The Journey

A friend posted this and I LOVE it!

Part I - The Journey

Before we go through a loss like this, we assume that grief is like falling into a deep hole. We think we will start climbing a ladder and as we get closer to the top things start getting brighter and brighter and we keep feeling better and better until we finally step out into the sunshine where the birds are singing and beautiful music is playing and our grief is over and we are then officially "over it"!

Instead, I have found it is like being plunked down into the middle of a mountain range. We start on the top, with the breathtaking view, when life is wonderful. We are just walking along, basking in the sun and the beautiful scenery when suddenly we fall off a cliff. Now we are lying in a deep, deep valley: bruised, confused, hurt, scared, and lonely. We soon realize that there is no easy way out, no rescue in sight. The only way out is to do it ourselves. So we start working our way up the mountainside, sometimes walking, sometimes crawling, and often stumbling. It is very hard, very discouraging, and very exhausting work. Finally we reach the top and see the sun again for a while. Maybe the top will be flat and we'll get to spend a little time up there enjoying it, or maybe it is very steep and as soon as we get there we have to start back down the other side into the next valley again.

The one thing we notice is that there are mountains as far as the eye can see. Somehow, we have to make our way through them if we are ever to get out. That thought can be overwhelming and cause us to give up for a while. But eventually we realize once again that the only way out is to keep going, so we start again: down one mountain and up the next. And sometimes on the journey, after a particularly hard stretch, we think, I'm so glad I finally made it through that!! And then we stop and look around and realize that we've been here before! All this work and we've gone in a circle and we're going to have to do it all again! And sometimes as we are climbing, we look up to see if we are getting any closer to the top, and we see a boulder heading our way. If we are fortunate, we manage to avoid it. But usually we can't, and it hits us head on and sends us tumbling back down to the bottom.

Sometimes when we are in the deepest part of the valley, we just sit, exhausted. And we might notice some things around us that we never saw before: flowers and animals and a gentle breeze in the cool of the valley. There is a world down in the valley that we never even knew existed, and there is beauty in it. And sometimes at night, when all is quiet, we can hear the others who are in the valley weeping. And it is then that we realize that we are not alone, that others are making this journey too. And we realize that we share an understanding of the journey and of the world of the valley that most others don't. And it gives us strength to start the climb all over again.

Sometimes as we are climbing the mountain, a helicopter may come by with some of our friends in it. Seeing us struggling up the mountain, they shout encouraging things like, I know just what you're going through; I went on a hike once. And, you are so strong; I know I couldn't make this climb! Or they ask, when will you finally get over these mountains and be yourself again? And we try to tell them about the journey and the world of the valley, but the sound of the helicopter drowns us out and they can't hear us. They throw down some food to give us energy, and it does, but some of it just pelts us on the head and makes the climb even harder. And then they leave, and we breathe a sigh of relief that we can get back to our climb in peace.

Part II - The Journey

As we make this journey, we start to notice that we are becoming a little bit stronger. When we get to the rough patches we now see that we are shaken but don't always fall. We find that sometimes we can walk upright now, instead of just crawling. And sometimes we can see a rough spot ahead and manage to find a better way around it. And once in a while we crest a mountain and see that the top is very flat and very beautiful, and we get to spend quite a while resting and recovering on the top before starting down again. And we notice that we are getting closer to the edge of the mountains; they seem to be getting a little smaller. The mountains are not as tall, and the valleys are not as low or as wide. In fact, we can now see the foothills, and it gives us hope.

And throughout this journey, we see the others who are traveling it as well, sometimes at a distance, and sometimes up close. And we encourage each other to keep going and to watch out for certain things. We talk about the journey and the world of the valley. Finally, someone else who understands! And we cry together when it is just too hard. And sometimes, we catch a glimpse of someone who has made it to the foothills. And we are so excited for them, and we become even more determined to keep going because someday, we too, will make it to the foothills.

So my point is this: Everyone starts on a different mountain. No two journeys are the same. Some people spend a lot of time in the valley at first, and some have more time on top of the mountain. But we will all be on the mountains and in the valleys. And we will all someday make it to the foothills. I promise.

