Cognitive dissonance

[Jen]

I can't do it anymore. Not another day. I can't push this boulder any further, I can't make it through another day in hell. I've done all I can do, I've given all I can give, and it's not enough. I'm not enough. I'm ready to go now. Please, can I just go now?

 

I have to do it. I have to keep going-- for my kids, for the people who care about me-- for Jim, who deserved more than the 40 years he got. I still have places to go and things to see. I still have love to give. Over the next hill-- maybe there's something worth holding on for. Maybe.

 

This is what goes through my mind every single morning. They're equally compelling. Equally true, if you will. I can't do it anymore. It hurts too much, and there's no respite, no relief. I have to do it. I'm strong, I've made it this far.

 

Ever read any of Stephen King's Dark Tower books? There's a character, Jake, who dies in the first book but comes back in a subsequent one-- the third, I think. He's being torn in half, mentally-- he's alive and he's dead, and he can't reconcile the two conditions, which are both true. That's where I am.

 

I'm dead.

 

I'm alive.

 

I'm damned.

 

By the way, there's no need to reply here. I just needed to get this out somewhere safe. I needed to be seen. No one IRL gets it, and I don't have the energy to try to explain.

[SoVerySad]

I recognize it too well. It is exhausting - all the volleying back and forth. Like I'm playing tennis against myself and have to find the power to race to the other side of the court to keep the ball going.

 

You've been seen, heard, and understood, honey.

 

Sending you love and tight, tight hugs...

[Guest Kamcho]

Jen, I hear you. I've lived most of my life in books and TV and fantasy and escapism.

 

If I may humbly suggest... find something to do outside of your head and do so with your hands.

 

I have learned to work on cars, plant houseplants (bonus they nurture my environment and provide oxygen), refill my furnace, mud drywall, hike and ride.

 

Anything I do with my hands that gets me out of my head helps me feel empowered at least. I'm getting back to be able to read again. I watched all of Stargate when LH died. But I think what 'saved me' was that moment when I bled my own furnace and restarted my pilot light in a fit of snot and tears.... Captain Badass.

 

For plants... I love things off NASA's oxygen garden list. And Lowe's/Home Depot does "plants of steel" which have been Kam-proof thus far.

 

I hear you.

[Needytoo]

I had cognitive dissonance big time and it is such a hard thing to describe.  I didn't want to live but I wasn't suicidal.  I remember my sister-in-law telling me I just go home everyday from work and just relax.  That is when I took up wall staring 101.  Maybe I had to do the wall staring to move on, hard to say.  Not sure why I took my sister-in-law's advice she really hasn't done anything else to be supportive. I dreaded weekends way too much time spent wall staring.

  Big hugs to you, I do think Kamcho has a really good point. Get hand busy.  I never really had hobbies and now I am so open to trying new things.  Once in awhile I still have that little voice telling me things trying to stop me trying new things but I can now shut it up pretty quickly. 

[Jen]

Wall-staring-- yes, I do that a lot. On weekdays when I don't work, I get up at 6 to get the kids off to school, but once that's accomplished I usually just go back to bed. I don't sleep, I just... stare. At the wall, at the window blind. At nothing. Eventually I make myself get up and go for a walk, or put on a load of laundry, or empty the dishwasher. Guess my next project will be to learn small engine repair-- I need to mow the yard (and I actually like mowing, it's therapeutic for me), but the !$&*(*! mower won't start. That's sort of a hobby, right?

 

I have a couple of Buddhist friends, and they have both told me lately-- separately-- that the key to surviving this is to embrace the suffering without judging it. "Tell yourself 'this sucks,' accept that you're going to be sad for awhile, and stop fighting it." They insist that there's something worth holding on for. I wish I knew what it was, or when to expect it, because the empty grey desert of my life looks pretty endless to me.

[Guest Kamcho]

[quote author=Just Jen link=topic=706.msg9131#msg9131 date=1431378922

, but the !$&*(*! mower won't start.  That's sort of a hobby, right?

 

Swearing at the lawn mower is also a valid hobby. I fight regularly with that "god damn mother $%@??? SOB POS b ?_%? machine"

 

I don't mind doing it. But you can come to my house and slaver labour my yard work for me.

