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.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
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...
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...
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
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!
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!
Saturday, September 5, 2009
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".
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".
Sunday, August 23, 2009
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
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
Thursday, August 20, 2009
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...
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...
Saturday, August 1, 2009
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!
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!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Finding Control.
A fellow widower posted this and I thought it was a great topic to blog about:
I'd like to share what the pastor Charles Swindoll wrote :
The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.
It is more important that the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill.
The remarkable thing is - we have a choice every day of our lives regarding the attitude we embrace for that day.
We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.
I’m convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you.
We have choices within our attitudes.
I am loving this! I am the type of person who believes that what is meant to be is meant to be. Everything happens for a reason. But sometimes this belief leaves me feeling helpless. But to think that life is not about what happens, but instead how I choose to react to it, that brings a new found hope that everything is not totally pre-destined and I just might have a little more control than I previously thought I did.
I'd like to share what the pastor Charles Swindoll wrote :
The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.
It is more important that the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill.
The remarkable thing is - we have a choice every day of our lives regarding the attitude we embrace for that day.
We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.
I’m convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you.
We have choices within our attitudes.
I am loving this! I am the type of person who believes that what is meant to be is meant to be. Everything happens for a reason. But sometimes this belief leaves me feeling helpless. But to think that life is not about what happens, but instead how I choose to react to it, that brings a new found hope that everything is not totally pre-destined and I just might have a little more control than I previously thought I did.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Another stage reached...
This week I hit the anger stage. It is such a strange feeling. I have been so very zen till now. I am not the type to feel anger. But recently I have been angry that Mike left me to clean up this mess. I know that if he had the choice he would not have left me. And I realize that "his" mess is my mess because he was my husband. But I just wish that things were different. I wish that I would have known then what I know now. Things could have been a bit easier now, if only I pushed. I wish we would have communicated better. I wish that I was a more "controlling" wife. I have so many regrets that go along with my anger. There are so many things I could have done differently. But then I have to wonder, if I were not the type of wife that I was, would my marriage have even lasted? Ultimately, I guess what it comes down to is that this mess it totally worth the time we shared together. But I cannot help but feel alone and overwhelmed...
I loved my husband more than anything in this world. And I know that he loved me with all of his heart. He was a wonderful man. He was kind, loving, generous, and had a zest for life like no other I have ever met. He provided me a charmed life, there is no doubt. But now that I am here all alone and scared to death, I can't help but look back and think about everything I wish I would have done differently. But in the end, it is what it is, and there is no point to what ifs because I can't go back in time. This is my life.
I loved my husband more than anything in this world. And I know that he loved me with all of his heart. He was a wonderful man. He was kind, loving, generous, and had a zest for life like no other I have ever met. He provided me a charmed life, there is no doubt. But now that I am here all alone and scared to death, I can't help but look back and think about everything I wish I would have done differently. But in the end, it is what it is, and there is no point to what ifs because I can't go back in time. This is my life.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
3 Month Stains
Yesterday was 3 months. I had been putting off cleaning my bedroom since Mike died. There was a slight path to the bed, and other than that clutter everywhere. I decided that yesterday was going to be the day that I reclaimed my bedroom. Once I started cleaning I remembered why I had been putting it off for so long. As the clutter came off the floor the blood stains became visible. It is almost funny how we repress things that are too painful to remember. There are so many times I started cleaning the bedroom and then just gave up. I just could not do it! How could I forget about those stains? But on the 3 month sadiversary, for some reason my psyche decided that it was time to remember.
Seeing those blood stains was like getting hit with a mac truck. But it was something that I had to face. I just sat on the floor and the memories flooded my mind. I saw Mike collapse, I saw him break his nose as he went down, I saw myself performing CPR waiting for the paramedics to arrive knowing that it was all in vain and that my sweet Michael was gone forever. I remember frantically calling family for a ride to the hospital and no one would answer. I remember calling one of his best friends because I had no where else to turn. I remember finally hearing back from family and no one seemed to understand what I was saying. No one seemed to understand that "they can not get a heartbeat" meant that he was dead. No one was able to comprehend the severity of the situation. There I was all alone knowing he was gone, while everyone else was in denial. I remember thinking "Jess you have to be strong,because you are the only one who saw him die. You have to keep it together long enough for everyone else to come in the room as see for themselves. You can't distract them from seeing with their own eyes that he is really gone".
So here I am today, at another stand still. My room is just about clean. But I cannot bring myself to sanding out those bloodstains. I feel like if I sand them out that I will be sanding out Mike. In a way I need those stains as a reminder that Mike was here, that what we had was real, that it was not just a dream. As painful as the memories are I just cannot let go because they are the last memories I have. I think that this is going to be one of those things that I hide under a rug and when I am alone and I need to remember, I can pull up that rug and see that the stains are still there and that it was real. In some odd way I need to remember the pain or the time we spent together seems like nothing more than a dream that was too good to be true.
Seeing those blood stains was like getting hit with a mac truck. But it was something that I had to face. I just sat on the floor and the memories flooded my mind. I saw Mike collapse, I saw him break his nose as he went down, I saw myself performing CPR waiting for the paramedics to arrive knowing that it was all in vain and that my sweet Michael was gone forever. I remember frantically calling family for a ride to the hospital and no one would answer. I remember calling one of his best friends because I had no where else to turn. I remember finally hearing back from family and no one seemed to understand what I was saying. No one seemed to understand that "they can not get a heartbeat" meant that he was dead. No one was able to comprehend the severity of the situation. There I was all alone knowing he was gone, while everyone else was in denial. I remember thinking "Jess you have to be strong,because you are the only one who saw him die. You have to keep it together long enough for everyone else to come in the room as see for themselves. You can't distract them from seeing with their own eyes that he is really gone".
So here I am today, at another stand still. My room is just about clean. But I cannot bring myself to sanding out those bloodstains. I feel like if I sand them out that I will be sanding out Mike. In a way I need those stains as a reminder that Mike was here, that what we had was real, that it was not just a dream. As painful as the memories are I just cannot let go because they are the last memories I have. I think that this is going to be one of those things that I hide under a rug and when I am alone and I need to remember, I can pull up that rug and see that the stains are still there and that it was real. In some odd way I need to remember the pain or the time we spent together seems like nothing more than a dream that was too good to be true.
Friday, July 10, 2009
An important note to my blog readers...
Arguments with other readers will not be tolerated within my blog. If you have a problem with someone's comments please do not bring that drama here. I created this blog as an outlet for myself and a way to share my feelings and experiences with those who care.
I am just trying deal with my husband's death the best way that I can. Everyone grieves differently, and we all need to respect that. There are many people who loved my Michael and we are all dealing with his tragic death in our own way and in our own time.
Some of us have anger and resentment that he was taken too soon and we let that manifest in negative ways. Feelings will be hurt, misunderstandings will take place, and a shit storm will follow.
