Trudging along endlessly

[Jen]

So... it's been a year and eight days. I have only the vaguest memories of where I was this time last year-- on the road between here and D.C., I think. I was numb then-- the tearing agony didn't begin until we got home from the forced "vacation" (my mom insisted it would help, I think she was just afraid-- maybe with good reason-- to leave me alone) and the kids went back to school. I remember having lots of calm conversations with Jim inside my head-- "What do I do now? Why did you have to go?"-- in which, of course, nothing was ever resolved. I was shell-shocked. I couldn't think five minutes ahead, let alone a year. April 2015 might as well have been a millennium away.

 

And now it's here. Nothing has changed, and everything has changed. The days are interminable (except the ones I really want to last, which are few and far between; they fly by in seconds)-- every single one feels like I'm climbing a mountain. I struggle up the slope-- some days are steeper than others, but they're all exhausting. I make it to the top, look around in wonder that I actually survived to see it-- and wake up at the bottom the next morning with the sick realization that I have to do it again. And again. And again.

 

My heart hurts. Truthfully, it's so scarred and broken that I'm amazed it can feel anything at all. I almost wish it would go completely dead, so I wouldn't have this constant ache, but it stubbornly persists. It tells me there is still love, and love is worthwhile, even now. My head tells me that's wishful thinking at best, and pathetic self-delusion at worst. Which do I believe? I know which one I want to believe...

 

How do I get them on the same page? Can't I just make up my mind to be okay with what is? I'm not suffering. I'm (mostly) functional. My life seems so empty; I know it's up to me to fill it. My poor shattered heart still wants to try; my head is utterly defeated and tired of thinking, it wants to give up and just let whatever happens, happen; if an avalanche carries me away, so much the better. So which is it? What do I do? Anything? Nothing at all?

 

I feel like I'm at war with myself. I don't know which to believe: heart or head? Do I dare hope for something better when the odds are that I'll never get it? Or do I fix my gaze firmly on the ground right in front of my feet: one step at a time, stay in the here and now, never look for the horizon-- or the peak?

 

I'm not a Pollyanna, but I don't want to live what's left of my life in the pits of despair, either. If I have to climb the mountain every single day, can I at least learn to enjoy the vistas? And... is it all right to harbor the tiniest hope that maybe somebody will want to climb with me, one day?

[Max2507]

I have always found your posts very articulate and really explain how I am feeling too but can't quite put it in words. Thanks and hugs.

[WifeLess]

Just Jen,

 

My heart hurts. Truthfully, it's so scarred and broken that I'm amazed it can feel anything at all. I almost wish it would go completely dead, so I wouldn't have this constant ache, but it stubbornly persists.

 

This part of your post reminds me of a YWBB discussion that occurred during my first year. A member posted about having a "constant ache in my heart", to which I replied:

 

"It's now been 9 months for me. And I too live with that 'constant ache in my heart'. Although it drains much of my energy and at times seems unbearable, I don't complain about it. Instead I remind myself of how I felt during the first few days and weeks, when the pain was all encompassing. Not just in my heart, but in my head, chest, stomach, every part of me. And it couldn't be relieved even with sleep . . . Now, I seem to be able to confine it within a ball that sits in the center of my chest just above my stomach. I really should not describe it as being 'in my heart'. I think it more accurate to say that it occupies the place where my heart once was. As sad as it is to say, I guess this is progress."

 

I wish you continued healing as you enter your second year.

 

--- WifeLess

[SoVerySad]

Tight hugs to you, Jen. I so appreciate the raw honesty you share in your posts. I completely understand the exhaustion from the struggling that makes even hoping feel like too much of a burden to add. I see that Wifeless already responded to your post. I literally have used words he posted early on after I joined ywbb - "You won't always feel this way" as my mantra to keep going and reaching for happier days ahead. I confess that I still honestly can't envision those days, but I am holding onto that hope.

 

Looking back, I can see that his words have already proven themselves true. I no longer feel like I cannot possibly survive this loss. I know now that I can, even though it is truly predominantly only surviving at this point. Given that my current state is still so lacking real joy, that doesn't feel like much of an accomplishment. Yet it is, because my feelings have changed. So, I'm trying to hold onto hope I'll feel better with more time, despite being still mired in trudging day to day (which I detest). I'm hoping that each day I manage to trudge through leads me one day closer to more happiness (and if not, I am at least one day closer to being reunited with T someday).

 

This is an unbelievably tiring journey. It is hard to believe we'll reach a better place, but hoping is important, I think. I feel like from what I've learned about you from reading your posts and witnessing your journey thus far, hope just is a part of you. As such, I believe you'll get where you hope to be eventually. You deserve it, Jen.

