Mizpah

I know I am torturing myself but I can't help it.  Maybe someday I will, and maybe I will start to feel better but I just can't muster the strength right now.

Hahahaha, I like how you own it!  I believe that one day you're going to be sick of suffering and not want to be complicit in it anymore.  Until then, moan and wail if that's what you need.  I used to feel (and probably still do - just haven't gone through anything like this in a bit) that the best way to get "through" or "over" something is to let yourself truly, deeply, all-encompassingly suffer hardcore.  You seem to be nailing that one!  I'm sorry, buddy.  I hope you get some mental/emotional/soul relief soon. 

Sad-confused, I'm so sorry for your loss and for your daughter's.  Everything you say makes total sense. 

I'm 5+ years out, and some of the effects appear to be permanent.  For example, my priorities have changed.  Like you, I was very career-oriented.  Now, while I don't do a bad job, it is not my priority.  I don't think I'll ever care about it like I did pre-death.  And, honestly, I don't want to. 

When will you stop hurting?  Oh gosh.  That's different for everyone, and there will likely still be moments (forever?) in which we'll hurt.  For me, I started to feel like I was coming back to life a couple or few months before two years.  I was shocked to find I had a big capacity for excitement and joy and euphoria still - and could even develop feelings for another person - all things I truly did NOT anticipate.  It takes a long time, and my opinion is that "progress" can be so gradual that you don't even notice it and feel impatient.  It is the worst.  You're doing great given the context????  Because, really, like many of us, I'm sure you just want to lie on the ground and scream, "Nooooooo!!!!!," for all of eternity.  I'm thinking of you. 

She won, she kicked my ass.

Please take my little internal chant.  It's the only present I can give you.  (Yes, apparently I *am* gonna keep pushing it on you!)  I'm not into what you call "the woo stuff," but chanting this in my head truly helped me: "She is irrelevant - I am my center."  Breaking up is a recentering - from that space between two people, to inside of you. 

Glad he gave you the little ego boost you deserve, and that you're not backsliding.  Sounds positive!

Mikeeh, I will never forget my worst breakup.  The day after the breakup, there was a blizzard.  The streets were empty, except for heartbroken me, wandering in one of his big winter coats and my boots and sweatpants, crying, looking like a crazy person.  The hopelessness and emptiness were palpable.  A few weeks later, once I'd recovered a bit, I was in a grocery store, and I happened upon the yogurt he liked.  I burst into tears, thinking about how I didn't need to buy it anymore and how I'd never see him eating it across the table from me while we chatted.  In retrospect, I smile at my sweet sad former self, but at the time it was so intense.  I hope you'll look back at this from a happier future place, and that it comes quicker than you think it will. 

I didn't realize that (or how much) I had feared death (pre-loss) until I lost DH and suddenly actually didn't fear death.  I didn't court it, but I welcomed the idea of it. 

And then it changed again when I got pregnant and had my daughter a couple years ago.  Now I'm a crazy instinctive "mama bear" who is constantly assessing risk.  The thought of her living without me upsets me so much I could barely force myself to type that, and I'm similarly (more so) crazy about her father's safety and the most about hers. 

In the early days/months of widowhood, I thought DH's death was the only thing that mattered, the only influence, the only game-changer....  It shouldn't be surprising that other events/relationships have the power to change me as well, but it was at first.

Also, having lost DH in the way I did - he was standing on the sidewalk "minding his own business" when he was struck by a car/car accident - has made me realize anything fatal could happen at any moment.  I never felt invincible - it went beyond that.  It just never even crossed my mind sufficiently to even consider feeling invincible.  Which I suppose is what people mean when they say they felt invincible before - that it didn't seem relevant, risk I mean....

How are you faring, mikeeh? 

 

@Mizpah: You said that 5 plus years you could have been me.... I'm just wondering how is your life now? I guess I'm asking because I'm looking for any kind of hope.... Any advice...

 

My life is nothing like what I ever expected now.  It has really taught me not to get attached to ideas I have of myself or of life and the future, and even what I believe myself to want.... 