Some of us while we miss him with our whole beings, are unable to feel anger because of our spiritual/religious convictions. We are able to find comfort in the fact that he is in a much better place than this world. We find hope in knowing that one day we will be reunited again.
Ultimately, we all loved Michael. And although we cannot see eye to eye it is important to remember that we are all hurting. Much love to everyone who grieves Mike. Though we are walking down separate paths our destination remains the same.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
I am just trying deal with my husband's death the best way that I can. Everyone grieves differently, and we all need to respect that. There are many people who loved my Michael and we are all dealing with his tragic death in our own way and in our own time.
Some of us have anger and resentment that he was taken too soon and we let that manifest in negative ways. Feelings will be hurt, misunderstandings will take place, and a shit storm will follow.
Some of us while we miss him with our whole beings, are unable to feel anger because of our spiritual/religious convictions. We are able to find comfort in the fact that he is in a much better place than this world. We find hope in knowing that one day we will be reunited again.
Ultimately, we all loved Michael. And although we cannot see eye to eye it is important to remember that we are all hurting. Much love to everyone who grieves Mike. Though we are walking down separate paths our destination remains the same.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Picking up the pieces...
Another sleepless night. Thoughts running through my head. I wish there were a way for me to explain what I am feeling where people could actually "get it". I realize that I am different. That I do not have the same thought processes as most people. I know that no matter how hard I try no one will truly get why I do the things I do, or say the things I say.
I have experienced a lot in my 29 years on this earth. And I think it is because of how much I have experienced that I am "different". When I feel something I experience raw emotion. I feel it with my whole being, it hits me hard like a tsunami. There is no warning and the wave is all consuming. If I am strong enough to get through the flood the water will recede and the reconstruction must begin. Unfortunately, my life has been one series of unfortunate events after another. If I dwell on the past I will never get to experience the joys of the present because the future always seems to hold more heartache.
Mike got it. He was the one person on this earth who understood me. There is no doubt that he was my soulmate. And now that he is gone I almost feel like an alien. Our relationship may have seemed odd to most people. But it made sense to us! We were happy and loved each other, and that is all that matters in the end. He got me, and I got him. And that is really what true love it all about!
So here I am alone to pick up the pieces after his death. I feel as if I am being judged. It seems that when I was feeling weak, it was too weak and people thought I was over-reacting. And now that I am feeling stronger, people think I am moving forward too quickly and that I am not fully letting myself grieve.
I just wish that people could understand me the way Mike did. I wish that there was a way for them to see what Mike saw. I wish they could understand that though I may not make any sense to them, my grieving process makes total sense to me and to the one I am grieving. In my heart I know that Mike still gets it and he is with me every step of the way. And in the end I guess that is all that really matters.
I have experienced a lot in my 29 years on this earth. And I think it is because of how much I have experienced that I am "different". When I feel something I experience raw emotion. I feel it with my whole being, it hits me hard like a tsunami. There is no warning and the wave is all consuming. If I am strong enough to get through the flood the water will recede and the reconstruction must begin. Unfortunately, my life has been one series of unfortunate events after another. If I dwell on the past I will never get to experience the joys of the present because the future always seems to hold more heartache.
Mike got it. He was the one person on this earth who understood me. There is no doubt that he was my soulmate. And now that he is gone I almost feel like an alien. Our relationship may have seemed odd to most people. But it made sense to us! We were happy and loved each other, and that is all that matters in the end. He got me, and I got him. And that is really what true love it all about!
So here I am alone to pick up the pieces after his death. I feel as if I am being judged. It seems that when I was feeling weak, it was too weak and people thought I was over-reacting. And now that I am feeling stronger, people think I am moving forward too quickly and that I am not fully letting myself grieve.
I just wish that people could understand me the way Mike did. I wish that there was a way for them to see what Mike saw. I wish they could understand that though I may not make any sense to them, my grieving process makes total sense to me and to the one I am grieving. In my heart I know that Mike still gets it and he is with me every step of the way. And in the end I guess that is all that really matters.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
He still speaks to me...
Mike keeps sending me very blunt messages, that I cannot ignore. For example we ate Chinese a lot, and while cleaning out his pockets of his coats about 2 weeks ago I kept finding fortunes.
This was the first one I found:
-Married couples tell each other a thousand things without speech.
Followed by:
-The time is right to make new friends.
-Something you lost will soon turn up.
-Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome.
-Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.
-Enjoy yourself. It's later than you think.
-If you must play, decide on three things at the start: the rules of he game, the stakes, and the quitting time.
-One cannot refuse to eat just because there is a chance of being choked.
-You think you lost your horse? Who knows, he may bring a whole herd back to you someday.
Strange, I know...
This was the first one I found:
-Married couples tell each other a thousand things without speech.
Followed by:
-The time is right to make new friends.
-Something you lost will soon turn up.
-Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome.
-Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.
-Enjoy yourself. It's later than you think.
-If you must play, decide on three things at the start: the rules of he game, the stakes, and the quitting time.
-One cannot refuse to eat just because there is a chance of being choked.
-You think you lost your horse? Who knows, he may bring a whole herd back to you someday.
Strange, I know...
Monday, June 29, 2009
Who "We" Are...
Posted by a fellow widow, felt it was blog worthy!
We are women left.
We experienced the best of times; The worst of times. And survived.
We discovered the meaning of life — Nothing like the loss of a spouse to wake us up to that.
We gained some; We lost some — Friends and pounds.
We had friends run out on us. We understood they just couldn’t take it. At least, we tried to.
We lost appetites, and we lost weight. And in the spirit of true friendship, we watched true friends reappear, and the pounds.
We discovered life as a widow is different than being married, but trying to explain it to anyone is like describing the color orange to a blind man. We know it’s best to change the subject. We train our eyes to look away.
We spend endless sleepless nights pondering the future. We wonder — Can we meet this months mortgage payment, next months electric bill. Even if we know we are able, we worry, What if?
We daydream — Consider moving to an island someplace in the South Pacific; sailing off into the horizon; peddling into traffic on a bicycle, motoring cross-country on a motorcycle, blazing a trail on horseback. We contemplate running away every minute of every day. We will do anything to escape the pain, but we dont. Because we know, deep inside, there is no place to run away to.
We contemplate entering the convent. We think, Maybe there is peace there.
Every morning, we get out of bed. And we remember — Hes gone. Hes not coming back.
Every evening, we turn out the light. And we remember — Hes gone. Hes not coming back.
We love our sons, our daughters; We love your sons, your daughters. Heck, we love everyone! We love grandkids, most especially our own.
We eat meals standing up, usually over the kitchen sink.
We eat cold pasta for breakfast out of a container. We use our fingers. We think, Why dirty a fork?
We traded lacy lingerie for flannel pajamas; silk robes for cotton terry cloth, and candlelight dinners for an open refrigerator door.
