Friday, February 21, 2014

A Weight Lifted

"I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid". These are the words I said to my grief-counselor last Monday, when I saw her for my weekly session. For the past 2 years, she has been the one person that I have bared my soul to and opened my wounds to, over and over and over again. But this was different. This was something I was terrified to say out loud, because once I said it out loud - that would mean it was out there in the universe, it was no longer just thoughts inside my head, and I would now have to be accountable for it. These are all the things I said to her when she asked me why I was afraid.

"I realized something about myself", I continued, taking a leap and hoping she would be there to catch me. "I made a connection between my weight and my constant struggle with my body image- and everything else in my life - including the morning he died, and all the days before that morning , and why I cannot let go of all the guilt that I feel about not being able to say goodbye to him. It wasn't so much about saying goodbye as it was about saying 'I'm so sorry that I didn't do better in our marriage. I didn't work harder so that you wouldn't have to hold down 2 jobs and be exhausted. I was so happy and so lazy and so complacent, that I just sat back and let you take care of me, because you did it so well. I am so very sorry. '

My counselor said something that she has said to me many, many times before - because it never seems to sink into me. I never seem to want to accept it, or let myself off the hook. I have this inner-need to punish myself, and I don't know why. She said the familiar words that I have heard her say before with such love and warmth: "You didn't kill him, Kelley. You didn't kill your husband. You are not the reason he had a heart attack and collapsed. It would have happened wherever he was in his life at that time, and you have to know that he was with you and he was incredibly happy being with you. It was what he wanted. You have to stop making yourself responsible for something you could not control."

 I couldn't even look her in the eye. What she was saying made logical sense, but I still felt like a murderer. I still felt like my actions and my lack of actions had somehow been the indirect link that made my sweet husband die. I should have been working two jobs, too. Why was I allowing him to exhaust himself that way? I should have gone to more auditions and tried harder to get acting work. That was the reason he packed up his cushy life in Florida and moved it to New Jersey with me, so that I could pursue my dreams of being a performer and comedian. I should have gone to the gym all those times that I got in my car and said I was going to the gym, instead of parking at a McDonalds parking lot and stuffing my face with french fries while listening to comedy radio to waste enough time to equal "a good workout." What kind of sick person sits in their car just to avoid going to the gym? What kind of wife does that to the husband she loves so much?

As I rushed all the words out to my counselor, she cheered me on like a sports coach. "You're doing so great. Keep talking", she said. My eyes were red and I was sobbing suddenly with the next few sentences. It was the first time I had said them out loud to anyone.

"Why did he die? Why was it him and not me? I was the one who was so overweight and out of shape. I was the one who ate like crap and never exercised and was so lazy. Not him. He played tennis, he rode his bike, he kept in shape, he was a paramedic and helped people everyday. It's not fair that he died, when it should have been me that died. Not him. I feel so guilty for living. I feel so guilty that I'm alive and that his death STILL hasn't made me lose weight and get healthy. I STILL cant motivate myself to do it. I just keep gaining more and living in denial about it. What the hell is wrong with me? Why couldn't I see this before?"

"You're seeing it now. This is so huge. Just saying it out loud is such a big deal. Now you can really, actually, start to move forward and start to process some of these feelings. There's a lot of healing in all the things you just made the choice to say today. You chose to open this door. Congratulations. Im very proud of you."

I told her I felt so much better just having said it out loud to someone. And I did. But I also felt a lot of shame and hurt and grief. There is so much shame in talking about your own weight with someone else. Talking about your lack of control over what you eat and don't eat. Talking about your zero desire to exercise, and your ability to come up with creative excuses NOT to work out. The whole thing feels so violating, and I hate it when anyone else comments on my eating habits or weight. Even when they are trying to help or when it comes from a caring place, it always feels like they are breathing down my neck and I want to push them far away. I need to start dealing with this weight issue though, and I need to do it silently, amongst myself, and my husband, who never deserved to die. And I need to somehow believe that I did not kill him, and that I still deserve to live - even though I am broken.

12 comments:

  1. Love.Love.Love.
    Thank you.

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  2. You are so frickin' brave, Kelley. And your therapist is 100% right. Love yourself as he loved you, and don't think of anything as an all-or-nothing, make-or-break task. Baby steps will get you there. I've been there too and it was all the little day-to-day moment-to-moment decisions, not any big sweeping resolutions, that helped me most. xoxoxoxx You are so brave, such a great writer, and such an inspiration!

