Jen

Maureen, I just want to tell you that I've been thinking about you a lot... just haven't been able to post much. (((((((HUGS)))))))))

So many hugs. I can relate to just wanting a friend... I have some dear ones, but they all live in the computer. I don't have anyone nearby to call and say "let's go get a coffee and vent" or something like that. Most of the time I'm fine with that, but every once in awhile... I'm an introvert, so I've never needed much in the way of human interaction, but since I lost dh, I've craved it more. I'm aware of being lonely-- sometimes acutely so. It's hard, and I don't have a good solution. People tell me I need to "put myself out there," but I don't really even know what that means. I'm just making it up as I go along.

(((((BH2))))))) I wish I knew what to tell you. I honestly don't know if I'm stuck these days or not. I'm okay, I guess-- not thrilled with my life, but not suicidal anymore, either. I have good moments-- more often than really bad ones, though I still have nights when I cry myself to sleep. I don't have a lot of hope that there will be any drastic improvement in my life circumstances, but I don't completely hate where I am. The biggest change I've noticed is that, even though I don't expect my life to ever be roses and sunshine again, my self-esteem seems to have increased significantly. For the first time ever, I look in the mirror and I mostly like what I see. I like me... although I'm starting to come to terms with the idea that no one else ever will again. (If someone proves me wrong, great, but I don't expect it.) So I don't know. Am I stuck? Have I made progress? I really don't know. I do understand feeling like I don't have much to contribute anymore... I think I've said pretty much all there is to say, there's not a lot I can add to the conversation. I've embraced the Widow's Motto: It Is What It Is. Most of the time, it's enough. (((((more hugs))))))

AMEN!!!!!!!!!! I'm sick of being where the buck stops. Even my mother expects me to make all the decisions now. I'm a Libra, I don't do decisions well! I want someone else to be the grown up. I'm tired of adulting, especially when I'm doing it alone.

No great advice, but lots of (((((hugs)))))) ...

Yes, same here! No near misses or anything like that, but for the last two or three weeks before he died, Jim-- who always had a morbid sense of humor-- seemed to make a lot more comments about death. Or maybe I just remember them more? He joked about wanting a Viking funeral, then about the cats eating him-- "They're being very affectionate, they're just anticipating the Great Feast"-- and he told me I should have him stuffed so he could sit on the couch with me and the kids. That Sunday night-- the night before his birthday, when he died the following Thursday-- we had... not an argument, but an intense conversation. That was when he told me he had only ever wanted me to be happy... and then he assured me that he wasn't going anywhere, he wouldn't ever leave me. Sigh...

(((Hugs))) Thank you. Definitely lost and lonely today... I'm not sure I could even say why. Just another day.

I'm so sorry. (((Hugs))) At the risk of inflicting serious TMI on y'all... I've never felt, um, satisfied with my sex life, even when I had one. My drive was always higher than either of my husbands'-- xh used it as a weapon to leverage power in what turned out to be a really twisted relationship (he would withhold until he got his way about whatever, and pathetic fool that I was, I put up with it for way too long). Jim's spirit was willing but he had physical limitations-- I mostly just learned to live with being frustrated. Of course, I only thought I was frustrated then... :-\ I'm at a loss here-- for real. I am genuinely concerned that I will never have sex again, and that is a serious issue. Like-- possibly requiring therapy to cope with it. Maybe I'm blowing it way out of proportion, but right now it feels like the end of the f***ing world, if you'll pardon the halfhearted pun. Just had to vent. Thanks.

I've been working on the self-care thing, I really have. And I think I've made a little progress, at least. But it's a quiet Sunday afternoon, I'm off today-- weird for a Sunday-- and I'm starting to feel blue. No particular reason... I'm just lonely. (((Hugs)))

Like most Saturdays, today was a work day- rather an uncharacteristically busy one. After work a bunch of us went out for Mexican to celebrate our co-worker's new job- we refused to call it a farewell party, since no one wants her to leave. The nice thing about nursing is that one can always stay "in the pool"-- come work once in awhile when needed. Now I'm home and crashed on my bed, wishing desperately I was sharing it with something other than a pile of pillows and a stuffed hedgehog. Because desperation is sooooo sexy... :

Seven years. Nine. AIGH!!!!! My parents got divorced in 1991. That was IT for my mother. She's been a nun ever since. I can't stand it. Please shoot me. Or teach me how to stop caring. My body has more or less shut everything down, but my brain persists in conjuring up vivid images that absolutely kill me.

Tons of hugs and hopes for a smooth move! You can do this!

I'm happy today. Hard to believe, but true. It's over 100F outside, my yard is finally mowed, and I didn't do it! Ha! I finally sucked it up and hired a very nice man to come cut the grass. It sounds silly, but I'm proud of myself, and my lawn looks soooo much better. (I'd been hacking at it with a me-powered push mower until the heat defeated me!) Plus, I'm actually a little ahead on school work-- at least until the weekend.

