The Next Chapter

Starting 2015 sick in bed with a cold is not exactly what I had planned!

Well so far, 2015 is not going as planned, as I came down with a yucky head cold on New Years Day and have spent the past few days in bed, wishing Dan were here to fuss over me.

I had such grand plans of spending the last few days of my Summer holiday enjoying time with my family and friends, hitting the gym to start shaking the couple of kilos that crept on over the month of December (damn socialising making me fat!) and working on a few projects around in the house.  Instead I've been laying around, drinking tea, next to an ever-growing pile of snotty tissues, watching the Real Housewives of New York City.

It's been so hard not to slip into a depression knowing I've had to put my plans on hold and wait this cold out, but I keep trying to remind myself that there will always be roadblocks when we least expect or want them and this is a temporary set back.   2015 will still be there in a few days when I'm back fighting fit.

Just because I didn't get to start the new year with all guns blazing, I'm still hopeful that it will be a good year and I have some pretty big goals waiting for me.  In a few weeks time it will have been 18 months since Dan passed away unexpectedly.  As I look back I can't help but marvel at how far I've come.

This time last year I was still in shock and taking each day, one at a time.  My goal for 2013, after his death, was just to survive.  Then, as I made my way in to 2014, my mantra was 'healing'.  I dedicated the year to keeping life simple and working on my my personal growth - improving my physical and mental health, reducing stress, finding my 'hope' and being gentle with myself while learning my new limits and boundaries.  It's certainly not what I had planned, as we had hoped to start a family in 2014, but I had to let go of that and accept my new life.

Some big achievements in this past year of healing included attending a national conference here in Australia on suicide post-vention; organising a get together with a group of widows I met online who travelled from all around the country to meet up in person; my first visit to USA for Camp Widow West in July (which was a real turning point); and surviving some significant firsts - including what would have been his 35th birthday, our first wedding anniversary and his first death anniversary.

I weeded out a friend or two who I realised weren't supportive or positive influences in my life and spent a lot more time with the people who were.  I accepted that I don't have to worry so much about pleasing others and started learning to be more assertive without the associated feelings of guilt and selfishness. And finally, I put more time and effort in to self care, incorporating more activities like meditation, yoga, massage and a bit of old fashioned pampering into my life.

As 2014 drew to a close I felt really proud of where I was.  I am a better person, calmer and more positive.  The healing will be an ongoing process and one that I continue to work on for the rest of my life, but I felt ready to shift my focus to a new goal.

Happiness.

This is what my heart now craves.  I am generally happy most of the time, I find joy in the small things and don't often dwell on what I'm missing out on.  But I feel ready to take some bigger steps forward in 2015.

One of these steps will hopefully be the launch of a not-for-profit organisation here in Australia to support widowed people through the grieving process after the death of a spouse (and Michele from Soaring Spirits has kindly been mentoring me with this project).  Along with some wonderful widowed friends I have formed a steering committee to work towards this goal, under the guidance of an executive coach.

It's a huge (and often overwhelming) task but we are determined to bring together some resources to help those following in our footsteps.  We are close to hitting some major milestones and I'm very excited that my vision looks like it might just come to life.

Another 'happiness' goal I have for 2015 is to try dating again.  For a long time I felt ill at the thought of even holding another man's hand but over the past couple of months I've started feeling differently.  I think I'm beginning to understand how it might be possible to open my heart again while not losing any of the love I have for Dan, but rather, carrying him forward with me.

I'm yet to dip my toe in that pool and know it will be challenging but I'm feeling more ready than I have in the past.  Unfortunately, it's not as simple as making a decision and then waiting as the eligible men form an orderly queue. I have no idea how to go about meeting someone special (let alone explaining to them that I come with some pretty complicated and heavy baggage) but for now, just being open to it feels enough.  I'm hopeful that if I continue to work on taking steps forward and staying positive, Dan might just put someone in my path.

But anyway, we'll have to wait and see.  If Dan's death has taught me anything, it's that we have no idea what lies around the corner - good or bad.  All the planning and preparation and dreaming means nothing if fate has plans that are out of our control.  I try not to focus on that niggling, worrying thought that 2015 might hold some challenge or sad news that I don't yet feel ready for, because I can't stop or control that either.  I just have to be.  And trust that whatever this year brings, I'll be ok.

So, come at me 2015.  I'm ready for a new chapter... just as soon as my nose stops running and the sandpaper in my throat buggers of!

