Mizpah

^ See?  It's different for each person.  I adopted a "genuine at all costs" approach, while my boyfriend (a widower) and perhaps Portside opted for the "fake it til you make it" outlook. 

Edited to add: I certainly didn't mean be a jerk to everyone you encounter.  And I didn't get back negativity from people - I got an amazing promotion at work, maintained great friendships, forged ahead with love with DH's very difficult family, etc.  I simply meant that I didn't put pressure on myself to feel other than how I felt.  The pressure to be positive can be self-defeating when you simply cannot feel ok.  But I don't mean to argue with Portside - I can certainly see the merits in his outlook. 

First, F positivity.  If, in the circumstances you're going through, you were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, you'd be insane.  That being said, maybe going to therapy can help you slog through this horrid darkness.  You need all the support you can get.  Therapy helped me so much.  It helped me process things, it gave me that haven where I could be hopeless, so I could put my armor back on at the end of a session to face the world.  I don't know what I'd have done without it.  Write here as much as you want/need, and don't worry about being positive.  All of us know the darkness, and are not "fair weather friends." 

Edited to add: when you feel better is different for everyone.  For me, it was at about two years.  That's not to say that there aren't still hard moments, and it's also not to say that there weren't good moments before then.  But that's when I could really take note: "Wow, I kinda feel alive again.  I didn't think I'd ever have feelings again.  I feel a little bit like myself again."

Loosing ones soulmate is like loosing yourself.

Yes, it is.  When DH died, I turned to my mother and said, "My life is over."  And it was.  A new life emerged, but very slowly and very gradually.  I think of us (widows/widowers) like starfish now.  Our arm is gone - arm being our heart, or our life, or our self, etc.  A new one grows in its  place, but it takes a long time, and it's different, even if no one else can tell it is.  Be patient with yourself.  You can't see hope right now, but that is natural.  Surviving comes first, thriving after.  The intense grieving is all-consuming.  It hurts so much.  That is your occupation right now.  Very slowly and gradually - that's how the healing and rebuilding happens. 

Do not get caught up in what other people tell you about how your grief experience will be.

^Yes. 

And now let me tell you how your grief experience will be (hahaha).  Nothing, in my opinion, can ever be as bad as those first moments, hours, days, weeks, couple to few months.  Nothing.  Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.  You may feel more emotionally tired from handling it this long, but the emotional trauma of new widowhood....  Nothing compares, in my opinion.  It was so bad, so total, I barely remember it, and thank Gd for that. 

There's a lot of self-consciousness and self-monitoring inherent in grief it seems: is this normal?  Am I crazy?  Is it going to get better?  Is it going to get worse?  How do I feel?  How will I feel?  Is what I'm feeling ok?  It's exhausting.  We're all here for you.

Well, obviously if DH hadn't died.  But that's not what I'm getting at. 

I don't often wish myself to be different from what I am.  Gotta just embrace who you are and go with it, be genuine, don't self-hate, etc., etc.  But.  All these memes and cliches everywhere about positivity and "practicing gratitude"....  I'm not naturally a ray of freakin' sunshine!  I'm realistic.  I'm an overthinker.  I want things to be perfect all the time.  I'm sensitive.  I take things too seriously.  In the right circumstances, having my personality is awesome.  In others, it really works against me/happiness. 

Next week is five years.  I don't know if it has to do with how bad I've been feeling lately, but I'm sure it's at least partly "to blame."  (Half a decade?!  WTF?!  Let me tell you - when he left for work that Friday morning, his 5-year plan was NOT "be dead.")  I'm returning to therapy.  I think it's a good idea. 

Since having my daughter almost two years ago, I've needed to write a will.  This morning, I met with a lawyer, got it all set up for drafting, and created a trust for my life insurance for my daughter.  I still need to decide who her legal guardian will be in the case of both me and her father dying (seems an impossible decision - no one seems perfect or acceptable), but otherwise it's taken care of!  Felt like a monumental and overwhelming and expensive task.  Glad I finally got my $h!t together to do this for her. 

I haven't read People of the Book.

I hated Fates and Furies for much of it, and then at the end, loved it.  A friend of a friend wrote it, which is why I ended up reading it, but it was on the most "best of" lists last year....

