Thursday, July 21, 2011

Paranoid Mess/ Crying over 311 tunes

So, my family went to see a musical tonight at the Kennedy Center in DC.  I didn't go with them.  I had a ticket, but just couldn't get myself there.  I have such a hard time when I am not able to motivate myself to do things with them.  I could never figure out why I felt so horrible about staying behind.  It's the worst feeling of anxiety.  It dawned on me tonight what this feeling is.  It is a feeling of dread.  I am terrified that if I am not there, that something awful will happen to them.  As if my mere presence is enough to keep them safe.  I can't shake this feeling.  I won't rest until they are home safe.  I couldn't possibly handle the worst my mind can project in these situations.  This is a huge problem.  I can not live like this.  I must find help.  And fast. 

I've been listening to a lot of 311 today.  I listened to "Uplifter" so much when TJ died.  I haven't listened to it in about 2 months.  I threw it on tonight and it took me right back to the day he died.  That night the only song that came to me was Never Ending Summer.  There is a chant at the beginning that goes "3 11, 3 3 11".  It gives me chills just thinking about it now.  After that night, other songs from Uplifter came to me.  It's Alright played in my mind... "Stay with me.  Here with me."  And then "Never Ending Summer" also has "So tell me, can this all be real?"  This pain.  This loss.  How can this be real?  How can he be gone?  Why can't he just stay with me.  Here with me.  Where I need him to be.  Where he needs to be.  He had so much more to do.  Now their new album is out.  We were both waiting for that so eagerly.  Following Pnut and Nick on Twitter.  Checking in on all the studio recording buzz from them.  Now it's here, and it's an amazing album.  And he's not here to hear it.  To feel it.  I want to see them when they come around here.  They're on tour now.  But the thought of attending a 311 show without TJ brings tears to my eyes.  It stings terribly.  I've never been to a show without him.  Years and years of seeing them once, sometimes twice a year.  And never again.  Never again will I feel him behind me, arms around my waist, hearing his voice singing in my ear as we belt out the songs together.  Watching him close his eyes, feeling the music.  Fist in the air, head bobbing.  Fuck.  Thinking about this is tearing me up right now.  This is royally fucked.  He needs to be here.  He needs to stay with me, here with me, forever.


Stealing Happy Hours is playing on my random playlist right now.  Fuck me.  I need more time.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

The Tides Have Changed

I feel just awful.  I can't seem to shake it.  The pain is intensifying.  I feel like no matter what I do, no matter where I am, it is always going to be there.  I know this is true, but at the same time I welcome any kind of relief from it.  The weight is crushing these days.  I'm not sure why it has gotten so much harder than it ever was in the previous months.  But it is.  Nothing I do helps anymore.  I'm taking time to find a new therapist.  I need something.  Anything.  I just don't know how I'll ever move through this current state of mind.  It seems almost impossible that a person could survive this amount of heartache.  I have no idea how this is done.  How it's been done for centuries upon centuries by every human.  Loss.  I know there are myriad ways that humans experience death and life after.  How do we survive?  How do we pick up the pieces and keep moving?  I wish I knew.  It completely blows my mind on a constant basis that this has happened.  That he really is dead and gone.  Was he even real?  Was he ever mine?  I have to remind myself.  I know that might sound absurd, but I really do have to remind myself.  Having him with me, near me; hearing his voice, being able to reach out and touch him... it seems like it was just a dream.  The time that has passed isn't long at all, and yet it feels like he's lifetimes away.  Like our intense love together was a dream I'd had once. 

What am I going to do?  How will I live?  What do I want?  I have no idea how to answer these questions that I ask myself daily.  Just thinking about those questions creates a giant knot in my stomach.  Fear and pain all bundled up into one obstruction deep down in the pit.  I want to break it up and allow it to flow through me.  But it just seems to grow larger.

