Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-CHANGES

Change can be fun. Change can be different. Change can shake up your world like nobody's business. Some people embrace chance, some people begrudgingly accept change as a necessary part of life, and some people shy away from change as if it was the plague.  Me, I used to avoid change as if my life depended on it.

Cancel plans?
 I wouldn't talk to you for a week.

Move the due date for an assignment?
I'd usually turn it in on the previously agreed upon time.

Flight delay and/or traffic that causes me to be late?
I would be a crab for the rest of the day.

Then my whole world got turned upside down in the blink of an eye.  I still have my moments, but I have grown to accept change as a necessary part of my every day.  Don't get me wrong, there are still days when a canceled date or late appointment or traffic jam will make me crazy, but those days are fewer and farther apart.  I've come to realize that life is too short to sweat the small stuff, because sometimes, with a moment's notice, everything is different.

You're alone.
You're a single parent.
You're a widow.
You're no longer living in your own space with your own things.
You're wondering what happens next.

Sometimes, change is for the better. Sometimes, it's not.

Backsliding

The worst part of this journey had to be the fact that it doesn't travel in a straight line. You go forwards, backwards, sideways, upside down, inside out, and around in circles.  You are working on your grief, going to therapy, dating, participating in events, going out alone to movies and dinner, then

BAM!
WHACK!
NINJA GRIEF ATTACK!!

You wake up in tears with no explanation.  You realize you haven't showered in days, the kids have been eating instant mac and cheese or chef boyardee out of a can for dinner, and you haven't written or texted or really talked to anyone.  You can't listen to the radio or watch a tv show or drive anywhere  because your anxiety is overwhelming.

Your sadness is overwhelming.
Your grief is overwhelming.

You could be one day, one week, one month, one year, one decade out and there is still backsliding.  There is always that feeling of one step forward, two steps back.  What's worse is that once the backsliding starts it is really really hard to make it stop on its own.  You try to turn to friends and family but they have already heard your complaints a million times and you don't want to burden them with any more of your stuff. You practice self care like your therapist tells you to.  Nothing seems to work.

Then the tears seem to dry up.
Your heart hardens a little.
You get in the shower.
You get out of bed and make dinner.
You take one more step forward waiting for the next inevitable backslide, hoping it will be a while.

Adventures in Widowhood

Ahhh....April 1st is here!

I would say that young widowhood has definitely been an adventure for me.  An adventure that I very unwillingly went on.  I wish I could say I never started out on this adventure, but at times I am glad that I did.  It has showed me so many things about myself that I never thought possible.

How "strong" I am.
How much I can actually do on my own.
How much stress I can actually handle.
How far I can actually be pushed before I break.
How much regret I can actually live with every single day.

It is an adventure being an unexpected single mom.  One day you wake up married with a partner who can help you with getting the kids from place to place, help with homework, go on boys-only scout outings, and by the end of that day you are handling it all by yourself.  I have become a master scheduler.  Between boy scouts, karate, baseball, after school activities, my school, therapy, and attempting to have a social life, it is a wonder I actually have time to sleep.

It is an adventure trying to move forward. Every day I am confronted with the option to move away from my life as someone's partner and go towards forging my own path.  I am doing amazing at school, which was something I never felt supported enough to do.  I am doing amazing in being able to support myself, live on a budget, saving for my someday house, and still have enough to splurge on something every once and a while if I want.  I am doing amazing at going out and meeting new people without the need of a safety net.  When I take a step back and read these words as they are written, I realize that I do really accomplish more than I give myself credit for!

It is an adventure trying not to let the "what ifs" consume me.  What if his nitro would have been readily available?  What if he never would have gotten sick?  What if we would have been together?  What if he would have spent his last day with the kids like he was supposed to?  What if we wouldn't have fought the night before?  What if I would have been more vigilant about making sure he took care of himself the way he was supposed to?  These are the questions that run around freely in my brain all the time, and so far no amount of socializing, therapy, friends or family have been able to make them stop.  As time goes on they have gone from a roar to a whisper, but they are still there.

It is with thoughts like this that I am often reminded of B's favorite quote from Peter Pan:  "To die will be an awfully big adventure."

I hope you are truly having an amazing adventure, love, wherever you are.

Bitter and Jaded

     I think that there are times in everyone's life where they can look back and say "Yup, that's where life broke me".  Some of us are lucky enough to experience this only once, get up, brush it off, and continue on; none the worse for wear.  I however am finding it harder and harder to get up. I swear..I think Karma has me singled out to make me her bitch.

There is just not much more this girl can take!!

   B always told me that I saw the world through rose colored glasses. I do. Or at least I did. I look for the good in everyone and everything, sometimes blind to what it is doing to me as a person until much much later.  I have become much less happy go lucky since B died. My bullshit meter is always on high alert.  I have all of these negative emotions that I never really had before.

