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!

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.