I did read one of Mohammed Mrabet's collections but can't remember it now - it must've blurred in with all the Bowles.  Tangiers is beautiful but a bit upsetting - poverty.  (DH's parents are both Moroccan, and we always planned to go to find his grandfather's grave in Casablanca, but he didn't get there yet.)

Edited to say: I wrote "yet."  But he's dead.  So he didn't get there, period. 

Zeitoun!  Yes.  Exactly.  Completely. 

Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!  PAUL BOWLES!!!!  I've read every one.  And I love Mahfouz. 

Have you read The Alexandria Quartet?

(I'm not saying you'll love Fates and Furies.  If/when you read it, let me know what you think.  I have mixed feelings.)

TooSoon, you're my bookclub soulmate.  Twistedmensa, I couldn't read anything after DH died except books about death and widowhood, and about the Holocaust.  Everything else seemed frivolous and too light-hearted.  adp, Ferrante is fantastic!

The Brothers Karamazov is one of the only books I've reread (and I've reread it several times).

I love the Eggers book about New Orleans (what was it? can't remember) and hated A Heartbreaking Work....  I've read a couple Colm Toibin books, but not that one.

Has anyone read Fates and Furies?

It's not the same, but your pocket people are with you, technologically and in spirit.  Let us know how everything goes.  Fussiness and fever are normal, I'm sure your doctor has said and you know.  I hope everything goes smoothly.  (I think the first couple rounds of vaccines are worse for us than they are for them - my daughter only started to get upset by them once she got a little older and could really "get" that that needle was coming at her, and had caused her pain - maybe around 1 year???  She's almost 2 now, and has had all regularly scheduled vaccines.) 

Also, and I don't want to start a big controversial vaxxers/anti-vaxxers thread, but I add this only in case it brings you any comfort: that guy who said there was a link between autism spectrum disorder and vaccines (Andrew Wakefield) - it's been revealed that his "study" was either totally fraudulent or just garbage.  Also, it's my understanding that they now use single dose vials for vaccines, which require far less preservatives, etc. 

http://www.cnn.com/2011/HEALTH/01/05/autism.vaccines/

The stress and sadness is so strong that I just can't imagine that my heart doesn't just collapse...and that would actually be relief. This is most definitely a strange and dark place, and it seems likely that it will get worse before it gets better. I go day to day, avoid thoughts of the future, stay away from music (too many triggers). I would just like to hear that there is hope. I certainly know that this is a new life and that Nicole and my life will always be there, but everything from this point forward will be very different. I just want to believe that there can be happiness again?

You describe it perfectly.  It is strange and dark, and it is amazing that we can survive this, as the emotions are so strong they become physical.  It is overwhelming in every way and all-encompassing.  (I too stayed away from music, but one day I was getting my nails done and Toto's Africa came on - a song I have no musical or emotional connection to whatsoever - and I started sobbing uncontrollably.)  It doesn't always just simply get better, but I've found that it does not get worse than those first couple weeks.  It hurts once the shock wears off, but the absolute devastation of the first couple weeks are unimaginable.

As for hope and future happiness.  Yes, there is.  There is hope for feeling relief from this, there is hope for having nice days, for smiling naturally and loving life.  There is also hope for love in the future.  I've heard it said that "the only way is through," or something to that effect.  It's true.  I remember the first time I caught myself smiling - I was by myself, watching the NYC marathon on my block.  It was sunny out, it was a beautiful day.  The first runners came by and I was clapping and smiling.  I saw myself from outside myself, and I thought, "I'm happy right now.  I may not be in a moment, but at this very millisecond, I am."  It was about 6 months out.  The timeline is different for everyone, but I share mine just because.  At about two years out, I traveled alone for a couple weeks, and it was then that I either came back to life or realized that I had been for some time.  I felt alive again.  Five years after DH's death, I live with my (widower) boyfriend and our daughter.  Even absent recoupling, before I met him, I was happy again.  In a different way.  And there will always be a part of me that is that woman in the hospital room saying, "My life is over."  But yes, there is hope.

TTA, you've said that several times, and I've responded by saying that I am not pressuring him.  I reported on one conversation we had.  I've stated that there is no point pressuring him, because it's more that I want him to WANT to marry me than that I want him to marry me, so it's a done deal.  You can pressure a person to DO something, sure, but that's not what I want - you can't pressure a person to naturally want something.  I already know he didn't want to marry me.  So I'd have to pressure him via ESP or hypnotizing or by tinkering inside his brain and heart, and in the past, which would require time travel, so.... 