I have a daughter now.  She's two years old.  She's a "double widow baby" - her father is a widower (who I met by chance through my mother).  She's the sweetest and happiest.  I had lived in NYC for almost a decade when DH died, and in Boston for years before that - I was very much a city person.  I went to lectures and took classes and went to synagogue.  Now: I live in a very rural area, close to where I grew up.  I hike and camp and fish.  I'm a mother.  I didn't think it would happen for me after DH died, and honestly, I didn't really care - about anything.  I didn't seek death, but I also didn't fear it.  I didn't want anything that didn't involve DH.  Even after I became involved with my current boyfriend, if I heard song lyrics about love or something, it was DH I would think of.  Now, it's my boyfriend.  It happened without me noticing.  I have a family. 

(And this is not to say I've "forgotten" DH.  It's hard to explain my feelings now about him.  In the same way that it was unbearable in the beginning, it's a bit indescribable now.  I am so sad for him that his life was stolen.  I'm so sad for me that he was taken from me.  He didn't have the opportunity to live after what occurred.  I did.  It's not fair.  It's not ok, what happened to him.  It's not ok, what happened to us.  But I'm ok.)

My life would be unrecognizable to DH if he could see me now.  It would be unrecognizable to the me from back then.  I believed I would never have real feelings for another man.  I couldn't bring myself to make plans more than a couple days in advance.  I couldn't imagine a life without pain.   

For me, everything about grief has been extremely gradual.  And very individual: I have widow friends who are still on their own.  I have widow friends who "recoupled" very quickly.  I have widow friends who are married again, who have kids or are pregnant.  And I also have widow friends who are still mourning quite deeply.  Your way will be your way. 

As for advice....  This will vary from person to person and anything I say may not ring true for you.  But what comes to mind for me: Be as healthy as you can physically and mentally and emotionally.  Talk therapy can be the best thing for you.  Find a way or ways to honor your lost love in a way that feels meaningful to you.  For me, routine helped me get through the very dark early months/year.  Spend time outside.  Get sunshine.  Write if it helps you.  Lean on friends if it helps you.  Get it out.  Don't hold it in.  Allow yourself feelings - good and bad.  Be honest with yourself and others.  Take the solitude you need but don't overly isolate yourself.  Try not to become bitter if possible - it hurts, and it hurts those around you, and that, in turn, hurts you too by further isolating you.  Avoid thinking too far into the future for now - just live as well and as authentically as you can right now.  Don't pressure yourself or set the bar too high.  Your healing will happen so gradually you may not even see it or feel it.  But it is happening. 

There is hope. 

When I was just a few days out, DH's co-worker (who I'd never met) took me aside and told me he had to talk to me.  A few days later, we got together and he told me his story - a widower's story.  I looked at him, ten years out he was at that point, and I thought: if he survived, I can survive.  Because at that point, it didn't feel survivable.  I felt grief would kill me.  But it didn't.  If he could survive, I could survive.  And if I can survive, you can survive.  Just keep breathing. 

Oh hon.  Five plus years ago I was you.  I could've written nearly every word.

All those things people say....  I did a lot of nodding and smiling.  And also a lot of angry rejecting of those statements.  True or not, right now they have no meaning.  They are idiotic or hurtful white noise.  But if you can gain any shred of comfort from anything someone says, do. 

I phrased it then and I still phrase it the same way: bearing the unbearable. 

I lost him suddenly and unexpectedly.  He was my world.  We'd also planned to start a family.  When I knew he was gone, I turned to my mother and said, "My life is over."  And it was. 

Now, I think of it as being like a starfish.  Very very slowly and very very gradually, you will grow a new arm where the old one was.  It won't be the same.  But one day you will feel again.  Something other than hopelessness, misery, pure and total and overwhelming and raw grief and pain.  You will very slowly create a new life.  You will eventually, slowly, gradually, painfully in the beginning and possibly less so as time goes on, reenvision your future, a different future. 

It is a very dark time.  Wherever you can find it, turn toward the light - whether for you it's the company of friends, or being alone and writing, or sitting in some sunshine, or going to therapy, or being physically active, etc.  Slowly, gradually, over perhaps a long period of time, you will not hurt in such a soul-searing way.  There will be relief.  But for now, keep the bar set low.  Survive.  Mourn. 

We all know what you are feeling.  Thinking of you. 

Sadly, I think it means I have to let go of places I visited with my husband, and focus on new locales. It really depresses me.

 

How has everyone else's experiences been with travel as a widow/er?

