Getting Back to It...Take Two

    I woke up with an itch a few days ago to start writing again. Since I last left off so very much has happened...happy, messy, crazy life, with a touch of widow thrown in for that extra special dash of crazy.

I am in a fully realized, fully committed relationship (aka I'm engaged).
We own a house together.
We fight.
We love hard.
My kids make me want to throw things.
In my life, the kids have what we refer to as "first daddy" and "second daddy".
We are total nerds for things, but not all the same things, which makes for some pretty interesting conversations.
I graduated college (well, community college) with an AA in Psychology.
I'm a semester away from graduating with a BA in Psychology.
I've applied to grad school.

Confession:
I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO SCARED IN ALL MY LIFE.

There are so many unknowns out there for me. I know, I know, I sound like a spoiled millennial who has never adulted before. But seriously, at my age (which is more Gen X than millennial), having started my WHOLE life over, this shit is SCARY.

I will graduate in approximately four months and haven't been able to hold a job in 7 years. I have no idea what kind of a job I should get, if I should do grad school full time, or if I should take a gap year and get a job. I can't make a decision if my life depended on it. I have an idea how to adult, but, to date, have never done so successfully. At this point, I'm lucky my kids aren't eating the leftover french fries out of the back seat of the car and calling it dinner.

On top of full time life, full time kids, and full time school, my kids are EXTRAORDINARILY busy. L is the jock of the fam, and we are at some sort of sports practice at least twice a week, every week. D has a very active social life, on top of being autistic, so our lives are filled with after school activities, social skills therapy, regular therapy, medication management appointments, and one-on-one time to stave off meltdowns and the like.

Then there's good old crazy me. With all my widow brain (forgetting even the simplest of tasks), ADHD (literally), perfectionism, school work study, school activities (like program chair for a mental health group on campus), anxiety (over just about everything that involves getting out of bed), and generally being angry about having to do the widow thing in general, I am sure I am just a joy to have to deal with.

So, enough about me and my starting over.....what have you done when faced with unimaginable life choices and no road map?

Sh*t People Say to Widows

    Following trends is not usually my thing, but after reading some posts on my support groups, my anger when certain things are said to me, and prompted by some of my fellow widda brethren, I thought I would give this a shot.  If these apply to you, please stop saying them.  It REALLY doesn't help.

"Your husband/wife is in a better place."
No. SO MUCH no. No they are not.  Buried in a casket 6 feet underground or in a jar on my desk is not a better place. Right here with me is a better place. Right here with our family is a better place. Hell, right here doing something we completely abhor is in a better place. Not to mention the religious overtones that come along with this one.  How do you know I believe in said "better place"? Moreover, even if I did, how to you know my spouse was a good person? He could have been a closet serial killer for all you know, and I'm sure those people don't go to your "better place".

"God only takes the best."/"Heaven has gained another angel."
Even more NO. Unless you have sat next to me in church every day for the last 20 years, do not presume that I believe that God/Heaven did anything. Even if I did believe, these words are NOT COMFORTING. It just reiterates that whatever I do believe in totally took the ONE person that was supposed to be in my corner until we grew old and gray together and died within hours of each other like all of those stories you see on the news. You get to go home to your spouse and believe whatever it is that you want to believe. I get to go home to a big empty bed, 2 grieving kids, tears, and not a whole lot of anything else.

"I'm sorry."
I detest this conditioned response.  I tell my toddler to apologize when he takes someone's toy. I apologize if I bump into someone or interrupt someone. Please don't tell me you're sorry, tell me it sucks.  Don't be sorry, be present. Listen to me if I want to vent, hold my hand if I want to cry, and try to be there. Month 1, month 10, and month 67.

"I understand. My cat/hamster/snake/cousin's best friend's dog passed away last year and it was awful."
Hm. No. I get that the loss of a pet is devastating. I really do. I too have lost pets before. NONE OF THEM compared to the loss of my spouse. Not even a little.  I grieved for a little while then replaced them. I can't even put a timeline on grieving my husband and just STARTED dating again in March, which was 18 months later. Empathy is good to a degree, but comparing my husband to a hamster?
Not so much.

"I hate being a *insert husband's hobby here* widow. I have to do so much by myself!"
I don't think I have enough words to express the rage I feel when I hear this.  I get that this might be a sensitivity thing, but in this ridiculously PC world that we live in, how is this still an acceptable thing to say?!  You are not a widow.  In giving credit to one of my widda sisters (who, incidentally, inspired this post) she stated it perfectly:  If your husband is coming home, you are not a widow.  I'm sorry that your life might be moderately inconvenienced due to the fact that your spouse/SO is missing for a few hours a few days out of the week, but c'mon. Widow? NO. Not even a little bit.

"It's been *XX months*. Don't you think you should be moving on?"
Really? I didn't know you were the grief police.  Please, tell me what is an adequate amount of time to get over my soul mate.  How about you just keep time frames out of it and let me do things at my own pace.  I don't tell you how long you should grieve the loss of your beloved hamster, don't tell me how long I should grieve the loss of something I thought was going to last forever.  If I feel like taking a week, a month, a year, even a decade...that is no business of yours.  It's not like Im a grieving the loss of just a person, I am grieving the loss of all of the hopes and dreams we had together, and that takes a little time.

