bash against a rock & the breath is knocked out of me.  I'm swimming.

I was in process of letting go of a marriage, untangling and releasing the rotted connections.  And then, boom, those connections are severed.  It will take time for me to sort out this new reality.

I've learned so much.  About myself, about others.  So much has been stripped away, leaving me with clarity.  My people pleasing was brutally ripped from me and I've never felt so loved in my life.  I must be doing something right to have received the breadth and depth of love that was my lifeline.  I've discovered who loves me as I am with no mask, no pretense.  I've discovered what I'm really made of, how solid the foundation that I laid when I quit drinking 27 years ago is.  I'm rediscovering parts of myself that were put aside during my marriage and building a new me.  I've rediscovered joy and fun.  I'm seeing someone romantically, which was quite unexpected.  It began as friendship, and has become something more.  And instead of trying to control it, I'm just going with the flow....

And sometimes, today, when I feel great joy, I also feel the sadness.  About what was,  what was lost.  I lost him twice.  I'm grieving both.  I lost the man I loved slowly over time, without knowing how & why.  And then he died and I lost him forever in any way shape or form, in this plane at least.

So here I am, 3 months later.  The pain doesn't ravage me the way it did early on.  I'm still searching for my new reality, my new me.  I'm still grieving & releasing.  And today, I'm just sad....

Overdosed on Advice

Here's the thing about grief - it's exhausting.  Physically, emotionally, deep in the gut, into the soul exhausting.  Each day that I get out of bed is a major triumph.  Making coffee, showering & going to work are major accomplishments.  Anything more is bonus.  Most days by 3 or 4 pm, I just want to go home and zone out; watch tv, play computer games, anything to not feel anymore (unfortunately those old standbys - drinking, drugging, shopping, eating & sex - just don't work for me anymore....).   Sometimes I try to make plans to go to dinner or walk with a friend, but most of the time trying to juggle schedules fries out my brain circuits.  I just don't have the energy or patience to deal with even minor frustrations.

So add to the exhaustion all of the well meaning advice and I overload.  During the best of times I have low tolerance for advice, especially of the "should" variety.  "Should" ALWAYS feels like criticism.  I'm doing it wrong and you know better.  Advice is a gentler variety of "should", but to me it feels like criticism disguised as helpfulness.  I usually feel like I have to explain myself, that I've already thought about your great idea for me and have decided not to do it for a reason.  In good times, I've learned to just say thanks and change the subject.  But these are not good times.  As people give me advice, I feel my already tight chest constricting further.  The tension rises.  If I'm lucky they leave before I hit my limit.  On several occasions, I've put my hand up and told them they need to stop immediately.

I'm struggling minute by minute to maintain my balance.  It's very fragile and precarious right now.  A friend described it perfectly; I'm standing on a disc on top of a ball.  It's a constant dance to stay on the disc.  And then someone comes along with advice.  Now I have new weight added to the disc and it's very easy to TILT.  And when I TILT, it's huge.  It's flight or fight time, baby.  Since I don't like to cause wreckage that I later have to make amends for, flight is my favorite.  In person, I bolt.  Fast.  Or on the phone I abruptly end the conversation.  And then I break down sobbing hysterically.  Or sometimes I just go for immediate hysterical sobbing.

Last Monday I ended up in the ER.  I thought I was having a stroke.  Luckily it turns out to "just" be migraines with aura.  Mostly brought about by high blood pressure.  I think I overdosed on advice.

I realize that most of the people with advice love me & care about me.  They hate seeing me in pain and/or it makes them uncomfortable.  But there's so much conflicting advice.  Exercise.  Rest.  Keep busy.  Feel your feelings.  Take antidepressants.  And on and on.  Right now I don't have the emotional fortitude to deflect the barrage of advice.  It overwhelms me.  "How can I do all of that?"  "Oh fuck.  I'm not doing it "right"." "What I'm doing isn't enough."

The people who are helping me the most right now are the ones that tell they're proud of me.  I'm doing an amazing job.  They're impressed by me.  One friend told me I'm a rock star.  And it's not people I'm trying to impress.  I pour my guts out.  I babble.  I process.  I'm raw.  When they tell me I'm doing great, it feels true & real.  It gives me the strength to continue on one more day.

My father died on Wednesday.  I think it's a bloody fucking miracle I'm at all functional right now.

I Can't Stop Crying

A couple of weeks after my husband died, an acquaintance emailed me condolences and then said "I hope everyday gets better.  I know first hand that it actually does. "  I'm glad that was her experience, but it is most definitely NOT MINE.  At that stage, the numbness & shock were wearing off and I felt worse, much worse.  It's all a rollercoaster.  Some days I'm functional, sometimes I'm actually productive, but some days I'm plunged into grief and sorrow so strong I can barely walk.  Today is one of those days.  I managed to get up, do my morning writing, take the car in for repair and go to work.  All this while crying.  In grief I've developed a new cry - the steady moan cry.  Previously I've had the silent, streaming tears and the deep hiccupy sobs.  This one is new.  And it just keeps going.  I want to stuff it down, stuff it back in, but it insists on coming out.  