I think that it will be much less sad going to new places, and there are so many beautiful places to go.  I did my first (major) traveling at 2 years out, to Paris and Israel.  It was amazing.  I was very nervous, but I credit the trip with bringing me back to life.  It can depend on so many things, including your outlook and expectations about travel/the trip, and feelings about solitude in general - even weather can really change an experience drastically.  So many factors.  Like klim, I suggest you check out the other thread going on traveling alone. 

(I went away on my birthday the first year he was gone, not far though, and did almost nothing - just went to a hotel on a river in the mountains.  I wanted to be away from people, and wanted to sit on a balcony under a blanket in the chilly air and stare at beauty, be sad, miss him, think, cry, write.  It was a success, hahahaha.)

Oh my Gd I'm so sorry.  So very sorry.  Your poor daughter must be beside herself.  My heart's breaking for her and all of you.  I'm sending love and my deepest sympathies.  I'm so sorry. 

When I was at about 2 years out, I went to Israel and Paris on my own.  I knew people who lived in both places, but wasn't with people the entire time, took trips on my own within the larger trip, and did the big flights alone.  It was a real turning point for me.  I was nervous the few days beforehand, but once I was on my way, it was so freeing and invigorating.  I highly recommend it. 

She says my wife brought us together so she could open my heart again.  She claims a sensitivity to emotions that can really bother her.  She finally told me last night that after every time we were together she had to do her little rituals to get the negativity out of her house and off of her.  That my negativity really affected her, but she loved me so much that it was something she put up with.

Huh?  This sounds manipulative.  This wouldn't sit well with me.  Maybe one day you WILL feel some anger, and less sadness.  (If I were you, I already would just based on the above.)

As for breakups in general, no contact always makes for faster healing.  Maybe un-following her on FB could be a good idea (and F her blog!).  I'm not spiritual at all, but during my worst breakup (when the man I was with for 8 years cheated on me and I had to rebuild a life), I chanted in my head almost like a mantra, "He is irrelevant.  I am my center."  Because in breakups we do what you're doing - count down to the next contact, think about being friends, etc., etc.  It's natural.  It's that emotional desperation to still be an "us," to still have an "us" with that person.  But recentering is the only thing that ends that pain.  It takes time.  It takes emotional pain.  It doesn't help that losing her brings you right back to widowhood and that initial emptiness, and probably compounds it.  It sucks.  I'm sorry. 

Edited because I can't stop thinking about how she tried to say that your wife brought you two together.  If anyone ever tried to invoke DH without knowing it was absolutely cool by me, ....  It's just not ok.  It's f'ed up.  I don't even know you, or your late wife, or this woman, but I'm getting angrier the more I think about this.  It sounds like this woman is very sensitive to her own experience and very insensitive to others'.  It's basic human relations 101 to know you don't say $h!t like this to a widow(er). 

An allergy to the word and idea of "strong" is very common in early widowhood - in widowhood in general.  My DH's people would say "be strong," almost as a goodbye every single time I saw them or talked to them.  So many different thoughts on this have gone through my mind over the years.  I'm not strong.  I am strong.  I'm not strong or weak.  There's no such thing as strong or weak in widowhood.  My current mindset is that I *am* strong because I am living without him.  Strong is not an absence of feeling.  Weak isn't crying. 

I will say, though, that I'm a big proponent of facing and accepting feelings, and I credit a lot of my "healing" to being brutally honest with myself and allowing myself to delve into dark feelings.  Do you have a therapist? 

Don't be too hard on yourself.  It's good to be around people if you can handle it and it feels good.  It's hard going home alone to a home you shared with the man you loved.  It makes sense to want to avoid that.  I'm thinking of you.

I'm so sorry you're suffering.  Breakups are so hard.  I'm thinking of you. 

Oh, gg, it's a terrible terrible feeling.  Your life HAS been shattered, and your present and future feel like a black hole of despair and hopelessness and who even cares because he's gone and how can any of this possibly be?  We've all been there and are walking with you.  You won't always feel this way.  The heavy unbearable feeling will gradually lift over time and you will be able to breathe and think without your stomach and your soul seizing up.  Your life will very very gradually begin not to feel so much like an emotional torture chamber.  For now, I wouldn't pressure yourself with anything other than just surviving.  I wouldn't look too far into the future.  All of that is for later, when everything is less painful.  (I too lost mine extremely suddenly and was horribly traumatized.)  Any way you can get into therapy?  You feel your future has been taken from you, and it has.  That's part of what you are mourning.  A new one will have to be rebuilt/reenvisioned.  But that's for another time.  Now is for survival and soothing.  I'm thinking of you. 

