Jen

(((((((HUGS)))))))) to you both. I want my life back too...

My son's best friend's dad has been chatting with me via text-- just casually-- for a few months now. My kid stays at his house, or his kid stays at mine, just about every weekend. He's divorced, a year or so older than me, and he's a nurse too. I've only actually met him once, but we have decent conversations (sometimes a bit risqu?!), and I kind of like him. My son likes him too, and after he badgered me for awhile, I finally gave in: I texted him yesterday and said "I'm being kind of brazen, but I think we should get together for drinks sometime." The overwhelmingly enthusiastic response to my act of supreme courage? "Sure, that would be cool." And nothing since. I should have gone with my first thought, which was to say, "I think we should try being FWB and see how that goes. No pressure, I just need to get laid." Might have gotten a better reception. Sigh. I'm so done with this crap. I haven't even done anything, but I'm just finished. Wrong thread, I know, but just... fuck it all.

I will refer you to my sig line. At 20 months, I'm like the Hulk: I'm always angry. Mostly I turn it inward, which results in a lot of self-hate and the inevitable self-pity that follows. But I'm also angry at Jim for dying, I'm angry at his family for basically abandoning us, I'm angry at my mother for being elderly and not being particularly sympathetic to my situation anymore, I'm angry at my sister for being pregnant and newlywed and happy, I'm angry at friends who tell me that "happiness is an inside job, not an outside one." The list goes on and on... I honestly don't know what to do about it (but I like your idea about the ice cubes, Grace), and I don't know if it will ever resolve. Will I ever not be furious? No idea. I don't want to be hateful and resentful, but that's sort of where I'm headed. :-\

So many hugs... thank you all. Thursday was bad-- it was 20 months, and Jim died on a Thursday-- so I slept through as much of it as I could. It finally passed, and yesterday was marginally better. Today... another slap in the face. I got an email from Ancestry.com-- I'd signed up there a couple years ago, but hadn't done anything with it since I lost Jim. Apparently they just updated their records, and sent me a notification that there were "new hints" on my family tree. I'm on my lunch break, so I logged in to see what they were-- expecting 1940 census information on my grandfather or something. Instead, I get treated to the fabulous announcement that they've located records that "may pertain to" Jim. It was his obituary and the updated listing in the Social Security Death Index. So I guess that's it. It's official; he's dead. The government has added him to the Death Index and Ancestry.com has changed his "leaf" on my tree. It only took 20 months. Back to work.

(((((HUGS))))) I'm so sorry.

So, so true.

(((((((HUGS))))))))

YES. I'm so tired of being in my own head. Nothing seems real anymore... I can't trust what I see and hear. I know I am loved. I know people care about me-- rather, my brain knows-- but my heart can't be convinced. It needs constant reassurance, it needs to hear it repeated ad infinitum. But I can't in good conscience ask that of anyone- -it's not anyone's job to validate me or babysit my poor fragile heart. I'm trying to find a way forward that involves depending on no one to carry me but me. You're absolutely right, there's no way out but through, and there's no one else to do the work for us. I know I should straighten up, shoulder the load, and stagger on under my own power. But there's this little lost girl inside me who can't stop crying, who just wants someone to take me by the hand and lead me out of the darkness. Someone else to be strong and take care of me, because doing it myself is too hard and too exhausting and I just don't want to! Speaking of guilt... I feel guilty for feeling that way. I resent that I have to do this. I'm angry; it's not fair. That and $2 will get you a cup of coffee at Starbucks, but it is what it is... right? I hate this. I've hated it since day one, and I still hate it. I hate not knowing, I hate feeling so abandoned and alone when I'm demonstrably not. I hate hearing my youngest son cry because he will "never have a dad again." I hate crying myself to sleep because no one will ever climb in beside me, hold me, love me "that way." I want to just NOT CARE, but I don't know how. So I moan to myself until I can't stand it anymore. Then I moan here, because y'all are the only ones who get it. And I'm so sorry for that... Hugs and more hugs. I'm so sorry. It's got to get better soon. Surely...