"You're so strong. I couldn't ever do what you do."
I don't have a choice. I really am not strong.  You don't see the daily breakdowns that I have in the bathroom when no one is looking.  You don't see my tears behind my sunglasses, or hear the gut wrenching sobs that come out of me in the middle of the night after a particularly poignant dream.  You don't hear the anxious and doubtful thoughts that run through my head constantly about how I am ruining my kids' lives because I can't be everything that they need me to be.  I am just about the weakest person there is, but I put on a super brave face because I have to.  Because if I don't, there is no one else who will.  By the way, you don't know that you couldn't do it because you have never had to even try. I hope to hell you never have to.


There are SOOOOOO many more things that my fellow widda brethren and I could add to this list, but here I stop.  This list is not to anger or piss off anyone, but just to give a reminder as we go into the holiday season that the bereaved people in your life might already be feeling a little sensitive, and these things, if said to them are sure to evoke a less than pleasant reaction.  So, think before you speak, and reach out to a grieving person today.  A hug, a cup of coffee, and invitation to go do something fun.....at this time of year these things mean more to us than anything.

Seconday Losses

     The loss of a spouse is one of the most stressful things a human can ever go through.  One day your life is just as you expected it.  You may be struggling, you may be happy, you may have your McMansion, house in the 'burbs, or apartment in the city.  You may have kids, or fur babies, or no babies, and your life is going on predictably as planned.  Then it changes in the most drastic way possible.

There is no more forever for you.
No someday house.
No someday kids.
No someday car.
No someday anything.

You do gain some things, however.
You gain financial insecurity.
You gain stress.
You gain grief.
You gain a big empty bed that you never want to sleep in again.
You gain a bunch of people in your life....but then, just as quickly as they come, they go away again.

BOOM.

Gone.

No warning, no nothing.  Just gone.  Not everyone goes, but I think it is the incredible influx that people that show up after a loss suddenly disappear. I belong to a lot of widow groups, and this seems to be a common theme.  I'm not sure if death makes people uncomfortable, or I make people uncomfortable, or this new person that I portray that seems to wear my skin but isn't really the me from 2 years ago is unlikable, but it is what it is.
     I would like to say that the secondary losses don't bother me much, but they do.  Sometimes it's just nice to be able to have someone to grab an impromptu drink with. Or someone's shoulder to cry on. Or someone to share silly stories with. I don't think I have ever felt as lonely as I did when the losses started, and especially now, coming up on the 2 year mark.  How lonely a room full of people can truly make you feel. How much it super duper sucks to ask for help and not get any.  Having someone new in my life helps too, but it is almost worse.  Since all of the secondary losses, I feel like I dump my grief on him, thereby forcing him to have to deal  with part of me that I am sure he would rather not.  It almost feels like bitching about an ex to your current love....and that is still against the rules, right?
      Secondary losses don't just extend to people either.  Some of us lose our houses, cars, utilities, pets, parents, siblings, children....and after the loss of a spouse all of these losses can compound grief tenfold. I've even lost my empathy.
     I've tried curbing the losses...being less needy, trying my own coping skills so I don't rely on everyone else so much, self-care, getting involved in school, and cutting the people out of my life that don't really belong there, but really, it isn't necessarily enough.

Then I stop and think...are some of these secondary losses really losses? When I break it down...if all of these people are gone, did I really need them in the first place?  Sure, it stings that they up and bounce with no notice, or that their lives have become too busy to fit me into it, but it forces me to confront my stuff head on, with no one to lean on but me.

I learned how to go out by myself. Eat alone. Buy a single movie ticket. Make phone calls to ask for public assistance. Negotiate. Save money. Take control of my addictions. Take control of my habits. Re-learn how to be myself. Not necessarily move on, but move forward.

By myself; but with the support of those I know really WANT to be there.

Death Changes EVERYTHING

It happens in an instant. One moment they are there, and then the next moment, they are not. Then EVERYTHING changes.
Your identity as a wife.
As a parent.
As a caregiver.
As a human that was bonded forever to another human.
You get a label that you never EVER wanted. Widow.

Then, you begin to see things differently.
You see how insignificant some of the worries that you have always carried are.
You begin to hold on tighter to the things and people that matter most, and let go of the things and people that don't matter.
You are quicker to temper and slower to love.
You realize that there is only one you, so you better take care of yourself.
You wonder how your world, your kids' world, the world in general would be different if he was still in it.
You see how death has changed not just you, but the people around you.  How they look at you, talk to you, care for you, and support (or don't  support) you.
You get pangs of guilt when you begin to enjoy something alone that you always did together.
You cry shopping for groceries because a wave of grief hits you when you pick up a box of his favorite cereal.
You laugh when you drive past a street corner where he told you a funny joke as you were driving.

