Quixote

Such good news! Optimistic Oncologist is a lovely alliteration.

Very much so. My wife is still a huge part of my life-- but when I talk about her, people still get uncomfortable. Her parents even took down all of her pictures in their house, which is really bizarre since they have pictures of her brother and his family all over the place. It's as if she was purged Soviet style from the history books.

Yeah, I get the smaller tip thing, but you know, service is service. Still learning what it means to be single in social situations. Got married out of college, stayed married for two decades until she died. So it's all new to me, and frankly, there's a lot (aside from missing the hell out of the girl) that I don't like at all. Our culture seems to be built around the idea of couples and I go around feeling like a square peg in a sea of round holes.

Lost, you're probably right, it may be a vibe. Lord knows I can be introspective these days. But if you'd brought a child and had to do the bathroom thing, you'd THINK they wouldn't clear the table!

The other week was our anniversary (fourth without her), and I resolved to go out and not stay home and sulk. So I went out for sushi, like we used to together. I really don't go to "nice" restaurants since my wife died, and when I do, it's usually with a friend. Maybe it was just the feelings I had runneling through my brain that night, but I felt completely ignored. You know, waving at the waitress just to get my tea refilled, seeing other tables checked in on while I sat by myself, that sort of thing. Went to another table with waiters restaurant last night, and darned if it wasn't the same kind of experience. Maybe I'm just sending off "leave me be" vibes (I brought a book both times). Or maybe single folks really do get the second class citizen routine when dining out. I don't know-- anyone else experience this?

*hug* Yeah, the "They're still around, but you can't get to them for whatever reason" nightmare. Sometimes those are worse than the reliving the death ones. Hang in there.

Friends you thought were close will let you down-- not in a purposeful way, but some people just can't be around others in pain. Friends you didn't really think of as close will be the ones over at your place with a hot dinner and an offer to do laundry. Everyone will pitch in until about two weeks past the memorial/funeral. Then they'll be back to their old lives, even family members like parents and siblings. And you'll be in that empty house. Be ready for that. Be prepared for people to say incredibly insensitive things, often in the guise of wanting to help. Don't take it personally-- no one ever really knows what to say. Don't worry about "moving on" or anything like that right now. It's okay to curl up with old love letters and photos, watch videos of your lost loved one, all that stuff. They just died! Set a routine in the morning and try to follow it. My dog always got me out of the house, because I lived in a condo and had to at least walk her to the corner in the morning. Find something similar to get you going. Tell yourself you'll go back to bed later if you have to.

Not actively intimate, but things are different now that I moved out of our old place and gave away our bed. I used to "feel" her a lot more in my sleep, had to sleep with a pillow against my back so I couldn't sense the void. Now I have a bunk bed, with my dog on the bottom bunk; I'm less haunted by her presence. Not entirely sure I like that, but I suppose if I ever met a girl and brought her home it would make things easier. Except for the fact that there's barely enough room in my bed for me let alone two people. Also, my dog barks in her sleep. That wasn't really helpful, was it?

Okay, another confession-- I don't iron, fold, or really put away laundry. I usually leave it in the laundry bags and root out what I need. I used to have nicer clothes, but I'm pretty much down to jeans, white tube socks and various t-shirts/knits. If I go somewhere fancy (defined as "a place where someone brings food to your table"), I try to remember to wipe the barn dirt off my boots before I go.

Back to talking about the article proper (sorry about that, Mitzpah) I'm still haven't so much as gone on a date since my wife died, but it still hit home. There's this feeling of guilt whenever you feel happy. Or if life doesn't seem miserable. Hell, I've more than once caught myself thinking "Sure, this was a good day. But the best day without her alive is worse than the worst day with her around". It may be true (and I honestly feel that way), but it's not a particularly productive way of thinking. We may be widowed, but it shouldn't be the entirety of our being.

Took me almost two years before I was able to work full time. My company was awesome and let me have the time I needed, way past my FMLA period of absence. Others are back at work the next week and loved their late spouses just as dearly. Work keeps some people distracted, which can help. Point being, we all react in different ways. I'm going to disagree with Jen, though. If something that gets you through the night, but is dangerous, you need to figure out another coping mechanism. Cutting is pretty self-destructive and can be a gateway to cutting deeper (came very close to losing my youngest niece last year that way) I think most of us think about ending it. Don't dance with that devil, he lies too easily and too sweetly.

