Brenda

Thanks, THATgurl. I hope this rebuilding is actually happening without me realizing it, because I sure can't see or feel much progress at the moment. On the other topic, I already do talk to someone (a therapist) - have been for a long time about various issues. Sometimes it works, sometimes the old habits resurface. Not the greatest coping mechanism, but it could be worse I suppose.

It's been nine months now since she died. Since then, I've managed to turn into a total loser. Still not working, no desire to find a job (which would involve going back to what I was doing before, which is a nightmare to think about), seemingly wasting my days. I know I've been through a lot, but I see many other widows getting straight back in the saddle and working, dealing with busy lives, and generally not being losers. And then there's me, the opposite. My friends have gone on with their own lives and widows don't really fit into their plans anymore. I've moved to another area and know nobody, and it's frighteningly lonely. My entertainment these two past weekends alone? Cutting myself. I wanted to give myself "permission" to take a break until next summer, and I'd pick up the pieces next summer and find work, retrain, whatever. This year was supposed to be a transitional year where I took a step back and looked at my options, tried to figure out how to best proceed through life after it was all smashed to pieces, and make sure that I wasn't rushing into anything and that I was supporting the kids through their own transitional times. But instead I feel like a total loser for doing what I would consider absolutely nothing. Worried that I'm sinking into a rut from which I'll never emerge.

Wonderful quote.

This post made me smile. I too think it's rather exciting to be in my early 40s and have those stupid giddy feelings of being in love again, including the very teenage idea that it's something to be kept secret because I'm slightly unsure about how other (my parents) might react. One small silver lining coming from the shitty events of the past year. But I'll take it.

I did the "sleeping on deathbed" thing for a while; felt as if there was some connection between wife and I by doing so. But then it got creepy. Mattress (which was all bloody anyway - probably TMI) was taken to the dump and the nice frame was donated. Ashes were in the room too, although in a closet. I know it would have been relatively soon after her death back then, but even now the chances of me being "actively intimate" with someone else on that same bed had I kept it would have been waaaaaay too triggering. And I don't want to bring those kinds of feelings into any new relationship. It was bad enough trying to be "actively intimate" with myself on that bed when the mood arose (again, TMI); even that brought back memories of being with her, which always led to memories of how much I miss her, which led to tears and sexual frustration. Moving forward many months, I've been steadily clearing out the old and bringing in the new, trying to focus on the bedroom as well. And the last new thing to bring in will be (hopefully) someone else to share the rest of my life with once I've gotten comfortable with the level of physical memory items in the house. But no new partner in my house until the bedroom is entirely mine. No photos, no ashes, no previously-shared beds, no nothing. That stuff will be kept elsewhere in the house. I'd like a clean start. I see it as almost like the rule of "never take your phone or laptop to bed". Never take a deceased spouse to bed. Being "actively intimate" (which is my new favorite euphemism - we are talking about sex, right, or have I totally missed the point of this thread?) is something that really should be between me and a new partner only, and I'd strongly prefer - for my own mental health - to never, ever think about my deceased spouse while being fucked "actively intimate". It's not fair on anybody, deceased spouse included. Spare bedroom? Sofa?

I'm so sorry to hear that you're struggling with in-law issues. Sounds like your mother helped you resolve it conclusively, but with these things the damage is done at the outset. Funnily enough, I was coming here this morning to post about how my own in-laws are still stuck in my head and affecting my daily life, even though we no longer have any contact whatsoever. Long story, not worth reading. But your post made me realize how "lucky" I am, in a way, to no longer be burdened to any significant extent by a classless, nasty family that I married into. And at least mine keep their nastiness hidden from public view and don't spread it all over the internet - at least for now - so I'll count my blessings. So sending you a hug and a giant bottle of Jack Daniels (or Valium). Question: where do you see your relationship with your in-laws going? After mine gave me a sharp shove out of their family following my wife's death, something I've pretty much survived with very little difficulty whatsoever, I often find myself wondering if there's any point keeping certain people in your life after the death of a spouse if they aren't supportive, positive, and conducive to rebuilding our shattered lives?

