Friday, April 3, 2015

Highs and Lows

Writing this up a bit late today. It's 10 a.m. on Friday morning, east coast time, and this blog is supposed to be submitted by midnight California / Pacific time - so, 3 a.m. last night. But sometimes by the time Thursday evening rolls around, I am so damn exhausted both emotionally and physically from going to work, going to the gym (something new I've been doing, and HATE doing), writing for the publications I write for, and dealing with whatever grief emotions and life that has happened that week, that all I can do is lie on my couch with my pillow and kitties, and continue my "Breaking Bad" marathon. Yes, watching the fake world of meth cook Walter White and his slow downfall into death and violence and darkness, somehow and oddly makes me feel more relaxed and calm about my own life. Perhaps it is because every single thing going on in that world of that brilliant show, is so far removed from anything that would ever happen in my own life, that it brings me a strange comfort watching it all unfold. Or, maybe I was just tired. All I know is, I sat down last night, and 4 episodes later, I was finally to the point where I could no longer keep my eyes open to watch any further. So I went to bed.

You see, there is a lot going on lately in my life. Mostly good things, but that doesn't even matter. What matters is that there is a lot going on. A lot of forward motion. A lot of "stepping into my life", which is exactly what my husband asked me to do about a month ago, when I literally heard his voice in my ear, saying over and over again in a whispered tone: "Step into your life." When he said it, I was on the phone with my grief-counselor and we were finishing up our session, and I told her that Don just said something to me. "Write it down", she said. I did, and then just minutes later, it became probably the most important and epic poem / piece I have ever written. It will be the ending for my book, and before that happened, I had no idea how I was going to end my book. But there it was, given to me on a silver platter by my husband. And ever since he said those words, I have been doing just that. I was already doing it - sort of. Now I'm doing it with a lot more purpose, bravado, and depth. Now, each time I accomplish something new or begin something new in my life, it feels as if I can't wait to discover where it will bring me. Now, I am stepping into my life over and over again, with a real and true sense of excitement about it. It's a great feeling.

And then it's not.

This is what always happens in this version of my life, the one where my husband is only a voice I hear sometimes in my ear, instead of an actual human being who lives here on earth with me. This is my new reality. It goes something like this:

1. Something great or exciting happens. (this week, I launched my brand new website, which has been in the works for a long time inside my head. Now everything in my life is finally in one place where people can easily find it - my writing, my comedy gigs, speaking engagements, acting stuff, comedy videos, and my latest adventure and decision, to become a grief coach. I'm also directing the spring theater show at the University where I teach, and our rehearsals begin next week. A whole month of nightly rehearsals, and I will be basically writing most of the script myself. All original material, and comedic. My own grief-counselor is letting me assist with her next grief group that she runs bi-weekly, and she is also giving me a bunch of relevant content to read and take in. I'm thrilled and anxious and scared and pride-filled to be adding grief coaching to the list of "stuff I do in life". It is something I have been thinking about for a long time, and after a gentle push from my counselor to get moving on it, I did. And now it's here. In writing. All spelled out on my website. Real. )

2. I post publicly about said great thing happening, and people react very positively and wonderfully. People are genuinely happy for me, and they fill me with congratulations, and good thoughts in my new adventures, and other lovely things. (usually I post things such as this on my Facebook page, because it's the easiest way to tell everybody something all at once.) The beautiful comments leave me feeling on a high of sorts, and I am filled with a renewed energy and purpose.

3. The comments start to slowly calm down, people begin to fade back into their own lives and whatever is going on in their own world, and I am left with the cold, harsh silence of a woman who has done something in her life and wants nothing more than to share that something with her beautiful husband, but cannot. The high that I was on very quickly turns into a very big low, and I find myself in a state of depressed and sad as hell emotions, because at the end of the day, there is nobody here to say: So how did it go, honey? How was your day? Tell me all about that thing you just did that you can't wait to tell me about. I begin to question the point of doing anything of substance ever again, when that thing loses it's very meaning because you have nobody to share it with. What is the point when there is nobody to share it with??? This is the reality I am almost always left with. The world spins on love. The whole point of living is love. So what the hell is the point when your love has died, and you're not allowed to have them here anymore?

I had this conversation with my counselor the day after feeling this "pointless-ness" feeling creep in:

Me: Something is in the air lately. Tons of my widowed friends are coupling up, finding new love, getting engaged, or getting remarried. Like, soooo many of them lately. It's insane. Something is in the air for everyone except me. 