You know... I've been wondering about this. It's been well over a year, and I still haven't informed my insurance agent. I've suspended the coverage on Jim's car because I never drive it-- I need to break down and sell it, I guess-- but I've never had him taken off my policy. Am I going to be in trouble for that... ? I'm honestly not sure what to do. I have this vision of me carrying his death certificate into the State Farm office and them charging me some exorbitant penalty when they see the date... :-\

I can't believe I missed this thread for so long! His name was Jim. James Gordon Walker, Jr-- he always signed that stupid "junior." : Jimmy when we were kids-- I was 10 when we met, he was 11. We were best friends before we were anything else. He was my fairy tale, my dream come true-- my first love, my first heartbreak when we broke up, and my salvation when he tracked me down 15 years later. He was my Jim-- he will always be my Jim. Always.

Massive ((((((((HUGS))))))) to you all. Grace, I think I've cried myself out for the time being... I hope. (Until Tricia's post, then I teared up again... ) Can I just be obnoxious and say I love you guys? Honestly... I wouldn't be here without you. I mean that.

Maureen, about a thousand hugs back!! Please know I've been following your travels and sending good thoughts daily, even if I haven't managed to get online and post them.

Tricia, my thoughts more or less echo yours on this. If LH saw our youngest howling like a wounded wolf for him, or me sobbing until I vomited, he couldn't possibly rest in any kind of peace! At first I wanted him to stay close, and it almost felt as though he did, but one day I realized he was gone. I haven't really felt him since. Now I hope he's skipping the rings of Saturn or soaring through nebulae or strolling through fields of gold... doing whatever brings him bliss. Maybe I'll get to see him when I go West, or maybe not. My love for him will remain, and I trust that his for me remains as well.

Just speaking for myself, I would've gone a whole lot further to see you all. It was so worth it. ((((((HUGS))))))

I remember that pain. It was horrible-- I didn't know a person could feel something so terrible and survive it. (((((((HUGS))))))))

THIS. Absolutely this. Jim died on a Thursday. On the previous Sunday evening, we had-- not an argument, but an... intense conversation that I will never forget. He looked me straight in the eyes (and, oh, he had beautiful blue eyes... "eyes like the sea after a storm...") and said, "I want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted." He meant it. He meant every syllable, and now I realize what a gift that was. So I'm doing my best to honor that, and him. I'm finding ways to be happy. I"m trying to pay it forward, to make others happy as well, and celebrating the happiness of others instead of curling up in a bitter, resentful ball of misery. (Some days are more successful that others, granted.) Jess, I haven't been online much lately-- I'm only taking two classes right now, but they're doing a pretty good job of kicking my ass-- but please know my thoughts were with you on your sadiversary, and pretty much on every other day. I don't post as much as I mean to, but I couldn't do it without you and this community, so... thank you. So many hugs...

No!! No, no, NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Don't say that. Please. Because if it's true for you, it's true for me as well. The fact is, the globe keeps turning. I can't for one second imagine that the people who loved us so much would begrudge us any comfort or crumbs of happiness that we can find. There's no way in hell my Jim would expect me to sit beside his urn crying for the rest of my life. He would *forbid* it, and I'm pretty sure your wife would do the same. For the first 6 months, I wrote to Jim every day. All day. I carried my journal with me everywhere-- and a little vial of his ashes as well. I filled up eight notebooks, basically one extremely long love/grief/anger letter to the person I'd loved, man and boy, since I was 10 years old. And then... when I'd filled the eighth one... I got a ninth. But it wasn't the same kind of notebook, and I didn't address it to him. It wasn't a letter anymore, it was just my journal, a safe place for me to work through everything I was (and still am) trying to process. At the same time, I stopped carrying that little bit of his physical remains with me. At first I felt guilty, like I was leaving him behind, but I realized... that's just not possible. I scattered that vial's worth of ashes atop a mesa in southwestern Colorado this past June-- my favorite place in the world, a place I wanted to take him and never got to. It was easier than I thought it would be... freeing, somehow. No more guilt. He's in me, he always will be, and I could no more forget or abandon him than I could leave my arm or leg or heart laying about. You're not any kind of an asshole, Brenda. You're a bereaved wife trying to rebuild some semblance of a life, just like me. We're getting through the best we can, and our lost loves are cheering us on. They want us to find some joy again. I promise. (((hugs)))

My first anniversary without LH was hard... harder than I'd imagined, probably because of what Brenda says: it was OUR day. It was rough. So many hugs to you. Happy Belated Anniversary.

This. Definitely this: http://www.dutchamsterdam.nl/155-gezellig Injo can help us with the pronunciation next time 'round! (And there WILL be a next time!!!)

The bad thing about flying high for a little while is the inevitable crash that occurs when you can't maintain the altitude. A week ago, I felt alive. I was happy-- truly, genuinely, completely happy. I felt like me-- I felt whole, or as near to it as I think I'll ever be capable of. Now that's gone-- it slipped through my fingers, even though I tried like hell to hold on. It was like trying to cling to smoke. I'm grateful for the brief ascent-- I really am. I hold onto the slightest hope that there might be another chance for me to rise, someday. But for now I'm back in the abyss, weighted down by chains of grief and loneliness and encroaching despair. The emptiness is swallowing me again, and I don't know what to do, except keep trudging onward. I'm so tired of being lost in theis wasteland. I was a good person, with potential. I don't understand why my road had to lead here, and I don't guess I ever will. Just needed to get that out. Time to head to bed-- to sleep, perchance to dream-- and then start another empty day. Hugs.