Jen

I would totally take you up on cookies and sweet tea, Baylee! (And wine, what the hell!) You could come in and crash on the couch with me and we could binge-watch my current fave, Bizarre Foods. (Seriously. I barely watch TV, but lately I've gotten addicted to Andrew Zimmern and his insane culinary adventures. There are almost no grief triggers when you watch someone drink cow's blood in Tanzania, or eat stuffed camel stomach in Dubai, or rare beetles in Thailand.) I just don't know how much longer I'm expected to do this. Every day feels like a marathon. The kids were talking last night about how fast the school year went, but all I could think was that it lasted at least 5 years, and how many more do I have to do? My youngest will be in 4th grade next year, so that's-- what, 9 more? 45 in wid years? I can't. I just can't. Every night I go to sleep (eventually, I'm struggling with insomnia) begging for a dream, a sign, something to give me some hope. Every morning I wake up disappointed, thinking, Please, not another day! I don't want to do this anymore. Everything seems so pointless. I have no past-- I can't bear to think about it, it hurts too much, so I suppress my memories of Jim and our life together as much as possible. I have no future-- just endless drudgery and duty. That sounds horrible; I know I have to keep going for my kids, but I have no expectation of ever having anything for myself again. Years and years of that... I can't. Please don't make me. I was thinking of starting a thread for "little happies," like Jess mentioned someplace. I think the big happies are all gone for me, but maybe I can learn to accept that the little ones will just have to be enough. There are a few, like my kids (when they're not trying to kill each other) and that idiot with the crazy hair on Ancient Aliens (the inane claptrap on that show actually makes me laugh out loud, much to my surprise, so I try to catch it when I can) and finally beating a frustrating level on Peggle Blast. And there you have it: other than work and household chores, that's my entire life in a nutshell. Oh, and walking. I do walk a lot, mainly because I can't stand to sit in the house very long, even if Andrew is slurping shrimp roe straight from the still-living source (he put her back in the tank, she survived the snack) or Crazy Hair is ranting about aliens who genetically modified hominids to create a slave population that eventually rose up and overthrew their Annunaki masters-- Anyway. I walk. Which leads to thinking, and thinking leads to hurting and crying. Then again, most everything does, and at least the walking had made my clothes too big and my resting heart rate fall by 20+ beats per minute. So there's that. I hate this. I feel like all I do is whine, when I really don't have it all that bad. I'm just lonely and sad, but I can't accept that lonely and sad is all I'll ever be, so I rail against fate and scream and rant in my journal and reinforce all the misery. I have no motivation to do anything, so everything is a struggle. I wish I could just go to sleep for a decade or two... I'm sorry. Thank you all for the hugs and good thoughts, I needed them. Please know they're returned a dozen times over. I know there's no fix for this, it just... is what it is. Time passes, if nothing else. Maybe there will be something good tomorrow. So many hugs, Jen

I need to go run errands, but I just had to get this out so I don't feel so completely alone. It's not that I want anyone else to get it-- but I'm grateful that there are people who do. It's a gorgeous day-- from inside, anyway; it's too hot to stay out for long. It's the last day of school, the last day of relative peace before I have to play referee to my three kids. I'm busy, I've got lots of things to do before we go on a family vacation this weekend, so I should be occupied and distracted and not thinking about how endlessly freaking lonely I am. I shouldn't be blinking back tears and wondering if life will always be so grey and empty. I should be focused on the tasks at hand, not whinging about the interminable misery of widding. But I am, and I just... I need a hug, I guess. A reminder that the road sucks but there are others walking it. Sorry to be so pitiful, but if you have any good thoughts to spare... I could use a few. Thanks and ((((((HUGS)))))), Jen

((((Hugs)))) Wishing you peace... I can't add anything helpful, but I hear you.

Absolutely too young. It's not freaking fair.

I think a massage, or even a manicure, would send me into a complete meltdown. I've got a lump in my throat just thinking about it. I miss physical contact so. Freaking. MUCH. I feel like some kind of degenerate, but it preys on my mind-- will anyone ever touch me again?? What will I do if the answer is NO??!? I wasn't ready to lose my sexuality at 39 years of age. I hate this. I just want-- Oh, I can't even. I hate this.

If I could hope for anything, it would be this. The nuts-and-bolts circumstances of my life haven't actually changed that much (except that everything is different, of course): same job, same kids, same bills, same schools and teachers and coworkers and so forth. Same trajectory, for all intents and purposes-- except that there is no purpose to any of it anymore. When I had Jim, my life meant something. Now it doesn't. I guess that's just a construct in my crazy little head, because really, so many things are the same as they were before, but I can't get past it. Love and companionship gave my humdrum life meaning. Now I trudge through the dreary, endless days with nothing to bolster me. I wonder if I'll ever find a reason to live again, as opposed to just exist... right now I'm not very optimistic about my odds. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It just... wasn't.

(((((((((HUGS)))))))))))) Wish I had something better-- like a plumber on retainer. Hang in there, sweetie.