Then, your life starts to move forward.
You get a new job, or a new house, or a new love.
You make new friends.
You begin to see who truly deserves to be in your life, and who does not.
You stop counting the years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds since he has been gone.
You celebrate birthdays and anniversaries instead of mourning them.
You stop being angry and start being compassionate.
You start doing things that you have always wanted to do.
You begin to make changes in the world.

Now YOU change everything.

Fear of Being Forgotten

     Did you ever wonder what would happen to you if you were ever gone? Every single time I see one of those fundraisers in memory of someone, it always makes me think of it.

I wonder if anyone would do that for me.
If anyone would show up at my memorial.
If anyone would miss me.

I think it is because I feel like the memories of B are slipping away.  The boys and I are left hanging on to the few memories we had of him that were tangible....but the memories are becoming foggier and foggier.  The dates are becoming less and less clear. The countdowns are stopping. The offers of company are drying up, if they haven't stopped already.  I am moving forward with a new person in my life. Does this mean that the opportunities for help have missed their window?  
     I always wondered how that worked. Why one tragedy is so much worse than another. Why the loss of one life is somehow deemed less worthy than that of another.  Why there is no more "village" to rally around grieving families. Why are the grieving left to find their own way now,  to forge their own path? I'm finding the lack of community support profoundly disturbing.  Have we really all become so absorbed in our own lives that we can't reach out to those who need help?
     I've even checked into the local hospitals to see if there are bereavement groups for widows.  Do you know that they actually have an age limit? There are one or two kids groups, maybe a tween/teen group, and groups that you must be over the age of 45 to join.

Yep, 45.

     So what about those of us in the 20-45 age range? There are quite a few of us. Husbands and wives whose married lives never really got started. Never really thought about life insurance. Never got to buy that dream house or family car or plan a family Disney vacation. Never celebrated a 5 year anniversary. Or a 10 year anniversary.  Most of us with kids and this whole new falling apart life and no support? Well, in the midst of our grieving for at least one (more if you have kids), figuring out how to run a household, trying to solo parent, and still work/go to school, we have to try to go it alone.

Forgotten about.
Left to go on with our lives because we can "handle it".

    To be perfectly frank, some of us can and some of us can't. Some of us pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and go on. We sob in our cars, or locked in the bathroom where no one can see or hear us, then we pull ourselves together and go about our day.  Others of us sit alone in our big empty beds, wishing and hoping that there was something else, some other reality where this huge giant bomb that just went off in our lives doesn't exist.  It is for these fellow widow brothers and sisters that I will create support where there is none.

I will make my mark so that you know that you aren't forgotten about.
I will set an example and hope people will follow.
I will, so I can for just one fleeting moment, feel like I will be remembered for something.

     What will you do to be remembered?




                                                           

Trigger Happy

  Grief can bring to the forefront all sorts of interesting conditions, exacerbate existing ones, and conjure some out of thin air.  For me, stress is a huge trigger of existing conditions, and what is a bigger stressor than GRIEF??

My OCD  has definitely kicked into high gear. I can't eat a meal if my food is touching, and my bathroom floor is so clean and sterilized, I could probably eat my own non-touching meal off of it. I think I locked and relocked my front and side doors so many times I think my kids think that I have lost my mind.

My mood swings have been particularly interesting.  One minute I am singing and happy and laughing...the next minute I am chewing someone's head off.  Sometimes I am running on 2-3 hours of sleep a night, sometimes I want to sleep for a whole day.  Ever have one or more of those days where you are so depressed that you can't even shower?  Yeah....try 3 or 4 of those in a row.  Shortly followed by 3 to 4 days where I want to shower about 6 times a day.  Fun, right?

The panic attacks are SUPER FUN too!! Ugh. Right. Nothing like going along blissfully through your day and then...WHAM! Heart pumping, thoughts racing, face flushed, breath short.....all in the middle of doing something that should so not have prompted it.

     It has also brought to the forefront a intense fear of commitment.  It is crazy.  I have this wonderful thing right in front of me, and I am doing my best to sabotage it.  Being standoffish, picking fights, needing my space, balking at any kind of talk of together-type things, and obsessing over the most insignificant things and turning them into huge issues.  The fact that he is sticking around surprises me every single day.

      Moving and unpacking I'm sure has not helped either.  There I am cheerfully unpacking boxes that I think belong to my son, and I come across B's wallet.
Then I come across some old Father's Day cards.
Then I find his picture in a frame.
Then one of his collectibles.
Then I cry.
Again.

     Triggers are unavoidable, I know that.  I know that the grief monster loves to rear his head at THE most inopportune time.  I know that over time these triggers will not overwhelm me so much.  I also know that, for the first time in months, I am grieving FIERCELY.  One other thing I know is that i will get through this.

Eventually.

     What triggers do you have? How are you getting through it?

Unpacking

You unpack lots of things.

Boxes.
Luggage.
Feelings.

Sometimes it is a relief.  Other times, not so much.