We identify red wires, white wires, and yellow wires inside a gem box in a wall when the ceiling fan switch in the master bedroom doesnt work. And we fix it.
We know which circuit breaker shuts the current in every room of the house; when to change the battery in the smoke detector; how to plunge a stopped toilet; how to snake a clogged drain.
We keep a supply of Draino under every sink in the house, because we swear to God we'll never let that happen again!
We know where the water main is; what number to call for the garage door repairman, and when to use it.
We know how to read a tire gauge, check the oil, change a flat.
We rake leaves, we hoe peas, we plant corn, tomatoes, and celery. We reap the harvest. And we cook and eat it, too.
We paint the house; Outside and in.
We tile the bathroom; grout it, too.
We know how to wash a floor on hands and knees.
We cry out loud when no one is looking. And don�t care if they are.
We are strong; we are weak.
We are big; we are small.
We are tall; we are short.
We are every color in the rainbow, different sizes, different shapes.
We are different; we are same.
We've been congratulated, applauded, patted on the back, hugged, French kissed, mentored, adored, and loved by the best.
We have loved and lost; buried and mourned.
If getting through a day without Him by our sides was an Olympic event, a role in a motion picture, a horse race at Hialeah, we'd own a Tony, an Emmy, an Oscar, and our hand prints and footprints would be stamped in a sidewalk outside a Chinese Restaurant on Hollywood and Vine. And the world would know us by the giant horseshoe of red and white carnations hanging around our necks.
We've made sense of the senseless, discovered the meaning of grief — insanity gone greased and wild. And, we've learned life's valuable lesson: When you lose a spouse, life goes on.
We remind the world that love is never having to say goodbye.
Congratulations, Widows! Take a bow.
We are women left.
We experienced the best of times; The worst of times. And survived.
We discovered the meaning of life — Nothing like the loss of a spouse to wake us up to that.
We gained some; We lost some — Friends and pounds.
We had friends run out on us. We understood they just couldn’t take it. At least, we tried to.
We lost appetites, and we lost weight. And in the spirit of true friendship, we watched true friends reappear, and the pounds.
We discovered life as a widow is different than being married, but trying to explain it to anyone is like describing the color orange to a blind man. We know it’s best to change the subject. We train our eyes to look away.
We spend endless sleepless nights pondering the future. We wonder — Can we meet this months mortgage payment, next months electric bill. Even if we know we are able, we worry, What if?
We daydream — Consider moving to an island someplace in the South Pacific; sailing off into the horizon; peddling into traffic on a bicycle, motoring cross-country on a motorcycle, blazing a trail on horseback. We contemplate running away every minute of every day. We will do anything to escape the pain, but we dont. Because we know, deep inside, there is no place to run away to.
We contemplate entering the convent. We think, Maybe there is peace there.
Every morning, we get out of bed. And we remember — Hes gone. Hes not coming back.
Every evening, we turn out the light. And we remember — Hes gone. Hes not coming back.
We love our sons, our daughters; We love your sons, your daughters. Heck, we love everyone! We love grandkids, most especially our own.
We eat meals standing up, usually over the kitchen sink.
We eat cold pasta for breakfast out of a container. We use our fingers. We think, Why dirty a fork?
We traded lacy lingerie for flannel pajamas; silk robes for cotton terry cloth, and candlelight dinners for an open refrigerator door.
We identify red wires, white wires, and yellow wires inside a gem box in a wall when the ceiling fan switch in the master bedroom doesnt work. And we fix it.
We know which circuit breaker shuts the current in every room of the house; when to change the battery in the smoke detector; how to plunge a stopped toilet; how to snake a clogged drain.
We keep a supply of Draino under every sink in the house, because we swear to God we'll never let that happen again!
We know where the water main is; what number to call for the garage door repairman, and when to use it.
We know how to read a tire gauge, check the oil, change a flat.
We rake leaves, we hoe peas, we plant corn, tomatoes, and celery. We reap the harvest. And we cook and eat it, too.
We paint the house; Outside and in.
We tile the bathroom; grout it, too.
We know how to wash a floor on hands and knees.
We cry out loud when no one is looking. And don�t care if they are.
We are strong; we are weak.
We are big; we are small.
We are tall; we are short.
We are every color in the rainbow, different sizes, different shapes.
We are different; we are same.
We've been congratulated, applauded, patted on the back, hugged, French kissed, mentored, adored, and loved by the best.
We have loved and lost; buried and mourned.
If getting through a day without Him by our sides was an Olympic event, a role in a motion picture, a horse race at Hialeah, we'd own a Tony, an Emmy, an Oscar, and our hand prints and footprints would be stamped in a sidewalk outside a Chinese Restaurant on Hollywood and Vine. And the world would know us by the giant horseshoe of red and white carnations hanging around our necks.
We've made sense of the senseless, discovered the meaning of grief — insanity gone greased and wild. And, we've learned life's valuable lesson: When you lose a spouse, life goes on.
We remind the world that love is never having to say goodbye.
Congratulations, Widows! Take a bow.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
And then the light went on!
I am not sure what has changed. Maybe it was all the prayer and reflection, maybe it is Mike giving me clarity? Maybe my brain has been able to heal from some of the trauma? But for the first time since Mike died, I am starting to feel strangely normal again. I have come to the realization that I do not have a Scarlett Letter after all!
Things are still scary as hell. I have no clue if they will work out. But I just see no reason to stress out over it anymore. Que Sera, Sera! That is my new motto. My husband died, I really can't think of anything worse than that. And well, I am getting through it one day at a time. What do I really have to fear when I have already lived my worst nightmare? Life is too short to worry about what might be. From now on I am living for the present, leaving the pain of the past behind, and not worrying about the future. Because if I have learned anything through all this, it is that sometimes there is no future to worry about anyway!
Things are still scary as hell. I have no clue if they will work out. But I just see no reason to stress out over it anymore. Que Sera, Sera! That is my new motto. My husband died, I really can't think of anything worse than that. And well, I am getting through it one day at a time. What do I really have to fear when I have already lived my worst nightmare? Life is too short to worry about what might be. From now on I am living for the present, leaving the pain of the past behind, and not worrying about the future. Because if I have learned anything through all this, it is that sometimes there is no future to worry about anyway!
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Not all shoes are the same.
One of the things that really has been bothering me lately, is people whom I am sure mean well, trying to tell me how I should be reacting or feeling. Unless someone has experienced watching their spouse drop dead in front of them, no matter how much they try to relate (be it an illness, the death of a family member, or a divorce) they cannot fully understand exactly what I am going through. Just as I cannot fully understand what they went through. I realize that it is only human nature to try and relate one's tragic experiences to that of another in hopes of making a connection. But ultimately everyone's experience is different, and everyone handles things in their own time and in their own way. What works for one person may have no meaning whatsoever for another.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
It's sure as hell not the Hokey Pokey!
