Waving the white flag?!
It’s been awhile since we last talked, I find it hard nowadays to “write” to you. Not because I don’t have anything to share with you or because somehow I’ve magically gotten over you or anything like that - if anything, I find this part of my journey even harder than the grieving part. I find myself trapped inside a ditch with no plans for a great escape. I’m just so tired and exhausted from standing on my tippy toes with my back against the wall of the ditch trying to catch the glimmer of hope that’s supposed to be waiting for me when I can one day free myself from this hell I’m trapped in. I constantly ask myself, “When will this pain ever end?!” I’m waving the white flag and wanting a truce with grief. I’m done battling. I’m done fighting. I don’t have the emotional and mental strength or fortitude to deal with this SHIT anymore. I don’t want to process or self-reflect anymore. I don’t want to find out why or what it all means anymore (like honestly, how will understanding why it happened or knowing what it all means help me anyways? Will knowing any of these things make me feel better or bring you back??) I just don’t want to be sad anymore. I don’t want to feel like I’m waking up each morning to live a life that I didn’t choose or that doesn’t make sense anymore. I don’t want to be a widow anymore. Why won’t this pain ever end. When will this pain ever end? When will I stop crying and feeling sorry for myself?! When will my heart stop aching and yearning for you? When will I become comfortable with sleeping by myself and not waking up multiple times throughout the night?? When will any moment of joy I feel or experience not be shrouded with bittersweetness of longing to share these moments with you? When will my heart feel full again? And, most importantly, why does being a widow somehow mean I’m no longer capable of making my own decisions and / or gauging my own feelings and emotions? Like I need to be told what I should or should not do or what I’m ready or not ready for or how I should feel or not feel. I’m a widow, I’m not three years old. I don’t need people to tell me what I should or should not do or what I’m ready or not ready for or what I should feel or not feel. Until you have walked in my shoes or understand the pain that resides in my heart, you have no right to tell me anything. And I’m tired of hearing how strong I am. WTF does that even mean?? What does “strong” have to do with anything? I’m strong because I choose to wake up each morning and live?? I’m strong because I can smile and laugh even though my husband died?? I’m strong because I can function and keep my shit together after suffering the trauma of my husband’s sudden, untimely, and nonsensical death?? I don’t do these things because I’m strong. I do these things because I have no other choice. I can stay trapped in the ditch forever, or I can continue to fight and claw my way to the top.
As long as I’m still breathing, I will never stop fighting. I will never stop clawing my way out of this ditch (aka hell) I’m stuck in. But, once in awhile, every warrior needs a break from all the fighting and clawing. So, technically, I’m not waving the white flag and giving up. I’m just calling a timeout with grief. I just need a break from widowhood to recharge (aka read more young adult love stories with Asian-Americans as the heroine, read more widow books and blogs, eat lots of food, knit, going to plays, hanging out with family and friends, doing nothing at all), so I can garner the strength to continue fighting for my life and clawing my way out of this ditch (aka hell) I’m stuck in!!
I feel like I’ve been stuck in the eye of the storm for the last 9 ½ months, and the tornado has finally started to dissipate and die off. The tornado spit me out, and somehow I survived, but now I’m left to assess the damage it caused. As I look around, everything seems familiar but nothing feels the same. I don’t know what to hold on to and what to let go of. So, I’ll be chilling in my ditch until I can figure this out!!
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A grieving widow who is trying to find meaning and purpose from her tragic event.