Sometimes those boxes, or that old luggage holds a lot of memories.  Good ones, bad ones, ugly ones.  Sometimes the things in the boxes make it to the new destination. Those things you gently unwrap.  Giggle and smile at the memories that they bring up.  Place them on the shelf and feel a sense of accomplishment that you did something by yourself.  Sometimes they might have a few dings or scratches, and sometimes they are broken beyond repair. What do you do then?  You gently gather up the broken pieces, wash them with a fresh new bucket of tears, stuff them into a trash bag, and throw them away.

Right?

If only it were that simple....

     Every broken thing reminds you of another piece of your broken life.  There is no way to put those pieces back together and have it be exactly the way it was before. Every scratch and every dent reminds you of the nice stuff that you used to have that isn't so nice anymore.  Every piece of luggage that gets lost reminds you of your own loss. Every feeling that you unpack and share with someone that is not reciprocated reminds you of what you had and desperately want to find again.

Then you realize that there has been someone there helping you to unpack all along.

     It might not have been the person or people that you expected. It might have taken a crap ton of hard work to get to this point.  It may have been something that you wanted for a while, or something that just snuck up on you.  You realize that while you were unpacking the boxes and the luggage there was that one person or people who helped no matter what they had going on in their lives.  They made room in their busy lives for you and your unexpected breakdowns and stress.  They never told you that they couldn't help. Or wouldn't help.  They didn't take advantage of your stressed out state to get what THEY needed from you.  You asked and they said sure. Not when it was convenient for them, but when you needed it.

Those are the people that are going to make unpacking your new, scary life that much easier.
For that, I am FOREVER grateful.

Who are you grateful for?

Tipping Point

     There comes a time in everyone's life when they have to make decisions.  For some, they come easy.  For me, not so much.  I am a worrier.  Always have been.  I go to a catastrophic place all the time.  I what-if myself out of a lot.  I listen to the negatives that everyone throws at me, but none of the positives.  I also have a really bad track record with making decisions.  Most of the time I want to do something so badly that I just jump in. Headfirst. With no lifejacket. So now I find myself here, at my tipping point, making life-altering decisions.

I'm in a new relationship.
I just signed a lease for my own place.
I will be unpacking all of the things from my previous life and putting them on display.
I will be really starting my new life over, in a new location, just myself and my boys.
I am going with my gut for the first time in a long time.
I am scared out of my damn mind.

     This comes at a time for me when so many things in my life are in flux.  I am on the path of my second firsts and it was just right.  I cannot be a scared little girl under the wing of my parents anymore.  They have done so much for me, and for that I am FOREVER grateful.  As scary as this tipping point is, it is something that needs to happen.  I cannot and will not spin my wheels in the mud any longer.  I have to allow myself to know that I can do this my myself, and the only way I will learn that is to just do it.

I need to learn how to live again.
I need to learn how to love again.
I need to learn how to be loved again.
I need to learn that it is okay to go forward.
I need to learn that going forward does not mean forgetting.
I need to learn that change is good yet uncomfortable.
I need to learn that comfort for the sake of not changing isn't necessarily a good thing.

Like I said, there comes a time in everyone's life when they have to make decisions.

Today, I have made mine.

   

Sense Memories

     My weekend was filled with these kind of memories. While meeting with my son's therapist, I could have sworn I caught a whiff of his smell...that mixture of cologne, outside, and cigarettes that always hung around his person.  Not exactly unpleasant, but an odd smell to be in the office.  As quickly as I noticed it and pointed it out, it was gone. Friday, I finally got my memorial tattoo, a drawing that B did for me on our wedding anniversary.  It was unfinished, as he passed away before it could be completed.  The artist was kind enough to add sunflowers to the drawing, which were my wedding flowers.  Then, as I was sitting down in the chair, his favorite Jimmy Buffett song came on. Monday, I was gifted a photograph of sunflowers by the artist himself because I had such a strong connection to the photo...visually it took my breath away, and emotionally I was tied to it because he had taken the photo on my family's farm, in the sunflower field planted specifically for my wedding.  Sometimes these experiences happen in groups, sometimes they are a single, fleeting event.

Sometimes it is a song.
Sometimes it is a smell.
Seeing his favorite video game in a store.
Watching our favorite movie.
Seeing the same look in his sons' eyes that I used to see on him.
Running my hands over the brim of his most well-worn baseball cap.
Passing the street corner where he kissed me and told me I was beautiful.
Running across my wedding albums.
Going to the same fair with the kids where we had our very first date.

   These small, fleeting, insignificant things can dredge up memories so powerful that they can take my breath away.  The tears steal down my cheeks faster than I can stop them. Ive gotten better at controlling it, but not always.  Sometimes the memories will trigger a smirk or a laugh or a giant smile that is too hard to hide.  Even now, after 18 months, the emotions tied to my sense memories are incredible.  Positive or negative, the feelings that are dredged up let me know that no matter how far out I am, or how far I feel I have come in moving forward from the greatest loss in my life, there will always be that hole in my soul that will never ever quite be filled.

