Thinking back on who I was

[IfIonlycould]

Today I got up with the sun, made some coffee and suddenly decided to do a sweep of my closets. 

Now if any of you remember or cared to read my (I'm quite sure boring) and seemingly endless posts on getting rid of stuff on the YWBB you'll know that I went from a prewidow on the ball gal to a widowed unorganized mess.  I had an issue getting rid of ANYTHING, his, mine and ours.  I remember posting I did not want to throw out or donate not only his clothes but MY clothes as well.  Why?  Because I was afraid that someday I would have a closet of clothes that he did not recognize.  I was afraid to sell our very large and money/time consuming house for fear he would not know where to find me when he "came back", and it took a year to sell his truck because what would he drive? 

This went on and on...then slowly I gave stuff of his to family members/charity.  I sold the house and moved (and have moved 4 times since he passed buying, fixing, selling).  I purged through bins, donating, setting aside to sell or just plain throwing out. 

It has been difficult at times to say the least, closing up a 42 year olds life while transforming my own.  I cannot believe how far I have come to the gal who went to live with her brother for 8 months because I could not bear to be alone in that big house.  To the gal who posted endlessly about how painful it was to get rid of/deal with stuff.  To the widow who could not eat, listen to music or read a book. 

I now cook again,  enjoy music and love going to the library (old fashioned I know).  I enjoy my alone time again, as a matter of fact it is something I need.  And I got up this morning and went through my closets and purged a bunch of clothes without a thought. I am almost back to being the organized person I was once.

I am so grateful for having a forum where I have been able to work through all of these things and the support of a community like this to bounce around all of this crazy widow stuff.

[WifeLess]

IfIonlycould,

 

... I was afraid that someday I would have a closet of clothes that he did not recognize.  I was afraid to sell our very large and money/time consuming house for fear he would not know where to find me when he "came back", and it took a year to sell his truck because what would he drive? 

 

Your words remind me of Joan Didion's award winning book "The Year of Magical Thinking", which was later turned into a one-woman stage play. It is about the first year of her grief after the death of her husband. Much of that time she spent in denial that he was dead, or thinking he would return. This was the "magical thinking" part, which she knew was illogical but couldn't stop doing. If unfamiliar, here are links to two short video clips from the play:

 

 

 

I congratulate you on the progress you have made since your early "disorganized" days.

 

--- WifeLess

[patriciad]

I can very much remember those same thoughts which you describe. I can remember in the early months looking out the window, anxious to see his car pull in the drive. I would see "him" in the street and follow him for a block.I thought of the clothes and decided that I would just buy him a new wardrobe. 

Those crazy, illogical thoughts. I never thought I was going crazy.  I knew deep down that if I didn't absorb the real situation in baby pieces I would just crumble.  I had to have tiny slivers of hope that this wasn't my new reality.  I slowly gave them up, one by one.  Denial was a wonderful, protective mechanism that I used to get through that terrible time. It is rather funny that I knew my thinking was irrational but at the same time so very necessary for my survival.

 

So glad we can post this stuff here.  There is no way anybody else would ever understand.

 

Pat

 

[Beyondlife]

Hi You.

I am so happy you are finding your place in the world.

 

I kinda did the opposite.  I was organized, logical and took care of business.  I thought if I "did everything right and was the best widow" that he would come back - my reward for being good.  Well, that sure didn't happen.

 

I needed to be in control over everything in my life that I possibly could.  I was so angry that I didn't have any control over him dying. 

 

Had the same thoughts as you about moving.  Selling his Harley?  Wow.  I thought maybe that would make him pissed enough to come back but he could have a new one.

 

And cremation?  When I gave some of his ashes, I worried what parts I was giving and when he came back would he be missing those parts.  Completely bonkers crazy.  I decided if he could come back from being dead, he would be able to put himself back together.

 

I'm still trying to find myself, whoever I am now, and my place in this world.  I don't want to be a cranky, old widow bitch.  I need to work harder on that.

 

You've done good my friend.  Love you

 

 

 

 

[Guest Mel4072]

I've noticed that I am returning to myself lately as well. It's strange but I am me again. Whole. Still have stuff to get rid of and I still do it in baby steps. I emptied his closets pretty early on so that his clothes could be put to use. But I did keep sole for when my sons are over. Those just sit and gather dust now.

Thanks for posting this. I enjoyed reading it.

[ieh21]

Yes, it's a transition. A really slow one in some cases. I am always in awe of those who throw it all out rapidly, to avoid the pain. My reaction was more like yours, but motivated by a desire to keep his presence in my life through his belongings. And also the proof that I was a wife (a status I actually really enjoyed and miss now that I am single.) I'm getting to a point where I do find it all a bit trying, to have his books in the shelves staring at me all the time, old shoes of mine in my closet because he really liked them even if I never wear them anymore. It feels like I am carrying his weight around, and it's difficult.

So slowly I am starting again, keeping fewer things and it's much easier than I thought not to be attached to every object as a heavy symbol of his life. Sometimes a toothbrush is only a toothbrush.

 

Good luck, it is not easy to find one's self in our 40s...