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.