I lost my best friend in the entire world. I lost the only person in my life who loved me unconditionally. I lost the one person who made me feel safe. The only person I could count on no matter what.
It is not about living comfortably at all, I could care less if I am poor. It is about watching the other half of you die on your bedroom floor and reliving it multiple times a day. It is about the loneliness, sadness, and sheer terror.
It is about losing control of everything. Knowing that at any moment I am on the verge of mentally and emotionally breaking down to the point of needing hospitalization.
Its about being overwhelmed. I can barely take care of my own basic needs (I set alarms to remember to eat, drink, and even use the bathroom). And somehow people think I am supposed to be able to pull it together, be an adult, and take care of all the estate bullshit? I am sorry but I am just not capable right now. I am not being dramatic, and I am not over-reacting. This is my reality.
Maybe it is that people are used to me being the strong one? Or perhaps they just do not want to let themselves see how badly I am really doing? I am a f*cking mess! And it seems that no one really notices. Everyone tells me I will get through this, and sure I will one way or another... But right now I am drowning in water that just keeps getting deeper and deeper. Until the water level recedes there is no way to get any oxygen. Just thinking about the oxygen at the surface will not sustain me... I need to actually breathe!
It is not about living comfortably at all, I could care less if I am poor. It is about watching the other half of you die on your bedroom floor and reliving it multiple times a day. It is about the loneliness, sadness, and sheer terror.
It is about losing control of everything. Knowing that at any moment I am on the verge of mentally and emotionally breaking down to the point of needing hospitalization.
Its about being overwhelmed. I can barely take care of my own basic needs (I set alarms to remember to eat, drink, and even use the bathroom). And somehow people think I am supposed to be able to pull it together, be an adult, and take care of all the estate bullshit? I am sorry but I am just not capable right now. I am not being dramatic, and I am not over-reacting. This is my reality.
Maybe it is that people are used to me being the strong one? Or perhaps they just do not want to let themselves see how badly I am really doing? I am a f*cking mess! And it seems that no one really notices. Everyone tells me I will get through this, and sure I will one way or another... But right now I am drowning in water that just keeps getting deeper and deeper. Until the water level recedes there is no way to get any oxygen. Just thinking about the oxygen at the surface will not sustain me... I need to actually breathe!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Downward Spiral
My life is so out of control. It feels as if I am chained to a Tilt-a-Whirl type ride that wont stop. I am unable to accomplish anything that has to do with Mike's death. I just cannot face it. I cannot deal with all the legalities, paperwork, and phone calls. The thought of even making a phone call and looking at paperwork sends me into a panic attack. I just keep distracting myself to save my sanity. I am so close to breaking right now.
The thought of death is so welcoming. Every night as I lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, I pray that I wont wake up. Every headache I get comes with the hopes that I have an aneurysm. I just want to be done. I don't want to deal with this anymore. There is no way that I would ever harm myself, because no matter what one believes, I really think that there has to repercussions for terminating one's life before it is their time. I may think that my life is horrible now, but the fear of an even more terrifying eternity keeps me from doing anything stupid.
I would love to go into a coma for a year and let everyone else take care of all this bullshit for me. I just can't do this. I cannot deal with my life. I need a fresh start. I am not strong enough to get through this.
I was coping so well, till I found out how much I am going to lose. Haven't I lost enough already? I am such a mess and it seems that no one really gets how screwed up in the head I really am right now. Everyone is treating me like the level-headed competent woman I used to me. I wish they would realize that I am nothing more than a scared child who can not come out from under her blankets and face the world. I am totally incapable of managing my own affairs right now.
Hell, the only thing I am capable of is distracting myself, crying, and having anxiety attacks...
The thought of death is so welcoming. Every night as I lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, I pray that I wont wake up. Every headache I get comes with the hopes that I have an aneurysm. I just want to be done. I don't want to deal with this anymore. There is no way that I would ever harm myself, because no matter what one believes, I really think that there has to repercussions for terminating one's life before it is their time. I may think that my life is horrible now, but the fear of an even more terrifying eternity keeps me from doing anything stupid.
I would love to go into a coma for a year and let everyone else take care of all this bullshit for me. I just can't do this. I cannot deal with my life. I need a fresh start. I am not strong enough to get through this.
I was coping so well, till I found out how much I am going to lose. Haven't I lost enough already? I am such a mess and it seems that no one really gets how screwed up in the head I really am right now. Everyone is treating me like the level-headed competent woman I used to me. I wish they would realize that I am nothing more than a scared child who can not come out from under her blankets and face the world. I am totally incapable of managing my own affairs right now.
Hell, the only thing I am capable of is distracting myself, crying, and having anxiety attacks...
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Something has got to give!
Everyday is a struggle and harder than the last it seems. I just want to move on with my life, but I am stuck here in limbo. Just when I think things can't possibly get any worse and they have to start looking up, they find a way to get worse.
It looks as if I am going to lose everything Mike and I had. I cannot believe that before my 30th birthday my entire life is being taken away. I am going to have to start over from scratch all alone. I will have nothing. I just don't understand why I have to go through all this. When will it be enough, how much more till I have paid my toll?
I understand that it was Mike's time to go. But why could it not have been just 2 hours later and not at home leaving me alone and helpless preforming CPR waiting for the paramedics knowing that is was just in vain. Why couldn't I have just been able to give him a kiss goodbye, tell him that I love him, and then get a call that he had died? I could cope with the loss, as hard as it is, I know I could do it. But the flashbacks of his death haunt me. The look of fear in his eyes as he realized he was dying and knowing that there was nothing I could do, the taste of his blood in my mouth and the burn of my arms as I performed CPR, seeing him lying there dead with the same look of terror in his eyes, these are things that I cannot shake.
Grief, PTSD, and anxiety seem to rule my life. And just when I think I am getting a handle on one of these factors, something happens to trigger another. The grief, that is manageable. The PTSD is debilitating, it causes my anxiety to sky-rocket. I cannot function as a productive member of society. I zone out for hours on end when left to my own devices and the anxiety attacks are paralyzing.
I just wish there was a restart button on my life...
It looks as if I am going to lose everything Mike and I had. I cannot believe that before my 30th birthday my entire life is being taken away. I am going to have to start over from scratch all alone. I will have nothing. I just don't understand why I have to go through all this. When will it be enough, how much more till I have paid my toll?
I understand that it was Mike's time to go. But why could it not have been just 2 hours later and not at home leaving me alone and helpless preforming CPR waiting for the paramedics knowing that is was just in vain. Why couldn't I have just been able to give him a kiss goodbye, tell him that I love him, and then get a call that he had died? I could cope with the loss, as hard as it is, I know I could do it. But the flashbacks of his death haunt me. The look of fear in his eyes as he realized he was dying and knowing that there was nothing I could do, the taste of his blood in my mouth and the burn of my arms as I performed CPR, seeing him lying there dead with the same look of terror in his eyes, these are things that I cannot shake.
