Jen

YES. Yes, yes, YES.

Hugs and more hugs. I am so, so sorry you had to join us... please keep talking. We hear you, and we get it.

Hugs. Thank you; I appreciate that more that you know.

No, I understand that, and I would never suggest otherwise. I think now, more than ever, each of us needs to be careful with how we proceed. We are definitely fragile, and I know I'm not the only one for whom finding a sense of stability is of paramount importance. I do not underestimate that, I promise. It's entirely possible that I'm reading too much into this thread, because I've found the whole thing very triggering-- probably I should never have ventured in, much less opened my mouth-- but the responses seem, quite honestly, to indicate otherwise. I'd like to say that even in the depths of my worst depressions I have stood by loved ones who needed me-- that's pretty much the reason I'm still around. On the whole, I've found my grief to be much more selfish than my depression, but the grief is brutally honest, while the depression always lies. Anyway, I'm going to step out of here now. Please know I wish no one anything but the absolute best for them and their relationships. I'd just like to have some hope of having one again myself someday, but right now that seems particularly unlikely.

Many, many hugs. I'm so sorry. My husband's funeral was horrible; his mother insisted on arranging it, and it in no way reflected my sweet Jim's beliefs or attitudes. The minister who conducted it was a friend of the family, but he hadn't known my husband since Jim was 8 years old, and knew literally nothing about him except what my MIL gave him. Unfortunately, what she gave him to say reflected who and what she wished her son had been, rather than who he was. It took everything I had not to jump up and punch the !&*$%@# in the face.

So... I have depression. I'm what they call dysthymic, which is chronic low-grade depression. I've had a few episodes of major depression as an adult, and, yes, I've considered suicide. I'm on meds, and they do help, but they don't take it away entirely. I will defend myself by saying that I'm very self-aware and even though the depression sometimes threatens to drown me, I've always managed to drag myself through. Moreover, I've loved and supported a depressed spouse. I suppose, in a roundabout way, depression is what killed my Jim-- his health problems, his disability, and, ultimately, his demise can all be traced to lifestyle choices he made in response to a lifetime of depression. He had come such a long way in overcoming it, but the damage was done. I have to say that this thread... depresses me. I mean no disrespect to anyone, people should absolutely choose what is healthiest and best for them. Boundaries, lines in the sand, whatever. But speaking as one of the stigmatized... we deserve love and support as well. We don't choose depression, just like a person with diabetes doesn't choose to have a crappy pancreas or insulin resistance. Luck of the genetic draw, exacerbated by situation. And we're not weak; most of us fight the old hag with everything we have. Sometimes she wins. Just as in any disease state, people respond differently to treatment-- sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. I completely agree that it's not selfish to choose healthy over unhealthy. I've spent my whole life struggling to get and stay mentally healthy. If I can't maintain it, does that mean I can forget ever finding someone to love and support me? Because I lost the genetic lottery and have some jacked-up brain chemistry, there's no point in my hoping that I might have another partner someday? Please forgive the rant. But please consider cutting us depressed folk a little slack. This isn't our idea of fun, either.

Jess, you summed it up perfectly. Trust in the future? What future? I can manage about 3 months at a time. After that, it's pretty much a blank. For now that's okay. I can accept that pain is a part of life. Suffering might even be unavoidable. "Life is pain... anyone who says differently is selling something." I get that, I do. And I know I'm not special; my pain is no worse than lots of people's, and probably a lot less than most. Nevertheless, it is my pain, my story, and to have it brushed aside with what felt like a useless platitude-- even though it was from someone that I'm completely convinced would never intentionally hurt me-- stings. It's easy to tell someone to buck up, things will get better-- hell, I'm guilty of it too. And I'm not just sitting around waiting for a new life to come find me-- I'm trying to rebuild. But trust anything, or anyone? Not likely. Not anytime soon.

Our fifth anniversary came 9 months after he left. It was hard... we should have had so many more. No matter how many you get, it's never enough. Hugs to you.

Oh, hugs, hugs. I am so, so sorry.

We barely did Christmas last year. Nothing went up at my house, I just couldn't do it. My kids and my sister put the tree up at my mom's (since that's where we always do Christmas anyway). In January my mom and I moved into a house together, so this will be the first time Santa comes to "our" house. I don't even want to think about it. I'm off Christmas day, but I'm working 12/23, 12/24 and 12/26. Suits me fine. I'm dreading the holidays... which is sad, I always loved them so much. Not anymore. Hurts too much.

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

I have them. Of course I have them. I can't go there right now. Can't break down at work... :'(

Totally missed it. I've been working like a dog this week, so my Saturday night consisted of my dragging in from work, swallowing, some supper, falling into bed, and conking out almost immediately so I could do it again today. :-\ Didn't even get to see the new Doctor Who!

I am so sorry. ((((hugs))))

That is EXACTLY what I was hoping!!! Yeah, July in LA can be warmish, but it's nowhere near as bad as July in Arkansas. Or probably Arizona!

Here's my problem: I can't do May. July, however, is an altogether different story. My second child was born in Los Angeles, but we moved when he was 10 days old, and he's never been back. His birthday is July 20, and since that falls nicely in line with our family vacation, I can make a very strong case for Disney/Anaheim/LA. (In fact, my mom already said yes.) And I have permission to add input from my partner in crime: July 21 is Michael's 2nd sadiversary, and there is nowhere he would rather be than heading west on the WidzWorldTour. So... just putting this out there... would anyone else consider doing a Disney Bago Extravaganza in July?