A major move shortly after my wife died forced me through the same downsizing process; only the most essential things stayed, which basically included very little furniture for cost-of-shipping reasons. At the time, I wondered how I'd ever live without the stuff that she was fond of and that we shared our lives in/on/around. But in the end, it's all just stuff. I think I was able to downsize so dramatically for two reasons: (1) I had to for economic and just plain "too much stuff" reasons, and (2) because I did so during the turmoil after her death rather than a year later. Getting rid of all of the stuff was just another shitty thing I had to do amidst the other shitty things one does immediately following a death, and as such it's shittiness was just intermingled with everything else. Having to think about downsizing a year or more later would probably have been very hard for me, as I'd have had a chance to let life settle down and it would feel like losing her all over again. I'm a big believer in the "ripping off the band-aid" approach to many things in life, but with the disclaimer that it works for me and might not work for anyone else. But my best advice? It's just stuff. Nothing more, nothing less, and your emotional attachment is probably rather illusory. Test the waters; get rid of a few things, or even just rearrange a few things. See how it goes. The first time it might be a little difficult, but as with so many shitty things, the more we do them, the easier they become. Best of luck, and hoping that your worries are proven to be unfounded.

Sorry you've lost the ring (temporarily, I hope). After my wife died, the ring was the most important thing of hers that I had; nothing else mattered whatsoever. It was like that was a physical part of her, something that linked us together no matter what happened. The weird thing is, despite the ring being ever so important back then (earlier this year when she died), it's something I don't place much importance on now. I remember those early days trying to figure out whether to wear her ring on my right hand, or put both our rings on our right hand, or god knows what else; it was like that was a means to keep her alive. I remember wearing her ring on a necklace around my neck soon after she went, and the necklace clip broke and I thought I'd lost the ring. The worst panic I've ever experienced, on all fours crawling around an office frantically like a complete nutcase. But now, with a little time between her death and where I am today (which is only seven months out), the ring doesn't mean even a fraction of what it used to. I don't wear it, I don't miss it, I don't wear my own wedding ring (which I swore I'd always do), and I place far more value on my happy memories of my marriage and the amazing woman my wife once was. No matter what happens, I'll always have those memories with me, and seeing her smiling face in my mind unexpectedly or remembering some of the happy little moments we shared is far, far, far more important to me than the ring ever was. I hope the ring turns up. I'd still fall to pieces if my wife's ring disappeared. I'm sure it'll be found when you're not expecting it. Is there a chance that anyone picked it up and put it somewhere for safekeeping but forgot to tell you? Sending a hug your way, and I wish I was there to help you find it!

A wonderful piece of advice

Thanks for all the advice. As always, great stuff. I need to get a new tattoo. Right across my forehead (and backwards, so I can see it in the mirror every time I wake up): "The only rule of widowhood is that there are no rules." Or I could just put a sticky note on the fridge. That would scare fewer people away.

Title says it all really. It's been only seven months since my wife died, and there's someone who I met a couple of months ago - purely as friends - and I'm kind of feeling like she's someone I could get much closer to. Of course, she doesn't know a thing about this (but I'm secretly hoping that she feels the same way.) We see each other - as friends - on a semi-regular basis, we have a lot in common, and she's a wonderful person. At the moment, still just friends. Will probably stay that way too given my lack of ability in the field of romance, but even thinking about her makes me happy in a way that I haven't been for a long time. Preliminary List of Things I'm Struggling With 1. It's only been seven months. Surely I should wait at least a year before I even allow myself to think about these things? 2. Maybe I'm still grieving and not thinking straight and I'm confusing the glimmer of enjoyment out of life I experience when I'm with her with the heady heights of early love? 3. It's only been seven months. 4. Do I ever want to go through the process of getting close to someone only to watch while they die? Could be a few decades away, but it'll happen eventually. Neither of us are spring chickens - both over 40. (Is that old?) 5. Like it's only been seven months. What kind of uncaring bitch falls in love again after seven months? Let alone has . . . um, how to put this delicately . . . indelicate thoughts about someone other than my wife? 6. I'm very lonely at the moment; not in the sense that I have nobody to talk to and no friends (although I have very few), but in the sense that I miss having someone to hug and share life with. Am I clutching at straws? 7. Seven months! I'm supposed to be a tearful wreck, not cheerfully thinking about what I want the next chapter of my life to look like. So pretty confused at the moment. Part of me wants the freedom to think about these things, but another part of me feels ever so ashamed for doing so. It's not like we're going to end up in bed anytime soon, but I wouldn't mind seeing where this goes, even if it goes absolutely nowhere. Sorry to bring this topic up. I hope it's not lowering the tone of the site.