Try Not to Breathe

"I will try not to burden you. I can hold these inside. I will hold my breath until all these shivers subside, just look in my eyes.

I will try not to worry you. I have seen things that you will never see. Leave it to memory me. I shudder to breathe."

I was on the treadmill listening to my ipod, and R.E.M.'s Try Not To Breathe started playing. Wow! The correlation with the lyrics and my experience with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder due to Mike's death are almost uncanny. With the exception of my therapist and perhaps two or three others, I rarely discuss my daily struggles with PTSD.

I find that unless I am speaking with someone who has shared my experience, people just have no clue how to relate. God bless them, they try to find a way to relate with one of their life altering experiences. But ultimately, watching your loved one collapse and die with no advance warning is beyond traumatizing. When you add in the factor of being woken up from a sound sleep, it is unbearable at times. For months I was unable to fall asleep till I actually passed out from exhaustion. And then I would wake up every hour or so to a panic attack.

I was sleep deprived, emotionally drained, delirious at times, and full of sorrow and depression. But at the same time I was trying to find some normalcy in my life in any way that I could. I can honestly say that I was and sometimes still am the poster girl of dysfunctional. PTSD and grieving the loss of a loved one do not make a functional human being in any way, shape, or form!

On the rare occasion that I had tried to share my experiences and feelings, it was as if someone was trying to put a Hello Kitty Band-aid over a gaping flesh wound. So instead I kept my pain inside, because sharing it just made the pain worse for me. And it seemed that it would be better for me to just keep it to myself, than share it with others who ultimately would just end up worrying about me.

But I guess the thing that I didn't realize was that perhaps letting people put those Hello Kitty Band-aids on my wounds would help them in their own grieving process. Maybe I needed to endure the extra pain early on, and there would not be some much pain in the aftermath of it all? Then again perhaps if I did not hold all those feelings inside I would have ended up in a mental health facility? I guess in the end it is what it is...

Crazy? I was crazy once...

Lately I really feel as if I am losing any sanity I had left.

Some days I am doing so well. I am happy and hopeful for the future. Other days I lay in bed with tears streaming down my face praying for death's warm embrace.

Some days I want nothing more than to stay home in my jammies surrounded by things that remind me of Mike. Other days I feel as if I will crawl out of my skin if I don't find a way to distance myself from the memories.

Some days I want to be surrounded by friends. Other days I cannot even manage to pick up the phone, or answer the door.

Some days I am so full of energy nothing can stop me. Other days I can barely hold my head up.

Life is such a roller coaster since Mike died. Every time I think I start to get used to the loops, hills, and turns the track changes again. I just want to get off this ride already! I really feel like I am going crazy. I know that it is just a natural part of the grieving process, but it does not mean that I have to like it!

Thoughts on love...

I was never big on exclusively dating. Being tied down to one guy was just not my thing. I never saw the point to staying with someone who I did not see a future with. I was never delusional enough to be able to look past the inevitable. Before Michael, my longest "relationship" was 3 1/2 months and I had never muttered the "L" word to anyone I had dated.

I found my soul mate, the love of my life, and my best friend when I was 21 years old. We were married at 24. He was dead at 29. Those were the best 8 years of my life! We were two people who were skeptics of love. But somehow love found us. He was everything that I secretly hoped for but was pretty sure did not exist. Our relationship showed me that anything is possible when you take the risk and open yourself up.

So here I am almost 30 and single again. Not exactly where I thought I would be, that is for sure. This time around I am more mature, and unfortunately much more jaded. I know that love does indeed exist and it is not just a product of attraction and infatuation like I had believed before Mike came into my life. But I have to wonder, will I ever feel true love again for another? Some people go a life time without falling in love. What are the odds that I can find love a second time around?

I would love to eventually find someone who God willing I can spend the rest of my life with. Hell, I guess even just a few more good years with, if that is what is in the cards for me. But at the same time, I am totally prepared to live the remainder of my life as a single woman. I think I would rather be alone than settle for someone who is just "keeping me company".

Grief explained perfectly!