True that!!! :-\ I know I can't go-- doesn't stop me from wishing I could. Maureen, I'm afraid you're right; much as I'd like to be able to say that I am completely sufficient unto myself, the fact is that I work best in a collaboration. It seems like such a waste to me, to think of spending the next 40 years or so just drifting along, hopeless and lost until I finally get to shuffle off this mortal coil. I guess at this point I'm still hoping for hope. Maybe one of these days I'll find some. If anyone has suggestions on where to look, I'm all ears...

A well-meaning, caring, loving DGI. But a DGI nonetheless. I'm aware that I'm prickly and prone to take things the wrong way, but I'm really struggling here. I think we can all agree that the major task of widowhood is building a new life-- bonus points if you can make it into something you actually want to participate in-- and that's where I'm falling down. An old friend made the mistake of asking "How are you doing?" So I told her: I'm here because I have to be, not because I want to be. On the surface, I'm okay-- I meet my obligations, I get the kids to school, I do my job, I pay my bills. Beyond that, though... I'm lost. There's nothing I want. Everything I wanted is in the rearview mirror and receding fast. I have no goals, there's nothing I want to accomplish. Is a swift and painless death that doesn't inconvenience my family a reasonable goal? Didn't think so. :-\ So after releasing this diatribe on my unwilling (and, I must reemphasize, very well-meaning) friend, she came up with this gem: "Trust in the future." Um... yeah. Not so much. I did that, you see. I trusted in the future, I trusted in fate, I trusted in my love story. We all know how that turned out. I don't dare hope for anything else-- hope hurts too much. I have a suspicion, though, that that's not the right attitude. There's got to be something else. An inveterate nerd, I keep flashing back to V'Ger in Star Trek: The Motion Picture-- "Is this all that I am? Is there nothing more?" How do I find hope? How do I find the courage to hope for anything better? For a little while, there was light in hell. It was still gray, but there was an occasional glimmer... I almost thought I could see a way out. Now it's black again. I don't know what to do.

Hugs to you... I am so very sorry. I'm lacking in words these days, but not in empathy... Wishing you peace.

Megan, I am so, so sorry for your loss. So many hugs to you, and to that sweet baby girl. I love that you named her Erica... such a lovely and fitting tribute.

Yep. Still. ((((Dan)))) Keep breathing. I wish I had better advice...

Not weird. I want to go!!!

OH, hugs, hugs. I'm so, so sorry. The what ifs will eat you alive. I'm a nurse, I should have known that my LH was waving multiple red flags in terms of risk for the pulmonary embolism that took him one afternoon, but it never occurred to me to even suggest he take a daily aspirin. He turned 40 on Monday and was gone on Thursday, and I've spent the last 19 months beating myself mercilessly for failing to rescue, failing to notice, failing to protect, failing to advocate. It's what I do for a living, but I couldn't do it for him. Honestly... I will never forgive myself, even though I know he would never want me to exist in this misery. Please keep talking. The road through hell is dark, but the company is incredible. More hugs to you.

(((((Karin)))))) I am so, so sorry you had to look for us... but grateful that you found us. We get it. We don't want to, but we do, and we're here. Like you, I lost my sweet husband very suddenly--like lightning out of a clear blue sky. Tomorrow makes 19 months, and I still can't get my brain around it. I mean... he just stepped out to the grocery store or something. He'll be back any minute. Right?? :'( I said I was going to stop counting, but this is so me-- right down to Thursdays and the 10th. I can finally make it through a Thursday without melting down (usually), but the 10th still looms large on the calendar. I suppose it always will. Please keep talking. We're here to listen. More hugs, and peace to you. ~Jen

Yes. A thousand times yes. THANK YOU. I was starting to be very afraid that I was the only one who had thoughts like this, and I felt guilty. The kids should be enough, right? But they aren't, and if that makes me a bad mom or bad person, then I guess that's what I am. I need to be valued for myself, for the person I am inside-- the ones the kids aren't privy to (or interested in). I know I have tons of love to give... I need someone who's not related to me to give it back. I have no idea how to date. I never had to. I was with Jim from junior high through college; we broke up and I met xh. We got married when I was 21 and divorced when I was 34-- I married Jim six weeks later. I've never been a single adult until now-- I don't know how to be single. People keep telling me to enjoy it, to work on myself, but I spend entirely too much time by myself. I know myself pretty well, thanks. I want someone else to want to know me! I'm so scared that will never happen. I can't imagine it happening, honestly. I'm told that I'm lovable-- seriously, people keep telling me that. "Everybody who meets you loves you, how could they not?" Great. Everyone loves me and nobody wants me. In my na?ve and anxious attempts at socializing, I've managed to chat with a few people. There are some very nice folks out there, but it's the same as always: men seem to see me as "one of the guys." I'm easy to talk to, they tell me. Good company. Fun to hang out with. Not someone they associate with love or romance or sex. Classic girl next door, I guess. Forgive the rant. Crying now... which is awkward; I'm at work. It all seems like such a waste. Hence my new sig line... Ready to date? I have no clue. Ready to not be alone and afraid? Absolutely, but I don't think I have a choice.