Love and hate

[Jen]

It's been a rough week. I took a cross-country trip, comedy and drama and tragedy (in the form of a broken ball joint) ensued. I laughed and cried in equal measure. At this point, I'm so tired of feeling that numbness would be a welcome relief.

 

I got onto a plane in New York Wednesday night and huddled around my heartache-- I didn't speak to my seatmates or the flight attendants, I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn't have to. That lump of hot lead was back in my chest, and the rest of me just felt empty. That lasted until I made my connection in Atlanta-- then there was a hitch (par for the course, for this trip), and a brief delay. I started to get angry. Not at the airline-- the delay couldn't be helped-- but at Jim. At my Jim, whom I loved more than my own life, who loved me more deeply than anyone ever has or ever could. If he hadn't left-- if he hadn't died-- I wouldn't be stuck in that damned airport. I wouldn't have gone to New York. I wouldn't have driven his stupid car across the stupid country, only to have it experience catastrophic breakdown at the finish line. I wouldn't be scrambling to come up with repair funds, and I wouldn't be nursing a broken heart. None of this would be happening, none.

 

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I'm ashamed to admit this... but I'm going to anyway, because I need to get it out. So please don't judge me too harshly, all right?

 

In that moment, I hated him. Hated. Vehemently, venomously. I hated him for leaving me to struggle through this life without him, I hated him for breaking his promise ("I will never leave you, I will never abandon you"), I hated him for taking away my safety and my peace and my happiness. How could he do that to me, when he supposedly loved me?? How??!?!

 

I used to think that love and hate were opposites, but now I know better. I think you have to love someone to truly hate them-- they're flip sides of a coin. The opposite of love is indifference, and that's what killed my first marriage. Loving someone who really couldn't care less whether you do or not is soul-killing. Losing someone who genuinely loved you, whom you loved completely and without reservation, is devastating... but as long as I can still feel that hot-lead agony, I know my soul survives.

 

I'm sorry, my Jim. I'm sorry I heaped such vitriol on you that night. A wise friend of mine says emotions are neither good nor bad; they just are-- so there's no real point in apologizing for them. But still... I feel guilty. I loved you. Love you. Always will. But I wish with all my heart you hadn't left me to this bleak new life.

 

I don't hate you, not really. I hate that you're gone. I hate that I can't hear your voice in my head anymore. I hate that I can't feel your arms around me. I hate that I'm still in free-fall after all these months, which feel more like years, and that there's no safe landing in sight.

[anniegirl]

I stood at LH's grave once and yelled at him until I was hoarse, so absolutely no judgement from me.

 

I'm sorry your trip went awry and that your trip back was so emotionally stressful.

 

I know you will continue to feel whatever you need to feel for a while, but you needn't feel guilty about it. It's okay to feel and it's okay to share it.

[Jen]

I can't do this anymore. I can't, I'm done, I just want to stop now. Please, can I just stop? I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of this unfathomable emptiness. I'm tired of being a black hole in human shape. All that's left is anger and pain and bitterness, and I just don't want to live this way any longer. I'm okay but I'm not okay. I can't. I just can't.

 

I used to hate myself. Now I don't, but I hate my life and everything in it. I think I deserve better than this misery. I don't know why I'm still suffering, but I don't know how to stop. There's no love left. It's just hate. There must be something else, there must be... but what if there's not?

[Trying]

Jen I'm sorry your trip and the unexpected complications have triggered this anger. For me, I can handle the sadness better than the anger. Anger is destructive so I think it's good to let it out (except those times I have let it out on some poor innocent soul).  You have reasons to be angry and you have reasons to be grateful. Both need to be acknowledged. You have earned your anger and your sadness in the crappy cards you have been dealt, you didn't chose to lose your love, to be a widow, to be raising your kids alone. But I promise you there are good things out there for you, make room for them, even if it seems like a huge risk.

 

Big hugs to you

[Jen]

But I promise you there are good things out there for you, make room for them, even if it seems like a huge risk.

 

 

I want to believe this. I do-- I'm like Mulder, I want to believe. But nothing I've tried has worked. I've taken risks, I've opened my heart, tried to get out and socialize, and at the end of the day I'm still alone, unwanted, without purpose. I suppose that not really true, but it feels true... and I don't know what else to do. I don't want to do anything at all. I want to go to sleep and not wake up.

 

Maybe it's just the time of year. Maybe it's just my reality. Whatever it is, I don't want it.

 

Thank you for the hugs. I needed them. Hugs back to you.

[anniegirl]

Aw, ((Jen)), if I could give you the recipe for leaving the misery part behind, I would. Cuz, it's always a sadness, but it's not always misery.

 

It's been so long now that I don't really remember when things settled down. I was so busy that first year with work, grad school, parenting.

 

I do know that if you want a different life, you have to make it for yourself. That's what I wanted and I had a plan, which was creeping along but it was a forward movement, and I was determined.

 

But in one way, I was luckier than most widowed because I was able to take an extended sick leave and so I went about 6 months without working. I had school and child, but I also had daycare (yes, I was that much of a bad parent that I took her to daycare/preschool even when I wasn't working) and over the summer, my niece doubled as a part-time nanny.

 

So I really made an effort to give myself a ton of space and recovery time. Where nothing much was expected of me and I could take long meandering strolls (sometimes outdoors and sometimes I just pushed a cart around Target) and I babied myself. I avoided. Turtled. Ignored. Daydreamed. Schemed. Reminded myself that my kids was portable and everything else was replaceable so the only thing holding me back was me.