Oh, hugs, HUGS. It took me over 13 years to break away from an abusive man, and he'd shown his true colors before we'd been married two years. You are incredible, and I am SO FREAKING PROUD of you. Strength to you, from one ginger to another! (Okay, mine comes from a bottle, but still... )

(((Hugs)))) I just hit 14 months. I admit, I had to stop and think about that... I made up my mind to stop counting at a year, and for the most part, I have. The actual sadiversary was a surprisingly good day... most of the days since then, not so much. I was so terrified that I'd get to that magical year mark and find out that it didn't change anything-- and that's pretty much what happened. Jim wasn't any less dead at 366 days than he was at 364. But I will say that the grief has changed markedly. Like Mizpah says, it's more about me now. Jim is gone, and I miss him, but I don't yearn for him like I did. I yearn for-- something, a sense of connection, a reason to wake up in the morning. Sometimes that void aches so much that I can hardly bear it. I continue to trudge through the days, hoping that maybe a time will come when I feel alive again. I read over and over that it's possible... I just don't know if it's possible for me. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm just... done. Hugs-- I'm so sorry, I should try to be more encouraging. Peace to you...

I'm too scared to even look at a dating site (although I've almost reached the point where I'm considering propositioning my favorite barista at Starbucks-- he always gets my coffee order right without my even having to open my mouth, that's a good sign, right?), but I think it's a moot point-- I'm pretty sure I'm a dud too. :-\ I thought I was past worrying about all this shit-- and I never knew how to do it to begin with. I'm *livid* with Jim for leaving me in this position. I hate this. HATE it. I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life, but the alternative is just as terrifying to contemplate.

It wasn't the best Tony Awards show ever, but I still enjoyed it-- as much as I can enjoy anything these days. I got my car back today after a month (total transmission rebuild, yikes!)-- I've been sharing my mom's car, and the only plus to it has been that she has Sirius. I've been immersing myself in Broadway for the past few weeks, and I've come across songs that hit me square in my lacerated heart-- some I knew, some I forgot I knew, some I'd never heard. Hair, for example, has never loomed large on my radar, but this song (from the 2009 revival) went straight to my core: "Easy to be Hard" Lately I've had a profound sense of disconnect from-- well, everything. I feel so lost, and no one is looking for me anymore...

I wish I could get excited. I'm trying, I promise... maybe it will seem more real as it gets a little closer. :-/

I've been having internet connection issues, and when I was finally (!) able to get on tonight, I was going to post a thread with this very title and topic. I've been feeling disconnected from everything-- from my family, from my friends, from my life. Going through the motions-- yes, that describes it perfectly. I know I'm not dead, but I'm not alive, either. I'm just... here. I've been on an antidepressant for almost two months now, and I do think it's helping, but when my doctor asked me the standard depression screening questions-- "In the past two weeks, have you experienced decreased interest in things you used to enjoy? Have you felt down or blue? Have you had thoughts that you'd be better off dead?"-- I had to honestly answer yes to all of them. I do everything I'm supposed to, but I don't want to do any of it. I don't want to be here. I have nothing to look forward to-- even things I should be excited about, like a couple of upcoming trips. Every morning I open my eyes, reality strikes, and I just think, Oh, no, not another day... I don't really know where I'm going with this, so I'll stop. Just wanted to tell you that I feel similarly, and I hope we'll be able to look back someday and say, "Hey, we got through that." (((Hugs)))

Hugs, hugs, HUGS. I wish I had something better to offer. I keep thinking back to an old episode of Star Trek, where Spock removes the memory of a particularly painful loss of Kirk's. In the long run, I don't *think* I'd really want to have amnesia, but when the pain hits-- and sometimes it's so intense I can't catch my breath-- I would give just about anything to be able to have my memories removed, or modified. Where's a Pensieve when you need one? More hugs, hon. And ditto what Mo said about the postpartum period-- your hormones are on a roller coaster anyway, so your emotions are as well. Add grief to that-- oh, hon. I'm so sorry. Be gentle with yourself, and snuggle that sweet new baby.

In some ways that's the worst part of this whole wid gig. No one touches me anymore-- well, my 9-year-old hugs me sometimes. I feel so disconnected, like there's an invisible force field between me and the world. No hand to hold, no one to snuggle next to at night. For the first time in my life I feel cold all the time-- it's 90F out there, and I'm wishing I had a jacket. Very bizarre, but I think it's a symptom of the physical and emotional isolation. On the rare occasion when someone does touch me-- a coworker pats my back, or the barista brushes my hand when giving me my coffee-- I swear it feels like I've been burned. I can feel it for hours afterward.