I'm so sorry.  I lost DH about 5 years ago, and I felt as you do.  He also was very clear-eyed, knew what was important in life and what wasn't, was so loving and giving, and optimistic naturally - I was not, and I thought of myself as honoring him after his death by trying to adopt his outlook more.  I'm so glad you feel moments of clarity and strength and calm.  Take them when you get them, and know that they will continue to come - generally more often and for longer, but it's not a simple upward trend of betterment.  There will be days when his absence will knock you on your @$$ and you won't be able to get up.  I tried to just accept all the feelings and thoughts that came, no matter how terrible and unbearable.  I too engaged in tons of public sobbing.  I sat on a bench by the river a lot, with a home-sized box of tissues, no joke.  This is a long and hard journey, and to an extent it does not ever end, but it does get easier to bear over time.  May memories and his and your inner strength and light guide and comfort you.  And we're here in the dark times. 

I think if you ask 10 people that question, you'll get 10 different answers.  You're the one who gets to decide.  But since you asked....  hahaha

I think yes.  I think a big big yes.  I think that going to therapy is a major public service we provide for the people who love us and deal with us.  I think that any person, no matter how well-adjusted to even the easiest life, can benefit from therapy.  I think there is inherent value in being aware of the patterns of behavior and thought that we engage in as well as their potential sources.  I think therapy helps us to be mindful and moral and healthy.  I think having a time/place just for ourselves helps us be less self-involved and self-centered out in the world.  It can give you a calm, knowing you can get this out somewhere at some time.  It can validate your feelings while helping you find better ways to deal with or express and interpret those feelings.  It's kind of like working out, but instead of strengthening your muscles and heart and lungs, you're strengthening your mind and heart and soul.  (Can you tell I LOVE therapy?!  Hahahaha.)  I think it's an act of the brave - my boyfriend, when pushed to face certain things, will say, "Why should I have to relive my pain?"  It's a good question, but I think refusing to face things is not brave, and I think it keeps us weak and scared, dependent on avoidance and denial.  I find it easier to live when I can state the worst of the worst, and examine it, and continue to function.  I think it's hard, but worth it. 

Ok, ok, I'll stop now! 

I moved into my boyfriend's house and we are raising our daughter there.  He's working on the house right now (to prepare to sell it, not for our living purposes, but there are still decisions to be made).  We make decisions generally together.  That being said, I already live there.  While he pays the mortgage, we split expenses approximately equally, and that is one he covers.  It's your home.  But, if he is definitely moving in, he's going to have to live in the space.  If there are redoing dealbreakers for you and things you feel really strongly about, you "win the tie," but in my opinion, you both will have to live there, so if he cannot stand the color green, I wouldn't go painting a room green.  (My boyfriend's living room was dark midnight blue - almost black - when I moved in.  It killed me.  It was so depressing.  I felt like the walls were closing in on me and it was permanent winter/darkness.  He loved it.  It's now a very light, peaceful green that looks lovely with all the trees' green leaves outside against it.  He's come to terms with it.  I've come to terms with just about everything else!  Hahahaha.)  You can be considerate and also independent.  It's all about balance, in my opinion. 

I'm so sorry.  These things get easier to bear I suppose, but are never less heartbreaking over time.  And not being able to share the stories together, being stuck alone with good memories - it's so hard, to hold it all inside us with no one to share and smile together with over it.  I mean, we can share it with others, but it's not the same.  I'm sorry your future together and his future were stolen.  I hope as you venture forth into a new chapter (I know we call it chapter 2, but I had a few life chapters (no, not counting men - counting life phases) before and during DH, so....), that you find sweetness and love and adoration and protection and happiness.  I hope you're having happy thoughts of the two of you on your lovely honeymoon.  I'm so sorry.  Big hugs.

(I remember your 4th of July post, about your argument (that was you, right? I hope), and I too think back on some instances and am like, "Wow, that really didn't matter.  Why did I act like that?"  We take that into our future with us, and become better.  It's part of their legacy.  I don't know why I'm thinking about that now, in this post, but I am.)