For so long - so so long - I have had to maintain control over things that were wildly out of control and when I feel like I am not in control, I melt down. 

Part of it is probably simply impending huge change, even if for the better.  But part of it is this (above), in my opinion/experience.  You're used to being the only one in the front seat.  You'll now have a co-pilot, another adult in the house/decision-making position.  It's a relief, but it's also a big adjustment.  It's relinquishing 100% control.

About 2 1/2 years ago, I did the huge change thing.  He drove down to the City to pack all my stuff into his truck.  On the drive to his home (my new home), he was excited.  I was terrified.  I'm a worrier/panicker, etc.  It's taken away a lot of happiness from me over the past couple years.  I don't think anyone can really learn from other people's mistakes, and I'm not saying you'll react like I did, but I hope you let yourself have a huge full-on panic right now, and then leave it behind and ENJOY.  We've had enough suffering and difficulty.  That being said, if you find yourself feeling crazy, I get it!  We get it.  Let it out.   

I feel like, "at our age," it's totally normal to talk about this very early on. 

Just want to clarify: I wasn't saying don't do anything.  I think that choice can only be made by you.  Just telling you to make sure you take care of yourself.

^^^ yes

I don't think the down side is that it's wrong.  I think it's that it is seen as wrong by people from the outside.  I don't think it IS wrong.  You wouldn't be betraying your husband.  You love him and would be with him if he were here.  It's not cheating.  And in a life so full of pain right now, the idea of a bit of comfort is so amazing. 

It's not that it's wrong - it's that it could be dangerous, for two reasons.  The first and main one being what SF said: you are very emotional and very vulnerable, and this could lead to even more pain (though I'm sure you can't imagine anything more painful than what you're going through right now).  The other is public opinion.  It doesn't matter and shouldn't but it can cause problems. 

Perhaps it is your desire to honor him by living that is motivating you and carrying you through, or your faith, or your strong social support network.  I don't know.  What I do know is that the world and others do judging enough - don't judge yourself.  The unbearable thing you've (we've all) been tasked with is so horrible that I believe if we have good moments, good hours, days, good weeks or months: take it.  You may feel paralyzed by hopelessness at points, but you may not. 

I never wanted to think of DH and be sad.  I always wanted to honor the person he was: full of life and love and so generous of spirit, so strong and confident.  I like to think I took on some of that, at least in the first couple years, to give me strength, to "make him proud," to live up to what he saw in me. 

(My MIL reacted in much the same way as yours.  You will not be like her.)

Oh love, I'm so very sorry.  Losing your love is unbearable, let alone going through all of that on top of it.  You asked if anyone went through something similar, and I did - though of course there are differences, too.  I'll you my story in the hopes that it will give you comfort/solidarity.

DH and I met and were instantly obsessed and committed.  Within a couple months, we were calling each other husband and wife.  We wore wedding bands.  I changed my name legally.  Etc., etc.  I didn't really care about "making it official," because we had all the love and commitment I needed or wanted - much more than I ever thought a relationship could be.  A few times we almost did, but one time we decided not to go down to city hall because we thought it might be depressing to go get married, then go home and do nothing (idiots!!!).  Another time we decided to do it and scheduled a dinner with his parents and mine and our siblings, but his father had to go away for business last minute so we postponed.  We decided to do it on our next vacation, alone on a beach with a rabbi in Kauai.  But then he got hit by a car while he was standing on a sidewalk.

