Jen

My Jim has only been gone 2 years... well, 2 years, 4 months, and 20 days. I can't imagine being 5 years out, much less 10... I'm glad you're still here, to give me something to fix on. Hugs to you.

It kills me that Jim didn't get to see the Star Wars movies. He was a huge fan, knew everything about the movies and the expanded universe, and he was excited to see what Disney would do with it. He used to joke that he had a PhD in Star Wars, and now I keep thinking there's a whole new chapter he's missing.

Oh, Leslie... I am so, so sorry. It's beyond horrible when this happens, and so many times they don't know what causes it. It's not fair, and it hurts so, so much. {{{{{{HUGS GENTLE HUGS}}}}}} Peace be the journey, little one. <3 <3 <3

Fuck that this broken heart will never, never heal. I don't think it'll ever work right again. :-(

Some days are better than others... mostly I'm just resigned to a long empty life, and I hate it. I know I need a to make a serious change, but I don't have a clue what to do or how to even begin to figure it out. I'm just... stuck. And I guess I'll stay that way until I accept the stuck-ness. Embrace it. Love it. Ha! impossible. Every time I think about it, I start to cry. It's like that line from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: "The hours are good, but now that you mention it, the actual minutes are lousy." My life in a nutshell. Honestly... I often just wish it could be over. I'm so tired of trying to make something of it. Some people look at it and say "look at all the possibilities!" That is, of course, the appropriate attitude, and I try to see it that way... I really do. But my default setting is more "omg it's all unknown and freaking TERRIFYING." I don't want to do this anymore.

I think I'm pretty well doomed... 40+, wid, 3 kids, fat, nerdy, socially awkward... yeah, I don't think so. But I try to hang onto a tiny bit of hope, even though it seems completely futile most of the time. And you're getting out there, which is awesome! I'm clinging to one dead end and basically waiting for someone to knock on my door. Oh... and wallowing in self-pity. That's probably the biggest hurdle for me. On the bright side, I am equipped with soft and extra-absorbent shoulders. ((((HUGS))))

I wish I could come! I'm actually off that weekend, which is rare. I even checked airline prices-- no dice, the cheapest one I could find is over $500. Sigh. I'll have to send all my hugs virtually. I want pix!

Your post hits home, SemperFidelis. I had a life. I had a purpose. I had a partner. Then he died, and I lost all three. All meaning vanished. I vanished-- Jim's Jen died the same day he did. Now I think I've grieved for him-- I've accepted his death and feel peace about it-- but I'm still grieving for my lost life, my lost self. I don't know who this new me is-- I've learned a lot of things, found some surprising things out about myself, but I'm still incomplete. A work in progress, but the progress is so tediously slow. Honestly, I hate it. Has to be done, but I don't have to like it. (((((HUGS))))) I wish I had something more upbeat and encouraging to say. I just wanted you to know you're not alone feeling this way.

I loathed, hated and despised hearing "you're so strong." I still do, but at least I don't want to punch people in the face when I hear it now. It's meant to be encouraging, but it has the opposite effect, in my experience. It feels... minimizing, somehow. Like our loss is insignificant. "I could never be that strong" means "it would be so much more devastating if I lost my loved one, yours must not really count." That's what I hear-- I'm positive that's not what's meant, but we all filter through our own lenses. It hurt. I hated it. ((((((((HUGS))))))))) It's okay not to feel strong. You don't have to be. I'm so, so sorry you have to be here, but if you have to go to pieces (and that's perfectly fine) this is a safe place to do it.

Fuck that after thinking and reflecting and crying and considering all the angles I know exactly what I want in life... and fuck that I can't have it. Fuck that there's really nothing else for me. Just fuck it all.

I'm sorry, y'all... I'm here (sort of) but I don't have it in me right now to speak up. Please know I'm thinking of you all. <3

Hugs. I'm so sorry... I wish I had better words. Please keep talking. We're here and we get it.

((((HUGS)))) You're right, of course. We keep going. My life before already feels like a dream, a beautiful story I told myself, but if I'm very still, if I concentrate, I can still remember the feel of him, the way the hair curled into ringlets at the back of his neck, the smell that meant comfort and safety. Oh... that hurts. But at least I can still remember.