Her: Aww, that's gotta be really hard. 

Me: So hard. I'm so happy for them. I mean that. Especially the ones that I'm really close with - a few of my close widowed friends have recently found love or are finding it again, and I'm really thrilled for them. It makes my heart leap, and then minutes later, it makes my heart hurt. It's just  like when something good happens for me. I get that extreme high, and then suddenly,, it turns into extreme low. I want love so badly. I miss love so badly. I want somebody who isn't YOU and who isn't my parents or my friend - someone who chose ME as their number one priority - to be proud of me. It's been over 3 years since I've had any sort of emotional intimacy like that. I want the physical intimacy too, but at least I can learn to do without that for the time being. But living without emotional intimacy, someone who knows and loves your heart and CHOOSES your soul, is killing me. 

Her: Also the dynamic of your friendships with your widowed friends changes because they are in a relationship, and that has to be tough on you too. 

Me: It does change. Where we used to automatically lean on each other for everything emotional, now they will lean on their new person. Plus, it moves them into a different place in their grief than the place I'm at, and not to be dramatic about it, but it feels like losing more things. Losing pieces of things I had gained after losing Don. I know I won't lose them as friends, but the relationship changes. I'm getting tired of  losing things, getting used to things, adjusting to things. I'm tired. 

So, what can I do, really? Not much. There is not much to do about all of this, except keep living my life and keep feeling all of these feelings when they happen and keep sharing them, because some emotional connection is better than none, I guess. And then tonight, when I can't stand living for another minute inside my own "stuff", I will fall into the world of darkness once again that is Walter White, meth, and senseless violence and destruction.

Anotherwords, Peace.


7 comments:

  1. I am sorry for your struggles but so happy for your newfound joy in stepping into life and honoring the words Don gave you. What a true gift. Hugs. <3

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  2. I love what Don told you! Hang in there!

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  3. Kelley Lynn - I asked myself the same question this week and it plunged me into the depths of despair. My husband has only been gone for 3 months -- so it doesn't take much to set me on a downward spiral -- but I had some good things happen at work the other day and as I got in my car to drive home i was thinking about how I couldn't wait to tell my him all about it. Oops - hard stop. That's not going to happen because he is gone. And that is when I asked myself "then what exactly is the point?" I miss the emotional intimacy too - I miss my best friend and cheerleader -- who supported me in everything I set out to do -- the one who high fived the successes and hugged away the misses. Thank you for sharing - your post helped me a lot! Jane

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  4. When I met my husband he was in a country music phase. I listen to it sometimes because it takes me back to the feelings of when we first met. There is a song by Garth Brooks that has the lyrics "this learning to live again is killing me". There is also a quote by Anais Nin I like that I bought on a card not long after he was killed. It says "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom". I bought it thinking someday it might be true, though at the time I was tight in a bud of grief. Your post makes me think of these things because I thought that wanting to live a full life again would mean less pain, but it often times just means different pain. I got in a relationship before I was ready, I guess I was trying to fill the enormous hole with something. Anyway, it was a total disaster. I wish I had taken the time to be alone and work on myself like you have. That is what I am doing now, trying to create a life for myself that attracts someone I can share it with. But if I am alone it really is better than a bad choice. The not having that person to talk to is the worst. He is the one person that I would want to tell all this stuff to. I tell him in my head or out loud when nobody is around but we all know that is so far from the same thing, even though I think he hears me. I should probably watch Breaking Bad too, peace is peace however you can get it.

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  5. You are an exceptional woman, Kelley Lynn!

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  6. You are an exceptional woman, Kelley Lynn!

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  7. dear Kelley,

    so glad you shared how you were able to write that truly EPIC poem with your Sweet, Darling Don guiding you. and I am so happy to read about how you ARE stepping into you life with so many good things happening.

    I so appreciate as you wrote further - about the highs and the lows, how they happen and how they leave you feeling. I think those words you wrote are a huge part of the essence of grief, no matter how far out we are in our loss. not having the one we love most in our whole life to share our highs with, always coming home to an empty place, filled with deafening silence. but you know what? Kelley, you are going to be an amazing, fantastic grief coach. you have worked so hard to get where you are, to always feel the feelings, name them, own them, and honor them as a measure of how much you love Don and how wonderful and happy you were in your marriage.

    you do so much, write so eloquently about your grief, to help us know we are not alone. so I hope that you, too, will take comfort in knowing that we also "get it" - and you are not alone.

    much love,

    Karen XOXO

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