I finally stopped crying enough to open my store & be personable with customers and then someone, a man, tried to tell me something I "should" do about my signage.  I crumbled.  After he left, I locked the door and fell to the floor and just wailed.  I often wish we were back in the Victorian Age with their Mourning Etiquette.    Mourning clothes as a display of inner feelings.  Plus it alerted those around to your mental and emotional state.  And while I used to think that a year or two of required mourning for the widow was excessive, today I'd love to have the luxury of that time and the patience of those around for the grieving/mourning process.  I'm raw.  I'm fragile.  I'm also strong, strong enough to make it through.  Sometimes I'm so exhausted, I don't want to go on.  What keeps me going is not wanting to inflict the pain I'm in on the ones I love.   I don't want anyone who loves me to suffer the pain of losing me one minute before it's my time to go.   So today I cry.  I cry until I wonder how many tears I have in me.  Everything hurts.  Everything aches.  I cry some more.  

One Month Ago Today

Today is especially difficult.  It's been a month since my husband died, it's the 4th of July and the Higgs  Boson particle was just discovered.

Recently I was ranting about how much the phrase "This too shall pass" pissed me off, especially as a response to my grief.  If I'm supposed to feel my feelings and be in the present, how exactly is "This too shall pass" an appropriate response?  It's not, but it allows other people a way to dismiss and avoid my pain.  A friend asked if the pain was in the future, thinking about things down the road.  I replied that grief is in the moment - more than any other feeling I've had when I feel my loss it is in the now.

Grief is a series of realizations that the person you loved is really, truly dead and gone.  The first 10 days, it was a series of shock waves.  Everything felt surreal.  I kept thinking "This is just a bad dream and I'll wake up."  And then I'd realize it was real and be struck with a tsunami of loss, pain, grief.  Every time I run across a connection and realize anew that he is dead, I'm struck with a sharp, debilitating pain.  I'll cry, I'll call someone and talk, I'll do whatever I need to do to survive it.  And then I pick myself up and move on.

So today, I woke up at 5am.  I seem to have PTSD - a month ago, I got a call at 5am that he probably wouldn't last the day.  Ever since, I wake up at 5am.  Sometimes I'm able to get back to sleep, but mostly I lie in bed in that region between wakefulness and sleep, and my brain thinks about the reality that he's no longer here and my life is irrevocably changed.  This morning I just kept thinking "It's real. It's been a month."  Holidays suck right now.  Celebration is the furthest thing from my mind.  Just getting up, working, taking care of myself is challenging enough.  Sometimes I even have moments where his death/my loss aren't at the forefront of my mind.  So tonight I'll hide out and avoid the celebrations.  As for the Higgs Boson particle - he loved science.  He would ponder gravity and black holes and share his thoughts with me and we would have lengthy discussions about science and spirituality.  When I saw the stuff about the particle, I wanted to email him links to articles, and then one more time it struck me, he's gone... forever.  There won't be any talking about the particle with him.  He won't drive me crazy talking incessantly about it for a week.  And even though it could be irritating, his enthusiasm was contagious.  He kept my mind sharp.  And I learned far more than I realized with him in my life.

So I'm crying again.  I've already cried several times this morning.  And now it's time for me to pick myself up, get ready for work and keep moving forward.

Back to Reality

I just feel drained right now.  I’m on my way back home after visiting my Dad in the hospital in Alabama.  The weekend after my husband died, my Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer that had metastasized onto his spine.  I knew that I had to go see him.  My greatest regret is that when my husband was intubated, I didn’t know it would be the last time I would talk with him.  So when my Dad was in the hospital, I knew I had to get out to see him.  I didn’t realize how traumatic going back into the hospital would be for me.   Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome kicked in.  Luckily my brother and best friend made the trip with me & were there for me to sob all over.   

My Dad will be fine - or as fine as you can be after having radiation and surgery.  The oncologist said he has another 5 to 10 years left.  Since he’s 80, that sounds like a long time to me.  

So now I’m heading home, back to reality.  And although I wasn’t avoiding my grief, my focus was on being there for my Dad and the grief took a back seat.  As I get closer to home, I feel the sorrow descending again.  It’s a complex mix of knowing he won’t be there; he’ll never be there again.  I’m responsible for myself competely now.  I’m responsible for dealing with all of his stuff.  I didn’t realize until he died how much I depended on him, how much we shared the responsibilities.  It’s stupid shit; taking out the trash, dealing with the vehicles and registration; that make me aware of how gone he is.   

So here I sit at the Denver Airport.  My flight is delayed.  Just because I’m not already tired enough.... 

The Shame of Guilt, Regret & Remorse

I’ve discovered the most shameful feelings to have during mourning; guilt, remorse and regret.  These days many people know that it is natural to feel angry at the person that died.  But these same people stop me dead in my tracks when I start to talk about my regrets, my remorse, my guilt - over things I did and didn’t do.  I know they’re wanting to protect me, but I feel like I can’t talk about it.  It’s anger at myself - missed opportunities, missed warning signs.  Wondering what I could have done different.  And intellectually I know I did the best I could, I’m only human, I’m not in control, blah, blah, blah, but at the same time I replay the past several years.  

It’s a long story, but the short version is that the underlying cause of my husband’s death seems to have been diabetes, which weakens the immune system.  Over the past several years he had become more irritable and our marriage was about to end because we just couldn’t seem to move forward and just kept hurting each other emotionally.  I loved him & he loved me, but we were stuck.  As I learn more, I realize that he was being beat up internally by the diabetes.  It never occurred to me that the problems could have a physical cause.  So I’m angry at everyone - him, the doctors, myself,  that it progressed to the stage where he got sick and his body gave up.  

I know I can’t change the past, but I just keep replaying it.  All of the places where maybe a different choice could have been made - where he’d still be alive today.  And I guess that just like all the other “stages” of grief, I just need to ride these feelings too.  I’ll find the people that will let me talk it out, that won’t try to stop me from feeling the way I do, and eventually I’ll be able to release them.