Grief, PTSD, and anxiety seem to rule my life. And just when I think I am getting a handle on one of these factors, something happens to trigger another. The grief, that is manageable. The PTSD is debilitating, it causes my anxiety to sky-rocket. I cannot function as a productive member of society. I zone out for hours on end when left to my own devices and the anxiety attacks are paralyzing.
I just wish there was a restart button on my life...
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Everything Happens for a Reason...
I have always lived with the belief that everything happens for a reason and the bad things you endure give you knowledge and stregnth to help others in similar situations down the road. It is this belief that keeps me going when the times get tough. And strangely enough, it has always held true.
While I was in Vegas I found out that one of my friends also lost her husband. She had been with him since they were 14, and she is only 22. I thought being widowed at 29 was young, but 22? Wow!
As horrible as it is to lose your spouse at a young age, I have found that it is important to find others in the same situation. As great as it is to join support groups, these people are really just strangers. Sure, eventually we get to know each other, but the basis of our relationship is our loss. Our friendship is more circumstantial as opposed to personal.
To have a personal relationship with someone before such unfortunate circumstances bring you closer together is such a godsend. When Kandice shares her thoughts and feelings it truly validates what I had/am feeling. It makes me see that I am not alone or crazy. To have someone I can relate to on such a deep level that no one else can possibly comprehend is amasing. And the fact that I am just a tiny step ahead of Kandice on her journey gives Mike's death some sort of meaning. Knowing that I am able to warn her of the some of the potholes and obstacles I come across is a blessing because I know that this is not all in vain.
While I was in Vegas I found out that one of my friends also lost her husband. She had been with him since they were 14, and she is only 22. I thought being widowed at 29 was young, but 22? Wow!
As horrible as it is to lose your spouse at a young age, I have found that it is important to find others in the same situation. As great as it is to join support groups, these people are really just strangers. Sure, eventually we get to know each other, but the basis of our relationship is our loss. Our friendship is more circumstantial as opposed to personal.
To have a personal relationship with someone before such unfortunate circumstances bring you closer together is such a godsend. When Kandice shares her thoughts and feelings it truly validates what I had/am feeling. It makes me see that I am not alone or crazy. To have someone I can relate to on such a deep level that no one else can possibly comprehend is amasing. And the fact that I am just a tiny step ahead of Kandice on her journey gives Mike's death some sort of meaning. Knowing that I am able to warn her of the some of the potholes and obstacles I come across is a blessing because I know that this is not all in vain.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Leaving Las Vegas...
I really think that my time away in Vegas did me some good. I was able to distance myself from Mike's death for a few days and just enjoy a new adventure. Yes, there were days that I cried and felt lonely without him. Seeing happy couples walking the strip hand in hand was a harsh reminder that never again would I feel Mike's hand holding mine. There were so many things I saw and did that made me wish Mike were there with me because I knew he would have enjoyed them. And even watching my friend with her mother made me sad that my mother is not here to help me get through this. But all in all I think the trip was good for me.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Realizations
The other day it hit me... I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It explains a whole lot. Looks like I will have to add finding a good therapist to the list of things I need to take care of when I get home from Vegas.
Speaking of Vegas we leave tomorrow morning. I am so thankful for this trip. I swear if I were not leaving town for a week, I would most likely be checking myself into a mental health facility instead. I re-live Mike's death at least 20 times a day sitting in this house. Each flashback brings along an anxiety attack. I am unable to focus on tasks and lose hours of time where I have no clue till I look at the time and realize that I have been sitting staring at the wall for 3 hours.
Everyone thinks that I am doing so well, and that I am so strong. I guess that is because I can function with distractions. It is not till I am alone that the basket case comes out.
Speaking of Vegas we leave tomorrow morning. I am so thankful for this trip. I swear if I were not leaving town for a week, I would most likely be checking myself into a mental health facility instead. I re-live Mike's death at least 20 times a day sitting in this house. Each flashback brings along an anxiety attack. I am unable to focus on tasks and lose hours of time where I have no clue till I look at the time and realize that I have been sitting staring at the wall for 3 hours.
Everyone thinks that I am doing so well, and that I am so strong. I guess that is because I can function with distractions. It is not till I am alone that the basket case comes out.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Defined by loss and tragedy...
My mother was not only a single mom, but my best friend. When I was 9 years old she died of cancer. My childhood ended the day I was told her illness was terminal. I was no longer Jessie Giambra the bright, cheerful, outgoing little girl. Instead, I was poor Jessica, the girl who's mom was dying/dead. Everyone knew who I was in our community, they all pitied me, and no one knew exactly what to say or how to treat me. I was defined by my loss and tragedy for far too long. I missed out on so many of the joys of being a child. There was no childlike innocence for me. I knew all too well of the harsh realities of this world.
Looking back at my childhood, it was not till high school that I was able to emerge from the shadow of my mother's illness and death. Granted, I was still not your typical teenager, I had experienced far too much. But I was able to assimilate for the most part. I was so glad to finally put the past behind me and just be a "normal" kid.
I grew up and started a normal life. I found love with a man (well at 21 I wouldn't say man exactly) who also was also no stranger to loss and tragedy. It seemed as if my life were finally complete. I had new definition. I was Jess Rodak, wife of Mike. I was happy, I felt secure, and most importantly I had found my soul mate. I was with someone who understood what I had been through, and loved me with my emotional scars and all. For the first time since I lost my mom, I thought that my life was going to be complete again.
Yet, here I find myself, once again in that same horrible predicament of my childhood. I am no longer Jess Rodak. I am poor Jessica the 29 year old widow who's husband unexpectedly died on her bedroom floor. Once again everyone in my community knows who I am because of my tragedy and loss. Everyone pities me, and no one knows exactly what to say or how to treat me.
I cannot and will not let my loss define me again. I will not be robbed of myself for a second time. I refuse to let myself miss out on experiencing my adult life, the same way I missed out on my childhood. I deserve happiness, and the ability to find simple joys again. I will find a way in time. I control my own destiny. And no one else can take that away from me!
Looking back at my childhood, it was not till high school that I was able to emerge from the shadow of my mother's illness and death. Granted, I was still not your typical teenager, I had experienced far too much. But I was able to assimilate for the most part. I was so glad to finally put the past behind me and just be a "normal" kid.
I grew up and started a normal life. I found love with a man (well at 21 I wouldn't say man exactly) who also was also no stranger to loss and tragedy. It seemed as if my life were finally complete. I had new definition. I was Jess Rodak, wife of Mike. I was happy, I felt secure, and most importantly I had found my soul mate. I was with someone who understood what I had been through, and loved me with my emotional scars and all. For the first time since I lost my mom, I thought that my life was going to be complete again.
