When I first began seeing my therapist, shortly before Babydoll's Daddy passed away, I was struggling with the idea of no longer being half of a couple. His passing was imminent and we had been us for so long, I didn't know how not to be us.
I was sitting on her couch, legs tucked under me and tissue clutched in hand, when I asked her: "When will we become just me?" She looked at me, with a slightly sad smile and said simply: "It's going to take awhile. But you'll get there."
Nearly a year later, I have gotten to the point where I am mostly thinking in terms of "me" and "I" instead of "us" and "we." It's been hard. It's been shitty.
It really fucking sucked, to be blunt.
When I started this blog, after the birth of our daughter, I would have never guessed the direction it would take. The point of my writing, then, was to track our progress as a family in becoming healthier, happier, and tighter. It was more for me, than anyone else. A place to store recipes I came up with; the transitions we made in what we ate; the struggles we faced as new parents and then as parents of a toddler; my personal struggles with being an impatient person, a working mother, a Judgy McJudgerson, basically an unhappy lady.
Lord, if I'd only known then the extent of unhappiness I could feel, I'd have kept my damn mouth shut and just stuck to ranting about GMOs and toddler terrorism.
The thing is, I've learned a lot and done a lot in a year's time. I've had a few breakdowns and more than a few rebounds. What cancer did to our family, and what I allowed BD's mother to do to our family, as bad as that all was, I'm a better person for it. That's the point, right? God wouldn't have thrust so much upon me if I didn't have a few things to learn. It was an opportunity to grow. I have made peace with that.
I still miss him. Every day, I miss him. I still love him. I've come to terms with who he was and who we were as a couple, and I've sorted through the guilt and grief associated with that. That was a real bitch of a process, let me tell you.
What you don't know, until you lose someone you really love, is the extent to which you can miss them. It's unfathomable. It's consistent. It sometimes takes over your whole being. It becomes an extra body part, in that you always carry it with you, no matter where you go or what you do. You forget what it was like to NOT miss them.
So, anyway. Just some things that have been floating around in my brain lately. Thanks for hanging out with me. Have a great day!
It really fucking sucked, to be blunt.
When I started this blog, after the birth of our daughter, I would have never guessed the direction it would take. The point of my writing, then, was to track our progress as a family in becoming healthier, happier, and tighter. It was more for me, than anyone else. A place to store recipes I came up with; the transitions we made in what we ate; the struggles we faced as new parents and then as parents of a toddler; my personal struggles with being an impatient person, a working mother, a Judgy McJudgerson, basically an unhappy lady.
Lord, if I'd only known then the extent of unhappiness I could feel, I'd have kept my damn mouth shut and just stuck to ranting about GMOs and toddler terrorism.
The thing is, I've learned a lot and done a lot in a year's time. I've had a few breakdowns and more than a few rebounds. What cancer did to our family, and what I allowed BD's mother to do to our family, as bad as that all was, I'm a better person for it. That's the point, right? God wouldn't have thrust so much upon me if I didn't have a few things to learn. It was an opportunity to grow. I have made peace with that.
I still miss him. Every day, I miss him. I still love him. I've come to terms with who he was and who we were as a couple, and I've sorted through the guilt and grief associated with that. That was a real bitch of a process, let me tell you.
What you don't know, until you lose someone you really love, is the extent to which you can miss them. It's unfathomable. It's consistent. It sometimes takes over your whole being. It becomes an extra body part, in that you always carry it with you, no matter where you go or what you do. You forget what it was like to NOT miss them.
So, anyway. Just some things that have been floating around in my brain lately. Thanks for hanging out with me. Have a great day!
I stumbled across your blog last night while trying to find if anyone makes a sign, a cross-stitch, a balloon, anything that says "Thou Shalt Not Wallow". Guess I'll have to learn to cross-stitch, but your blog was a real find for me. My husband died suddenly 8 months ago tomorrow. I'm going through all the ups and downs you seem to be going through and I want to thank you for making me feel like I'm not losing my mind. It's going to be a long road, and I'm not sure I'm ever going to get there, but I'm trying hard to function normally. I, too, have my "rocks," two wonderful daughters who have been right there with me through it all. I'm also going through all the guilt and grief, and I have a hard time imagining they'll ever go away. Honestly, after reading a few of your entries I felt like we were twins, separated at birth. Thanks for putting it all out there.
ReplyDeleteBeth...I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm so sorry that your girls lost their dad. It's been such a struggle to rise out of the hell that is loss and grief. And on those rare days when I think I might actually have it all together, someone makes a comment that sends me plummeting right back down into the pit. Give your girls some extra-tight squeezes. Give yourself a break on those really bad days. You're not alone. You can do it.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jess. I know just what you mean. Yesterday it was the junk mail that set me off. One of my husband's heath issues was diabetes, and when he died, we asked friends to give to the American Diabetes Association. A lot of them made contributions, and ADA notified us of each one. BUT THEY KEPT MY HUSBAND ON THEIR F-ING MAILING LIST, AND NOT A WEEK GOES BY WITHOUT ME GETTING JUNK MAIL ADDRESSED TO HIM, ASKING WHY HE'S STOPPED CONTRIBUTING!!!! (There, I got THAT out of my system.) Small stuff, but sometimes it's all it takes to send me off the ledge...I could write a book about stupid stuff people say when they first see you after a death. How hard is it to just say "I'm sorry for your loss"?
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