This S**t is HARD!!!

     I suppose for anyone who is suddenly thrust into a new life without warning, the change can be somewhat jarring.  There are things to learn that you never had to do before, emotional places you'd never thought you would reach, friends you make, friends you lose, relationships you start, relationships that grenade on you....all things you never thought you would do before.  For me, from the unique perspective of young widowhood, I can plainly say that this shit is hard. It sucks.  I lost my best friend, the one I would run to and talk to when all of the hard stuff happened.  When I grieve, I'm not just grieving for me, but two young, impressionable boys who now don't have a dad.

I grieve for the loss of my hopes and dreams for my little, complete family.
I grieve for the milestones I am going to have to see and do alone.
I grieve for the loss of the one person on this earth who really, TRULY understood me.
I grieve for the loss of fun, happy-go-lucky me.

     I'm even trying the dating thing again, and damn does it suck.  I never realized how intolerant I have become of other people's crap.  Or how fiercely independent I have become. Or how I apparently constantly have "mad face" (aka resting bitch face) on.  It seems like everything starts out okay and then WHACK! The controlling, damaging, negative behavior rears it's ugly head in them.  I get that some, if not most, of the people available out there in the dating scene right now have some baggage. I have more baggage than most, but if there is one thing I will not tolerate is someone throwing their overstuffed baggage at me, expecting me to lug it up and down stairs through an entire airport. Not happening. Own your own crap.  If I care about you, I will help you unpack that baggage, but if you are going to start repacking your baggage into mine, we are going to have issues. A wise man once told me that love should lift you up, not put you down.

So do I just take it in stride that everyone is inherently broken and I should just settle for something that I think isn't right?  Do I just accept that my life from November 8, 2012 forward is just going to suck and I just have to deal with it?  How did I turn from the girl who saw the world through rose colored glasses the the woman who is the world's biggest people pleaser?  Have I really become that bitter, jaded person I was always afraid of becoming? I can't really be that desperate for love, can I?

  Sometimes I wonder if I do these things to myself on purpose...if I get into a headspace where I feel as if I am not good enough for anyone, so why bother pursuing something that I am so sure is going to blow up in my face anyway. Talking doesn't help. Yelling doesn't help. Stony silence doesn't help.                                        

This shit is hard.

Solo Parent Suckiness

          Last week I had the INFINITE (insert sarcasm here) pleasure of having an IEP progress meeting for my oldest son.  I had asked for his therapist to be there, but, as she was unable to attend, she spoke with the learning support teacher the day before.  An advocate was not able to be assigned, so I had to do the meeting by myself. Now, normally, doing these things by myself induces a bit of anxiety, but not a whole lot, as I have done it a couple of times before.  This time, it was different.  A few of the teachers turned it into less of a progress discussion and more of a "your son is not doing any of his work and is totally unfocused and I can't take it anymore" session.  Now, I understand that he is a handful, and I suppose letting me know that there is a huge disconnect between home and school is important, but there are better ways to go about this.  Where I run in to difficulty is being talked to like I am a 12 year old.

Just because I am a solo parent does not mean I am a moron.
Just because I do not have a partner to back me up does not mean you can bully me.
Just because I do this all by myself does not mean you can do a better job of it than me.
Just because I am sensitive does not mean I am not an effective parent.
Just because I am alone does not mean I need to have a man here to fight my battles for me.

     Having to deal with a kid with special needs all on my own is a daily battle in and of itself, but there are sooooo many more things that suck about being a solo parent.  There are so many logistics issues when you don't have a second pair of hands to help you out when you get caught in a timing issue. Like when both of your kids are in different activities and both of them have to be in 2 different places at the same time and you are stuck in traffic and you are not going to get either of them anywhere, let alone get healthy food in their faces and get homework done at a reasonable hour.  Or when you have a super early job or a late class that runs beyond the capabilities of your child care.  Or when one of them is having a particularly difficult time and you need to focus on them for the time being and feel neglectful that you are leaving the other to fend for themselves for the moment.  Or when you feel selfish because you are trying to go to school to better yourself for the good of your new little family and little things are falling my the wayside....like housework, checking homework, making daily dinners, keeping up on seasonal clothing changes, and keeping the fridge stocked full for 2 quickly growing boys who eat more than a small army.
     So, props to all of you solo moms and dads out there who are making it work!  Any suggestions to keep this harried mom from losing her mind??