Yup, out of the parents just as much as the children. Not allowed in my school district either. A bad policy for so many reasons.

PTSD is not just for soldiers. Any traumatic event that you're a party to, or somehow connected with, can cause PTSD. Sure, you might not be ducking every time you hear a car backfire, but when you're exposed to something that might trigger memories of your own experiences and you have the reaction you're having, it sounds like PTSD to me. I was diagnosed with PTSD (reluctantly - long story, but I had a hard time believing that my own minor trauma of losing my wife was sufficient to cause PTSD because it's something I associate with prolonged exposure to horrific things in war and the emergency services and child abuse etc., not the common or garden experience of losing someone close which everyone eventually goes through.) Go see a professional counselor who can help because PTSD can ruin your life. Don't brush this off as something you just have to suffer through.

As always, thanks. My therapist told me that there's no reason to feel guilty about getting on with life either. The world does keep on turning. I can't imagine that my wife would want me being miserable for the remainder of my life, living as some kind of permanent griever. And if she did feel that way, then why am I paying any attention to someone who clearly doesn't want me to be happy? In the real world, I'd be rather quickly done with anyone who wanted me to live my remaining days miserably. Life's too short - like waaaay too short. So from here on out - hopefully! - my goal is to remove all of the guilt. Sorry to sound cold, but she died, it wasn't my fault, and I (we) did everything I (we) could to try to get her better. Didn't work. It was a raw deal for her, but it was the hand she was dealt. Me being miserable isn't going to make her suffering any less. It's not going to bring her back. It's not going to do anything whatsoever to change the past, and she, like it or not, is in the past. But the misery, if it continues, will eat away at my future. Not suggesting that I forget her. Not at all. But I've got to move past the ridiculous guilt because it's crippling my way of thinking and stopping me point blank from ever having something resembling a future.

Sorry for yet another rather crude thread title, but it is what it is. Not even a week - not one week! - after scattering my wife's ashes, I didn't go to and sit with her and chat to her for a while. I know she's been dead for over six months. I know that every single morning and evening, I've spent time with her (ashes), spoken to her, filled her in on what the kids are doing and how well they're getting on, and generally made sure she didn't know she was dead. But not today. And I knew this day would come. I didn't expect it so soon though. The day when I don't go and spend time with her. And I feel absolutely terrible. She's probably wondering why I'm not there, why I didn't come and see her, why I've forgotten about her so quickly. The reason? This is where me being an asshole comes in. I was spending time this afternoon with a girl who I'm secretly rather fond of. Yeah, kinda assholey.

Happy (belated) Anniversary too. Sorry it was so quiet; it's a particularly sour day for those of us left behind because it's the one special day that was all about the fact that we were married, a day that we celebrated as a couple, not as individuals. To me, since my wife's passing, it's the most important date in my calendar. Our day. Not a sad and lonely death day, not a sad and lonely birthday or a sad and lonely Christmas or New Year, but a happy "we had something special" day. Sadly, it's often one of those things that only you and your spouse would pencil into the diary, despite being the date that our families once merged and grew and were supposed to be happy. My 20th came and passed without a frickin' word from my in-laws (who, by that time, a few months after my wife's death, had already pretty much disowned me - so no real surprise in my case.) I hope you survived. The good news, I suppose, is that there's always next year when you can all raise a glass to the one who isn't here anymore.

It's done. All went well. Beautiful day, perhaps a little too windy (the very fine dust tends to swirl around), but she's where I wanted to put her, and where I think she'll be very happy. Emotionally, it had its ups and downs, but there's a definite sense of peace and closure afterwards. As with many unpleasant things, the act of doing them is far easier than the worry that builds up beforehand.

Thank you ever so much for replying! It's great to hear that so far down the road you've thrived and the turmoil of the immediate aftermath has faded. Garden planning time it is!

Mine never used to come visit in my dreams (and I'm not much of a dreamer anyway). I always felt bad that I wasn't dreaming of her. Surely someone so special who was in my thoughts every waking moment should have no difficulty crossing into my unconscious too? Now she has started to appear. Makes me uncomfortable when I wake up, knowing that she's forever gone. But it's bittersweet because in my dreams she's got her long hair and her plump, round, cute features, and she's not the bald, terminally-ill skeleton I said goodbye to and watched die.