Healing with Pride

Photo © Sarah Treanor / Ceramic Wounded Heart © Beverly Mangham

I've been thinking a lot lately about accomplishment, and just how important it has been in helping me to heal and learn to live again. I'm a few months into my third year of being widowed now. Since he died, there have been dozens and dozens of leaps into the unknown. Like most of you, a lot of what I have accomplished I did not have a choice in; planning his funeral, making it through all of the "first"s of year one, or even just getting out of bed on the days when I had only about one cell left in me that was strong enough to do so.

It can be so easy to forget to look back at all the things we've accomplished, especially when we're in pain. Even though these past few years are full of things I never wanted to accomplish - things I never wanted to be able to say I have done - each one of them still makes me feel incredibly proud. It's a kind of pride unlike any other. Because his death did break me… it completely broke me. And for a long time, I was terrified I might not survive. Yet here I am, somehow, learning to live a beautiful life once more and discovering that he is still an integral part of that. And I am proud - not because it didn't break me - because it broke me and I am still here. 

There are also the other things I'm proud myself for since he died… the ones I did get to choose. I have done things I never imagined I'd do because they are things he never got to do - like open-cockpit aerobatics in a WWII era biplane (I am still astounded that I did this!). I've achieved lifelong dreams that he and I talked of often - like having my first solo art show, selling my photography for the first time and visiting my first national park. I've even achieved a few new goals that the old me NEVER would have set for herself - like taking up Crossfit and, just recently, doing competitions (a big deal for a woman who hasn't done anything athletic since the age of twelve! No, seriously).

When we're talking about building our broken selves back up - pride in who we are and what we can do is a vital part of it. Because that pride - along with trust - breeds hope. A hope that "maybe, just maybe… I can survive this." which turns into "Maybe I actually can have a happy life again" and becomes "I am building a happy life again, no matter what".

Whether it's the things we never imagined having to do, or the things we never imagined we could do - it's really all about one thing: surprising ourselves and never forgetting it. There is so much healing in sitting down each day to allow yourself to feel pride in all you've accomplished. Going hand-in-hand with that is continuing to give yourself new things to accomplish each day that you can feel proud of. Things that allow you to surprise yourself. Even if that something seems very small, we all know - in grief - no accomplishment is small.

There is also, I've begun to realize, another aspect of accomplishment which I didn't expect to have after my fiancé died; him. He is interwoven into every single thing I achieve. Not only because his death has changed everything about my life, but because I still feel his pride in all I do. Death has not changed that. Sure, it still really sucks that I cannot call him or see his face light up when I tell him. That will always suck. But I still feel how proud he is and I decide to focus on that.

At first, accomplishing things was just survival… a thing I had to do. But over time, I'm discovering it to be one of the most important parts of building a meaningful and happy new life that includes him in it. With every moment that we surprise ourselves, we come to know, love and appreciate ourselves more fully and see our partner's place in our lives more clearly. Each accomplishment becomes a gift from their afterlife to our after life - ensuring they never really leave our side.

I challenge you to get out there and surprise yourself (and your partner) today. Big, small, doesn't matter. Spend ten minutes (or all day!) allowing yourself to feel proud for all you have accomplished up to this point of your journey... And feel how proud your partner is too. A little pride can go a long way.

"There"

I went there.

My craft studio.

It's been untouched for 29 months. When I moved, my mom and sister in law had to pack it. Because I couldn't step foot into it. The unfinished projects, unfinished memories, were far too much for my little brain to handle.

It's all still boxed up from when I moved over a year ago. The studio has become a dump all / avoid at all costs - room.

I haven't had the emotional power to even put my fingers into the unfinished projects.

The unfinished memories.

I went in there looking for supplies for a project me and some local widow friends were doing yesterday.

We made dream boards.

Dream Board my widow friend made

As I was digging through the boxes, I found my unfinished wedding album.

The album I was working on when Seth died.

The album he nagged me about finishing for 5 years. (Silly him, he didn't realize one page took me hours or even months, because it had to be perfect!)

The same album I almost cremated with Seth when he died.

I haven't seen or touched my wedding album in 29 months.

While looking at my wedding album, I realized my "new" bedroom has the same theme as my wedding album. Victorian theme.

Same colors, same designs.