Uncharted Territory

     I find myself today in a new and interesting place. I'm happy. With no guilt.  Yet, there are still a million reasons why I am running away from good, happy joy-joy feelings. You would think by now I would be past the catastrophic scenarios, but no.  My heart and my head are definitely not communicating well at all lately, and I am reeling as a a result.  A current discussion going on with my emotions right now:

Heart:  He's such a nice guy!
Head:  What if something bad happens?
Heart:  He cares about you so much!
Head:  What if it isn't genuine?
Heart:  He is so amazing with the boys!
Head:  If something bad happens, the boys are going to be devastated!
Heart:  He makes you smile EVERY DAY.
Head:  If he ever hurts you, you are going to end up the crazy cat lady.
Heart:  His words and actions and feelings are something you have not heard/seen/felt in a long time!
Head:  What if it is just to get in your pants and then leave you?
Heart:  He cares about you even after knowing everything you've been through.
Head:  He wants you to forget.
Heart:  It is okay to move forward and be happy!
Head:  What if this means you're a bad widow for not being miserable about your dead husband?
Heart:  It is perfectly normal to want to love again.
Head:  It is perfectly awful to want to love again.

     Slowly, I'm beginning to realize that there is a difference between boundaries to keep people from taking advantage of me, and the fortress walls I have built up around my heart and soul to keep people out and to keep myself from potentially ever loving someone.  I think my reasoning is if I love them and they hurt me, where else do I have to go?  I don't think my fragile heart could take much more breaking.  The bandages holding together the broken pieces are not that strong. I'm not that strong. I don't think you get many great loves in your life, and I think I've already used mine up.

Do I give up?
OR
Do I give in?

Reflections on a Month of Great Growth

     There were so many things I loved about completing the A to Z challenge during April.  I met new blog friends, really exercised my writing skills, found a renewed interest in writing a book about my journey, and learned a lot about myself in the process.  I wrote about things I never knew I was keeping inside and was able to get in contact with others who are going through the same things.  My posts connected with other people in my on-line grief support groups, and helped family and friends to know how I was feeling.  I wouldn't post regularly to my blog before, now I have an urge to write even more than before.
     As feedback, there are definitely things that I myself, as a novice blogger would do (and will do from this point forward) differently.  I learned that interaction on my blog comes most when I pose a question at the end (thanks for the advice, Susan!), and visiting more blogs will get me more followers and interactions.  Now that school is winding down, there is definitely going to be more time for me to be able to do that.  I came at this challenge rather late in the game after hearing about it from friend and fellow blogger Katie at The Cyborg Mom.  Next year, I think I will be a little more prepared, prescheduling and at least having a title for each letter before the month gets started.  The twitter chats were great, although more than one day a week would have been great...most days I had a tough time attending because of my own struggles.  Most of all, I would encourage more interaction. I know it is hard when you have one or more blogs that you keep up with, but as a new blogger with very few followers I appreciate the interaction and follows,  as well as advice from others who have been in the game much longer than I.
     Blogging has been a source of great catharsis for me, and this month has led to some very interesting reflections on my life that I hadn't really explored before.  I got in touch with emotions that I had put aside for the sake of being able to function in the real world and processed through them with great ease once the were out of my  head and sent into the blogosphere.  I appreciate the opportunity to have gotten my experiences out there and the refreshed outlook I have as a result of this challenge month.

Much thanks to all who have followed me on this journey, encouraged me to continue writing, and provided advice to keep things fresh...I couldn't have done it without you!

Zigging and Zagging

     Sometimes, life throws you curveballs.  Sometimes they are expected, like a new baby or a graduation or a new job.  Sometimes they are unexpected like failing a test you studied for or losing a job unexpectedly, or death of a loved one.  Adjusting to these huge changes, whether positive or negative causes ripples in everything.

Ripples in your schedule.
Ripples in communication.
Ripples in the fabric of your life.

     So you zig. And you zag. You make all of the necessary adjustments as to disrupt your existence as little as possible. Some will zigzag better than others.  Some will just absorb the unexpected and roll with with it.  Some fight the unexpected with everything that they have in their bodies, and the change will bend and twist them in to strange things that they never were before. Like lightning strikes, the zigs and zags can sometimes cause destruction, but open the way for new things to flourish.
     Me? I'm kinda tired of the zigging and zagging.  I have made more adjustments in the last 18 months than I can deal with.  I have tried to be optimistic about it, tried to be open to suggestions and help, tried to accept this new normal as the way things are now, but I'm tired of it.  I just want to put down roots in my own space, for my own life, and make it as I want it. Not as these curveballs have changed it to be.  Nothing is as I always imagined my someday life to be.

Zip. Zilch. Nada.

I suppose that is the price you pay for having a great love.

Yes-woman

     I used to think that the word "no" did not exist in my vocabulary.  Whether I wanted to do something for someone or not, I would do it anyway.  I hated confrontation, I hated letting people down, I hated not being able to do something.  Even if there was a conflict of interest, I would find a way.  I never turned down an invitation or request for anything.  This went especially true for my relationship.  I did anything B ever asked me to do.  If he wanted something, I did everything in my power to do it for him.
     Then I lost him and that yes-woman, no boundaries thing got exploited.  People would come out of the woodwork to take advantage of me.  It was like I had a "please try and use me for something" sign tattooed on my forehead.  I have always been a good person and have tried to see the good in everyone, but people who try and take advantage of the grieving are just despicable.  As I broke out of the fog, it became evident that my yes-woman attitude towards life was going to have to go and I was going to have to learn how to form some sort of boundaries in my life.
   
