I know I'm not actually a split personality. I haven't disassociated from my body. There is nothing really wrong with me because what I'm going through is normal. I know this.
This grief, though. Whoa.
My brain sometimes slips into my consciousness the suspicion that maybe I am a split personality. Or whatever word it is that would best describe this state of being, at least to my own self. Because I very clearly feel like two separate people as I move through this world of mine, this world without my husband.
I reached a point in these last few days.
I need to stop looking (albeit unconsciously) for this sharp cutting edge of grief in my body to stop. I need to stop looking for that elusive something that will take it away. Cut it away as carefully as a surgeon's knife, leaving my body and heart as intact as it was for my 24 years with him. There wouldn't even be any scarring because that then,in those old days that seem like another century and time, was the real, whole, me.
But, of course, the only thing that will remove it is if my beloved husband returns, and we all know he ain't gonna do that. Which is unimaginable to me and probably always will be,but it's the ugly truth.
Today is 2 years since my beloved husband Chuck died.
I've always used the word died since he...died. Don't care at all for the other, gentler words. Not at all. I need the harsh words to remind me that he is indeed dead because there is a part of me, somewhere inside of me, a part I can't identify, that just doesn't believe that he's dead or that this isn't some huge cosmic joke being perpetrated upon me and someday he'll come walking in the door and we'll both be totally disbelieving and we'll hug and hug and hug some more and then we'll have wild and crazy sex and then, well, get back to our lives.
I'm not in denial. I know Chuck is dead. I feel it...have felt it...in every part of my body since 2 years ago, April 21. He's gone. Gone, gone, gone.
And yet, I swear that there is still a part of me that doesn't believe it. That can'tbelieve it. How can he be gone when he and I were so connected? How can it be that I'm walking on this earth, just Alison, without his name said in the same breath? We were Chuck and Alison. That couple who, after 24 years, were still in love with one another, who still kissed and hugged and whose faces lit up when the other entered the room. How can that be over?
I'm in total disbelief not only that Chuck has been dead for 2 years but that I'm still alive. How is it that I haven't died of a broken heart?
I'm going to counseling. Dr. Shima is going to do EMDR and aural acupuncture, both to assist in (hopefully) dispersing the block between my emotions and intellect. That block, she surmises, is what keeps me from feeling connection of any sort to him. It keeps me feeling disconnected to the world at large and keeps me from feeling connected even to myself.
My goal is to live as simply as possible. To own things that do not own me. To give things to our kids now so that they don't need to wonder about what to do with these things of mine when I'm dead.
Much of this is an easy process for me, since Chuck and I sold most of our belongings when we hit the road in 2009. Since his death, I've either donated or given his things to our kids and kept only a few items of clothing and mementos. And by few I mean maybe 5.
Our older son got married recently and I gave him and his now wife my and Chuck's wedding rings. Its' beautiful to see Chuck's ring on our eldest son's hand and I know Chuck would smile too. It is part of his legacy of love.
A few weeks ago, I became fully, wide-awake aware, that this grief was killing me. Not enough so that I'd actually physically die, but enough so that I continually felt as if a meat slicer was in my chest, merrily chopping away at my innards. At the same time it was as if an anvil such as blacksmiths might use, was slung around my neck, making it difficult to breathe and slowing my feet. It was intolerable and made me....desperate.Read more
Our culture, I think, is filled with contradictions. In general and most certainly when it comes to grief. Here's a few I've encountered.
People love a good love story. The public especially seems to admire and go awww when a couple long married, die within hours of each other, unable, even unconsciously, to face life without one another.
When we're widowed, and speak of not wishing to go on without our loved one, there is an immediate rush of but you must he/she would want you to be happy, you have to live for both of you now you can't give up it isn't healthy to think that way!
I wonder if I'll ever wake up again. Wake up to the point where I feel anything besides numbness or pain or his absence.Read more