 

More hugs...

[Jen]

Aw, SVS, you made me cry. (((hugs)))

 

LisaPop gave me a good phrase: if I can't hope, at least I can hope for hope. I keep thinking... maybe, if I keep to that... a little real hope will creep in.

 

I know my grief has changed; I know I've made significant progress (if only because people around me tell me so). I'm surviving. I just wish I could believe that one day I might thrive. I think we all deserve that.

[lcoxwell]

I wanted to respond with something heartfelt and with something that could either encourage you, or at least reassure you in some way, but today, I simply have no words. If I am able, I will come back in a day or two, with something meaningful. In the meantime, just know I am thinking of you and that I, too, feel like I am struggling to climb the mountain, each day. (((Hugs)))

[Jen]

(((((((((LESLIE)))))))))))))

 

Let's keep climbing together. No words needed.

[Ursula]

Jen, I am resonating with what you said.

 

You know what? This: 'If I have to climb the mountain every single day, can I at least learn to enjoy the vistas? And... is it all right to harbor the tiniest hope that maybe somebody will want to climb with me, one day?'  IS hope! It is there. You try to see beyond the dark and ugly fog and I am glad you do.

I feel (from the outside and you may think, wth does she know) you have an incredible strength and will to survive and you insist on being happy again. Keep at it, you can do it.

I get what you say and so many times when reading your posts I am nodding in agreement, but you've got it in you Jen, you will see the vistas, bit by bit.

So, just as a companion on this weary journey, I join you on the way up, let's see if there is a vista once we get up there rather than fog and clouds. I believe we deserve to see the full on panoramic view (damn!).  Ha, and then we can have a picknic

hugs hugs hugs

[Jen]

(((Ursula)))

 

Thank you for the vote of confidence-- I'm trying to find some hope, but every time I think I find a tiny spark, it fades before I can catch it. I'm so tired, I'm depressed, and this is exhausting, thankless work. I'm sick of it all, I wish I could go to sleep and wake up in three years. I think I've given pretty much all I have to give. There's so little to look forward to; what there is seems ephemeral and hollow. Maybe it's time for me to quietly exit stage right and accept that this show is over, at least for me.

 

Definitely in hell today...

[injo]

Jen, I'm so sorry you're feeling so bad! No words just a big hug. Hang in there sweetie.

[Lisa]

Big hugs as you ride this wave

[Shawn823]

Jen,

One of the aspects of this seemingly interminably sad journey that I had never understood before  is how physically exhausting grieving is. I think it wasn't until the 2 year mark when I realized that I was no longer totally exhausted all the time. But when the wave comes flooding in to take me under once again, that familiar exhaustion recurs. I wish I knew what to say to give you some comfort--all I have to offer is my own experience that the endless trudging and exhaustion got better for me, and I do believe that it will get better for you as well.

Hugs to you,

Shawn

[Carey]

Girl I just want to come kidnap you and pack a bag and go to the beach.  My heart just aches when I read your posts because I am so right there.  Every day starts with a "Why bother?". it's terrible that really nothing anyone can say will help because I so wish I could.  But I hear you ....

[Mizpah]

I know my grief has changed; I know I've made significant progress (if only because people around me tell me so). I'm surviving. I just wish I could believe that one day I might thrive. I think we all deserve that.

 

Maybe your wish to believe is your belief in its embryonic or fetal stage (ah, metaphors).  I know everything is different for everyone, but for me, I felt dead inside until year two and until I did something big for me (traveled alone to the Middle East - went to his birthplace and childhood home, was on vacation, was in sunshine all day every for a couple weeks (don't underestimate vitamin D), and sobbed at the Western Wall (I'm religious but not spiritual, hahaha, if that makes any sense to anyone).  I don't know if it was the passage of time or the travel (that specific travel, not just traveling) or just that it was springtime, but it was about then that I felt alive again *for the first time*. 

 

Nothing has changed, and everything has changed.

 

I still feel this way, four years out. 

 

Big hugs to you. 

[linda5]

Jen, I'm on top of that mountain with you ... looking down at all creation and just marveling at how far we've come. 

 

You depict me so very much. Every day is a struggle, some more than others, but I also wonder when do we just get to enjoy the day?  Everything in our life has changed.  The only thing that is a constant, is that we know there is no constant.

 

Big hugs to you.

[Ursula]

Lady, Amsterdam !!!! something to look forward to!  even though it is flat as a cowpad there but then again, saves us climbing a mountain!!

Sending a smile and a hug

 

[Jen]

Thank you all so much... I wish we weren't in this together, but perversely, I'm glad we are... does that make sense? Ursula, right now Amsterdam is what I'm holding out for. No idea what I'll do when that's done, but I guess there's no point in worrying about it now. I've got plenty to say grace over, as my granny used to say. Maybe there will be some fundamental shift by then, and life will start to see possible again.

