Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Wandering Wonders~

I wonder if I'll ever wake up again.  Wake up to the point where I feel anything besides numbness or pain or his absence.

I wonder if I'm okay or if this grief has become complicated.  Lately I've been reading some articles that suggest that it might be.  Except that I only really meet one or two of the criteria and there's upwards of ten.  So maybe I'm okay and normal.

I wonder when I'll care again.  When I'll feel passionate about life again.  Or, having gone through the fucking devastating grief of my husband's death, any and everything I ever experience will be tinged against this backdrop.

I wonder at the courage it takes for any of us, man or woman, to fall in love again, knowing what we know now.  And yet, I want to be in love again.  I loved being in love with my husband.  I'm in love with him still, more than ever because he's been absent for so long.  I don't know how well that would work with another man....

I wonder what it would be like, being in love with a man not my husband.  Weird, right?  Except that from all I've been told, and what I read, it can (will) be just as natural a feeling as it was (is) with Chuck.

I wonder how on earth a man could fall in love with me when I have none of my spirit, none of my former spontaneity, none of my zest for life.  I see a ghost staring back at me from the mirror when I take a moment to look at myself, which is really only a few minutes each morning to make sure that the blush I've applied isn't making clown cheeks.  How on earth could an emotionally healthy man fall in love with that?

I wonder how on earth I could ever find another emotionally healthy man.  Chuck was in AA, which meant not only had he stopped drinking, he'd addressed his various issues from his upbringing and his first marriage.  He was a together guy and I trusted him implicitly.  How the hell do I find that again?

I wonder how people see me.  My kids tell me what they see, and my friends do, and people who follow my blog do, and what they tell me and what I feel inside creates such dissonance that it just doesn't compute.  You probably know what I mean, don't you?

I wonder if it will ever be real to me that Chuck is dead and gone and no longer in my life and I may or may not see him again when I die.  I used to believe that there was something more.  And then Chuck died and every belief I ever had flew out the window and disappeared.  Fuck.

I wonder how it is that I'm still alive when I really do believe that people can die of a broken heart and I was so fucking sure I would and....I haven't.  Fuck.

I wonder what most people that I interact with on any kind of basis would think if they knew to any degree what was going on in my head while we're having conversation; shallow or deep-doesn't matter.  Because I've realized that I can absolutely carry two thoughts in my head at the same time. On the outside, I'm talking about fill in the blank, and on the inside my brain is flashing back to places he and I were, conversations we had, kisses that we kissed, his final weeks.  I'm speaking to you about the weather and in my head I'm saying he's gone, he's gone, he's gone.  You'd never know it from my outside though.

I wonder about the exact formula for letting go.  We're supposed to let go of the grief, let go of the angst, let go, let go, let go.  I'm all for letting go.  Please tell me the formula for doing that and I'll do it.  And please know that it isn't enough to say be in the moment (because, believe me, I'm fully in the moment because I can't bear to think of the future and the past has so much pain).  And telling myself that the pain I'm feeling is only a feeling doesn't do a damn thing.  Of course it's only a feeling, one that slices and dices and leaves me bleeding.   Please give me a practical formula for letting go.

I wonder how I've managed to live this long without him.

And mostly I wonder how long I'm going to have to live without him.




39 comments:

  1. Alison...I can relate to everything that you wrote about... Which by the way was written beautifully.

    I don't think that it is possible to let all the things go that you are asking how to let go of.. I have been a widow since May 2012.... my husband passed away from complications of a bone marrow transplant 18 months after the transplant.. And six months after he was declared cancer free.
    I guess what really helped me finally figure out that I needed to learn to live.. to truly live my life again was when I would remember how hard my husband worked in trying to stay alive.. He took the risk of the bone marrow transplant that practically took his life in that process.. Fought like hell to live through that.. And when he developed that rare complication he fought like crazy to stay alive for as long as he could..
    it was when I was thinking about how hard he fought to stay alive that I realized that he would want me to do the same thing.

    John would expect me to fight for my life.. And that would mean that he would want me to live my life.. Actually live life. ...because that was what he was fighting to do.. To live his life..

    So I decided that's the best way to honor my John is to live my life.. To get the spark back, to enjoy the ability to breathe, to just enjoy all that life has to offer..
    I mean, I got to thinking that John fought so hard to live and I was fighting so hard to want to die.. To give up the living of life so easily. ..while he fought so hard to not give up on living life

    Now this did not come natural.. I had to make a conscientious decision to do it whether I felt like it or not.. As time went on and this time is going on. .. this is getting easier and easier.

