Things are hard.
Life is hard.
Sometimes I am convinced that life is much harder for some than for others.
Sometimes it feels like I can never get a break.
Sometimes it feels like I will always struggle and things will always be really hard,
and that is just how my life will be.
I dont know.
None of this is fact.
This blog will be short because I had a lasik procedure this week and my eyes get tired quickly.Read more
Lately I’ve been feeling some sort of an emptiness. After Drew died, for a lot of years, I was doing a lot of creative work around my grief. I was finding visual ways to express this inner world and sharing it with others. There was something about that work that felt so purposeful. It felt like I was doing something important for myself, and indirectly for others a bit too. Mainly, I felt like I was expressing who I was and what I cared about in a really bold way, and it felt right. It felt like I was being myself more fully than I ever had before. Talking about the realities of grief and loss and pain and also courage and creativity and resiliency.
Fast forward now seven years, and I’m finding myself not the person I had hoped I’d be… “by now”. This emptiness almost feels like it comes out of the absence of the really deep pain I was in during those early years. Life has kept on going, and I have kept on living it in many bold and beautiful ways. My life now though is far less governed by my grief and my pain. As the years go on, the pain softens, and somehow I have struggled to know what to do with myself without the agony of fresh grief. I’ve struggled to have a voice without that central idea of pain and lossRead more
Yesterday something happened at a doctors office that sent me straight back into 23 years ago,
when I just barely lived through a traumatic event,
and joined the ranks in becoming the 2-words that I would grow to absolutely loathe
,and feel shame about for a very long time:
After awhile, I began shifting from using the term "victim", and replacing it with "survivor,"
but this change in vocabulary did not do anything for my lifelong trauma and PTSD and massive bouts of anxiety and panic.
Calling myself a survivor instead of a victim was supposed to make me feel more powerful somehow.
But trauma has all the power, and when it wants to take you down a few notches, it makes itself known.
Trauma is a funny thing.
Well, not "ha-ha funny", but more peculiar funny, I suppose.
Trauma and PTSD lie dormant, and then come back.
They sit still for hours or days or months even, and then something happens to bring them out again,
roaring and screaming and pleading to be heard.Read more
It’s an interesting thing how people around you say they understand and they will be there for you. However when you have a tough day and they respond by saying:
“I thought you said you were ok and moving on.”
“I was ok that day but there are no rules to what’s going on in my heart and my head.”
In all honesty I don’t know how to say what it feels like when you let someone in a little and they back away instead of standing by you. The best I can do is share the lyrics to P!NK’s song “Attic”Read more
I had my sister and a friend in town this past week and it was wonderful. We had a great time relaxing and just enjoying each others’ company. All of us are working a side business together with a big company and doing very well. The company had recently reached out to me and asked me to host a local event. What an honor and what an amazing time. Tin would have loved all of it.Read more
Since becoming an involentary widow almost 8 years ago, I have changed in many positive ways.
I am more empathetic.
I am more sympathetic.
I am less judgemental of people's lives and situations and circumstances.
I listen better.
I stop to talk with people more.
I find more meaning and beauty in very tiny things.
I exist in the moment more.
I love profoundly and deeply.Read more
Well the past two weeks I have been absent from blog writing. The first anniversary of Tin’s passing was quickly approaching and I honestly was scared. Scared to think about it. Scared to talk about it. Scared that when the day came, it would make it more true. For the first few months, holidays, birthdays I felt like it was a short enough time span to still be a dream yet the passing of the first anniversary meant it really wasn’t a dream. It wasn't a nighttime nightmare. It was reality...Read more
After our income fell drastically, we moved into a one-bedroom apartment at a great location; it’s only a 20 minute walk to Anisha’s school. However, it is not a big, character home like the ones her two best friends live in. Recently she said, “I wish we lived in a big house like my friends.” I can’t describe how hard the reduced income has been on me. For me it’s a lot harder than for my daughter because she doesn’t know any better since she doesn’t recall our previous home. I know I should not compare families. Various parent friends have told me, “Nothing good comes from comparing your family to other families. I know all of this, yet I still get frustrate when I see, or at least I think I see, other people enjoying easier lives.Read more
It is easy enough for most of us to identify with our own, “widowed” side of the story. We’re the ones left behind when our partner dies. We are all suddenly single parents, sole breadwinners, alone, scared, and confused. It doesn’t matter if we’ve had years to accept the impending death, or minutes.
But, what if we were on the other side of that coin? What if we knew we were the ones leaving others behind? If we knew that our children, partner, friends and family were going to have to be without us? What if we had to trust...REALLY trust that when we were gone, it would be horrible for our loved ones, but everything would be alright?
Even more risky, what if the riskiest thing we had to do was the one thing that kept us around longer?
This is what I’m thinking about this morning, after talking with an old friend yesterday.Read more