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  3. Kelley my husband died of a heart attack too. He helped everyone and everyone loved him. I sometimes wonder why him and not me. Thanks for opening up your heart and sharing.

    Maria O.

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  4. Kelley,
    I have been reading your blog for several months now. You and I are close to the same timeline in this grief journey and I have identified with you on so many levels. You've provided so much emotional support to me, and you didn't even know it.

    I've started to comment on your posts several times, but have always backed out. I've always been a private person and never felt like I had much to contribute... until today. I have to tell you that once again, it's like you echo my emotions - I so admire you for opening up and putting yourself out there and helping those of us that remain nameless and faceless. Thank you Kelly! You are appreciated!!

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    1. Oh wow Anon, that really means a lot to me, and OF COURSE you have something to contribute. I love love love hearing peoples comments. It lets me know Im being heard and that Im not alone in these feelings I have - so thank you!!!! Do you read my personal blog, (ripthelieiknew.com) or this one, or both? Just curious if you meant my personal blog or this one. Im writing a book which will be done later this year in time for what would have been my husbands 50th birthday . Im gonna throw him a big ole book release party! Please keep commenting, its so great to hear from you.

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  5. I always wonder why Mike and not me,, too. I was overweight, he worked, not me....he already retired from one job which provides me with my living expenses still. Maybe that is why, after almost 5 years, I, too, still grieve so much. Something to discuss with my therapist!!!

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  6. Kelly, your thoughts and words are the same thoughts and words I've carried with me for the last 4.5 years. My husband worked so hard in order to allow me to devote time to my business only to have the business close and less than 2 months after closing the business losing Chris to a heart attack. I often wonder if I hadn't insisted on opening the business and just remained content with what was a pretty good life, if my husband would be alive today. I don't know that I will ever move past the guilt. He was such a good man, he was the one that deserved to be here, not me. Thanks for sharing.

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  7. Kelly, I've read your posts to Widows Voice and your story has really touched me. There's a lot of similarities, I'm 39, Richard was 46 when he passed away from a heart attack last November. The guilt is very hard to bear. Richard worked hard to support me through a college degree and whilst I looked for my dream job. I came top of the year in my degree, and got that dream job, and he was so proud of me, then two weeks after I started work he died. Getting that job means nothing now and I look back and think, why did I not spend more time with him, why didn't I do more to support him, get a part time job? Was it the pressure of having to support us both that led to the heart attack? He kept saying he was so tired. I suggested he go to the doctor, but he thought he was just feeling his age. Why didn't I do more to make him go? I feel guilt also for taking the amazing thing we had for granted. My friends and family don't understand the guilt I feel, but many people grieving for their partners do feel this, so thank you for talking about it. They were your reason for living, and you want with every fibre of your being to make it better, fix it, but you can't. And I never even got to say goodbye to him, my love, my soul. So thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your story. Helps me to think that I'm not travelling this terrible, lonely journey alone. Amanda

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    1. wow amanda, we really do have a lot in common. I dont know how to let go of all the guilt, but I suppose I need to figure it out someday. Its a lot to carry around. Sending you some peace xo.

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    2. Hi Kelley, Logically the guilt makes no sense, though that's of little comfort. As your counsellor and my friends have said, you didn't do it. In fact Don chose to support you, and Richard me, because they wanted to be with us, loved us and were so proud of what we were doing, what an amazing gift! I've thought about it a lot and I think for me all this guilt stems from the gut-wrenching fact that there is nothing, nothing I can now do to change things, and I don't understand why the hell it had to be him. Was there anything that I could have changed that meant it wouldn't have been? It's done, too late, and I'll never know. And yet I still can't believe I'll never see him again. My heart goes out to you, you'll make it, we all have to make it, we have no choice. Sending you lots of hugs, and please keep up with the blogs, you're keeping a lot of people the right side of sane (whatever that is now!), Amanda x

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  8. Guilt...I try not to go there anymore. My husband was one not to go to the doctor. By the time he did, it was too late, cancer had spread throughout his body, no wonder he didn't feel good! When the weight just fell off of him, I urged him to go see someone. When he had pains after eating and had to lay on the couch, I urged him to go. He finally went, and 2 months later he died. And I still blame myself 4 years later for not getting him to see someone sooner.

    Kelley, you will motivate yourself when you are ready. I think you've taken the first step by sharing it here. Spring is coming, we all will start moving more and the season itself will motivate us, at least I'm hoping.
    Take care. Btw, I loved your Valentine "buy me a flower" video!

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