I lost the house this week.
It's ok. Really. I've had a lot of time to think about it. My own personal faith tells me, well, this is where God/the Universe wants to move you.
So, here I go.
How did he pass away? It’s a question I have hated answering. Up until now I’ve avoided that question out of fear of being judged. I recently read an inspiring article by Elizabeth Ann titled “Dear Judgy Lady on Facebook”. It bought tears to my eyes and made me look at myself and think, where is my backbone! Elizabeth gave me the courage to face one of my fears, judgement.
Definition of the word Junkie
– A person with a compulsive habit or dependency on something.
The truth is I am a junkie, totally and completely addicted to John and to our love and our life. I had been addicted to him and infatuated with him since I first laid eyes on him at thirteen years old. He was the boy who at thirteen was the handsome, sporty and popular surfer guy. But whose heart was larger than a stereotype so he chose his circle of friends based not on their looks but on how they treated others. He was the boy who always stood up for the underdog, who fought for kindness and simplicity. Who chose not to be a sheep, because he knew he was a wolf. The boy who at thirteen was more of a man than most forty year olds. Who stood his ground on his beliefs always. The boy who was riddled with an anxiety disorder, but masked it perfectly to the world with a front of fearless confidence.
Despite his demons, he was a man I am proud of. He worked as a concreter six days a week in blistering heat despite having herniated disks in his back that caused extreme physical pain. Pain for which he required pain killers, that he tried desperately to abstain from, because yes he was as our perfect society calls it a junkie. To me though, to his family and friends he was so much more.Read more
No one thinks about the prospect of being widowed when they get married. You are starting a brand new life together and things look shiny and new. But think about it. Fifty per cent of all people who get married (and stay married) will ultimately be widowed. Eventually, one of them will die. When I exclaimed to a friend how surprised I was about how many widowed friends I have, they said, well, people get married, and they die.
This is my life now, living with grief is a daily battle. It never ends, we just try to adapt to life with grief. Last week I was filled with a new found strength. I used this strength to put more effort into my job and was proud that I felt as though I was finally escaping the fog. That was until I was pulled into a meeting at the end of what I thought had been a productive week for me. And the words from my employer’s mouth were basically that they can see I am only functioning at about 30% and I need to give them more.
I knew this already, I feel bad about my performance at work and I am the first to admit I’m not all there. Will I ever be again?Read more
There's nothing special, or particular, about Saturdays. And I’m not sure when, how or why it started. Maybe a few months ago. Somewhere along the way I just started noticing how quickly the weeks seem to be speeding by. Yawn. Oh, wow, another Saturday morning already. How is that possible?
I lie there staring at the ceiling for a few moments before getting out of bed to let the dogs out. I try to fathom how much life I’ve lived without Mike already. I wonder how many more Saturdays I will wake without him.
This week I have been filled with and unexpected strength, I have still cried almost every day but I feel strong within myself for the first time in a long time. I’ve struggled with insomnia since December. Generally waking two or three times a night. It probably doesn’t help that I don’t usually go to be till around 11 and with continuous broken sleep I still somehow cannot sleep in past 6.30am.
The other morning I woke after only four hours sleep, I made myself a coffee and walked outside to gather my thoughts. At first sight I noticed light filled rain drops resting on leaves and with that I was taken back to last year. To the memories of falling asleep with John on hot rainy nights and waking in his arms to vibrant sunny mornings.
With that, I thought to myself there are times in life now that it rains and it pours. Storm clouds roll in and it feels as though they are here to stay. However we weather it out and sunlight inevitably breaks through the dark clouds leaving behind beautiful drops of dew.Read more
15 years ago today, as I type this, Mike and I were awakened sometime after 3 AM Hawaii time by a phone call. In those days it was still landlines, so Mike groggily stumbled into the living room to answer it, and came back and woke me, handing me the phone, and saying, it’s your mom, I think there was a hurricane or something.
The house where I grew up, where my parents still live, is only a few miles from the Pentagon. So mom was calling to let us know she and dad were ok. I sat up in bed. Why, what’s wrong? I asked. Oh don’t you know, oh my gosh turn on your television right now.
For the past month it has been difficult to ignore the father's day cards that existed on stands in shopping centres almost everywhere I looked. Mentally trying to prepare for the day “it’s just another day, no different from any other”.
When the day arrived I woke with that mindset, it’s just another day. I called my dad to wish him a great day and with that the memories from last father’s day flooded in.
Leaving the house to visit family, tears flowed and my mood became dark. Families were out and about riding their bikes together down the street, having breakfast in the park and living out their lives.
It hurt! Seeing smiling faces everywhere, I felt angry that I no longer have what they have.
My complete family.
I wondered do they even know how lucky they are.
This has been a week during which my world has been dominated by Biology 101. I have to smile as I type that, because I never, ever imagined I would be excited about studying biology, of all things. You have to know, my mom was a biologist and spent most of her career as a college level teacher. She’s retired now, but she was always telling me about how people “of a certain age” would come through her doors preparing for a new career, and that it was never too late for me. I always shooed her and her science aside, me of the right brain-dominated world. So I think she’s a little surprised herself that I’ve taken this leap towards a healthcare field. And something feels right about it for me, that maybe I’m finally taking a little of my mom’s advice. And it’s nice to parley with her in that very specific lingo.
Usually I would write a blog post separate from my personal blog for Widows Voice. However this week has been a rough one, we all have them. Rather than write a totally new post I want to share a post I wrote earlier in the week that shows the dark side of grief. The side that most feel they need to hide.
I want to tell you, it’s ok to not be ok!
So today I am ok, but not that day.
That day emotions ran wild and it felt as though I was thrown back into December. To the month that shattered the world as I knew it. That day I was not ok, but that’s ok!
That day I hurled breakable possessions at walls, I screamed at the top of my lungs with no one around to hear. That day I tore the house apart, I stared at my broken reflection and watched tears fall from blood shot swollen eyes. That day I wanted to die.
That day I was angry that I have to be here, that day there was so much pain. Digging nails into my flesh and pulling at my hair, I screamed for him to take the pain away.Read more