Yes, I will help you move, but no, I will not pay for it.
Yes, I need to buy a new car, but no, I will not have a $500 per month payment.
Yes, we can go out on a date, but no, I will not sleep with you because you think that I am desperate.
Yes, I know I need help with that, but no, you may not do it for me, you may teach me how.
Yes, I did go to that event alone, but no, I don't need a partner to make me feel complete.

     I still have a little of that yes-woman thing in me, especially when it comes to the kids.  I think I overcompensate for their lack of another parent, so even if it drives me bonkers and I will have not slept for like a week, I will make sure that they have everything that they need.  I do say no to things that are particularly extraneous, but they get a lot more leeway than anyone else in my life right now. It actually surprised me at how easy it was to say no once I go some practice at it.

No, you cannot "borrow" money.
No, you cannot call me your girlfriend after 2 dates and some online conversation.
No, you cannot treat me like that and expect me to still be talking to you tomorrow.
No, I will not make a 2 hour round trip for a 10 minute visit.
No, I can't do that for you, I have school/finals/kids/life of my own that I have to take care of.

     I like this new no-woman, but I hope that I can keep it in check.  Sometimes my boundaries need boundaries.

Xanax and other drugs

     In the first few days after B died, I persisted in a state of numbness.  I think it was my brain trying to protect me from the soul crushing grief that had just invaded my life.  There was this pervasive feeling of not living, but merely existing.  There are few memories of these days, but one thing I do remember is how many doctors tried to get me through the grief by prescribing me something.

Xanax.
Ambien.
Lunesta.
OTC sleeping pills.
Lexapro.
Valium.
Trazadone.
Prozac.
Zoloft.
Effexor.
Alcohol.

     The list went on and on and on as they tried to bring me out of the hole I was sinking into.  Looking back, while I appreciate the effort, nothing was really going to help except bringing B back. Since that wasn't going to happen, I guess everyone figured the best way to fix me was to trick my brain into thinking it was happy.  It might have worked too, if not for the amputation of a part of my soul.  For a while, I subsisted on xanax and coffee. The OTC sleeping meds worked for a while too.  Then I used food as my drug.  Then sex as my drug. Not the best at helping one to feel better about themselves, but for the moments before you started to feel really crappy, it was awesome.
     Then it was almost like misery was my drug.  I was relishing in feeling awful.  Then came therapy.  Equipping myself with the tools to move forward.  It took me almost 7 months to do it.  I had tried online groups and in-person groups, but sometime, they just made me more sad.  It was nice to know that I was not alone, but I need not just support, but advice on how to move forward.  Blogging has been a wonderful drug.  Knowing that I am getting my story out there and giving a perspective on grief that is different is an amazing feeling.
     It was love that brought me to this journey, and love that will get me through it.  My friends and family who were willing to share in my grief with me.  They listen, and love, and hug, and support me and the boys no matter how many times they have heard the stories before.  They have handed me tissues and held my hand in silence while I was sobbing so hard that no words would come out.  They  have held my hair back when I was puking from drinking so much to drown out the sorrow.  They are the one constant that was there then, and is still there now, even when my life is in complete upheaval.
   
LOVE is the greatest drug.

What-ifs

     Sometimes, when the depression over the loss of B gets particularly bad, the obsession over the what-ifs start.  There are always left over questions that you have when a loved one passes away, and it is the unanswered echoes of the what-ifs that can keep me awake at night.  I have wondered on countless sleepless nights if there was anything that I could have done differently.  The last months, days, and hours replay over and over.  I scan my memories for some clue that it was coming, if there was something that I could have prevented, something that I could have done that would have changed the course and kept him here with me.

What if I would have made sure he took his medicine every day?
What if I had INSISTED that he quit smoking?
What if I made sure he went to every doctor appointment, even if I had to drive him there myself?
What if I would have made his lunch every day so that he ate healthier?
What if I wouldn't have pushed him so hard to work so hard and to be a good provider?
What if I would have been there?
What if we would have not fought the day before?
What if I would have insisted on a second opinion when the doctor wouldn't perform a bypass?
What if I was the reason?

     I know that no amount of what-ifs will bring him back and the endless wondering will someday drive me nuts, but sometimes, I just can't help it.  There is a tremendous amount of guilt that I subscribe to because there were so many factors that were so seemingly preventable.  There are feelings of failing him as a lover, as a friend, as a soulmate, and as his family.  I should have been keeping a better eye out for him, as I know he would have done for the kids and I.  What will I say when the kids get a little older and start asking specifics?  How will I explain to them that yes, it could have been prevented, but it wasn't?
   
Could have been.
Should have been.
Would have been.

What if life had a rewind button?

Victories

    What has been most challenging for me so far in this journey is trying to find the will or the time to celebrate the little accomplishments in my life.  There are so many things that everyone else takes for granted that I realized I accomplished lately that deserve a shout out.  There are victories in every day, and if I learn to embrace them and reward myself, it can be a great stepping stone to moving forward.  I think that as the journey progresses the accomplishments will get bigger and bigger, but for now, I'm working on giving myself permission to celebrate the small things.