In earlier entries I spoke often about the pain but knowing that I would be ok.  These days, that is not where my mind goes.  Now, I'm not sure.  The pain is blinding.  I can't see forward most of the time.  I can see no light.  I still know deep down that I will not literally die from this pain, but feeling it so heavily really does make me wonder.  I know that I will never be the same again.  Certain things will not change, but I don't think anyone can go through something this tragic and come out the same as they were before.  I know that I will miss TJ every day for the rest of my life.  I hope that it won't always be this painful.  I can't see how it could be, but really, what do I know?  I've never done this before.

I had a long evening with an old classmate a few weeks ago.  Three years ago, her husband was severely beaten and after nine months in a coma passed away.  While we talked, I told her "I know I'll be ok".  I can't remember her exact words, but I think she was very surprised at that statement.  That I could be so sure that I'd be ok eventually.  She shared with me that she never felt sure.  And now I get it.  I completely understand the surprise.  I am surprised that I could blindly repeat that to myself over and over and believe it wholeheartedly.  I can't force my mind to go there anymore.  I try to be optimistic, but it's a lot harder now.  I understand where she was coming from.  The doubt is overwhelming for me now.

The only thing I knew for certain when TJ died that morning was that this was going to be hell.  That it would be the hardest thing I would ever have to do in my entire life.  I stood at the threshold of this new existence with my arms open and my head back, pushing out my chest.  Bring it on.  I said all the time that I didn't care how bad it got.  That I just wanted to feel it.  Well, it's pretty fucking bad right now.  It could get worse.  It could get better.  It could get worse again.  And as brave as I felt taking on this new journey, I'm not feeling so brave anymore.  I want to avoid this pain.  I want to find any type of relief.  God, please help me.  

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

No Apologies

I swear, I should start counting how many times a day the words "I'm sorry" come out of my face.  Not tonight.  What the fucking fuck?  How could this have happened?  How could this have happened to us?  We were so happy.  Everything was damn near perfect.  We had goals, we had plans.  We were going to get old together.  Why us?  I am so angry.  Why can't we have those things?  Why did we both have to give up our future?  We were going to move, pay off debt, start a family... I want a family.  I want a family with TJ.  That's all I have ever really wanted.  I was just biding my time for it to happen for us.  When he was ready.  I wanted him to be ready.  I didn't want an accident.  I wanted him to be excited.  He was so excited to be a dad.  All of the looks, all of the love, all of the hugs... the excitement of wondering if we were pregnant.  What if?  He wouldn't even let me drink beer after a negative test 'just in case it was too early to tell'.  Why did we have to give everything up?

I would kill to have what other people have.  Instead, I have to completely abandon all of my hopes and dreams and start all over.  That's fucking hard.  HARD.  Why me?  I have tried so hard to be strong, to be positive, to fake pure joy.  But fuck that.  Why me?  Why did this have to happen?  Everything I wanted.  Everything I ever wanted.  I want TJ.  I want a life with him.  I don't want anything else.  Nothing I have tried to help me take the edge off is working.  I need TJ.  I need our life back.  I need to be pregnant with his child.  The most beautiful baby in the world.  Life would have been perfect.  Would have been.  It's fucking not.  It's fucking GONE.  All of the life in me, all except what I need to live and breathe each day in this shell of myself, is gone.  I have to magically conjure up effort constantly.  And not only that, but I have to make a new life.  Let me repeat that; a new LIFE.  A life.  No tweaking my pattern of thought.  A complete upheaval and change.  I've spent 30 years developing the life I had up until March 3rd.  And it evaporated into thin air.  Will it take me another 30 years to figure out a new future?  I'll be 60 before I know what I want again.  I've tried to be all sunshine and rainbows and hopeful and "I know I'll be alright".  Who am I kidding?  I don't know anything at all.  The only thing I know for certain is pain.  I try to feel other things.  I do feel other things.  But pain is always there, underneath it all.  Until you have your earth shattered, you don't know pain like this.  I thought I knew pain.  I thought when we wouldn't get along, when I felt lonely even with him in the next room that that was pain.  That was nothing.  That could be changed.  I have no second chance this time.  I had one short part of my life to share with TJ and now it's gone forever.  Forever.  Never again.  Twelve years is a long time.  But in the lifespan?  It's a drop in the bucket.  I was supposed to have him for our entire lives!  Our old farty, grey, lives.  Not for just twelve years.  We had more loving to do.  We still need each other.

