Is it progress, in grief, when you realize that, fuck it looks like I'm going to live after all? When you realize that you must create a life because you're still alive, even if your wish is to not be alive, because you're so done with the whole damn missing business?
But you are alive and, therefore, practical shit is required, so you make up your mind to take care of, and tend to, the practical shit even though you don't want to, even as your heart fights doing so.Read more
I have a difficult time defining my life to myself since Chuck died, never mind anyone else. Not that I need to explain it to anyone, but, holy shit, does it come up in conversation. Not just this widowhood, but my lifestyle.
I full-time on the road, as many of you know. In the last year I’ve taken more time off the road than I ordinarily would so that I could take care of various issues, such as getting intensive grief/trauma counseling and that kept me in Arizona for just shy of 6 months but the open road is my home. I’m in Arkansas now and I'd initially planned on a lengthier stay, but as it happens, I’m leaving for points east after not quite a month here.Read more
I wonder, frequently, when grief changed from a normal, human response to the death of a loved one, to a condition that, seemingly, must be gotten through (with all due speed, thank you very much for your consideration), with clinical protocols assigned to it?
When did grief get designated as complicated and unhealthy and uncomfortable and perceived as an enemy? When did our culture start demanding of us that we, as grievers, choose life as quickly as possible, focus only on the happy memories of life and not dwell in the layers of sorrow that come with death? When did grief become something to hide from the world at large?
When did we medicalize grief so that our approach is clinical instead of soulful?Read more
I really am crazy.
I know it.
But I must do a fairly good job of appearing not only not crazy but really rational and okay, because nobody else thinks I’m crazy.
They would if they knew what my heart really looks like and what the inside of my mind looks like.
But none of that is evident on the outside.Read more
I have to remind myself, as many of us do, I expect, that this widowhood is, as I learned in AA, a matter of progress, not perfection. Because I, for one, consistently seem to expect more of myself than is realistic. By which I mean, I continually scan my body and mind and heart to see where I am in this grief and why I’m not further along, even as my mind tells me to stop such nonsense and lays out all the reasons why I need to stop such nonsense.
Still it continues. But I’m getting better at just letting it be and not gauging my grief by anyone else’s grief.
So...progress, not perfection.Read more
So this is my first Valentine’s Day since Drew died that I am celebrating with a man. That’s big. It’s been 3 years now. In those years since he died, I have celebrated with my best friend. Each year, I drove up to Dallas and we would go out somewhere nice, me and her, and sometimes her Mom and another girlfriend or two. Together we would experience a different kind of special day to celebrate love. The love of friendship and womanhood. I wrote about one of those on my blog here. It’s hard this year to be so far away from her. To break our tradition. To know that she may be the one having a harder Valentine’s Day this year than me, and I can’t be there.
I will always cherish the years where we have celebrated our friendship on this day, and the amazing bond of women in general. It brought so much love into my world and it taught me that this day really shouldn’t be about romantic love, but just about love.
So today, as I am embracing love not with my women friends but with Mike, I am reflecting back quite a bit.Read more
What does it mean to you? And does it mean something different now than it did before your special someone died?Read more
Tuesdays used to be only about writing my WV blog. Now they’re also about my EMDR sessions, so please bear with me as my brain and heart work overtime.Read more
When Megan died, i went into full sensory deprivation mode. I could no longer see her face, hear her voice, taste her lips, smell her body wash, or touch her skin. When suddenly, all five of my senses were deprived of their primary stimulant, I became numb. I would venture to say that this is the case for most widows and widowers.
Largely, I believe this explains the “fog” that so many of us have and are experiencing. We become lethargic, depressed, stressed, absent-minded, and unaware of our own surroundings. Place anyone in an isolation chamber, widowed or not, and eventually, a similar fog will creep in.
These senses are independent of each other, and each of them are 20% of a whole experience. When all I wished for was to talk to Megan and hear her voice, I honestly would have been just as happy to see her smile or feel her hug. But it’s never enough. I could sit and fantasize about her returning to visit from the other side, all the while knowing that whether she was here for 5 minutes, 5 days, or 5 years, it would never have been enough time or sensory stimulation.
This new world of widowhood and what is different now, besides everything:Read more