I'm also going to urge EXTREME CAUTION here. There may well be things that she told the psychologist that you don't want to hear. How would you react if, for example, she had spent a couple of sessions bitching to the psychologist that she worried that she married the wrong person and never really experienced true love? Or that there were things about you that made her deeply unhappy? Or that she just wasn't the person you thought you married? There's things that people tell psychologists and other mental health professionals that they would never dare tell their spouses. (I know this first hand, unfortunately.) It's a relationship that benefits from confidentiality, openness, and allowing the patient/client to vent all kinds of unpleasant thoughts and problems onto the therapist so that the spouse doesn't have to hear it. Asking for insights into what your spouse told the psychologist is opening a door I'm really not sure you want to open unless you absolutely have to. The potential for destroying the image you have of your wife is immense. In addition, there may have been times when your wife was medicated and not entirely thinking straight. I know that my own dear wife, during those latter stages, was pumped full of morphine and fentanyl and struggled to think coherently; even at earlier stages when the medication was not too severe, there were times when she clearly wasn't herself. (Some of my problems with my in-laws arose because they had some "deep" conversations with her when she was heavily medicated, and they took what she said as gospel despite it being so far from the truth that it was almost laughable. The only way I can deal with some of the things they say she told them is by realizing that it was not her speaking, but the drugs.) Sorry I can't encourage you to press the psychologist for details. I know first hand the misery that comes with hearing odd post-death tales and rumors that my wife isn't here to explain - it eats away at the entire foundation of our marriage and makes me question our relationship in ways that are deeply unhealthy. I'd leave well alone if I were you.

Six months gone. Hard to believe - it still hasn't sunk in that she's never ever ever ever coming back. For the most part, I'm doing well; then once in a while (at least daily), it's like death sneaks up and stabs the sharp memory of her into my back and it's like she's just died holding my hand once again. The good news: we do survive, don't we. A few months ago, I'd have written that as a question. Now it's a statement. It gets better. Sort of. Now to focus forward onto the next six months...

You'll do just fine. It's a good sign that you're worried about these things; you'll prepare adequately as a result. It's the teachers who "phone it in" who are terrible educators, even if they have decades of experience. Can't say that it won't be hard, crazy, or flabbergasting at times. But it'll also be invigorating and exciting to be helping those whose lives are just beginning to blossom. You'll have a fantastic time, trust me. And in a couple of years, it'll be old hat. Jealous...

An intervention about your weight? Seriously? Like, that was an appropriate time or even an appropriate subject? Sounds like you're blessed with close family that matches mine in terms of general meanspiritedness and lack of genuine love and care. Yes. Lost all contact with my in-laws because of something so despicable one of them did. I suspect it was because she saw her chance to become the sole heir of FIL's "fortune" now that her sister was gone, the materialistic bitch (SIL, not my wife). She's welcome to it. But the sting of a family member sticking a knife in at such a time is unforgettable. Best wishes, and hoping that you have the strength to deal with the nastiness on top of everything else you're going through. Having incomprehensible and classless family is bad, even at the best of times. Sorry things aren't going well.

I hope her day will go like that - surrounded by family and friends and a great atmosphere. Bottle of water is a great Top Tip. I'd be brushing my hands on my pants or the grass otherwise. And glad to hear that you at least found some fragment of peace - I'm still hanging on for closure, but I'm starting to think that closure doesn't exist for losing a spouse. Peace is about as good as it gets. The next sunny weekend day, it's on. I'll let you know how it goes. Ashes, those who were close to her, and a couple of bottles of Champagne: I think she'll have the send-off she would have wanted.

I'm coming up to six months...soon to graduate from the beginner's forum and move on to the next one. Kind of proud that I made it this far, because five months ago I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Things do start to settle down, don't they? Life will never be the same again, but a new normal does start to show the first signs of arriving. Anyway, I need to scatter her ashes. I know where, but I have yet to open the container she's in and figure out the practicalities of this. I've read that it's not "ashes" as such, but more like bits and pieces. Messy, too. I've never scattered anyone before, nor been present when anyone else has been scattered. Literally no idea what to expect given than the only time I've seen it done is in a few movies where inevitably some mishap occurs and ashes end up all over the scatterer or something similar. Is it an occasion that brings back terrible memories, or more of an occasion you found brought some closure and a sense of moving forward? A sense of relief now that the last step has been completed? Thoughts and ideas would be greatly appreciated!