Today makes 27 months. A blip, in the grand scheme of things, so why does it feel like a million years? An eternity ago I was safe, I was loved, I was secure in my world. Even uncertainty was fine, because I knew I never had to face anything without my Jim beside me. Then he left and I broke and nothing has been right since. It's getting better, I guess. I'm functional. I have more good days than bad. Last month I didn't realize it was the 10th until the day was half over, and I called that a win. This month I've been watching the calendar, watching the clock, and dreading today... I don't even know why. 27 months doesn't mean anything in particular. I'm okay. I have support and people who love me and encourage me. I have a trip to look forward to next week... admittedly, that's the end of my line to date; I don't really have anything after that, but I'll find something, surely. There's got to be something around the corner... right? Today I'm fragile. One good bump and I'll shatter, and I have no real idea why. It's just 27 months.

Absolutely, that's a huge part of it. They've almost become separate issues for me. I think I crave emotional intimacy more than physical. I've found some creative ways to meet that need-- a close friendship with another wid, leaning on my theatre group and some of my coworkers more than I should, and (I'm embarrassed to admit this) participating in an online chat group. :-[ It all helps, but it's not perfect. And then there's the physical side of it... aigh. I miss being safe in my husband's arms and heart and bed. I didn't think I'd ever have to worry about this bullshit, but here I am, floundering around trying to make sense of life as a single person in her 40s. It sucks. And I'm still experiencing skin hunger like you wouldn't believe... except most of you probably would. :-\

Yes, exactly! I know perfectly well I'm not in the right place, physically or emotionally, to manage an actual relationship. But I desperately need to get laid!

It's been 2 years, three months, and one week since I had sex. I'm climbing out of my skin! I jokingly told my therapist last week that I should find a hook up on Tinder and be done with it. She agreed with me! Then she said she was embarrassed to even suggest such a thing, but it might help! Sigh. I'm just not that brave. :-/ ETA: My 1000th post. Great. Lol.

(((Hugs))) I hope so! And right back atcha. <3

Hugs, hugs, hugs. I know that was hard. I went to my sister's wedding last fall, and was present for the birth of her baby recently, and while they were, of course, joyful events, they were still painful for me. Someone told me early on that even the good things will always be bittersweet now, and I guess she was right. :-\

I got a new bed when I moved at about 9 months out, and I purposefully chose to sleep on the opposite side of what was "my" side-- so I guess I now sleep on "his" side, or what would have been, but he never saw this bed. I fill up the other side with pillows, books, and stuffed animals (don't judge me, lol) and I don't migrate much. I got new sheets, new pillows, and a new duvet... but here's something odd: sometimes I get into bed and it *smells* like him. Just for a minute-- I'm not trying to suggest anything paranormal here, but I can't figure out where it comes from. Odd, but vaguely comforting, so I don't try to hard.

(((((HUGS)))))) I wish I had more...

I get it. I absolutely get it. I miss feeling safe and protected. I can take care of myself-- of course I can, I always have-- but the brief time I had my Jim was the only time in my adult life I felt completely... safe. Now that's gone, and panic is always just a few breaths away. There's no reason for it, other than I feel like I've been falling for two years. I hate it. Hugs.

All the hugs. (((((((((((((((((HUGS)))))))))))))))))

Ohhh... siiiiigh...

Thank you all so much for the encouragement. I've been to two sessions now, and I'm... cautiously optimistic. My therapist is pretty astute, and recognized that train wreck that is my life happened long before my husband died. She acknowledged that grief is, of course, an integral part of what's going on now, but it isn't the root cause. It's hard work-- I felt like an exposed nerve all day yesterday after I left her office-- but I feel better today. I'm going back once more before I head out on vacation-- which maybe doesn't sound particularly significant, but in addition to the bago, I'm going to be seeing my dad (and guess where my issues started?). I think I'll be okay. I think I've found the problem-- now it's a matter of figuring out what to do with it. I want to be able to look ahead 2 years, 5 years, and see something other than a terrifying blank-- I want to find some hope of a meaningful future. I think that's reasonable... isn't it?