    And the process of all of this, I also have a new love in my life.. & I am shocked .... and just like you could not imagine how i woud love another man...however it is much like thinking you could not love your second or third child as your previous child before that.. I have learned that my heart is big enough and strong enough to love another man with just as much passion as I did with my John.
    Most days, my enthusiasm for life is there and then there are some days my enthusiasm seems to be gone for a while... But for the most part the memory of watching my husband work so hard to stay alive keeps me or gets me back on track.

    I think of him every single day and very often throughout most of the entire day.. He is the first thing I think of every morning and the last thing I think of every night. & I understand your statement of thinking 2 thoughts at the same time.. Because as I think of my late husband first thing in the morning and last thing at night.. I also think of the new man in my life at the same time....
    I enjoy your posts every week... You have a gift of putting into words what I am NOT able to put in writing.. Thanks for all that you share with us.. And may you eventually find contentment....
    Linda

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    1. Linda, my husband lived 12 years w/prostate cancer. In 2008 it metastasized, and he was told he had six months to live. He lived another five years! He had an incredible will to live. I have saved your post and will re-read it often. He fought to live, and now I must too. Thank you your wise words.

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    2. Beautiful...GOD BLESS YOU AND YOURS...GRACE

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    3. Linda,
      To have been given the gift of having two men in your lifetime to love you-what a wonderful thing that is. I know, too, that Chuck very much wanted to live, and I'm doing all that I can to honor the life he had and the love he left behind for me. The missing piece is HOW do I get enthusiasm back? I'm doing so much to put myself into those situations...maybe it's just too early yet.

      Thank you for your words, for the hope you send out~
      alison

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    4. The how is hard, Alison. ...it is different for everyone. ..just the image of John struggling with the fact that living life for him was OVER...makes me to allow myself to feel all the great things about living....even without John. ..first, I had to realize I was not the John Linda anymore...and as written in comments below...I had to lean into my grief and accept the fact that I will always have my grief with me...however it was not going to take over my life...because that is not living. ...if I allow to have my grief take over then I might as well be dead....which would dishonor my husband's fight of living...He was not fighting to live only the good things in life. ..he wanted to keep ALL of life.
      Also....I am now 60...and I work professionally in hospice...I have learned how precious every breathe is....and if there is any opportunity to enjoy all the greatness of life , take it.
      It will take all that greatness to get through those valleys.
      I know my grief will Always be a part of my life...And if my new relationship proceeds he understands this. ..and he gets it...as he is a widower....and his grief will always be part of him....Yet we both agree that the best way to carry our grief and to honor our late spouses is to live life. .good..bad and ugly.

      Regarding the fuck word...I agree. .sometimes it is the only word strong enough....if it best expresses what you are sharing with us..then so be it....
      We are all voluntary participants on thi site...

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  2. Your "F" words... You can make your point without them.......

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    1. Actually she cant and shouldn't. It is the only word that truly describes the depth of feeling.

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    2. For her, and myself, there isn't another word that comes close to describing what we're trying to say. It's her grief and she can express it how she needs to. Don't like it move on

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    3. Sometimes it's the only word that does the job.

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    4. Actually, while I know that it can be offensive to some, the word fuck is the ONLY one that is hard and harsh enough to express what this is like for me~

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    5. Alison, I totally agree with you. The word FUCK is the ONLY word that fits this hellish journey. I use it often. If someone doesn't like it, too bad.

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  3. Dear Allison, my words exactly... 10-1/2 months since the love of my life died suddenly.. don't know how I will live the rest of my life without HIM???

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    1. I guess that's why it' so vital to stay in the here and now-anything else is too overwhelming, isn't it?

      My heart goes out to you~
      alison

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  4. As someone who was widowed suddenly 8 years ago, and remarried 3 1/2 years ago, I definitely do not have a formula, or even recommend, trying to let go. My recommendation is to actually lean into the grief and let yourself feel it. In time, you will feel more and more comfortable with your new reality.

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    1. I'm so glad that I was introduced to the whole "leaning in" thing even before Chuck died and my daughter reminded me of that early on. Because you're right-I think that's the only way to go through this~

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  5. Alison, you described my life perfectly. My husband died unexpectedly of a heart attack in June 2011 and I'm still living the hell you described. My husband was everything to me. We met and there was an instant chemistry that we shared for 16 years. I know how fortunate we were to find that once in a lifetime chemistry and love in a second marriage. I also know that kind of love won't come again for me. I'm in my 60's and the ratio of men to women is 6 to 1. The reality is that I won't find anyone like my husband and, statistically, there are very few single men to even consider. Accepting that I will be living this lonely hell until I join my husband is too horrible to contemplate. That's the reality I'm living. Our couple friends are long gone and have been since a month or two after my husband died. Friends? And, my family has moved on with their lives. I live with my memories in love with a dead man. Now what?