Getting the kids to school on time with little to no drama.
Getting up and showering and getting out of the house every day for a week.
Passing an exam with flying colors.
Telling someone how I really feel about something they did without being a cold hearted bitch.
Being able to support other people in their times of need while processing through my own hurt.
Sticking with a particularly difficult task, no matter how much I want to quit.

     Sometimes I fail to realize that although my journey through grief has been difficult, there are others whose learning curve on being a newly single person, parent, and overall widowhood has been even more difficult than mine.  To those of you who learned how to do something you never had to do before like potty train a child as a single dad, or learn how to drive, or fix a lawnmower, or balance a checkbook, or buy a car on your own, I applaud you.  Take the time to celebrate the little victories in your life, you deserve it.

Right now, you are all you've got!

Under Pressure

     Aside from being one of my favorite songs, under pressure is a constant theme in my life.  I am under pressure to be a good mom, a good daughter, a good student, a good widow, a good single person who exposes herself to the  *gasp* horrors of dating, and a good friend.  So far, I don't feel like I am succeeding in many of these endeavors.  It's like I have to pick and choose which ones I want to be at certain times, not because I want to, but because I have to.  The stress of trying to keep up appearances for everyone is going to drive me crazy.  The problem lies in which ones do I pick?

If I strive to be a good student, the good mom in me suffers.
If I strive to be a good mom, the good daughter suffers.
If I strive to be a good widow, everything suffers.
If I try to be a good single gal, the good mom, good student, and good daughter all suffer.
If I try to be a good friend, the good student and good single girl suffer.

     Sometimes, pressures are good.  The pressure to be a good student is keeping my GPA at a 4.0.  I am well liked by my professors, I have been invited to participate in the honors program, and am on track to graduate with my first degree by this time next year.  The pressure to do so well has me so motivated that all I want to do is continue to go to school and continue to excel.  It is the perfectionist in me that keeps reaching and reaching for the starts.  I loathe the day that will come when I do something in school less than perfect.  People seem to think it will break me.  I think it just gives me more motivation to add positive pressure to my life.  Only, at what expense?
    For example...today, my youngest asked me to play baseball outside when we got home from school.  I had to tell him no because I have finals to study for, papers to write, and housework to finish.  The crestfallen look on his little face just about broke me into a million pieces.  I was lucky today and his big brother stepped in to help me out with him, but I hate having to rely on him to take up the slack on things that I just can't all manage to squeeze in to a 24 hour days. Henceforth the good student vs. good mom pressure.
     I know my paper could probably wait an hour or so.  My blog could wait. The laundry could pile up. No one would think the worse of me, but I would. I would obsess about all of the things that I should be doing.  Maybe I have my priorities a little skewed?  Could be, but if I don't excel and provide these boys with the best life that I can, no one else is going to do it for me.

All of those hopes got buried in a box in the dirt along with B's ashes.
   

Temper and Tolerance

     I have such little tolerance for other peoples crap.  I know I am supposed to be cognizant of everyone else's journey, and really, if I expect people to be cognizant of my journey, shouldn't I be tolerant of theirs?  Sometimes, though, the pure ignorance that comes out of a person's mouth brings me quick to temper.  I have ALWAYS been a fairly temperate person.  I would look at both sides of an argument, weigh the good points and the bad points and offer my opinion. Now, I know the old adage, opinions are like a$$holes, everybody has one. Mine just tends to rear it's ugly head more often than not anymore.  As I think about it, my quick mouth may be the reason that people don't wish to associate with me on an intimate basis.  As my stress level goes up, my tolerance for other people goes down.

Oh, you're too hungover to go to work? Deal with it. Im not working a double to cover you. Drink some water, take some tylenol, and get over it.

You failed your history test because you had better things to do than study? Too bad. Don't let your parents argue with the professor to change your failing grade.

You call me to cancel plans last minute after I've gotten a sitter and wonder why I won't go out with you again?  It's called having respect for myself, too bad you didn't have any for me.

You hit me up with a text message and you have not spelled one word correctly? It doesn't even dignify a response.

    I suppose I could be more zen, learn how to meditate, go hit a heavy bag, practice self care....all of those therapeutic tools I have been equipped with, but sometimes, it just feels good to lose my temper.  I absorb so much from everyone, not to mention dealing with my own day to day struggles with kids, school, and grief.  I don't know how I manage to keep my temper for as long as I have.  My fuse is definitely shorter and shorter.  Some of the only times I feel like myself anymore is when I can let my hair down just a little.

Go to my favorite bar and have a few drinks.
Go to my favorite art gallery and spend time with some of the most creative people that I know.
Go shopping at my favorite boutique shops that no one else knows about.
Plug in my headphones and listen to some of my favorite records (yes, I actually mean vinyl records).

Have you ever gotten to that breaking point where you have lost your temper? Weathered the fallout? What do YOU do to de-stress?