I'm bitter about being ignored.
I'm too jaded to form new relationships because I know, inevitably, they will end, so what's the point?
I'm angry that my tragedy got lost in the shuffle.
I'm sad that no matter how many times I wish that this is all untrue, it's not.
I'm annoyed that we will never get to resolve our last argument.
I'm heartbroken that my boys will grow up without the experience of having such an amazing father.
I'm devastated that we never got to say "I love you" one last time.

Negativity is not a good head space to be in. On the flip side, super positivity never got me very far either.  Is there middle ground somewhere? A place where I can have good days and bad days and not feel bad about either one? A place where I can find that balance that B brought to me?

I sure as hell hope so.

Paralyzed

    Ever have one of those days when you couldn't leave your bed? Today was one of those days for me.  My anxious brain has kept me paralyzed for the last few weeks. Paralyzed from being able to get up and participate in life.

In my kids' lives.
In school.
In writing.
In anything, really.

 These are the days when I miss B the most. He used to get me out of my head, into the shower, even sometimes out into the real world. I might not have been able to stay that long, but he made me do it. On the days where he couldn't help, he would just crawl into bed with me and stay there. We didn't have to talk about anything. He didn't harp on me, he didn't say mean things to guilt me into pretending to feel better. He would disappear and come back with a pint of my favorite ice cream and two spoons. He would just let me lay there and cry and snuggle into my "nook"in his arm until I could move again.
   Now, all I have is some pillows. It is so very much not the same thing. There is no one to stroke my hair to get me to calm down and tell me that it is going to be ok. No big strong man arms to hold the weird world at bay. No one to walk through my worries with me and point out how we could fix them together. No one to just hug me and whisper that this too shall pass.

I do the therapy thing.
I try to do the friend thing.
I would do a support thing but there aren't any.

     There is a difference between the obsessive thoughts in your own head and trying to share them with other people. Especially other people who haven't walked your path.  When they are in your head and you are rolling over and over them, all the what ifs, every possible catastrophic outcome rears it's ugly head.  When you try to share them, you feel like you sound ridiculous. You realize you have complained about this same thing to these same friends a million times. Then you realize that maybe your incessant need for support is draining on everyone around you. Then you wonder why you are just realizing this now.  Then you wonder why you bothered to try to share them at all. Then you wind up back in your own head.  It is this horrible cycle of badness. Learning how to break this cycle by myself without my biggest supporter just isn't cutting it.

Caution: filter missing

     I've never been once to mince words. Many, many who know me know I am quick of wit and sharp of tongue. I'm seriously thinking about getting a tattoo on my forehead that says "caution: missing filter. Engage in conversation at your own risk". How many of you have ever said you'd rather kill yourself than deal with another snow day? Did people rip you a new one or judge you because you are being offensive to those who have lost someone to suicide? What about being so angry you said you wanted to kill someone? Did the police break down your door and arrest you?

Probably not.

     I don't say things with excessive vitriol. What I will do is be honest. Sometimes brutally so. Not that this is an excuse, but if you don't want to hear my honest answer to a question, don't ask. I find that this is happening a lot more since B died. Yeah, I say died.

Not passed away.
Not in a better place.
Not gone.
Died.

     I've been told that my honesty is a rather jarring concept. Everyone is so PC about death and things that we don't like to confront, even when it is right in our faces. My view is that life is too damn short to not say what you think or feel. You never know when the time you talk to someone will be the last time. I relive my last conversations with B in my head all the time. It never brings me comfort. There are always things I wish I could have said.

I didn't mean it.
I can't wait to see you.
I wish you were here.
I love you.
I'm sorry.

Always be honest. In the immortal words of Dr. Seuss:  "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind".

Distance makes the heart grow fonder?

Lately, I have been ruminating on the phrase "distance makes the heart grow fonder". I call bullshit. In what universe is this even remotely true? In my personal experience, distance...real or imagined, physical or emotional, leads to nothing but disappointment when it comes to matters of the heart.  B's death is a prime example of this. He is about as far away physically as one can be. Ashes in a box in the dirt. Emotionally, the distance is unfathomable. Do I really deign to believe that his spirit is somewhere out there growing fonder of me the longer it isn't with me? I know my heart sure as hell isn't  growing fonder.

Sad? Yes.
Bitter? A bit.
Broken? Absolutely.
Irreparable? Jury's still out.

I see this distance affecting me in all sorts of different ways. I now put distance between myself and my friends. Myself and my family. Myself and new people that I meet. Myself and potential romantic interests. I distance myself because I don't think I can take any more hurt if I lose someone close. I distance myself because I can't bear rejection. I distance myself because of all of the what ifs. My walls are there for a reason, and it seems like as soon as someone starts to chip away at them just enough to let the light break through, they run away. I'm not sure if it is because there is no light shining from inside or if the monsters that are hidden behind the walls are so scary that even brave souls don't want to venture in, but for whatever reason I keep having to repair the holes. With each repair the walls get a little bigger and a little harder to smash. I'm afraid pretty soon the distance they create will be insurmountable.