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    1. I've said that out loud to people "I'm in love with a dead man". It tends to make them uncomfortable but it's the truth, isn't it? I wonder at the ratio of men to women at my age-Chuck and I were aging together and he was a young looking 60 when he died. I'm nowhere near ready (if the word even applies) to have another man in my life and, even if that does happen at some point, I'll always be in love with him. So, yes....now what?

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  6. Perfectly stated Alison. It's only natural to wonder where you've come from, where you are, and where you will be. It's even worse to know that there is no "manual" that suits everyone.

    Some of us may appear to be dealing with our losses better, but honestly, even the term "better" is a relative term. I think "differently" is a more appropriate descriptor. What you're wondering, all of it, are thoughts that go through EVERYONE's head.

    You know the drill already. Hell, you stated it flat out above. All anyone can tell you is to "live in the moment" or to "let go", which is nowhere near helpful. Come on Alison, just forget about it and have some fun! It's that easy, right?

    Really, if we could just "let go" of grief, then in my opinion, there was something wrong in the first place. You can't "let go". You never will. You can only hope that instead of it defining you, it just becomes a part of who you are.

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    1. Don't you just love that when people say it "Just go have some fun!" Okayyyy....

      Someone the other day said "hey, the sun is shining so you can appreciate that" and I thought...well, okay, I do appreciate that but it has nothing to do with the fact that Chuck is dead and has no impact on my reality.

      I've heard grief described as a familiar companion; one who is recognized and travels with you, inside of you. That's the closest I come to how this might eventually be.

      Thanks for your words, Mike~

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  7. I don't know any easy answers. If I did, I'd sell them and be rich instead of being me. That said, for me, the answer to my "complicated" grief, and being able to (more or less) start making progress in the here and now, instead of in my longed for past, actually has been prozac. I was drowning in my grief, and decided to go back on an old prescription for it and within days I was able to surface. It doesn't take away my grief, but it has turned it into something I can live with, rather than something I long to die from. I'm not saying meds are for everyone, hell, until I was desperate, I didn't think meds were for me, now though, I am so thankful for them. I'm starting to be able to live again, and not just survive. I've been on my meds for 4 weeks now, and in the last week I've wanted to exercise (first time since before), and started caring about how I look again (bought "new" clothes for the first time in a year). I didn't think I was as submerged in my grief as I was. I'm so thankful I had an old bottle of meds to pull me out and let me breathe. I've since gone back to therapy, and gotten a refill. I am doing better all the time. Not well, but better. It's getting less hellish in my head and I'm starting to *believe* in a future for me. Not necessarily the future I wanted, but a future that might be worth living for.

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    1. I've used homeopathic and Bach Flower Remedies to get me through the worst of this grief and they've made a difference, thank goodness. And last week I joined the Warrior Training program over at Luke AFB here in Phoenix. Not to get in shape or lose weight but to sweat the grief, batter it through my system and hopefully, get to a different point in it. Though I don't have a clue what that might look like.

      I'm glad you're finding your way, whether slowly and with medical support or any other way. This is all so individual, isn't it? And we each have to find our way~

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    2. Alison, my husband attended pilot training at Williams AFB in Phoenix. Rich was a fighter pilot in Vietnam and retired with 20 years of service. He was fearless and my hero. Rich died unexpectedly in the middle of the night of a heart attack in 2011. I feel as though half of me died with him. There is no end to this grief. Thank you for expressing all that I feel. Karen

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  8. Everything you said - me too. xx

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  9. Alison - I can so relate to everything you have written. My husband was sick for 9 months and now deceased for 3 but I am absolutely devastated and cannot envision a time in the future where thoughts of him won't be the constant backdrop of my mind. I also thought if it was possible to die from a broken heart I would be long gone. But apparently it is true that life goes on & as long as I keep waking up everyday I will try to find some way to honor my husband's memory and make my grief a part of me and not what defines me. The operative word is try because right now it seems impossible. Thank you for your posting. <3 Jane

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    1. Jane,
      How unreal it is that life goes on...

      We'll bring each other through this somehow. Thank you for taking the time to read my writings.