"Adulted" a lot today, including dealing with Chase bank's letter to my wife, telling her they're closing her card for lack of activity. Yes, I've told them she's dead. Four years now, sheesh. Well, at least they'll stop sending letters. Maybe. Went to the barn to play with my horses, car promptly broke down. So just gave them some cookies instead and dealt with vehicles. But at least horse spit is a good antidepressant. Rewarding self with some Mexican food at local place. Think I'm the only anglophone here. Things could be worse. But yeah, Saturday nights, you feel singlehood the worst.

I've found her blog occasionally inspirational, but mostly just a "work out and take care of yourself while grieving" reminder. That in itself is useful. I dislike some of the health faddish stuff I see there occasionally (like detox regimes)-- but mostly it's sound, if basic fitness advice. Just like the rest of us, her journey and path were her own. I think her grief and her way of coping are authentic, and I'm not going to judge her for making a living through writing about it. (Edit-- not saying you guys are judging. More talking about my own reaction to "professional widows". I had to look past that)

You guys have scared me off the melatonin, for sure. Have a bottle in the cupboard, but really don't need any more craziness. Trying the whole lucid dream idea, but I'm not sure it's working. Keeping a dream journal and telling myself I'll remember my dreams just seems to make them more vivid. Had some really bad ones last night, including a super vivid painful one about being crucified on a vast plain filled with empty crosses that were there to let me know that I was dying alone. Promise I won't share any more, but that gives you the idea Can't take most prescription psych drugs for work related reasons (I'm a pilot and the FAA is super picky about that sort of thing).

Another vote for cutting her off. I don't know about you, but grief gave me no room for toxic people who thrive on drama and conflict. We give family a bit more slack, but there's limits. Your MiL is pushing beyond them

I also did this far too many times. I believe your use of absurd metaphor acknowledges that one gets nowhere this way. I admired so many women from afar, but none of them became actual girlfriends to me. So don't waste too much of your life doing that. If you find yourself liking a woman, let her know that by asking her out. That's the only way to learn whether she deserves all that admiration. |+| M a r k |+| Not an absurd metaphor. That's actually how I met my wife. Not kidding. But I also recognize that waiting for that Hollywood moment again isn't particularly productive. Funny thing is, I'm surrounded by women. My main hobby is riding horses and I'm frequently the only man around other than the stablehands.. I'm a pilot by trade, and while most of us are guys, the FAs are mostly women. So, it's not like I spend my days at the local tractor pull and bait shop, wondering where the girls are. You're right. I have to ask. The question is...do I want to? I haven't answered that one yet. If I'm not ready, that's cool. Maybe I'll be someday. But if I am, and I'm just not making the proverbial move out of social anxiety, then that's something to work on.

Don't want to make too much out of a single dinner. It was more like a feeling of "sheesh, I'm really not ready, am I?" Seriously have no idea how to ask anyone out. It feels kind of stilted. I prefer agonizing over someone for a year or so, while she secretly does the same, then having a natural disaster toss us into each other's laps whereupon we declare undying love for each other. Worked last time, except for the stupid obligatory tragic ending. I guess where my head is at is missing having someone close who I can share life with. And it's been long enough that I'm actually okay with it being someone who isn't my wife. But it hasn't been long enough that I'm comfortable with casual dating. Kind of silly, but I've got this feeling that seeing someone else is almost unfaithful-- so it had better be someone special. Clearly something I need to move past if I'm going to have a normal life. I'm just not ready to check into a monastery.

I think I was pretty correct on the "no spark" thing because the lady in question is now going out with my horse's trainer (also a woman) and planning on moving in together. Yep, my life the soap opera. Hey, they seem happy and they're both good friends. And yeah, first "date" post loss and it's with a closeted lesbian-- maybe a coincidence, but more likely a sign that I really didn't feel up to a potential relationship. OneOf, I hear you so loud and clear. It's this feeling of wanting to be with someone, but honestly, it's my wife I miss. I can imagine being with someone else, but like you say, it seems like a heck of a lot of stuff to deal with unless you know for certain that "this is the (second) one!" And that's pretty heavy criteria for a first date Hell, not even sure HOW to ask someone out anymore. Last time I did that, there was no internet and cell phones were only owned by the kind of guys who drove BMWs.

