Jen

Ohhhhh, I remember this one very well. I still haven't successfully resolved the question, but at three years out, maybe I can stand to get a little philosophical. I guess you could say I took option 4: ingest a lot of antidepressants, get good and numb, and hope it all goes away. Life in hell becomes existence in purgatory... eh, you get used to it. But I have to say that this is a timely topic. For some time now I've been asking myself, "What comes next?" I have no idea-- none, zip, zilch. I was up at 4 am pondering this, in fact, but I'm no closer to an answer. Nothing I wanted out of life is relevant anymore. That's not all bad; it means I've accomplished what I intended. So I can go, right? All done? Nope. In the course of achieving my various ends, I've acquired certain... obligations. Family. A few friends. Not a lot, but enough to keep me here for the time being. Truth to tell, it really bites sometimes. Okay, so I'm here. Looking down the barrel of-- what, thirty, forty years? More? (Not less, obviously. Life is not guaranteed to any of us, I realize-- now more than ever-- but I couldn't get that lucky.) How do I fill that time-- productively, if not exactly happily? Good damn question. I'm drifting along waiting for lightning to strike, for screaming klaxons, for something. I know, I know, I'm supposed to be responsible for my own future, but I wouldn't mind a few hints. My therapist intimated to me yesterday that she doesn't feel I need regularly scheduled sessions anymore-- "just check-ins now and again." Does that mean I'm fixed? Or at least Beyond Active Grieving? Past the acute stage and into the chronic, maybe, because we all know that it never goes away. Mostly I just feel... empty. So, yeah, what's the point? Keep breathing, keep being useful in some way. Keep hoping for better, some would no doubt add, but I'm not among them; whatever hope I had for resuscitation or renewal is long gone. I have no idea what happens now, what possible purpose my life can have beyond the standard obligations. I'd like to think there's something down the road-- this long, long road-- but I've lost any capacity I ever had to imagine what it could be. Those are my singularly unhelpful thoughts. My apologies-- they're probably better left unspoken. You'll have to look elsewhere for sentiments like "this can only make you stronger" and "it'll be okay in the end," but commiseration and a sounding board? That I've got.

This station needs a graveyard DJ. It's 3 am out here in West Hell, well and truly the witching hour. Creepy thoughts galore, despair lurking in the corners. Anyone else out there hoping for a call in show?

Desperately wish I could come. I didn't get to tell you how very happy I am for you both! Add me to the "attending in spirit" list! ♡

Weirdly enough, I keep humming selections from Sideshow. Maybe because being in hell makes me feel like a freak?

I would like to humbly suggest you go with "North Alabama" instead. We do have some semblance of civilization out here-- theatre and art and radio stations that play something other than all Lynard Skynard, all the time. Just sayin.

Well, here's the deal. I keep thinking of things to say, I start to type, then hit delete. It SUCKS. I'm an expert at grieving, but when it comes to supporting a loved one... I'm a novice. I know how to talk to women who've lost babies. I've lost a baby. But it was a clump of tissue, not a real person (NOT TO START AN ARGUMENT WITH ANYONE). It was sad, it hurt, it took time to get over. It's nothing-- NOTHING-- compared to this nightmare. So it's really, really hard to find anything to say that's not a) painfully repetitive, b) clichéd and deserving of being throat-punched, or c) downright offensive. Doesn't leave too many options, frankly. I'm open to suggestions. Hissy fits are completely welcome, but at this point I don't have much more than "there, there," unless you want a full-blown thread-hijacking rant. Which this is quickly becoming, so I'll stop now. Also, I hate Free Bird. Not big on poetry these days, either. I love you, though.

You're a bloody mind reader. Done.

What about karaoke? I've got a few selections in mind...

I'm going to Wegmans. I'll grab you a couple boxes of Kleenex. (I'm looking for any tangible stupid thing I can do. Sue me.)

Plot twist: I thought I would pass out cold and stay blissfully unconscious for at least 8 hours, but I barely slept at all. Too much time alone with the hamster in my head running like a crack-fueled lunatic. I wish there was something practical I could offer-- if you think of anything that requires doing, I'm at your service. Beats sitting here crying all day.

Listening.

Fuck that all I want is brownies, but my first thought is, I can't have brownies, because fat, rapidly ageing widows need to try to maintain some semblance of self-control and at least attempt to be healthy and fit. And my second thought is, Fuck that, I can eat all the damn brownies I want because I am a fat, rapidly ageing widow, and nobody is ever, ever, ever going to want me anyway. :'(

Those stupid PE commercials make me cringe and change channels too. Kevin Nealon can bite me. Fuck being miserable. I'm so fucking sick of it, but I don't know how not to be. Fuck loneliness, fuck being skin starved, fuck having no dreams anymore. Fuck knowing that the only person who can take care of me is me. Fuck being alone even when I'm with other people. Fuck it all.

I hear you. I hate this life, hate it with every fiber of my being. I'm 30 months out and it's no easier. Recently I lost pretty much all the progress I'd made in climbing out of hell, and I'm right back in the abyss. I cry, I scream into my pillows, I whine to friends and my therapist. I'm so lonely I want to die, but I can barely stand being around other people. I have virtually no motivation-- it's not laziness so much as inertia. Why waste energy when there's no point in doing anything? The only thing I really look forward to anymore is an end to all of it. I know-- I KNOW-- this is a terrible, horrible attitude. I'll likely get flamed for it. But you have to understand-- I tried. I tried very, very hard to make something resembling a new life. I threw myself into it, thinking that I was honoring my Jim's memory by paying it forward and helping others the best I could. It drained me, it took everything out of me, and now I'm just an empty shell. I have no idea how to put the pieces of my broken self back together-- I was already shattered, I'd managed to cobble things back together, and now those pieces have been scattered and crushed to dust. There's just nothing left to repair. I'm sorry that I'm not good at adopting a positive attitude. I can't find anything to like about this life now-- it's just drudgery. I don't remember how to be happy-- it's such a distant memory, it might as well have been someone else. I hope someone else who's in a better place can post and tell you something useful. All I can do is tell you I'm here, I hear you, and I understand. Hugs, if they help.

