The house is on fire...
Man - these last few weeks have been rough. It’s just life in general. When you’re “unmoored,” as my therapist likes to call it, anything that is unsettling (even when it’s not pertaining to your life) becomes very hard to navigate, manage, and grapple. I drove home the other day in tears because I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and I had no one to share the burden with. I guess this is the “growing pains” of learning how to “fly solo” when you’re used to being a party of 2. It’s a lot harder than I thought (even for an independent person like myself). I’ve gotten so accustomed to sharing my life with you that it’s hard when I have no one to share my life, stories, and “gossip” with. Even if I call all my family and friends and “share” with them what’s going on, it still doesn’t really help that much. Don’t get me wrong, it helps, but it’s not the same. I still feel like something is missing when I can’t tell you about it. The bad days are hard since I have no one to comfort me or make me feel better, but ironically, the good days are even harder. They bring me to tears faster and worse than the bad days. Every accomplishment or achievement feels like a slap in the face; a constant reminder of the big hole in my life. It makes me think about all the things you’re missing out on and aren’t here to witness anymore. I still have days where the thought of you never coming home makes my heart skip a beat or two. Then there are other days where I feel like our life was the fantasy, like it never happened, and it was just a dream, a figment of my imagination.
For awhile now, I feel like I’m living someone else’s life. A life that is no longer mine. A life that I no longer fit in or feel comfortable in. I think I’ve sense this for awhile now, but I wasn’t willing or ready to admit or accept it yet, so I kept myself super busy and distracted. I traveled a lot and made lots of plans on the weekends, so I wouldn’t have to be home by myself the entire day. If I didn’t have plans on the weekend, I would get anxiety that I would have to stay home the entire day by myself with nothing to do (even though there’s plenty to do at home, like clean out your closet and konmari my stuff) so I would start calling people to fill up my calendar. I also kept myself really busy at work (with extracurricular activities from the women’s group) so I would have things to do when I got home in the evenings.
I guess “avoidance” was my way of dealing and coping with the realization that I was mentally ready to step outside of the “middle room.” But, I guess my heart wasn’t ready for me to leave the “middle room,” so it found ways to keep me distracted so I wouldn’t have to deal with the tug of war. Remember, the tug of war that was raging inside of me when I was getting ready to leave “grief” and enter the “middle room”?? That period was rough!! I guess I didn’t want to have to go through that mental and emotional turmoil again, so without realizing, I closed my eyes and made a mad dash through the door and out of the “middle room” (I guess, subconsciously, this was a “rip the bandaid” kind of step for me). I just closed my eyes and sprinted out of the “middle room” as fast as I could. Maybe my subconscious knew it was the only way I could survive and get through this part of the journey. But, in my mad dash to get out of the “middle room,” I didn’t do the relevant or necessary work I needed to prepare myself for the next part of this journey. I didn’t pack or put forth any thought into figuring out what I wanted to bring with me. I just ran out of the house frantically like it was a 5 alarm fire. I didn’t have time to grab anything but the clothes on my back.
I literally closed my eyes and jumped off the cliff. Now that I’ve landed, I realize I’m naked, exposed, and ill equipped for the next phase of this journey. I don’t have the proper gear to keep going. I guess I have to do some backtracking (ain’t this journey a B****!!). I guess this is where you would say, “SY, haste makes waste!!” I know I keep trying to sprint to the finish line even though I know there’s no finish line on this journey, it still hasn’t stopped me from wanting to reach that non-existent finish line as quickly as possible. This isn’t a marathon either, so pacing myself isn’t going to work either. I keep wanting to outrun my widowhood status, but what I really need to do is learn to how to sit and be comfortable with it. I need to learn how to embrace it and accept it because it’s never going away. It’s a part of me. It’s a part of who I am now. It’s a part of my story, BUT it doesn’t have to define me.
P.S. Do you remember how you would sometime introduce me as “your other half” or “your better half”?? I always hated when you did that. It really bothered me to the point where I would always ask you “Why must you always introduce me as only half a person?!” It never really sat well with me and it always bothered and annoyed me to the point where I literally had to tell you to stop doing that?! I always thought it was something you did because you saw it on TV, but maybe you knew something that I hadn’t quite grasp or understand until now. Yes, I’m all grown up now, I’m able to admit when you’re right! I love you babe...I miss you so much it hurts!
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A grieving widow who is trying to find meaning and purpose from her tragic event.