It's been a little over four years since I lost my wife to cancer. I know we all have our own timelines, but honestly, I'm beginning to wonder what is wrong with me. I haven't so much as tried to meet another woman, much less gone on a date. The closest I got was dinner with a friend a few months back. She even thanked me and gave me a hug afterwards, then texted me in the evening. Maybe that was a date. Not sure, but honestly didn't feel the "spark" so never pursued it. So maybe I'm not ready yet. But then again, we married young, right out of college. And we never really dated. Long story, roof literally collapsed on us and we decided to get married. No, really. Terribly romantic but not very practical to expect it to happen again. So my dating background is really a couple of awkward high school experiences, one steady girlfriend (not my future wife) during my sophomore year, and the occasional cup of coffee that never went anywhere. Flash forward two decades and a half, and here I am. So I'm trying to figure out if my lack of a romantic life is due to me still grieving (and I do, very much so), or just a complete cluelessness about how to go about asking someone out. Not sure if there was a question there or if I'm just doing a bit of online soul baring

Jeez, I thought I was the only widow smoker. I didn't smoke at all until after she died. Then I took up cigars and cigarillos Btw, she died of cancer and the irony isn't lost on me. She also hated the smell of smoke. Probably would slap me silly if she were around. Then again, I quit drinking a year ago. Smoking is harder to quit, but probably the lesser of two evils

Been there. Christ, the pain. It's overwhelming and very honestly, you won't act entirely rationally for a while. You won't care about important things. But small things can send you into flaming anger or uncontrolled sobbing. If you can stand it, try to be around people who love you. By yourself time can be dangerous. Although you'll need some of that, too

My wife had four bouts of cancer, starting when she was nineteen, with the last at 45. The first three, she got all those "you go girl!" and folks would tell her how strong she was. She hated it. She always said "Don't call me a survivor, I'm just muddling along". She hated the whole labeling survivors got, like they were nothing more than some mystical ability to beat disease. She didn't beat inoperable pancreatic cancer. My mother, who loved my wife like a daughter, gave her the whole "You can do it!" pep talk, which reduced my wife to tears. She told me that the worst part was feeling like she was disappointing all those people who expected her to magically beat a terminal diagnosis. So I talked to my mom, and she finally got it. They want to believe in some magical cure. Like if you burn enough candles and the victim is pure of heart and strong of soul, everything will be okay. More cynically, I think there's an underlying feeling that if they were ever sick, they'd just Norman Cousins the doom away, unlike weaker willed folk. We know it isn't true. But it's a pleasant fairy tale for many. Unfortunately, it often hurts those struggling with potentially fatal disease.

I can't add much, except to say I think we were all there. And maybe still are. It's the worst thing in the world that could happen, and it did. You wish it was you instead of them, or failing that, you too. I think my dog got me through the first few weeks. She was something I loved (and my wife did, too, very much so) I had to take care of, who I had to get out of bed for. It might sound dumb, but I'm probably alive because of that mutt. It won't be easy. It probably shouldn't be. Eventually, you find life worth it again. But for now, just keep working on the breathing and don't try to stop the sadness. Do hug that dog, though.

Not dating, but it can be a bit weird in just day to day social encounters. I don't have kids, so it's not apparent that I was married. After folks get to know me, though, there's that inevitable moment after I mention my wife that they get this puzzled look and ask me if I'm married. And then I explain and get that awkward "oh I'm so sorry!" Honestly, people just do t know how to react-- but then again, I can't blame them. Four years and I still haven't figured it out, either

Thanks all. So maybe no melatonin. I saw a doctor, who referred me to the psychologist/grief counselor. Helped in some ways, not so much with the dream issues. And boy howdy, you're right about interfering with daily life. I'm on medical leave right now for concentration issues (my job requires a high safety margin). Maybe I'll look into the lucid dream thing. Can't hurt.