 

Another way to translate Buddhism is "don't be a dick to my mini-me." She needs some nurturing. I got mine a coloring book, a monster high skeleton doll (memento mori, betches), and made her a vegan chocolate hazelnut shake.

[lcoxwell]

I wish that I had some wonderful words of wisdom or encouragement, but sadly, I do not. I just wanted you to know that I read every word, and I "hear" you. So many times, I think of you, and wish that things would get just a little easier for you. Hugs, my friend.

[JacklessSally]

Jen, when you were first going through this, I didn't understand.

 

As his death date gets farther and farther away.. I am starting to seriously get it.

 

((big hug))

 

I'm just a text away.

[Needytoo]

Another fellow "wall starer"  My BIL who was widowed 5 months ago and dabbles in buddism also told me the same thing.  He also told me for some reason I needed to stare at a wall it was my way of mediating.

 

Broken down lawn mower, maybe this is your new hobby. 

 

 

 

[Jen]

No luck on the mower, though I have a theory that it's the spark plug. Maybe tomorrow I will find the motivation to look into that. Meanwhile, my car decided that Friday was a good day to die at noon at a busy intersection. Got it towed, came home to find that dh's car is also-- forgive me-- dead as a mackerel. My engine karma appears to have gone south completely. I give up.

 

Quiet day at work, so far-- back to wall staring. Sigh.

[Jen]

You know what? I can't do this. I just... can't. What now?

[Carey]

Jen I think we are living parallel lives.  We need to get our shit together and go to Mexico and just live on sunshine and tequila cause there ain't no hope for nothing here. My car died Friday too.  Mine was the radiator.  Did manage to get it fixed (crossing fingers and eyeballs) but still waiting for the other shoe to drop, cause you know, it always does.  Like my daughter may not walk with her class at graduation tomorrow because I don't have $46 ... and get this ... my SISTER is her principal.  Seriously.  Tequila. MAS tequila is what is needed here.

[Needytoo]

Well that sucks, been there.  I was putting way too much money into the old cars and I still didn't trust them at all. I bought a new car and with the better mileage and quitting smoking I can afford the payments and now I have a car I trust. 

 

But I still have a boat, husband's old car and a camper that I need to have towed away.  One thing at a time. 

 

Hugs to you.  Mexico does sound good. 

[hikermom]

Jen

 

I was totally there, where you are. Cognitive dissonance is a great way to describe it. Honestly, I think most people could not grasp how it is possible to live two such distinct and different experiences at the same time.

 

For what it is worth, it can and does get better. I can't remember where you are time wise, but some of my most challenging times were in year 2. Around 12-18 months I just tanked. I thought that it was impossible to live with such despair and yet had to for my daughter. I'm coming up to 3 years and it has become a quieter and calmer part of me. I am not the person I was before my husband died, I'm not who I was after he died, but am finally starting to find a new "me." 

 

There are still bumps. I despair of ever finding someone to share the second half of my life with. But I'm learning to be myself. A whole new, wiser, gentler and kinder self. Kinder to others but perhaps more importantly kinder to me.

 

You will get there. This is a much longer and harder journey than you can even begin to guess at - I'm guessing I will still be dealt some bumps and detours. But we've been through the worst. We can get through the next. And we will all be here to lend a hand.

[anniegirl]

Your Buddhist friends are spot on. There isn't anything you can do beyond what you are doing, so why not just accept that it really sucks and there is nothing you can do?

 

I know. That goes against the grain. It's not what we are taught. We are supposed to work through, be strong, power forward or something like that.

 

Maybe staring at the ceiling is what you need to do and when don't need to anymore, you'll do something else.

 

It's frustrating but Hikermom is right. It gets better. And no, I still don't have a a specific time/day for you. But it will come.

 

Oh, and mowing the lawn was something I found oddly wonderful too. If I would have had a riding mower at the time, I would have mowed all the lawns around me too. Can't say what it was about it, but always was able to let things go.

 

 

[Guest Kamcho]

I found something cool... zen rock gardening with a harrow grader lawn tractor attachment. I raked crop circles. Hillbilly peace yo.

[canadiangirl]

I found something cool... zen rock gardening with a harrow grader lawn tractor attachment. I raked crop circles. Hillbilly peace yo.

 

I love this.  I hacked down a dead tree with a rusty saw just for the eff of it this weekend.  ((JustJen))  Keep going.

