Selfish

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I’ve been meaning to write this blog.. but I have been processing it.

A couple of weeks ago, I went on a date (gasps).

During the course of dinner, the topic of how my husband died came up.

My date started talking about how selfish suicide is and how I live in the past by “celebrating” my husband’s death every year.

I sat there.. sipping my wine and listened to his opinions.

And just thought to myself.. this.dude.doesn’t.have.the.first.clue.what.in.the.hell.he.is.talking.about.

Does not get it at all.

Surprisingly I was able to put his words behind me and enjoy the date.

The next morning as I was slowly waking up.. I started thinking about the night before and conversation we had about my husband’s suicide and how I live in the past.

It dawned on me I have turned some type of corner in my grief.

If someone, let alone a date, would have told me a year ago that suicide was selfish, I would have came unglued. Possibly told the guy to shove it. He might not have walked away from our date without a fork sticking out of his forehead. I could see myself handing him a “You are not alone card” and tell him to call me when he is suddenly thrown into widowhood. And most likely would have got my stuff and left him sitting in the restaurant alone.

But I didn’t. I wasn’t angry with him. I actually took his words with a grain of salt, took his opinions with me and have been processing it for a while now.

I guess with the three year anniversary behind me, I turned some kind of grief corner.

A corner where I understand people don’t get it. But also understand that they have the right to their opinion. Even when their opinion doesn’t mean anything to me.

A corner where I no longer care to try to help someone understand.

A corner where I realized I don’t owe it to this person to explain myself or my husband’s death.

I understand that he hasn’t taken care of a very ill spouse. I understand he hasn’t watched his spouse die piece by piece for an extended period of time. And he doesn’t understand the guilt I carry for asking my husband to keep fighting for so long when all he wanted to do was give up.

He doesn’t understand the sigh of relief I let out when I learned my husband was gone. When I learned he was no longer suffering. When I learned I no longer had to be a caregiver, that for the first time in three years I could take care of myself.. and only myself.

And he has never found himself in such a dark and painful place that suicide seems like the only option.

Janine wrote about her recent experiences with people saying suicide is selfish (read it here).

I couldn’t agree more. Amazing writing Janine!

I have been on the edge. Where suicide was the only answer. More times than I care to admit to. For the first three years I was angry every morning.. because I woke up, yet again. Yet again I was still alive. That the heart break didn’t kill me in my sleep.

At what point does it become selfish to ask your very mentally ill husband to keep fighting? At what point does it become selfish to keep him alive?

People don't understand that for the first time in six years, I can be selfish. If suicide is selfish and I am selfish, than where exactly does all this fit?

I am happy to report that something inside of me has changed. I am happy to realize something “clicked” inside of me. I am happy to say that I can actually see my progress.

A year ago I couldn't see any progress in myself. I saw progress as getting up in the morning and going to work. I didn't see the little things that have "clicked".

And I am happy to say my date walked away alive with all limbs still intact.

Me University

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In my before life I had many "projects" I dedicated all my energy to. I had a ginormous garden I'd work on for hours. I worked hard at my job as a teacher, investing every ounce of myself into being the best teacher I could be. I worked hard on my marriage, too, considering it my most important project of all.

The one thing I never for a second considered as a viable project was myself. Here and there, I'd try to address my own issues, of course, but it wasn't a project that I considered a major priority.

I realize now that when Dave died I gave up all my projects. I quit teaching, and moved to the city. 

Making myself and my own happiness and healing a priority never seemed viable before, but suddenly it was just me. No more teaching, no more garden, no more marriage.

I struggle against the idea of making myself my first priority. I keep trying to add new projects.

Go back to school! Get a job! Start a business! DO SOMETHING whether you want to or not! says a part of me.

It is beginning to dawn on me that I've been doing this because I never believed I was a worthy project. I guess I thought it was too indulgent for me to focus only on myself.

Now, I've been slowly allowing for the possibility that it's okay to make myself my one and only priority. It doesn't make me selfish or indulgent or immature to do so.

The other day I read an article in a magazine about a woman named Carrie who was in the empty nest phase so she quit her job to find out what she wanted out of life. She was taking all kinds of classes and learning new things and simply having fun. She called it "Carrie University" and suddenly, something in my mind shifted. Dedicating this time in my life to myself isn't something to be ashamed of. I didn't recoil when I read about Carrie. I didn't think "Ew, how selfish of her!"  I thought "Wow! What a courageous and awesome way to look at a new phase in her life!".

I will think of this phase in my life as Me University.  I will learn all I can about myself and what I like to do. I will, for the first time in my LIFE, make myself a priority. And I WON'T feel guilty about it!!!

Well, I'll probably feel a little guilty, but I won't let it stop me.

I didn't choose this new phase of life for myself. I don't want it and I'd trade it in to have Dave back, but I can't. Instead I will make ME my new project.

Thank God the admissions requirements for Me U are lax because my SAT scores sucked.