 

And though nearly everyone at the YWBB told me not to - every time the tears started, I shut them down. Because I was done mentally and emotionally it was killing me. So I treated grief like it was a bad habit and I set out to kick it.

 

That is not kosher advice, and I am not suggesting that you do anything of the sort, but I recognize your pain. I was there. This is what I did.

 

This is still your life, and you are still in charge of it. There are some things we can't control, but there are a lot of things that we can.

[kjs1989]

So sorry you are going through this, Jen. I get it.  The hate and anger, yep, I also have that all the time. Strangely, I had it some when he was alive, too.

 

Sometimes I sit and think about the disconnect between D and I at times when he was alive. l Ioved him so utterly and completely, but even then I had anger at times, and he couldn't understand it. I didn't understand it. Now I regret it, but try as I might, I couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from exactly at the time. But now, and this sounds weird, but I think I felt like I was losing him even he was alive and well, not due to infidelity or a breakdown of our marriage, but just that he was not going to be with me or the kids forever. We were going to lose him at some point. I often felt that in a very vague sense. I would lie in bed and think about it at night, but would usually manage to talk myself out of it.  I had even expressed some enigmatic fears to my teenage daughter about it. I felt like something was pulling him from me, but I had no idea what or who, really, but it pissed me off. I was angry about his type A personality, his distractiblity, his multitasking, his compulsiveness, his complacency, his employees, his friends, everything about him at times.

 

So now, he is dead. And it is almost like, "I told you so... You went and left us. It  is your fault! Your damn lifestyle and your damn careless and selfish  friends!!I I knew you would leave us!!! And you did!!! And you left me with all of this shit to take of!  A business I have no clue how to run! A household to run!  All of your stuff, stuff, stuff! So much stuff! Legal stuff upon legal stuff! Three teenagers and all of their issues!!! And your brother who has compounded my grief time and again by his self-interest under the guise of being caring and helpful! You knew he was like that and you never told me!! You bailed on this great life and the future which was yet to unfold. You left me to figure it all out. And you left the kids and me forever damaged. Forever. It SUCKS!!!"

 

I don't know what the answer to this anger is, but for me, I just go a day at time, and sometimes it recedes a bit, but it is always there. Please just now that you are not alone, Jen.

[Jess]

When I moved, I chose not to unpack pictures of Joe. I plan to get a cabinet where I will put some of those pictures, his, urn, and other little things that were his. The one thing I do have out besides the urn is a framed drawing that an artist friend of ours drew after Joe's passing. There are times when I look at it and feel good, but there are other times when I just get ANGRY. That poor drawing has been cussed out, screamed at, flipped off, and even spoken to in a passive aggressive manner.

 

I am angry I have to take the trash out. I am angry I can never get my coffee as good as he did. I am angry I am always the one to clean up after the dogs. I am mad that when there is a nasty creepy crawly in the house that I have to kill it. I am angry that because of him, some people still look at me like I have the plague. I am mad that I had to move from our house. I am mad I am one person with two cars. I am angry he left.

 

This widow crap is confusing sometimes.

[canadiangirl]

I get it.  All of it.  (((Jen)))

[Jen]

I don't want to be this person-- I don't want to be bitter, hateful, resentful. It's easy to tell myself to let it go, but... I just can't. Every single day reality stops me in my tracks: I'm alive, he's not, and I have to go forward with nothing. The buck stops here. Nobody takes care of me, or even checks to see if I'm coping; nobody will simply hold my hand and tell me it will all be okay. I have plenty of supporters at the pep rally, but no one to actually help me move the ball. I hate it.

 

I don't mean y'all, by the way. And I really do appreciate being able to come here and whinge and moan. ((((HUGS))))

[Mr C]

Jen, Sorry to hear that you had such a rough week. When things go wrong it seems to bring all that pain up to the surface. It sucks and feels so unfair.

 

As for the anger, I get it. The other week I found myself so upset, that I ended up swearing at Mrs. C and cursing myself to hell so that I would never have to be with her ever again. Like that would show the universe. My sweet wife doesn't deserve anything but my deepest love and I want more than anything to be with her again after this life. I just miss her so much and this pain becomes so unbearable at times that I just want to escape it.

 

I do believe some of these emotions are part of the process of trying to carry on without them; which we know they would want us to do to the best of our ability. My anger happened after getting back from Florida with the kids. I had allowed myself some enjoyment and a bit of contentment in life. This lead to a sense of guilt that eventually boiled over to anger and somehow feeling like she must have never really loved me. Finally, after stewing until 3 am, I looked at a note from her that said, "I know at times I have taken your love for granted and I hope you often take mine as one of life's permanent givens." She really did love me! Yet sometimes she got angry at me too. Sometimes she would get so mad--not necessarily at me--that she would scrunch up her face, ball up her fist and punch me in the stomach as hard as she could. I was her safe target to release her emotions. She knew it never hurt me and that I was always there for her.

 

I am sure your Jim is more than willing to take on some of your pain and emotion. He knows how much you love him.

 

Hugs to you,

Jerald

[Freelancing]

What you're actually experiencing is "ANGER" disguised as hatred. Its common whether its admitted to or not, and probably natural to feel angry due to a major loss and the destruction of a comfortable life.

[Jen]

Hence my sig line. :-\