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  10. Thank you for writing this...I needed to know others felt this way...expecially tonight..I've hit the 7 month "mark".
    And to Linda...thank you for sharing...I have been searching for the "formula" too but hadnt thought about it that way.
    My love too tried so hard to live... Till the very end. I will keep that in my mind. Thank you both.

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    1. Kimberly,
      My heart goes out to you. There is so much grief in this world, and there are so many ways to go through it, and so many reaching out to those who are walking with them.

      I'm glad you're walking here with me~
      alison

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  11. Exce[t for the looking for new love thing it's exactly how I feel. I have running conversations with my Doug going in my head all the time. Or thinking about him when the convos aren't running. And sometimes the only word strong enough to convey what I'm feeling is FUCK. And even that doesn't seem strong enough some days.

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    1. Seriously, Tina. The word just gets typed when I write because it so often is the exact right word; raw and ugly and descriptive. But, as you say, not descriptive enough at times~

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    2. Tina...the funny thing is...I was not looking for love ...in my process of learning to live life with enthusiasm another love came around the corner.
      I do not know where that love will end up...all I know is that I found my enthusiasm BEFORE the new relationship. .and I will have it with or without another relationship.
      Prior to this new relationship I was very content being alone and being ok in being alone for the rest of my life....because my focus is contentment. ..with or without another man in my life. ...Whew...what a ride this grief is.!!!!!.and I will be on it for the rest of my living. ..

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  12. Your words "I wonder if it will ever be real to me that Chuck is dead and gone and no longer in my life" describe exactly I feel so much of the time. My husband Gary died almost 7 months ago and when the reality of the magnitude of his death hits, that I know he is gone forever, I will never see him again, never get to hug him again, never kiss him goodnight again, it almost brings me to my knees and it's like I'm back at day one again.

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    1. Sometimes I want to just get in my car and drive it into the desert and scream and scream my rage and pain at the skies~

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  13. From day one I asked anyone who would listen, counselors, nurses, family, friends, give me a good reason to continue. Whether I do things to learn more or contribute to the good or “give it time” I am finding more and more that without him to share my life with I am not able to crawl out of the hole.

    How do you enjoy doing things when you do them and then have no one to laugh or cry with or discuss the results of in any of the ways that my husband and I would to share life?

    Before he died I gave of my time for causes I thought were responsible: homelessness, governance or just helping a friend move. Doing any of those now is just an empty attempt to fill time. Nothing gives me any meaning. Without his input I am just filling in the dots. Do I garden? Yes. Do I cook now? Yes. Do I go out to some events I can handle now? Yes. But it is all hollow. No enjoyment.

    Why? Because I don’t want to enjoy anything without having him wrap his arms around me and tell me I did good. Or he thought that was beautiful. Or he disagreed and we would talk out a resolution. Or, or, or……..tell me please, tell me how I can accept that he is gone and I have to do this on my own without his love because I am losing the battle in my own mind. I’m doing everything I should be doing to help myself yet I deep down inside I cannot bring myself to want to live and the conflict is intense. There is no one that can be there for me on the 24/7 basis that he was and I cannot seem to get past needing that so deperately. I wasn’t ready to give him up and I’m still not 2 years 2 months later. What do I do with this constant pain of loss when everything makes no difference. How do you find joy in things? Doing things without the love of your best friend? Someone please explain it to me.

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    1. I do not want to tell you your life will never get better. But I, and a few others, feel exactly as you have stated. So take the following as my opinion: You don't. You just keep "painting-by-numbers", connecting the dots, saying the appropriate things to the appropriate people. I exist, waiting to die, and I do things so that I will stay warm, safe, indoors-with-plumbing. But just the basics. I am on a prolonged dry spell as far as making friends. And those I made recently have hurt me. Enjoy miniscule things like the sun on your face. It may be all you can enjoy.

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  14. This morning I was wondering the hows and the whys and I read your post. While I still don't know how I will get through this " without" him, it does bring me some comfort to know I'm not alone in this journey. Thank you for your writing.
    Deb

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  15. Deb,
    For me, knowing that there are others on this road with me, while not diminishing my grief, helps me keep going, knowing that I have company. And that makes it bearable for me too~

    Thanks for checking in~
    alison

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  16. It is a long and bumpy road, just when you settle into the journey again, be prepared for more potholes. Just returning from a trip with my kids, bro in law and his friends, where one of the friends died while we were sailing. I'm back in the grief pit again, just as I had almost clawed my way out. everything in the past 5 years since my husband died has come back to the surface. I wish it were me in the water instead of my friend, what a lovely way to move on, for him. What hell it was for us to deal with it all. So sorry we are all still struggling with our own journey.

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