... but I really, really, REALLY just want to be done. I was done counting. So why did I wake up this morning and immediately think, Two more days and it will be 20 months? What the hell difference does it make, anyway? There's no finish line. There's no magical threshold that we cross and find happiness waiting on the other side-- well, maybe when we die. If we're lucky... Twenty months, and I'm no less adrift than I was at the start. Everything I've tried to cling to has more or less floated out of my grasp. I'm keeping my head above water, but barely-- and I get a good lungful every now and then when I start to go under. On Sunday (which was my daughter's 16th birthday, no less), my mother and I got into a screaming match, in which she accused me of making her raise my children while I'd spent most of two years "wallowing." Yup, that's me. Wallowing. No point denying it. Yes, I'm taking meds. Yes, they help. But I'm still broken, I'm still lost. Still crying at work and at Starbucks-- sometimes I bother to hide it, sometimes I don't. Right now I'm sitting at the nurses' station with tears rolling down my cheeks. If anyone notices, they don't mention it. My liminal period is over; the statute of limitations has expired on sympathy for my grief. For awhile I was feeling pretty good about myself. The one arguably positive side effect of misery for me was considerable weight loss-- the secret is to just stop eating for 9 or 10 months, no biggie. People kept telling me how great I looked, as if that meant I was all better-- you can't still be grieving when you're having to shop for new clothes, right? Well, I started eating again last summer, and now I've gained 20 lbs-- about a quarter of what I'd lost. I try to be mindful about what I eat, I keep track, and I walk almost every day-- usually 2 or 3 miles. I expect it's normal rebound, but suddenly I'm worthless again. Fat(ter) lonely widow. No one wants me. I'm useless-- even my mother says so. Why not eat another peanut butter cup? I'm like Evelyn in Fried Green Tomatoes: too chicken to get really serious and get fit, or else say screw it all and get really fat. I told someone the other day that self-pity is the last refuge of the damned. I guess that's why I'm still mired here. I just don't know what to do about it. I feel as though I've exhausted all my resources for support-- no one wants to listen to me whinge anymore. I can't stand it, I don't want to be here, I don't want to think about it another hour, let alone another month or year or decade. Of course I don't have another option. I just needed to get that out. I'm sorry I haven't been around much... I just don't have much left to give. (((Hugs)))

Hi Jen (from another Jen), my dh passed very suddenly three days after his 40th birthday... he had just picked the kids up from school, threw a clot, and suffered a fatal pulmonary embolism in the living room. I'm still trying to get my brain around it... in 2 days it will be 20 months. That information doesn't help you, I know, but please know that you're not alone. Lots and lots of hugs to you...

Yes. And somehow it never seems to ease up. The exhaustion, I mean. :-\

So many hugs. I wish I had more...

I'm going with "you should." Because at least one of us ought to be happy... or gratified.

Gigantic HUGS. I wish I had more... thinking of you, sweetie.

((((((JS))))))) These days, just... fuck my life. Fuck it all, straight to hell.

So many hugs. I am so, so sorry. It took me well over a year to be able to say "I'm a widow," and it still stings. The best I can say is that you're in the right place... we're listening, and we get it.

((((((((HUGS))))))))) I'm so, so sorry. When I read your post, I think immediately of the stages of grief, and how we're all supposed to get to "acceptance" ... but some things are simply unacceptable. There are no words to express how much my heart aches for you. Please keep talking. We're here.

I just had a new fridge delivered, and the delivery guys actually flirted with me. I was sort of shocked-- I don't think I'd myself as flirtable! One of them told me I was pretty and asked for my number... and I considered giving it to him. It was almost like a setup for a porn flick... too bad the kids are our of school for the holiday. Did I really say that? :o

I'm halfway through year 2, but this is exactly how I feel. Yes, I can do it alone, but I DON'T WANT TO!!!! I want to stomp my feet and cry and scream, but that doesn't help. It's not fair!!! >

((((((((HUGS)))))))))) I wish I had more. Please hold on, sweetie.

That sounds beautiful. I would love to have a little chunk of land in the mountains... always wanted that. A cabin would be lovely, but if I could only pitch a tent on it, I think I'd be happy. (((hugs))) I hope you get it.

((((((JESS))))))) That is so exciting!! But I think it would feel like a bit of a slap in the face to me as well... or maybe just a bucket of cold water. Meltdowns are completely acceptable. I'd love to see pix!

Oh, hugs, hugs, HUGS. I wish I could fix it... I wish I could take some of it, even a little, away. I am so, so very sorry. I doubt that helps at all, but please know I'm thinking about you and sending strength.

Please, PLEASE do not be sorry for venting!! That's why we're here! This sums it up very well. I desperately want human contact... except when I have it. Sigh. Mostly I just want one pair of arms to hold me and tell me everything will be all right. But that's not happening, so... :-\ Hugs to you.

So many hugs... I am so, so very sorry. I wish I had better words... the ones you've gotten are excellent, so please, please keep talking. It helps, sometimes more than you realize. We get it, much as we wish we didn't. The major task of widowhood, I think, is to make sense of what life is left, and it is almost unfathomably hard. It's not fair that we have to do this. Hell sucks, but the company is good... and you're not alone.