At the hospital, at first, everyone called me his wife.  His family, the doctors.  We were actually legally registered as domestic partners (so he could be on my health insurance), so I *did* have *some* legal relationship to him.  I made medical decisions (at first).  Everyone deferred to me.  Once it became clear, though, that he wasn't going to recover, that his brain injuries were so severe that he was basically gone and soon would be completely gone, they began calling me his girlfriend.  They asked his boss for his paycheck.  They asked me to bring his (very expensive) watch to the hospital the next time I went home to shower.  When the time came, they refused to allow him to go, and they prolonged his body's death for days (it was so sick - I considered it a desecration and never returned to the hospital - he was gone).  When I arrived (at his brother's house!  even though he lived with me in our apartment) for shiva, they rushed to tell me I was not permitted to sit with them on the floor and gave me a chair.  (I went a couple times, but mostly sat by myself on a bench on the river near our apartment, in the park where we used to run and read.  I'd sit there all day, crying and writing and staring and thinking.  People would hold my hand sometimes.  I didn't always notice.  In retrospect, it was the most fitting kind of shiva, the most real, the most true to him and us.)  When shiva was over, they came to our apartment and ransacked it looking for money that they kept telling me he'd want them to have because he took care of them, they said.  They took his clothes.  They cut up and threw away his shoes.  They put his headstone entirely in Hebrew without even asking my opinion, though he couldn't read Hebrew and would not have wanted that.  They put his relationships to everyone on his headstone except me.  (Not only did this hurt me personally, but even more: our love was the best thing in his life, according to him - he'd been seeking this his whole life, so it took something from HIM as well to have his headstone not reflect how loved he was by me and vice versa, that he will forever be carved in stone as having died "alone" when he was not.)  When the day of the unveiling came, I was stuck in horrible traffic and delayed and crying on the phone with his brother, begging them to wait.  They started without me.  I bought the burial plot next to him; they told me they were thinking about moving his remains to Israel.  It just went on and on.  There is more, but I rarely tell it because some of it is just too upsetting. 

My point: I wanted desperately to be close with them, to be part of them, at that time.  I cared more about his family than even my own because he was of them.  I was desperate to be close to any remnant of him.  And I was beyond distraught of course, vulnerable, not in my right mind.  I took treatment I never should have.  I deferred to their wishes when maybe I should not have (though I told myself that he was, above all, a good son and a kind man, and I would NOT dishonor him by fighting with his grieving parents).  Also, I tried to understand them for them, according to their standards, not mine.  I went to their apartment every shabbat and had lunch and tea with them for over a year.  I eventually spaced it out to once every two weeks, once a month.  After the first 30 days, I told myself: they have hurt me so much and I have not stood up to them - I'm drawing the line now, and if they cross it again, I will no longer remain in touch with them.  And it worked for me.  (Eventually, after a couple years, I entered a relationship with a widower.  I became pregnant and moved a couple hundred miles away.  They were very happy for me.  But they are self-involved and didn't keep up contact (I was ALWAYS the one initiating contact.  When I went to visit, at the last minute, his mother told me she was too depressed to see me (she has mental health issues and always has).  It hurt so much and brought it all back.  I realized the relationship was just hurting me and no longer am in touch with them.  I think about resuming contact ALL the time and miss them, but I know this is better for me.)

Ok, so: you asked what helped me.  Several things, and I don't know if any can work for you, but I'll tell you all I can remember (I'm more than 5 years out now and A LOT of the first few months, etc., are lost in a fog - thank Gd, because it was so horrifically painful).  Like you, I did therapy.  I went twice a week for 8 months or so, then did once a week until I moved.  I tried to get outside as much as possible.  I needed sunshine/vitamin D, and I needed to be out among the living, among people, even though I didn't feel part of the world.  I worked out a lot.  I ran a lot.  I needed endorphins to counteract the black hole of misery and hopelessness inside me.  I learned Hebrew to try to feel closer to him (he was Israeli) - I studied with my rabbi and also took a secular language class.  I went to synagogue every Friday and I said kaddish.  I went to the cemetery once a month.  I took long, long walks.  I ate as healthy as I could.  I did things to honor him that made me feel like I was doing something - I planted a garden in my father's backyard that was shaped like a heart with plants whose names were meaningful and put a bench in it with a little plaque for him.  I had a bench in our park dedicated to him - it says, among other things: my husband my heart my king my soul.  (Yes, my husband!  And F everyone who says he wasn't, but that's what he called us when he was alive, and I will not demote him in death, even if it's not technically accurate.)  I read the books he read. 