Grief is a tidal wave that overtakes you, smashes down upon you with unimaginable force, sweeps you up into its darkness, where you tumble and crash against unidentifiable surfaces, only to be thrown out on an unknown beach, bruised, reshaped. Grief means not being able to read more than two sentences at a time. It is walking into rooms with intention that suddenly vanishes. Grief is three o'clock in the morning sweats that won't stop. It is dreadful Sundays, Mondays that are no better. It makes you look for a face in the crowd, knowing full well the face we want cannot be found in that crowd. Grief is utter aloneness that razes the rational mind and makes room for the phantasmagoric. It makes you suddenly get up and leave in the middle of a meeting, without saying a word. Grief makes what others think of you moot.

It shears away the masks of normal life and forces brutal honesty out of your mouth before propriety can stop you. It shoves away friends, scares away so-called friends, and rewrites address books for you. Grief makes you laugh at people who cry over spilled milk, right to their faces. It tells the world that you are untouchable at the very moment when touch is the only contact that might reach you. It makes lepers out of upstanding citizens. Grief discriminates against no one. It kills. Maims. And cripples. It is the ashes from which the phoenix rises, and the mettle of rebirth. It returns life to the living dead. It teaches that there is nothing absolutely true or untrue. It assures the living that we know nothing for certain. It humbles. It shrouds. It blackens. It enlightens. Grief will make a new person out of you, if it doesn't kill you in the making.

— Stephanie Ericsson

One step forward, two steps back...

Its just one of those days again... Tomorrow would have been Mike's 30th birthday. So I have invited all of his friends over for some of his favorite things (cake, pizza, rockband, etc). I think it will do me some good and force me to pull myself together. And I know it is what Mike would have wanted. I just can't believe that he died before he even turned 30! I thought we had more time. I mean, I knew he had a heart condition and the odds were that he would not live to be 90. But I really thought that he had more time. He was in the process of getting an ICD implanted. That was supposed to keep him from dropping dead on me. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not two days before his final appointment.

Today is turning out to be really rough for me. I went to the zoo with a friend and her two little ones. I thought it would cheer me up, but instead I left feeling worse. It made me so sad to see the happy families there with their kids. Mike and I wanted children, we just ran out of time. He would have been such a fun dad. One of my biggest dreams in life is to be a mother. However, I have fertility issues. Mike and I tried for years and I had a few miscarriages. We had all intentions of adopting very soon.

Sure, there is always a chance that I will meet a man down the road and start a family with him. But the odds of that happening are not too realistic. The ironic thing is that since Mike died I have been losing weight, and with my PCOS, if I can manage to get the weight off, the odds of conceiving and carrying a baby full term are much higher. But unfortunately, with PCOS conceiving after 35 is usually not easy. I would have to actually meet said man, date said man, get engaged to said man, marry said man, and then eventually start a family. And well, I don't see that happening all in the next 5 years. It seems that everyone around me has kids, is pregnant, or is getting ready to start a family. And here I am all alone, back at the beginning.

So I guess today I am not only mourning the loss of my husband, but also of the life we had planned. I know that I have to be strong. But that is so much easier said than done these days...

Crossroads

For the past few months I would just sit home, cry and zone out accomplishing nothing productive. Or I would go out and about to distract myself. Either I was at my highest or lowest, there was no middle ground. I am not the type of person to open up to just anybody, so most people really had no clue how I was coping. I have always been the type of woman who "fakes it till she makes it". Because only my closest friends saw my pain, it seems like I have been unfairly judged by those on the outside looking in. That is unfortunate, but if I have learned anything from my therapist, it is that there are no rules for grieving. It is an individual journey and no one walks down the exact same path. Everyone has an opinion on which path I should take, but ultimately it is my journey alone.

I have come to a crossroads. I have come to terms with the fact that no matter what I do, someone will be there pointing their finger judging me. When I show my sadness it seems that people think that I need to get a grip and deal. When I show my stregnth and willingness to move forward it seems that people think that I am not properly mourning my husband. So what it comes down to is that I am going to stop letting people's opinions bother me. I am doing what I need to do, and I know that I am making Mike proud. And that is all that matters!

Today starts a new chapter in my life. No more fear. I am a strong woman who can accomplish anything she puts her mind to. I cannot and will not let anyone bring me down. I will succeed! I can do this! I must do this! This is my life and it is time to take control!