Mizpah

It wasn't until a full two years that I began to feel alive again. Everyone's timeline is different, so I'm not saying - hey, in a couple months, things will be great. And at two years, I took a big trip by myself, I think it woke me up and kickstarted something in me, so I'm also not saying something magically took place while I sat in my living room and lightning will strike you, too. But I am saying that I am now almost seven years out, and I am doing better than I ever believed I would be. You will not always feel this way. When I tell the story of my life, to myself or others, yes, it is still very surreal, but I do not suffer, and certainly not the way I did at a couple years out. If I could repeat one thing, it would be: you will not always feel this way.

Are you getting resistance from someone about the way you live? You seem to really be ruminating about all of this lately.

Have you spoken with him about your feelings? I mean, obviously not the full extent of your feelings, but about the strain on him and his unavailability to you? Are they ok financially? Could he hire someone to drive her to the grocery store some days? Not to outsource his duty or relationship, but just to ease bits of the pressure? I see an easy way to bring it up seeing as the doctor addressed his health - you legitimately want him to be healthy and balanced. I think maybe you were joking, but: find her a man/boyfriend/husband!

What helped me early on: therapy (and lots of it), writing (nothing prize-winning or formal or high-pressure, just jotting to get it out of my head), running and working out (endorphins helped counteract the very dark feelings inside), getting lots of sunshine (same rationale as endorphins, but vitamin D and the good effects of light), ritual and structure (I kept working, I took two weekly classes, I went to a class at the gym every Saturday morning, I went to synagogue every Friday evening, I went to the cemetery once a month, etc., etc.), cleaning and laundry, a regular sleep schedule, long walks, I didn't drink at all (was terrified of messing with my very precarious brain chemistry/mental health) - I kept up all the functions of life and tried to be as healthy in my behaviors, because inside, I was pain and suffering and devastation and chaos. I clung to very simple things for peace and stability, like REAL basic - watching a tree on a sunny day. Literally just watching a tree. It won't always hurt so much and be so hard.

I did paper, those little Moleskines you see everywhere. It fit in my bag and I carried it with me everywhere. I didn't want to forget anything, and I'd grab it and jot in it constantly. I had two going all the time in the early days - one that was just about him - memories, stories, characteristics, demeanors, just everything about him I didn't want to forget. The other was just kind of free writing, mostly about grief and how I felt and processing everything. I say just whatever works best for you, lowest pressure, whatever gives you the best sense of relief. If it's a pretty journal, great. If it's typing, great. I just had so much in my head, I needed to release the pressure valve, and emptying the contents of my insides onto paper was what worked for me. Low pressure.

Do you also feel that way now when you're *not* in relationships? I wonder how much of this could also be due to changes in culture, or if maybe you are changing as well, of if it is truly, as you seem to suspect, due to that exclusivity of a couple relationship (I don't mean not seeing others, but more that it's a little world of two turned away from the world toward each other in a way) and maybe you're finding partners who aren't as open to that or as adventurous as you/as you'd wish.... You mention being in right place at the right time. Are you feeling not in the right place at the right time, or that these opportunities no longer exist, or that a partner prevents you from engaging in them?

I'm so sorry. You say it seems so stupid and preventable, and I didn't struggle with denial in the common sense, but I became a bit fixated at times on the idea that what occurred was so unlikely to have occurred that it could not possibly have occurred, though of course it did and I never had any doubt about that. It sounds crazy, but perhaps you can relate. (My DH - who was 28 - was hit by a car while he was on the sidewalk, so totally different but also - what are the chances? How could this have occurred?) I too went back to work quickly, and we also didn't yet have children. We also did everything together. Everything felt empty once he was gone, I felt I was in exile - from him, from us, from my true home, the world that was him and me. Everything you say about how you're feeling sounds completely normal, and so hard. You won't always just be putting one foot in front the other, though at your stage, hearing that would've angered me (I'm now somehow nearly 7 years out). The suffering was nearly unbearable, but I didn't want to feel better, not in a world in which he was gone. We all understand. I'm thinking of you.

Do you fear not being happy with "the ordinary," or do you fear being able to be happy with "just" the ordinary? I find your post interesting.

Congratulations! I, too, moved back to my hometown (about 4 years ago). What a transition! I wish I'd been keeping a blog or something. Twilight zone at times for sure! Really glad you've found a place with less stress and unhappiness! Really happy for you!

My life is your fear realized. And I've gotta say, it's really lovely. DH was extraordinary, our love was extraordinary, our life together was extraordinary. We were the couple that everyone wanted to be. Part of mourning him was mourning the end of that - it felt like being exiled from the land of gods and goddesses, grand adventures, and returning to mere mortal status. I wanted no part in it. My life now involves a lot of mundane stuff. My relationship has ups and downs and doesn't transcend the strains of everyday life - it's more earth than cosmic. And it's sweet, and warm, and comforting, and really nice. So take comfort perhaps: disappointment and worst case scenario, it's kind of wonderful.

OMG hon, that sounds nightmarish. He sounds completely nuts. How awful to have the person you love change so drastically against you. You have my fullest sympathy, and I'm so glad you're done with him. I hope you have some kind of social circle or support system. When is your surgery, or did it already happen? I hope you begin to recover physically and emotionally from all this, and find some peace. Thinking of you so much and wishing for you only good things

There's a lot to do and a lot required of you in the beginning. It gives you a weird laser focus on efficacy and tasks. Once the dust settles, things change. All you can do is take these moments as they come, and allow yourself that. It's still very very early, and there is a lot to come, a lot of adjustments to your new life, a lot of emotions and numbnesses to go through. Nothing means you loved him less - nothing that happens after their deaths can change what we shared with them. That is now, for better and for worse, crystallized in the past. Thinking of you

Are you looking to marry? If not, this doesn't seem like an issue. Makes total sense to me that you'd want to protect and provide for your children. Have you and NG discussed? Talk about it.