And finally - I traveled alone to Israel, to the land that birthed him (this was about 2 years after he died).  And it was there that I came alive again, that I began to feel like myself again.  It wasn't just the vacation fling, hahahaha.  As soon as I saw the land out of the plane window, I felt like I was coming home, like I belonged there.  I wanted to kiss the ground.  But here's what: I went there seeking him, but I was shocked by NOT feeling closer to him there, not at all.  At first I was disappointed - my pilgrimage was a failure.  But it was a lesson to me.  I didn't need to seek him.  He loved ME.  I needed to just be me.  He wasn't in any of the places I was looking for him - not in his family, not in his birthplace, not in his headstone.  In the person he chose, in the person he chose to make his life and make his life with.  I couldn't honor him by effacing me.  (I was also surprised to find I still had emotions.  I'm religious but not spiritual if that makes sense - I love ritual but am an atheist.  I went to the Western Wall for him, because he'd have loved it.  But I wrote a note to him, not to Gd.  I went there expecting nothing, but as I approached the wall, I broke down into sobs.  I didn't understand it.  I was completely overcome by the power of the place.  Or maybe by what had occurred in my life, what had happened to DH, that he would have been so moved, I don't know.  But I had emotions.)  I began to cultivate myself again, rather than just the parts of me I had created to be just like him. 

Now, I had a lot of support - I made friends on my same timeline on the old board and we leaned VERY heavily on each other (and still do, half a decade later).  My family was amazing (they bought me to the ticket to Israel).  My friends were amazing.  My therapist was amazing.  And I had my health.  (Also, I was financially forced to leave our home at 5 months out - it was incredibly painful at the time, but I think very, very good for me.)  So I don't mean to say any of it is easy. 

So, yes, I dealt with something similar, though vastly different (I should have mentioned up front that we were together "only" three years - though it was the most intense and meaningful and HEALTHY relationship I believe I will ever have.)  Feel free to PM me.  There was a voice in me that always kept urging me, even when I didn't know what it meant: "Turn toward the light."  I tried to do that with every decision I made in the early years.  I'm thinking of you and wishing you solace.  I'm so sorry for what you've gone through. 

I have found myself very emotionally affected by things that I did not anticipate or that I wasn't as easily upset by before DH's death.  I had thought it would be the opposite, that nothing could hurt me now, that my soul is made of steel, and it's surprising to be so sensitive now.

I'm sorry you were hurt.  Does it make it any better that it's not that he doesn't like you, but that he can't handle responsibility?  Makes him a bit less likable maybe?  And doesn't mean he didn't find you likable?  Sending you love and I hope your bruises don't last too long. 

I don't have advice, but understanding, and thought I'd share this bizarre little story.  I was living in NYC when I met current boyfriend, who lives across the river from my hometown (how hometowny is it that I can call it "across the river from"?!).  In getting to know each other and sharing parts of our pasts and seeing who we know in common, it comes out that he'd dated my lifelong best friend's little sister!  A girl I've known since she was born (really, a few days later, but still!).  Awkward!!!!  I don't know if you watched Seinfeld, but they call it "the clashing of worlds," and it totally is.  I miss the anonymity of city living.  People TALK.  And talk and talk and talk.  But I think it's worth it to have fun and company and outings and the potential to have a relationship with "a quality man."  Good luck!

I'm not sure this necessarily is something specific to widows.  I think it's akin to the having a "type" or not having a type conversation.  And as far as it having to do with widows, I think for some widows, they learn not only what they ARE looking for but also what they're NOT (because many relationships weren't perfect and/or were damaging in ways). 

I personally have never had a "type" - my boyfriends have been as different from each other as any people could be, all of them.  My current boyfriend (a widower) very often assumes that whenever we have problems, it's because I want him to be like DH or because he's not like DH.  And I feel that he probably should've found someone a whole helluva lot more like his late fiancee than me, because there are very deep incompatibilities between us that he and she did not share - cultural and preferences and emotional investment issues - I mean, it's really hard to explain how different he and I are (and how different I am from his late fiancee). 

My point, though impossible to discern through my rambling, I realize: because my relationship with DH was as close to perfect as I could imagine, I *am* looking for something similar, but NOT for a similar man, if that makes sense.  I'm looking to have the same kind of closeness, the same kind of admiration and approval of each other, the same kind of adoration and consideration and regard, etc.  But maybe that's even pointless to state, because isn't everyone looking for a good, close, healthy relationship, and that's really just what I'm describing?  (That being said, I think in a lot of ways my boyfriend is not looking for that, but rather a pragmatic partner and lots of emotional distance.  So maybe not.)

Have I gone far afield?