Back when I was just widowed (about a month shy of five years now), my mother found the old forum and pushed me to join.  I'd never been part of ANY on-line anything, and am/was very private, and was totally against it.  After a few weeks, I decided to read.  I was shocked by how comforting it was - we all spoke the same language, and the rest of the world was speaking a different one, that's how I felt about this all-encompassing, tremendous pain.  Eventually I joined and wrote, and I credit the forum with so much of my healing and sanity.  I was desperate, I was destroyed, I felt so alone, and everyone "got it," just got it.  No one can take away the pain, but we can walk together.  So much love. 

Five months feels like forever, but my memory of it all only really starts at about 6 months, that's how bad and how raw and "early" five months is.  It's bad.  It's really bad.  It *does* get less painful.  Your life very slowly and very gradually becomes less torturous.  You are doing all the right things to try, to turn toward light by doing therapy and support group and turning to us.  Every person is on a different timeline, but for me, I didn't start feeling "alive" again until about two years out.  A friend of mine said six.  Others have said 14 months.  Some earlier, some later.  I do hope that you continue to be unable to take the road opting out.  Is it unbearable.  But we've all borne it and are here for you. 

I had to move at 5 months, because I couldn't afford to stay in our place anymore on my own.  I only moved a few blocks away, but still had to do the packing and purging.  It was brutal but good for me.  Some things of his, though, I just packed up and begged my dad to store in his attic.  Almost five years later, and I'm wondering what in the world I'm doing hanging onto stuff like key chains, or even the laundry that needed to be done when he died - I did mine, and saved his.  It *is* just stuff.  But it's also more.  It's both.  But really it's just stuff.  When it's no longer infused with meaning, that's all it is.  When does the meaning go?  I guess that's the part that's different for everyone. 

I had it all mixed up as who was moving where - I'm sorry!!!  But the same goes for anyone, and it seems you're way more on the ball about it than I was!  About a week before I moved, I realized, "Wow, I'm leaving for real.  This is really happening."  You can't fit it all into a week! 

Today was exactly one month since my husband passed, or as you call it, "out"; I am one month out. Not sure why it is "out", as I am really one month in, IN to this personal Hell of unbearable loss. I drove today to the cemetery alone and had a good long cry there. It actually felt a little better after. I spent the rest of the day counting down the hours and minutes to the actual "event" as it happend, the time he could have felt his heart malfunctioning, the time someone started CPR, the time the ambulance arrived, the time they tried to resuscitate him, the time he was pronounced dead... 22:06, exactly the time my life ended together with his.

 

I have to get up and put one foot in front of the other for my baby girl, who just started to recognize my face and smiles now when she sees me; this is really bittersweet and I fight back the tears every time.

 

I spend all my free time reading this board, all the topics, really trying to determine what is ahead for me. One thing is clear that there will be no "moving on" or "getting over" , not really, not for me, as it is not for many of the regular widows/widowers who post here. One friend today said that she admired my strength and at the same time vulnerability through this time. Hell, I hate being strong, I would give everything to feel like a little girl in his arms, him hugging me and telling me it is going to be OK...

 

I hate that I have to be here, but I am so fortunate that I have found this board. Thank you again for listening...

There is no getting over, this is very true.  This will be a part of who you are, a part of your life, the fabric of your being, for the rest of your life, and I truly believe there is a part of me that will forever, until I die, be that woman who stood next to his hospital bed in the surgical ICU, and muttered, "My life is over."  Is IS unbearable, it is true.  And yet you are bearing it, and will bear it, as we have and do.  It is Worst Case Scenario.

Not only are you grieving and traumatized, but you're taking care of a newborn.  I have a 2-year-old, so I still recall the difficulties of that time period, and that was without fresh trauma/grief.  I really cannot imagine more difficult circumstances. 

It's totally normal, in my opinion, to be addicted to the board.  I was, and so were my fellow widows on the same timeframe.  I can't remember if you are or not or if you're able to, but I strongly, strongly recommend therapy if you can find someone you think is good. 

I returned to work in less than two weeks.  It was good in that I had to try to function and it was bad in that I had to try to function, if that makes sense.  I had an office and a door, so it was different for me - if I wanted to close a door and cry, I could.  Carry tissues.  Before I lost DH, I was in court one day (I'm an attorney).  I was at a conference with opposing counsel.  There was a break and we were chatting.  Out of nowhere (seemingly, to me, innocent of such things at the time), she teared up and began talking about how she had lost her soulmate, her husband, 20 years prior.  I felt terribly for her.  I can't remember what I said, but I'm sure it was feeble and awkward.  And then I was her.  My point though: it's normal to break down.  It's ok.  It's a nightmare.  (I do agree about the script.  Know how you're going to phrase the news.  It'll start you off on somewhat stable footing.)

