I spent last weekend, starting on Thursday, at a rally for people who own T@b trailers, as I do.
My little rig has been my home on the road in the years since Chuck's death.
It's tiny in every way, but still has a surprising amount of room inside of it, for me and for storage.
I'm 5'1 and it gives me a little bit of clearance over my head.
I can take a few steps to each side.
It's all the space I'm interested in having.
Large spaces, such as are to be found in an apartment or a house, overwhelm me since Chuck's death.Read more
The holiday season is over. Starting in early November, every year, I begin pondering Megan’s death at an elevated rate, leading up to the anniversary of it. With Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Day all occurring in the weeks just after, it’s two months of absolute stress, that nobody seems to understand, including myself. My work becomes overwhelming, the weather is never “nice”, no matter what the actual conditions, and it feels as if my world is falling apart.
I present myself as totally and unalterably angry, save for the three to five days where I am just flat-out depressed, until sometime on or around January 2nd of the new year. There is no specific pattern, other than November starting, along with the initial thought of “this is the month Megan died”. It’s all a plummet from there.
I have no control over it. I can intellectually analyze it and realize that my anxiety is wholeheartedly related to her death occurring within the month, but 95 percent of the time, it is buried in my subconscious, with the quick-hitting excuses of “work sucks”, “money is tight”, or “I’m just tired” taking the forefront.
The holidays have become something to “get through” anymore.
I got through them.Read more
This is the eve of what the world celebrates as New Year's.
But, since Time has ceased to hold any meaning for me since Chuck's death, I've taken it upon myself to designate my New Year as beginning on April 21; the anniversary of Chuck's death.
That's the time when I reflect on whatever needs reflecting upon. It's when I do a self-check, and it's a time that is meaningful to me.
I realize, more and more, that Time is merely a social construct. It's necessary, in our culture, to keep our worlds moving, I suppose, but for those of us left behind, it's a mish mash of how can it be so long? and oh my god it's been forever! There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of in between.
Recently I also made the decision to stop counting the years since Chuck's death. Not because it doesn't matter; it very much does. But my heart can't manage it. I started sorting it all out and it will soon be 7 years and...nope. Not doing 7 years. In my mind, and what I will forever tell people henceforth, it has been 6.5 years. Period.
Additionally, since I'm stopping counting the years since his death, I will no longer age. I'm 61 now, and that's the age I'll stay. I'm already one year older than Chuck was when he died. Enough already.
Yes, yes, of course there are those who might say, behind their hands, that I've gone nuts. Crackers. Over the edge. Look at the crazy widow! they'll whisper.
Behold the field of fucks I don't give.
I stopped caring about other's opinions of me a looooong time ago. In fact, the first thing I'd tell anyone new to this community is to install a hinge on their elbow so that it automatically shoots up when someone offers an opinion/comment/suggestion about the right way to widow, and your fingers automatically flip them a bird.
You can, of course, in order to appease such people, stare at your elbow/hand in shocked surprise that this happened. Act horrified if you wish. You've made your point with them.
In some ways I relish the prospect of being known as the crazy widow lady. Kind of a cool rep, in my mind.
I will, of course, be the crazy widow lady dressed all in pink and what's that all about? they'll ask, not really wanting to know the answer.
That's okay, too.
I'm going to just be over here, driving my pink car, towing my pink trailer with the names of all these loved ones on it, shooting sparkle and glitter at everyone. Giving hugs. Getting hugs.
The crazy widow lady in pink.
It’s almost the end of the year. In a few days, it will be the 8th time I have welcomed a new year that Drew will not be alive to share in. The years have now stretched on for so long that it has all become so surreal. Eight years used to be something I was so afraid of. That first year or two, I could not fathom being 8 years away from him. Having that kind of distance of time between us. It felt so painful to think of the fact that I had absolutely no power to stop the distance of time from becoming greater and greater.
Now, on the eighth year I am about to embark on since his death, it doesn’t feel painful. It doesn’t feel like there is a greater distance between us at all. In some way, over time, I feel as though I’ve settled into a new relationship with him, and once I arrived there, I have not felt greater distance from him through the new years. I believe 100% that he still exists, in some other form, and that he is still present very often. His death changed our relationship, but it did not end it. And that is solidly what I feel...
I’m halfway through this winter warfare others call “the most wonderful time of the year”. The annual arrival of the four holiday horsemen. Just as one battle ends another commences giving us barely enough time to heal the wounds and gather back the troops. Thanksgiving with grief in the gravy. Christmas’ hallmark heartaches. Now the approach of a New Year further away from our yesterdays with the final horseman named St. Valentine charging into battle just a month after.Read more
Thanksgiving was a beast in itself but Christmas can be the kraken in unicorn’s clothing. I love parts of Christmas like the lights, smell of Christmas trees and giving others gifts. It’s the other parts - families gathering, couples under the mistletoe, Hallmark everything that always ends up like a fairytale…Read more
My brain and body...both are too tired to string together too many sentences.
I say too tired, but it isn't from tiredness really, as much as it is a whole lot of stimulation in the past few days.
My mom used to say that stress happens with good and bad things both. That our body feels it as stress whatever it is.
This has been good stress in the last few days. Also, hugely emotional.
A week ago I was given an opportunity at a big event to share with my essential oil community about inclusion, community and growth. It amazes me what has come into my life in the past year. Part of my oil journey is the loss of Tin. I share about him in every speech I give. I share about Soaring Spirits and I share about the widowed Facebook support group, A Widow’s Valor, that gives those in the Young Living oily community a place to be surrounded by other oilers. Talking about my loss isn’t easier, it’s just different. I’ll always be a work in progress and, as I practice reflection and present time, I can pull myself from the tough days to look at the big picture of my journey and rebuilding. When I stop and take time to look at my journey I can see that I have accomplished something amazing – I survived and now I’m beginning to thrive.Read more
I've been sewing and gluing all day long.
Tomorrow will be more of the same.
On Thursday I'll run last minute errands and then hitch my rig, PinkMagic, to my pink car.
Very early Friday morning I'll meet my film team and we'll head first to Sedona AZ and then Zion Nat'l Park in Utah.
The time has come, as the walrus said...Read more
Yesterday Mike and I booked the first big part of our honeymoon for next summer - a beautiful cabin set in between Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. It's exciting for sure, but also, terrifying...
Why does something this simple have to be so scary for me? I spent entirely too much time online checking reviews and double checking other options and stretching everything out that I could last night. Instead of just finding a place, booking it, and moving on. As time stretched on, Mike grew mildly frustrated (understandably!) and just wanted me to book the thing. Sometimes, I really need his push. Sometimes, the thought of committing to a plan that is over 6 months away is so so hard. Sometimes, all I can think about is “But what if you die before then?”.
Travel is always a specifically hard one for me, because Drew was halfway across the country when he died. And what’s worse, is that I had plane tickets fly from Dallas and see him three weeks after he arrived in Washington. He died a week before I was supposed to go up. Ever since then, I’ve had a hard time with actually committing to big travel expenses like plane tickets and hotel bookings. That part of me that was so traumatized by his sudden death is always in the background thinking “but what IF Sarah… what IF…”Read more