(((((HUGS))))) I wish I had better words... those seem to all be gone too. I'm grateful for all of you. I'm still pretty hopeless, and I honestly don't see that changing anytime soon, but I keep plodding on. There's no other choice, is there? Thank you for being here. I'm sorry any of us have to be.

I'm grateful. Truly. But right now it's so dark I can't see a way forward, and I don't really want to try. I've gone this far. Isn't that enough? I've lost my hope, my faith in anything, and my capacity for trust. I think I've used up all the love inside me as well. The only thing I have to live for is responsibility, which is a heavy burden, but I'm doing the best I can. I'm not brave. I'm not strong. I'm just too damaged to do this any longer. Frodo is right, there are some wounds that never heal. Some things are too broken to be mended. I wish I could find a ship to take me into the West. I know I'm not supposed to think things like that, but I can't help it. I just want to be done.

I can't do it anymore. It's the awareness of time-- the immensity of it, and how slowly it passes-- that I can't bear. I'm sorry, I don't mean to seem argumentative. I'm not some special exception to the rules. Maybe in a couple years I'll be able to look back and say, Yep, you were right. At this particular moment, the prospect of having to endure two more weeks of this-- let alone years!-- is unthinkable.

I wish I could take some comfort in that. I'm genuinely happy for you-- I know your road has been no easier than mine. At the risk of sounding completely defeatist, I don't think there's much chance of a happy ending for me. I'm too much of a wreck for anyone to deal with for long. My heart is broken beyond repair. I can't breathe. I wish I could stop altogether. I'm sorry, I know that's not the right way to feel. At least I should be able to keep it to myself. I'm a failure all around.

Rationally, I know you're right. And I've tried to hold onto that, I really have. I've tried to make changes, be proactive, build something resembling a life. But it was a house of cards, and it has all fallen apart. So all I can reasonably expect-- for myself-- is more of the same. I'm not good with the power of positive thinking thing; I've never been a great Pollyanna. I suspect that's it's that particular fact that has caused my former sources of support to disengage and abandon me. The pain of that abandonment only reinforces my feelings of loss and hopelessness. I've made it 2 1/2 years, which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't very long at all. I don't want to think about going any further. I do appreciate your words, and I hope you see a break in the darkness soon. Hugs.

... and I'm back at the beginning. I seriously considered posting in the 0-6 months forum, but I didn't want to scare anyone, so here I am. Still screaming. Still lost. I have no more clue what I'm doing now than I did 910 days ago. No idea what comes next, just as certain that when Jim left he took the best of me with him, and condemned me to a long, lonely, empty existence. I'm just counting down days until I get to follow him. So many days, though. So many months and years to come, and I can hardly bear to think of them. I try not to; I try to stay right here in the now, but the now hurts like hell. There's no escaping it-- I have no choice but to exist here. Two and a half years. I feel every second weighing on me like some impenetrable stone. I'm not sure if I'm being buried alive or if I'm just one of the walking dead. All I know is that it doesn't end.

All of the above. I'm glad it's not just me, but I'm sad that it's not, too. I wouldn't wish this hell on anyone.

I feel like all the progress I'd made in the last six months or so-- socializing, making friends, trying to put together some semblance of a life-- has evaporated. I'm back to struggling to hold back tears in public and falling apart when I finally get to my bedroom, my one safe place. I feel like I'm trapped, the walls are closing in, but not fast enough. I'm still seeing the therapist, but I'm afraid I'm wasting her time. I'm stuck. I know I'm stuck. I can't find a way to get unstuck. This is one lost lamb who's never going to be found, and right now I wish some damn wolf would come along and eat me, just to get it over with. :'( :'( I just needed to get that out. I don't think there's any way to fix it. Thanks for tolerating another dose of my misery.

(((((((HUGS)))))))) Please don't be sorry. I've been struggling lately as well, and I've been too cowardly to post. I hate that I'm so lonely and miserable, no matter what I try to do. I need change, but I can't even figure out what I want, let alone how to get it. Nothing helps, and I'm ready to just quit... everything. :-\ I'm sorry you're dealing with hard decisions. I'm tired of always being "where the buck stops." It's not fair that everything falls on our shoulders. I would given just about anything to feel safe and loved again, just for a little while... I don't think I'm helping much, but I'm here and I can listen. I don't want to say I know how you feel, but I bet I come close. more hugs, Jen

Not much to say, except that I'm the mother of an amazing, brilliant, artistic, erudite non-binary gender fluid child. While she hasn't asked us to change pronouns (because sometimes she feels feminine), she has a male name that she prefers to use outside of the immediate family. I love it because I can use all five names when she's in trouble! ;-) My point is that my child identifies as female some days, male on other days, and sometimes agender. Regardless, she is my child, and she knows I will adore and support her, regardless. Unconditionally. Without question. I trust that she knows herself best, and it's my privilege to love her while I watch her discover her (or his, whenever the request to change pronouns come) incredible unique self.

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