Yet, here I find myself, once again in that same horrible predicament of my childhood. I am no longer Jess Rodak. I am poor Jessica the 29 year old widow who's husband unexpectedly died on her bedroom floor. Once again everyone in my community knows who I am because of my tragedy and loss. Everyone pities me, and no one knows exactly what to say or how to treat me.
I cannot and will not let my loss define me again. I will not be robbed of myself for a second time. I refuse to let myself miss out on experiencing my adult life, the same way I missed out on my childhood. I deserve happiness, and the ability to find simple joys again. I will find a way in time. I control my own destiny. And no one else can take that away from me!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Awakened to this Nightmare
Last night I had a dream...
In it I woke up to the sound of music upstairs. I went upstairs to find Mike alive and well playing on his computer. I ran to him and hugged him with tears running down my face I buried myself in his chest and sobbed telling him about the horrible nightmare I just had.
And then I woke up....
For the first time since he died, I did not wake up in an anxiety attack and I did not re-live his death. But soon I realized that I was dreaming and my life was actually the nightmare.
Why must my subconscious be so cruel? I prefer the anxiety attacks over the reminder that I am living my worst nightmare.
In it I woke up to the sound of music upstairs. I went upstairs to find Mike alive and well playing on his computer. I ran to him and hugged him with tears running down my face I buried myself in his chest and sobbed telling him about the horrible nightmare I just had.
And then I woke up....
For the first time since he died, I did not wake up in an anxiety attack and I did not re-live his death. But soon I realized that I was dreaming and my life was actually the nightmare.
Why must my subconscious be so cruel? I prefer the anxiety attacks over the reminder that I am living my worst nightmare.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Memorial Tattoo
On Sunday I got my memorial tattoo for Mike. I absolutely love it!Our wedding song was Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters". "So close not matter how far...", is the first line of that song. That line has so much meaning to me when I think of Michael. I loved that the artist's handwriting very much resembled Mike's writing. That put the icing on the cake!
Mike's favorite place on earth was Hawaii, and his favorite activity in Hawaii was whale watching. Mike took me to Hawaii in December of 2006, and it was a trip of a lifetime. I have so many fond memories of that vacation. We dreamed of growing old together and retiring there.
Mike and I are both into ink. Mike had 4 tattoos when he died. He had plans for many more. Mike's memorial tat makes 4 for me. I find that very fitting.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Mission Accomplished!
May 2, 2009: the 20th anniversary of my mother's death. And I couldn't help but think how it would be so much easier to get through Mike's death if she were here with me. So I was not only mourning my husband, but also my mother... I guess that explains my total meltdown.
This evening went much better than earlier in the day where I just cried for hours on end. Friends came over, some cooked me dinner, others helped me clean, and even a few managed to get me to go out with them. I was smart and took some Ativan before we left, and it seemed to do the trick! We went to two bars. The first to see a band play, and the second for karaoke (no I did not sing). I didn't drink, and I didn't eat any nasty bar food. Both bars were packed, one very smokey, but I survived!
I went out, did something social, and managed to come home in a good mood and feeling perfectly fine. I am so happy that I did not let last night's failed attempt keep me down. Because tonight for the first time since Mike died, I found some normalcy! I went out and enjoyed myself. I was just Jess with no strings attached and no black cloud over my head. It felt good to be free...
This evening went much better than earlier in the day where I just cried for hours on end. Friends came over, some cooked me dinner, others helped me clean, and even a few managed to get me to go out with them. I was smart and took some Ativan before we left, and it seemed to do the trick! We went to two bars. The first to see a band play, and the second for karaoke (no I did not sing). I didn't drink, and I didn't eat any nasty bar food. Both bars were packed, one very smokey, but I survived!
I went out, did something social, and managed to come home in a good mood and feeling perfectly fine. I am so happy that I did not let last night's failed attempt keep me down. Because tonight for the first time since Mike died, I found some normalcy! I went out and enjoyed myself. I was just Jess with no strings attached and no black cloud over my head. It felt good to be free...
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Overwhelmed...
I can't do this all on my own.
I am far too broken.
Everything is so overwhelming...
No matter how hard I try I cannot get back finding any type of normalcy. I try to go out and do something and I physically just cannot do it. Emotionally, I am a walking on a landmine field, and with every step another bomb goes off sending me into a fury of emotions. I can't seem to accomplish any of the tasks at hand. I am falling apart, my home is falling apart, my life is falling apart. Even the mundane everyday tasks of my life seem to be too much for me to handle.
Michael and I were the type of couple to drop everything if someone needed help. Yet, in my time of need I am unable to ask for help. It is not in my nature. I wish it were different, but it is who I am. Everyone has told me, "if you need anything call". Obviously, I am not going to call. I shouldn't have to call. My husband is dead, my world is shattered... You would think that those close to me would realize I am going to need help.
It seems very few people have been able to look past themselves and their own needs the way Mike and I always had for them. It feels as if I am just an afterthought. It is only after their needs have been fulfilled and the time is convenient for them that maybe, if I am lucky they just might think about me and if I need some help. It makes me feel so sad. So angry. So alone.
I am far too broken.
Everything is so overwhelming...
No matter how hard I try I cannot get back finding any type of normalcy. I try to go out and do something and I physically just cannot do it. Emotionally, I am a walking on a landmine field, and with every step another bomb goes off sending me into a fury of emotions. I can't seem to accomplish any of the tasks at hand. I am falling apart, my home is falling apart, my life is falling apart. Even the mundane everyday tasks of my life seem to be too much for me to handle.
Michael and I were the type of couple to drop everything if someone needed help. Yet, in my time of need I am unable to ask for help. It is not in my nature. I wish it were different, but it is who I am. Everyone has told me, "if you need anything call". Obviously, I am not going to call. I shouldn't have to call. My husband is dead, my world is shattered... You would think that those close to me would realize I am going to need help.
It seems very few people have been able to look past themselves and their own needs the way Mike and I always had for them. It feels as if I am just an afterthought. It is only after their needs have been fulfilled and the time is convenient for them that maybe, if I am lucky they just might think about me and if I need some help. It makes me feel so sad. So angry. So alone.
Attempt at normalcy...FAILED!
I decided to go out to a comedy club with a friend. It was my first real social outing since Mike died. After about 2 hours into the night things went bad. I got nauseous, overly hot, my neck and shoulders started aching, and I was on the verge of passing out. My ears were ringing, I was having a hard time speaking, and tunnel vision was starting. Luckily, I was able to get myself somewhere cold and I concentrated on breathing and it passed. I think perhaps it was a mix of my blood pressure meds, some anxiety, and the bad food at the club.
I just want nothing more than to have one normal day. One day where I can just be Jess, not Jess Rodak the 29 year old widow who's husband died in her bedroom. Is it too much to ask for one day where I can forget my troubles and just enjoy myself?
I just want nothing more than to have one normal day. One day where I can just be Jess, not Jess Rodak the 29 year old widow who's husband died in her bedroom. Is it too much to ask for one day where I can forget my troubles and just enjoy myself?