 

So many hugs all around.

[Virgo]

I feel like I'm at war with myself.

 

I feel this way too. Having more good days now then bad gives me hope though. ((hugs)) Jen

[canadiangirl]

((JustJen)) Beautifully stated, I too can relate.  Hoping for hope seems like a good starting point.  This journey feels a bit Sisphyean at times.

[Jen]

This journey feels a bit Sisphyean at times.

 

Yes, exactly! Every time I get that damned boulder *almost* to the top of the hill, it rolls right back down.

 

Lately I don't even have anything to say, to myself or anyone else. Last night I was so angry, I composed a vitriolic rant in my head, but by the time I got to the puter to type it up, all the words had fled. It was vicious, I don't know if I'd have had the guts to post it, so maybe it wasn't a great loss, but still-- I'm accustomed to at least being able to express myself. Now I can't even do that adequately. All I can do is ache from emptiness.

 

I hate this so much. I had a life. Now I've got... a hole.

[anniegirl]

If I have to climb the mountain every single day, can I at least learn to enjoy the vistas? And... is it all right to harbor the tiniest hope that maybe somebody will want to climb with me, one day?

 

You don't have to climb the mountain every day or ever even.

 

It's okay to find a valley or plateau and stay there for a while.

 

I have never like the journey metaphor in terms of upending events or even about life generally because it implies that we do this consciously on a daily basis when mostly that's not true.

 

Life, imo, really isn't that internally driven. We are motivated or compelled by externals. The need to pay bills or children, for example.

 

Auto-pilot is fine. Maintaining is fine. Not giving a flying fuck works too.

 

The top of the mountain isn't going anywhere and what's on the other side will mostly likely still be there when you are ready to go check it out.

 

And it's normal to hope that you will someday find someone to strive (or build a chateau on the plateau) with you.

 

Every time I get that damned boulder *almost* to the top of the hill, it rolls right back down.

 

 

I gave up boulders. They make lousy luggage.

[Jen]

I absolutely agree that life is dictated by externals-- I only get up every morning because I have kids to take care of, a job to go to, bills to pay. If it were up to me, I'd hide in my bed until I starved to death or wasted away from grief and depression. There is nothing left for me... there's almost nothing left of me. I drift through these endless days, doing what has to be done, alone and hopeless. I have no expectation that anything will ever change for the better for me. I keep thinking of that sig line-- "I can't let his legacy be that his death destroyed me"-- and I'm failing. I'm pretty much destroyed.

[anniegirl]

Oh, (((Jen))), I understand feeling that there is nothing left and that life has become almost totally about sustaining others with no hope or meaningful future for yourself.

 

And it's easier to believe that than to hope because hoping makes the hurt worse without providing much comfort or tangible goals.

 

For what it's worth, I don't think you are failing. Failing would be not getting up, going to work, paying bills or taking care of your kids. I know that doesn't seem like much but it is huge.

 

And what about being here? On this site. Sharing. Supporting. HUGE!

 

I have said this before - and I will keep saying it - what you are feeling is normal. Don't be so hard on yourself for being normal.

 

I wish I could tell you the month, day and hour that you will turn a corner and find that thing that will be all yours and the beginning of what is next for you but I don't know it. I do believe that it is out there and you will find it.

 

You are not your husband's legacy. You are your own legacy. His death has hurt you badly but you are not destroyed though I know it feels like that.

 

There is nothing for grief but time.

 

I filled mine (the time I didn't owe child, job and the daily grind) with things that distracted me and were just mine. Dumb things like tv and fan fiction. Healthy things like walking, running and swimming. Music. I have some of the angriest iTune mixes that you'd never imagine for me but also, soundtracks and love songs and emo boy band crap.

 

You will find yourself and what works through trial and error and over time. It just takes time. But you will get there. We all get there eventually.

[BrokenHeart2]

Well said Anniegirl. Keep on keeping on Jen.

Hugs

[Jen]

I do appreciate the encouragement-- I seem like an ingrate, but I'm really not. I'm so tired of existing in hell, but I can't bring myself to believe that there will ever be anything else. It's stupid and irrational, but if someone could just say "You will be miserable for 19 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days, then your life will turn around and it will all be worthwhile," I think I could do it. Of course that's impossible, and so I keep trudging through-- sometimes I can't even do that; I can barely crawl. I feel as though my life-- the one I was meant to have-- is slipping away with every interminable day that passes, and honestly, I resent it. It's not fair-- this isn't what I signed up for, it wasn't supposed to be like this, and I don't want to do it anymore.