Mornings were my hardest time as well. 

You don't get over it.  But time continues and so does your life, though at the beginning and for a very long time, your life is grief and mourning.  What you believe will be your life, what you believe your future will be, what you believe of yourself - the difference between that and your future reality may surprise you.  I have widow friends who were angered if anyone ever suggested they may find future happiness, who are currently married and very happy in their lives.  I have widow friends who dated again very quickly and seemed very open to future happiness, who are still very deep in grief.  And everything in between.  (I had never been in love like I had with DH - hadn't known it was possible to be that in love, and thought I'd never have true feelings for anyone again.  At about 2 years "in," I came alive again (through traveling by myself halfway around the world), and met a widower who I had feelings for - it was a huge surprise to me.  I won't lie - my life isn't the sparkling jewel it was, but there is sweetness in my life, and love.)  The future may be what you believe it will be, but it also may surprise you.  But right now, honestly, the future doesn't matter - it doesn't even really exist except as a hypothetical and something that seems desperately sad and never-ending without him.  My advice is to focus on the here and now - surviving this day, finding tiny little pieces of light, enjoying your daughter as much as you can, exploring your thoughts and going where they take you even when it hurts.  Take care of yourself and take care of her.  One foot in front of the other.  "Just keep walking," I would tell myself back then.  Just keep walking. 

Hi dear, I'm so sorry.  You're dealing not only with loss and sudden solo parenting, but also with trauma from the suddenness.  I lost my DH when I was 32 (almost 5 years ago now).  We left for work on Friday, saying we couldn't wait for the weekend together, and by the time we'd expected to be home together, there had been a catastrophic accident (he was hit by a car while standing on the sidewalk). 

I looked into groups, and many of them started at 6 months out anyway.  I went to individual therapy twice a week for 8 months, then did once a week until I was two years out (I would've done more, but I moved and didn't find someone I loved as much).  Going to therapy is, in my opinion, the most valuable thing you can do for yourself.  It doesn't change your circumstances, but it gives you something you need.  It's like working out, except for your heart/soul/head. 

I only remember little snippets from the first few months (months!).  In my opinion, survival, taking on the bare minimum, and healthiness are your only realistic goals right now.  And by healthiness, I mean simple, basic things like getting some sunshine and staying hydrated and being honest with yourself, even when it's painful.  You are going to feel raw for a long time, and feeling better is something that happens very slowly and very gradually.  It's something for another time.  Right now, your main task is to suffer and survive.  We've all felt your feelings - lean on us, especially those in your same timeframe. 

I'm thinking of you and wishing you bits of comfort. 

It's BRAVE, not cowardly, to keep on, when it's hard all around you and inside you.  Is there anything that gives you any little tiny bit of solace and comfort?  If so, cling to it.  If not, cling to us.  I wish there was something I could do.  Do you live near me? 

Long distance is the worst!

BUT!  I moved to be with my man.  My advice: don't wish away these 49 days (even though it's painful and sucky to be apart when you want to be together).  Being together is going to be awesome, but there is a lot to love about space, time, freedom, and solitude - perhaps only in retrospect, but.... 

If I had my last 49 days back, I would really savor them.  I'd do everything I loved in my old home - even touristy things, I'd go to my favorite places over and over, take my favorite walks, go to that place I always passed and thought seemed interesting but never went in.  I'd really really enjoy watching exactly what I felt like watching on TV, keeping strange hours if I wanted, sleeping like a giant X and taking up the whole bed, eating strange things and at strange times and in ways I would never do in front of anyone, hahahahahahaha.  I'd go to my favorite brunch or dinner spot, eat alone, and have a glass of champagne and toast to myself for surviving and for the future, a goodbye to my solitude, the bad and the good. 

I suppose I'm talking more to myself in the past and wishing I could travel through time than to you, but maybe you can learn from my total failure to eek out every bit of goodness of the last of my time alone.

I love Middlemarch!  (Or at least I did when I was in college.)