I think this is where the nuanced realities of life contradict cliched common wisdom. We tell each other and ourselves never to compare. But yet, once we've had something healthy and nourishing and wonderful and fully developed, why would we be satisfied with something lesser? We know how good things can be. As time went on, and I became a bit accustomed to life without DH, I started to notice that I felt like I missed him so much more when there was something going on in my life that hurt or wasn't satisfying. It was the morph from missing him - wanting what was - to wanting more from what my life now could possibly offer. I realized that I couldn't always distinguish between grief and dissatisfaction with my current person/situation. And then as time continued on further, I began to realize it was more of the latter than the former. The transition is bewildering. Necessary. Healthy. I'm babbling. I guess just lending solidarity. I've been there. I'm thinking of you. I'm wishing you all you hope for and crave, all of you - and me too

Sounds very normal to me. The body and mind can't keep up that level of suffering. The numbness is confusing and strange, but definitely normal (for an abnormal situation).

Yayyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I first joined the old site, it was the first on-line forum I'd ever joined (still the only one) and I was really against it, but found that you all spoke my language, and when DH died, it was like I was living in a foreign land and understood nothing and no one understood me. It's beautiful that even still, years later, once the intense suffering subsides, that understanding lives on. I know some people don't like being called strong, but I wear it with pride, as it is a testament to DH, all that he was, and the love we shared. I love this post. Thinking of you.

It's a bit different, but a month after the accident/his death, I went to the hospital to talk to the doctors who worked on him, to get information and understanding. It was hard. I took tons of notes. When I got home, I folded up the notes and put them away. A couple years later, I pulled them out. I had the talk in my head - this could really upset you and set you back, maybe you shouldn't do this. I did it. And I was fine. It was not fine, never will be, never could be, but I was (am) fine. [Maybe it's because we are living the worst case, that the details of how it's the worst case... they're not as important maybe as time goes on? We've already absorbed the biggest blow.]

We moved and NG is selling. We're not doing any major work. Slapping paint on I think. Hoping someone will take it as is. No bites yet. Ugh. We have a local realtor. Fingers crossed.

Have fun!!!! I thought I'd responded to this thread. I guess not. At about two years, I went on a pilgrimage to Israel. Not a religious one, mind you, but to the land where DH was born. I wanted to feel close to him. It was amazing. To travel alone. (I met up with friends in various places.) To be in sunshine, outside, without obligations or direction. To be away from work and responsibilities. To get out of my literal, physical, geographic comfort zone, and to see that I was at home out in the world. I felt brave and strong and proud, in a deep down and quiet yet glowing way. It marked a big change for me, both internally and in my life. And then, a few months later, I escaped my life permanently to set up a new one. But that's another story. I hope this will be great for you.

Confusing and redundant title, but seems fitting. I've not been responding as much I'd like, but things have been crazy: Today is moving day! Four plus years ago I moved in with NG (a widower), and what followed were a couple of really, really difficult years, causing me emotional pain that rivaled in magnitude and effect some of what I experienced after DH's death. Trite, cliche "common wisdom" told me that things that are bad usually get worse, but for us, things improved, and whatever held us together in the dark days has really paid off, and I'm so glad we didn't give up. Today we leave the house he shared with his DW, the only home our young daughter has ever known, and we move into OUR house. Change is so jarring, and I'm terrible at change, I hate it (yes, even positive change - maybe I'm a little stodgy), but even with that overlay, I'm so excited and so deep down grateful for this new beginning that is not an actual beginning. I was at the wine shop looking for a mini bottle of bubbly to celebrate closing (which took place on Valentine's Day, which also happens to be the wedding anniversary of the (now deceased) couple we bought the house from), and next to the counter was a display of a white wine labeled "Clean Slate." I don't believe the past disappears from a simple change of location, but each big change is an opportunity. That Clean Slate is now in our fridge waiting for us to get there to join and enjoy it.

What you're feeling is totally normal. It's the situation that is abnormal. Will there be a normal ever again? Yes. But it will be different, and it may take a long time to get there. For me, there was never a time as bad as the first few months, though - perhaps that can give you some comfort. I phrase it as having to bear the unbearable. To me (from nearly seven years out now), it seems very healthy that you're trying to function as well as you can when you must, and that you're allowing yourself to "fall apart" in those moments in which you have that freedom. I am thinking of you. It won't always hurt so much. It will never be ok, but you will be.

Totally the same! Except for that whole dead instead of alive thing! Minor detail.... xoxo

I meant to write as soon as I read this. The words didn't come, though the sense of resonance and solidarity certainly did, in abundance. To be the keeper of memories, to be the loser of memories... it's lonely and high pressure. I immediately tried to write them all, filling numerous little journals, but even then, I knew I was missing/losing some. And all that is most important goes with them. One of my most favorite memories of us didn't resurface for me until more than a year after he died, and when I remembered it I could not understand how I ever could have forgotten it. At nearly seven years out now, I can only offer this comfort/hope: I no longer feel emotionally tortured or in pain. My sadness (including the sadness over lost memories) has morphed into a peaceful one, one I can live with peacefully. I wish that you for you too one day.

Right?!