I didn't realize both my bedroom and wedding album were themed the same. Funny how the brain works. I loved the Victorian theme in my wedding album, so why not my bedroom? And before I realize it, I have made my bedroom to match my wedding album. Thanks brain.

I also didn't realize how much monarch butterfly stuff I have. For anyone that doesn't know, the monarch is the one thing I swear Seth sends to me.

It's almost like I knew about the butterflies before his death. So I was "stocking up" on monarch butterfly stuff. Just in case, of course.

Talk about future, past and present.

I haven't touched my hobbies since Seth died, other then my photography.

While going through the boxes - I realized I miss my craft studio. At our house, I had an amazing craft studio, that Seth built for me. I was always working on multiple projects at a time, and always had all of my projects spread out. I would get stuck on one project, so I would work on another, and return to the original project later.

I miss doing my oil painting. I miss the way the old me processed things. I miss making home made cards. I miss scrapbooking my memories. I miss attempting to sew (I am horrible at sewing). I miss making everyone's Christmas presents.

I miss disappearing into my studio to sort through some sort of mental frustration. My hands would be busy working on a project, but they would also be busy on working on what was on my mind.

Busy hands = Clear brain

I have a desk in my garage for my craft studio that has just been sitting there since October. It's a desk that is made just for crafting.

The desk has just sat there. Staring at me. Reminding me that my car can't go in the garage, and sits out in the snow, because I refuse to venture into the craft studio.

I realized I have been missing my hobbies. I realized I am sick of avoiding that room. I am sick of scraping snow off my car.

So I set some goals.

My 1 month goal - Get the desk moved into my craft studio, and at least get the boxes sorted into separate piles. Painting, paper crafts, photography, the list is long. So I can handle unboxing one box and one hobby at a time.

Gives me time to process what is no longer a important hobby to me.

Time to accept that some of the things I used to love, died with Seth.

My 1 year goal - Finish my wedding album and finish the oil painting I was working on when Seth died.

((Deep breath)) Here I go!

3, 4, 7 and 14

Source

3, 4, 7 and 14.

My lucky numbers.

I am anxiously waiting for the New Year to begin. After all, my lucky numbers will be part of the New Year. 2013 and 2014.

I don’t know why, but I feel it in my bones. I know the next two years are going to be “better” then the last two years.

With the New Year, I am pushing forward. I am pushing to not be “idle” anymore.

For the first time since Seth’s death, I have goals, plans, and even started a bucket list.

Some of the goals are short term, some are long term. Some goals I will see in 2013, some I won’t see until 2014.

But I am excited.

I have goals! 

Who would have thought that 2 years after Seth’s death, I am just barely setting long term goals.

Who would have thought it would take me 2 years to see past tomorrow.

One of my goals is to work hard on myself and my grief. I am ready to push through and break out on the other side.

Part of me knows it’s because I’m stubborn. I am sick of being mentally exhausted, so my stubbornness has kicked in with “Let’s get this over with!”

But my brain keeps going there “The 3 year sadiversary is coming”. 

It’s not until July, and I’m already anxious about it. Maybe because I am learning my triggers, and looking 7 months out, I know the sadiversary is going to drop kick me to my knees – again.

I might fall flat on my face, again.

But I will get back up, again.

Life will still go on, I will learn more about myself and my grief, dust myself off, and tell myself “Let’s not do that again”.

When I was 6 weeks out of Seth’s death, I went to a support group. There I met another widow that was 4 weeks out. We instantly became best friends.

At one point, we talked about going to camp widow the following summer.

We both laughed and said “I will be over this by then!”

Silly me. Stubborn me. So naive.

Here I am 29 months later, still grasping for air. Still grieving. Still trying to get a grasp on life, and learn to roll with the punches.

Since Christmas I have found myself in a slippery slope of death and despair. Grasping at anything that will catch my fall.

I don’t want to hit rock bottom, again. I never want to hit the bottom again.

So stubborn me, has chosen to not hit bottom. To not let the depression sneak in again. Why? Because I deserve better then rock bottom. 

Been there, done that.

And I didn't even get a damn t-shirt to prove that I have hit rock bottom. And lived.

A lot of people have asked me how I have survived Seth’s suicide.

The only thing I can think of is “I’m too stubborn to give up”.

Really, what other choice do I have?

Cheers to the New Year!

I can feel it, it’s going to be a great year!

If it’s not a great year, it will still be better than 2012.

I have hope and faith for 2013.