[moncoeur]

Jen,

 

I have those days too. I have those days where I just don't want to keep going but the thing is that I do.

I don't know how or why but I somehow manage to stay on the earth. I had days where I was ready to check out, during the first year after my husband died, and then those feelings resurfaced about a month ago.

 

Both times the same tactic seemed to work.  I proceed as though I was going to check out and I thought well if I am going to check out anyway it won't matter if I am here one more day or do this one more thing.

 

I think literally thinking just focusing on one thing made life seem less overwhelming. I literally took one moment at a time, then one task at a time, then one day at a time and the days turned to weeks and I am still here. It is ok to just get through the moments. It is ok to say you can't handle it and then surprisingly enough you end up doing what you thought you could never do.

 

I also thought what if it was reversed and I died and my husband was here and he was so miserable that he took his own life how would that make me feel and honestly it just felt awful. I fully imagined what it would be like for him and imagined finding him. The thought of him being that sad and desperate snapped me out of it because I know he would never want that for me and your husband would not want that for you either.

 

So one day I just made the decision that I was not going to have checking out be an option anymore. So I proceed as though I am needed. It sounds very much as though you are needed as well.

 

I wish I could take your pain away but know that we are here for you.

 

 

 

[Jen]

It's frustrating but Hikermom is right. It gets better. And no, I still don't have a a specific time/day for you. But it will come.

 

I wish I could believe this. I do think it's possible for everyone else, but not me. That sounds irrational, even petty, but I can't help this... conviction I have. This is all there is for me. I hate every second of it, and I wish I could just be done.

 

I do appreciate the encouragement, though. I'm so sorry. I just have nothing left.

[BrokenHeart2]

Hey Just Jen, I remember thinking I too "but not me". Hang on JJ. I'm coming onto 2 yrs a week from today. It's not great or even good at times, I cansay for me it is getting better. Oh there are still rough waves to endure but they are not as frequent, sometimes intense and sometimes not as intense. Our grief is all different and with some similarities.

Hugs to you.

[anniegirl]

I hate every second of it, and I wish I could just be done.

 

I know. I really do know this. The hating it. The fervent wish to just be done and on to what's next.

 

And the just not having anything left.

 

I was always running scenarios in my head to try and figure out how I could simply up and run away. Break the ties that bound me where I was and just take my daughter (who was 3 at the time) and go out West or find some little town and just live free of the oppressive weight of everything - job, extended family, expectations, in-laws. Whatever. And, of course, there was nothing. Short of winning the Powerball, which I was pretty sure that I didn't have the kind of luck to pull off.

 

Patience was never my strong suit. Still isn't. And even though I clung pretty stubbornly to my hope that life had to deal me a decent hand sooner or later, I felt let down a lot.

 

I was kind of lucky in that I had a job I could do in my sleep and a supportive group of co-workers and a boss, who valued me (even at half speed) enough to allow me to use sick days even when I wasn't sick, so I could keep from imploding.

 

I don't know the specifics of your personal situation, but if there is a way you can finagle yourself some extra down time - consider doing that. Time off to just rest is more important than people realize because on top of the work of the daily grind, grieving is exhausting. Resting is important. When I was rested, I was more hopeful.

 

And don't apologize for not being hopeful. It's okay. Really.

[Jen]

Sleep is the only thing I look forward to, when I can manage it. (Insomnia sucks!) Unconsciousness is such a relief. When I wake up, it's all I can do to keep from bursting into tears-- and sometimes I fail. Day after endless day... I wish it would just end.

[BrokenHeart2]

Hey Just Jen, i forgot to mention earlier that I actually can laugh now. I mean laugh out loud belly laugh. I couldn't imagine that would ever happen again but it did. Hang on to one day at a time. Its not easy but it's doable. I'm still doing one day at a time some days. 

And by the way, it may be irrational and petty to those that haven't gone through this and we have, we get it.

Hugs

[Jen]

I do laugh occasionally, and it surprises me when I do. At least I don't feel guilty about it now. Mostly I just feel... numb.

 

((((Hugs)))))

 

Thank you for having my back. I really do appreciate it. That goes for all of you-- I keep saying it's my kids who keep me here, but that's not entirely true. Love you guys. Seriously.