I am so fearful that where ever TJ is he can't feel my love that still flows out of every pore.  I am terrified that he has no consciousness.  I need to give him my love forever.  I need to know he can feel it still.  I will never know for sure.  That kills me.  I am NOT done.  I will never be done.  What the hell is going on?  I can't believe it.  I just can't believe it.  This is not fair.  This is complete bullshit.  How could this have happened to us?  We were great for each other.  Everyone has their issues, but we worked at them.  We were prepared to grow together.  To get old together.  To help each other through life.  Now we are separated.  He in death and I in life.  What the hell are we supposed to do now?

I need his love, and he needs mine.  I can't feel his love anymore.  Not directly.  I know he loved me intensely.  I have letters to prove it.  But that every day feeling is gone.  Can he feel mine?  I am desperate to put as much love out of me as possible in thoughts of him.  To profess my love to him constantly in the hope that he can feel it.  Maybe if I try hard enough he will feel me.  And if he can feel me, maybe he can try hard enough so I can feel him.  I am desperate to feel him again.  In any way possible.  In the breeze, in my sleep, in someone elses kind eyes.

I don't feel secure.  I am just floating around, ping ponging off of trial and error.  I need to be grounded.  TJ was my anchor.  I will not worry about this entry.  I will not worry about what anyone thinks about this entry.  This is how I feel.  There are no two ways about it.  Right now, I am angry.  I am gutted.  The truth hurts.  This is what is going on with me right now.  No sugar coating this time.  Moments like this pass, but for the first time I am showing you while I'm in the thick of it.  This is darkness.  This is the pit.  I am face down, and it feels like there is a weight pinning me down to prevent me from turning over to see the light above.  Fuck this feeling.  Fuck this emptiness.  I am desperate for relief. 

In some sick twisted way I hope everyone I know reads this.  I don't know what my goal would be in having everyone read it.  I just need to be real.  This is real.  My other entries are real, too.  But this is hard, hard, work.  Grief is no joke.  It is constant struggle, it is pain, it is sorrow, it is longing.  I want to show it.  Not to bring anyone down with me, of course. I don't wish this on anyone.  Never ever could I wish this pain even on the worst human being alive.  If I could, I would shield all of humanity against this horror.  I just want to try and show you how it is.  Show you my desperation.  Show you that I need you.  That I need some small fits of relief.  That I need love and care.  I have tried not to lean on any one person in particular too much if I can help it.  I can't do it right now; I admit that I need help.  I can't stand on my own right now.  I am fighting for my life.  A joyful, genuine, and healthy life.  But right now, I feel like an army of one.  I am fighting alone.  I have to fight alone.  No one can do this for me.  I know this.  I just need your love.  Your arms.  Your ears.  Your words.  I need to feel love.  Any kind of love that I can get.  Nothing will ever replace the love I felt from TJ.  But I need something.  Anything.  I need to feel something other than this pain.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Remembrance and Philosophy

It's been a while since my last post.  It's not that I haven't had anything to say, really.  I've just been so tired.  Emotionally and physically.  Some new events have taken place.  TJ's uncle died unexpectedly on July 4th.  Heart attack.  He was just 54.  The funeral was today.