I try to avoid triggers as much as I can, but sometimes I have to go there too. I'm getting better at dragging myself away, but it hurts... oh, it hurts. ((((HUGS))))

((((((((INJO))))))))) I'd like to think the best of people, and be reasonably certain they weren't consciously trying to be thoughtless and hurtful, but unfortunately, widding has made me incredibly cynical and pessimistic about people and their motivations. I'm so, so sorry. They should have acknowledged your dh and the hole his passing left in your life. I find more and more that a kind of amnesia seems to set in, even with friends and family who should remember. Guess it's a protective thing, but it hurts like hell. (((((HUGS))))))

Nope. Me neither. According to several well-meaning DGIs of my acquaintance, I'm wallowing, feeling sorry for myself, and I should just choose to be happy. "Life is what you make it. He wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life being sad and miserable." Whatever. He left, so he forfeited his vote. Come live in my head for awhile, then tell me how you choose to be happy. And by the way, fuck off. (Sorry.) (((HUGS)))

I appreciate the assurances of those who've survived this longer that this feeling changes eventually, but right now I'm pretty much where you are. My days at work are tedious and tiresome; my days off are almost worse, because I have no use for free time-- I have nothing to fill it. I'm lonely, empty, and sad, and nothing I've tried helps, at least not for long. I can *almost* accept that this is just the way my existence will be for the foreseeable future, but if I think about it too long, I get angry and frustrated and so full of pain that I'm back to screaming, like I did in those early days. Needless to say, I try very hard not to think too much. My latest coping strategy is immersing myself as much as I can in pseudohistorical claptrap-- ancient astronaut theories, holy grail, stuff like that. It's nonsense, but distracting-- anyway, it's something to do. Sort of. For now. ((((Hugs)))) I'm so sorry. I wish I had something better to offer.

Ever since it came out, I've wanted someone to sing that song with-- and mean it. I dreamed of singing it at my wedding. Well, I never actually had a wedding-- eloped both times-- and neither my ex nor Jim could carry a tune in a bucket, lol. Xh wouldn't have considered it, in any case-- Jim would have, if he was a singer. And he definitely would've meant it. He loved Phantom too, and he wanted nothing more than to be my protector and shelter. Is it pathetic that I still hold out the tiniest hope that someone might find meaning in it with me... someday... ?

((((Hugs)))) I feel a little better today. Thank you all. I really am so very grateful.

Today it's Les Mis?rables-- eminently appropriate, sigh. "I Dreamed a Dream:"

Yes, exactly! I felt judged by my friend who told me "some people never find happiness" (and by the way, she's a licensed therapist). It was as if she was saying "You had it good for awhile-- it may suck now and forevermore, but you don't have the right to complain because you were happy once upon a time, so stop snivelling and be glad for what you had." Maybe that's not what she meant at all-- I can't bring myself to ask for clarification; I already feel like I've all but exhausted my resources as far as support goes-- but that's how I took it. I know there's no timeline. I would never expect anyone to "just get over it." But somehow I feel as though I've failed at widowing. It's been almost 14 months. I had my year in black, I should be finding some way to fill the emptiness, but instead it just gets bigger and emptier. I still cry almost every day. The rest of the time, I feel numb. Dead. I've had depressive issues most of my life-- I finally started meds about a month ago, and they have helped somewhat, but they can't change the essential reality: my husband is dead, the future I thought I had is gone, and I have no idea what happens now. I just know it hurts like hell. I feel guilty posting here-- I worry that I annoy people, try their patience, or worse, scare them. ("OMG, she's further out than me-- is this how I'll feel at ___ months??!?") Thank you for telling me it's okay to keep talking, because I had just about decided to leave and spare you all my angst. I'm afraid people will think I'm a liar or worse. Everyone I talk to asks, "But I thought you were feeling better... ?" Yes, I was, for awhile-- I really did think I'd found a path out of hell. I was wrong, it was a mirage-- or an oubliette, maybe. It just threw me deeper into the abyss, and now I think I won't ever get out again. I'm devastated-- utterly and irreparably broken. Jess, you're right about the "little happies." Even I find them from time to time. That night I sang with my sister was one, and the play I got to do. A chance encounter at Starbucks yesterday with a complete stranger made me happy for reasons I can't even articulate. I'm grateful for them when I have them, but they pass so quickly, and the blackness swallows me again. I wish I could trust that those moments will become the rule, rather than the exception. I wish I could find the strength to believe that my life will be worth living again someday. Right now I can't-- I just know I have to keep going, even though it seems pointless and painful and takes entirely too much effort. I'd rather just stay in bed, to be honest. At this particular moment, even though I recognize that it's irrational of me to say so, I feel as though everything I've done in the past year has been wrong. Like there's a "right" way to wid, and I've screwed up royally. I don't know what to do now. There's not really anything to do, except continue to exist and try not to inflict myself on anyone unnecessarily. Thank you for listening, and for encouraging me. I really am doing the best I can. It's just not very good.

So many hugs back...

Ooooooh yes to this one. And fuck that the son of a bitch has the unmitigated gall to call me with unsolicited parenting advice when he abandoned his children without a moment's thought or hesitation over 5 years ago. He hasn't seen them or contributed to their upkeep in that time, he just calls periodically and upsets them. Rat bastard. Tell me, why does he get to go on living while my sweet Jim, who literally gave us EVERYTHING he had, dropped dead?