Monday, April 27, 2009
Two Weeks...
It's been two weeks since Mike has been gone. Thanks to Ativan I am finally able to get through the day without the horrible anxiety attacks. Perhaps now I can begin to face some of those important tasks at hand without having a nervous breakdown. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to drive because my blood pressure is dangerously elevated due to the anxiety. Hopefully the meds will kick in soon...
I am finally finding that the days are getting easier as opposed to harder. I am even sometimes able to look at a picture of Mike and not bawl my eyes out. I am beginning to see that I still have a future ahead of me and even though Mike is gone, he will be a large part of my future in many ways. I have begun reading, and finding a lot of comfort in a few books on widowhood, grieving, and moving on after the loss of a loved one.
I have managed to start sorting through Michael's clothing. I am finding that I am keeping quite a bit more than I thought I would. There are so many shirts that have sentimental value. However, I am finding that it is quite easy to look at a shirt and know which friend he would want me to give it to as well. It is a good thing the man had a million shirts!
I am so thankful for my friends. No matter where in the world they are or how long it has been since we last spoke, they are present in my life sending encouragement. It is times like these you truly learn who your "real" friends are. I am especially thankful for my Kate. She is not only helping me to get through the end of this chapter, but she is also providing a way for me to look forward to the beginning of my new chapter.
I am finally finding that the days are getting easier as opposed to harder. I am even sometimes able to look at a picture of Mike and not bawl my eyes out. I am beginning to see that I still have a future ahead of me and even though Mike is gone, he will be a large part of my future in many ways. I have begun reading, and finding a lot of comfort in a few books on widowhood, grieving, and moving on after the loss of a loved one.
I have managed to start sorting through Michael's clothing. I am finding that I am keeping quite a bit more than I thought I would. There are so many shirts that have sentimental value. However, I am finding that it is quite easy to look at a shirt and know which friend he would want me to give it to as well. It is a good thing the man had a million shirts!
I am so thankful for my friends. No matter where in the world they are or how long it has been since we last spoke, they are present in my life sending encouragement. It is times like these you truly learn who your "real" friends are. I am especially thankful for my Kate. She is not only helping me to get through the end of this chapter, but she is also providing a way for me to look forward to the beginning of my new chapter.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Baby Steps
Mike has been gone 12 days, but it feels like an eternity. The days following his funeral have no definition, every day is the same mundane existence. I can't bring myself to do much more than take care of my dogs. I am so empty inside. I feel as if my soul has been drained.
I need to start a forward progression. The longer I let myself sit in this limbo, the harder it will be in the long run. I still have not slept in our bedroom, however I did manage to sleep in the house alone twice. Tomorrow I plan on doing a thorough cleaning and de-cluttering of the bedroom with the help of a friend. I am going to start sorting through Mike's clothes deciding what has enough meaning to me that I want to keep, and the rest I will give to his friends whom have always coveted his t-shirt collection. I need to reclaim the bedroom as a place of solitude and relaxation.
I need to start a forward progression. The longer I let myself sit in this limbo, the harder it will be in the long run. I still have not slept in our bedroom, however I did manage to sleep in the house alone twice. Tomorrow I plan on doing a thorough cleaning and de-cluttering of the bedroom with the help of a friend. I am going to start sorting through Mike's clothes deciding what has enough meaning to me that I want to keep, and the rest I will give to his friends whom have always coveted his t-shirt collection. I need to reclaim the bedroom as a place of solitude and relaxation.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The dream is over.
It seems that when someone close to you dies, people often say that it feels like a bad dream. For me it is a bit different. When I look back at our life we had together, it almost seems too good to be true. It feels almost as if it was all just a wonderful dream, and never really happened. I was so happy, so full of love, so content... And now that the 8 year dream is over it is back to the harsh reality that is my life.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Stumbling through...
I feel like half of me died on the bedroom floor with Mike that day. Without him I am no longer whole. I am half human, stumbling through life barely living. Sitting here in our home, everything reminds me of our life together. Instead of finding comfort in his belongings, I find nothing but pain and sorrow. They are cruel reminders that I will never see his smile or feel his touch. I find joy in my memories of him and our time together, but sitting here in his home, the home where he grew up and our first house together as husband and wife, is almost too much right now. If it were not for all of our dogs, I fear that I would just run away from the pain. But I have too many responsibilities keeping me here.
Speaking of the dogs… We have a house full. I breed Chihuahuas and we owned 8 of them together along with 2 German Shepherds. Yes, that is 10 dogs total! 10 dogs to frantically run around the house crying, searching for Mike on a daily basis. They are so confused. Watching the door at night when he would have been due to come home, sitting under his computer desk waiting for him to come check email, browse the net or play one of his games. When I cry they are all right here to comfort me. Piled on my lap and at my feet, they kiss away my tears and often cry right along with me. My pain is their pain. I cannot even begin to fathom what it would be like if we had children instead of dogs…
Speaking of the dogs… We have a house full. I breed Chihuahuas and we owned 8 of them together along with 2 German Shepherds. Yes, that is 10 dogs total! 10 dogs to frantically run around the house crying, searching for Mike on a daily basis. They are so confused. Watching the door at night when he would have been due to come home, sitting under his computer desk waiting for him to come check email, browse the net or play one of his games. When I cry they are all right here to comfort me. Piled on my lap and at my feet, they kiss away my tears and often cry right along with me. My pain is their pain. I cannot even begin to fathom what it would be like if we had children instead of dogs…
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Numb.
Today is difficult. It is my first full day alone at home since Mike died. There is so much I need to get done. But here I sit, numb, hiding behind my laptop. I cannot find joy in anything that used to bring me pleasure. I force myself to eat though all I want to do is puke.
I am so tired. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I am just a shell of the woman I was with him. I am not angry. I am sad, lonely, and full of anxiety. I understand that it was his time to go home. I can see how many people’s lives he touched in so many ways. But I miss him so much. Our eight years together we fit in more than some couples do in 25 years. I am so grateful for that. Still, I would give anything in this world to spend just one more hour with him.
I am lost without Mike. He was my perfect soul mate, my best friend. For the last 8 years I was so content being Mike’s girlfriend/fiancé/wife that I lost touch with who I am as an individual. Now, here I sit all alone, not knowing who I am or what I am going to do now that he is gone.
I am so tired. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I am just a shell of the woman I was with him. I am not angry. I am sad, lonely, and full of anxiety. I understand that it was his time to go home. I can see how many people’s lives he touched in so many ways. But I miss him so much. Our eight years together we fit in more than some couples do in 25 years. I am so grateful for that. Still, I would give anything in this world to spend just one more hour with him.
I am lost without Mike. He was my perfect soul mate, my best friend. For the last 8 years I was so content being Mike’s girlfriend/fiancé/wife that I lost touch with who I am as an individual. Now, here I sit all alone, not knowing who I am or what I am going to do now that he is gone.