Last night was rough.  Knowing what I'd have to do, and the fear of the unknown kept me up most of the night.  My stomach was upset the entire time.  Of course, the obvious reason for stress was knowing I would be attending a funeral only 4 months after my husbands.  But not knowing how I would feel.  How I would react.  I loved Uncle Spud like my own.  He was my family, too.  The friendliest guy you'd ever meet.  I remember when I first met him.  I went to shake his hand and he pulled me close for a big bear hug.  Those must run in the family, bear hugs.  He was always so glad to see me.  The same greeting each time; "Hey baaaby, how you been?!"  Or "Hey baaaaby, how you be?"  My response was "I be good" and I'd giggle as we embraced.  He'd always slip TJ money into his pocket when we would part ways.  I could hear him say quietly "go have a good time".  He was so loving and so generous.  Being an ob/gyn was always a fun topic when it came to TJ and I starting a family.  One thanksgiving after we'd been married a few years, Uncle Spud looked at me and said he was going to put his mojo on me so I'd get pregnant.  TJ, being funny, lunged in front of me like a slow motion action flick saying "noooooooo!"  As if he were taking a bullet from me.  We all had a good laugh about that.  But I think my fondest memory of Uncle Spud will always be the memory of TJ's funeral.  I'd been sitting next to my father, and my in laws during the service.  And when it ended, I had to follow TJ's casket down the aisle to exit.  My dad had to leave me to be a pallbearer, and so I was walking alone.  Tear streaked glasses, tissue in hand, I tried to make my legs work.  It took all of the strength I had to make them move.  To take each step forward.  Just when I thought I could walk no further, I felt two big strong arms wrap around me.  I looked up over my left shoulder and it was Uncle Spud.  I let my legs give way, and said through my tears, almost in a wail "Oh, Uncle Spud!"  As I let him hold me up, he said "Don't worry, I got cha baby.  It's gonna be ok".  I felt so safe.  If it weren't for him, I don't know how I would have continued that walk behind my husband's casket.  He guided me out of the church and shielded the crowd from me.  And then once he was sure I was safe and secure, went off to find my coat.  He tried to give me his, but it was freezing and I knew mine was around somewhere.  I wore his long black dress coat until mine surfaced.  He always was so kind and loving.  I will miss him dearly.

The service today was beautiful.  A full house.  Part of the sermon really was so appropriate.  For all of our family who is grieving yet another loss of a young life.  The preacher said "Life sneaks up on you, catches you unaware, and slaps you in the face."  His context was to always look to God in that situation.  To never curse God, but to turn to him for strength.  I'm not so sure about that part.  But, to hear that kind of honesty about life was refreshing.  It wasn't all about God and religion.  Just the simple fact that life can do that to a person for no particular reason.  The saying "everything happens for a reason" I believe in half heartedly.  TJ's death was a moment when life snuck up on me, caught me unaware, and slapped me in the face.  I don't feel like he was taken from me for any particular reason.  I don't feel like I'm being punished.  I don't feel like TJ was taken for a higher purpose.  It's just life.  And death is a part of life.  I know TJ was taken from me.  But I have nowhere to point my finger.  It just happened.  It sucks.  And no amount of anything will bring him back to me.  It is one of life's biggest mysteries.  The unknown is so hard to comprehend, and to accept.  I will never know why he was taken from me when he was.  I have given up on that question.  It's just a fact that he is gone and he won't come back.

I don't mean any of this in a negative way.  I consider myself very spiritual and I have settled on a scientific theory I'd heard TJ speak of many times.  The body is energy.  And it is a fact that energy never dies out.  It merely is redistributed.  TJ is not gone.  TJ is not just in the dirt.  TJ's energy has been redistributed, back into the universe to continue on.  I was with him in that ambulance when he first lost his pulse.  I was with him in the hospital room when the nurses and doctors stopped CPR.  I feel that along with my many years of learning from TJ that I was also fortunate enough to absorb that positive energy that he released back into the world.

TJ will always be with me.  He is a part of me forever.  His memory, and his energy.  I know that I can not have him the way our life was intended.  But when I feel like I don't want to move, when I feel like I don't know how to live, I turn to him.  To TJ.  I conjure up the strength to keep on living for us both.  To be the woman he knew I could be.  To create the life for myself that he would want me to have.  To find the happiness he knew I could find.  I am eternally grateful for our time together.  And those times together will help me to continue to take those steps forward.