Week 1: The Girl Crying at the Rock Concert
Mike and I had purchased tickets for a concert a few months ago. We were supposed to go with another couple. He was excitedly anticipating seeing two of his favorite bands (along with a few others). One of his favorites, he had not yet experienced the pleasure of seeing live before. Unfortunately, he died exactly one week before the concert...
I had made a vow to myself the day Michael passed away that I would not let my grief consume my entire life. No matter how sad, anxious, and pathetic I am feeling I will not allow myself to wallow in my misery for an entire day. I vowed to shower, get dressed, and leave the house everyday no matter how swollen my eyes and drained I feel. Mike was full of life, he lived his to the fullest, and he would expect me to continue to do the same even though he is gone.
I decided that I needed to go to the concert in Mikes honor. He would have been angry with me if he and I both did not get to go. So I gave his ticket to one of his friends and after a long day of crying my eyes out, I pulled myself together and the four of us headed out.
The concert was harder than I thought it would be. When we first got there I began to tear up. It was one of the many firsts I will have to experience without him. I have such fond memories of many concerts together. However, I was able to get it together without anyone noticing.
It was not till the last band took the stage that I really lost it. I was doing fine till some guy nailed me in the back. It really hurt and sent me flying forward. If Mike were there with me he would have been standing behind me to protect me from the stupid drunk people. But Mike was not there to protect me and he never will be there to protect me again. I got weepy pretty quickly after that.
Once they started playing one of his favorite songs, the tears started to flow. There was no hiding them now. So there I stood, the girl crying at the rock concert. I can only imagine what it looked like to people around us. Everyone is rocking out to the music, and I standing there with tears streaming down my face. My friends notice that I am crying and then they start to tear up too. What a group we must have looked like, the sad young widow and her circle of friends consoling her.
I had made a vow to myself the day Michael passed away that I would not let my grief consume my entire life. No matter how sad, anxious, and pathetic I am feeling I will not allow myself to wallow in my misery for an entire day. I vowed to shower, get dressed, and leave the house everyday no matter how swollen my eyes and drained I feel. Mike was full of life, he lived his to the fullest, and he would expect me to continue to do the same even though he is gone.
I decided that I needed to go to the concert in Mikes honor. He would have been angry with me if he and I both did not get to go. So I gave his ticket to one of his friends and after a long day of crying my eyes out, I pulled myself together and the four of us headed out.
The concert was harder than I thought it would be. When we first got there I began to tear up. It was one of the many firsts I will have to experience without him. I have such fond memories of many concerts together. However, I was able to get it together without anyone noticing.
It was not till the last band took the stage that I really lost it. I was doing fine till some guy nailed me in the back. It really hurt and sent me flying forward. If Mike were there with me he would have been standing behind me to protect me from the stupid drunk people. But Mike was not there to protect me and he never will be there to protect me again. I got weepy pretty quickly after that.
Once they started playing one of his favorite songs, the tears started to flow. There was no hiding them now. So there I stood, the girl crying at the rock concert. I can only imagine what it looked like to people around us. Everyone is rocking out to the music, and I standing there with tears streaming down my face. My friends notice that I am crying and then they start to tear up too. What a group we must have looked like, the sad young widow and her circle of friends consoling her.
Monday, April 20, 2009
April 13, 2009: Day 1
I lost my husband Michael on April 13th, 2009. He was 29 years old. He died at 7am on our bedroom floor. We were asleep with an hour left till the alarm was set to go off. He shot up in bed gasping for air holding his chest with a look of terror that I will never forget. I told him to stay put, I was calling 911. He got up and collapsed on our bedroom floor, breaking his nose as he fell. Blood everywhere. There he laid on our bedroom floor, his lifeless blue eyes staring up at me with that same look of sheer terror. I knew he was gone, but started CPR waiting for the paramedics to arrive. I will never forget the taste of his blood in my mouth, the burn of my arms, and the feeling of dread.
Once the paramedics arrived, I ran to the bathroom and became ill. I remember looking in the mirror, my face and mouth covered by his blood. Thinking to myself, this is it. My sweet Michael is gone. The paramedics began working on him and asked me to sit in the other room and write down his information. I knew that this was a distraction technique to keep me from going into full shock. I called his family, no answer. I called my family, no answer. So I called one of his best friends who lives a few minutes away.
About 20 minutes passed and they finally moved him into the ambulance. Still no heartbeat, I was not surprised. They sat in my driveway for another 20 minutes and then began the drive to the hospital. No sirens. There was no doubt in my mind that he was gone. We followed behind the ambulance to the hospital.
His family called me back, as did mine. I told them to meet me at the hospital and that he did not have a heartbeat. But I guess it just did not click, and that they had no idea that he was gone. Mike's friend and I sat in the waiting room for a few short minutes. Finally I was called back and told that they had been working on him for over 45 minutes and that even if they got a heart rate at this point, there would be far too much brain damage. They told me they would continue to work on him for as long as I needed. I told them that they could stop. What was the point? He was gone.
I went out to tell his friend, and saw that my family had arrived. I told them the bad news and we were whisked off to a "family room". Soon his family arrived as well. We went to say our final goodbyes and left the hospital. In less than 2 hours I went from sleeping in bed with my husband to sitting at my family's house a 29 year old widow.
Michael had been diagnosed with a heart condition and had been under doctors' care. However, no one had any inclination that it would take his life let alone this young.
Once the paramedics arrived, I ran to the bathroom and became ill. I remember looking in the mirror, my face and mouth covered by his blood. Thinking to myself, this is it. My sweet Michael is gone. The paramedics began working on him and asked me to sit in the other room and write down his information. I knew that this was a distraction technique to keep me from going into full shock. I called his family, no answer. I called my family, no answer. So I called one of his best friends who lives a few minutes away.
About 20 minutes passed and they finally moved him into the ambulance. Still no heartbeat, I was not surprised. They sat in my driveway for another 20 minutes and then began the drive to the hospital. No sirens. There was no doubt in my mind that he was gone. We followed behind the ambulance to the hospital.
His family called me back, as did mine. I told them to meet me at the hospital and that he did not have a heartbeat. But I guess it just did not click, and that they had no idea that he was gone. Mike's friend and I sat in the waiting room for a few short minutes. Finally I was called back and told that they had been working on him for over 45 minutes and that even if they got a heart rate at this point, there would be far too much brain damage. They told me they would continue to work on him for as long as I needed. I told them that they could stop. What was the point? He was gone.
I went out to tell his friend, and saw that my family had arrived. I told them the bad news and we were whisked off to a "family room". Soon his family arrived as well. We went to say our final goodbyes and left the hospital. In less than 2 hours I went from sleeping in bed with my husband to sitting at my family's house a 29 year old widow.
Michael had been diagnosed with a heart condition and had been under doctors' care. However, no one had any inclination that it would take his life let alone this young.
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