Am I some kind of ingrate?

[Jen]

I was chatting with some friends on Facebook, and mentioned an ad that keeps popping up in my feed-- it's for an online counseling service, it says "You deserve to be happy," and it pisses me off every time I see it. What the hell difference does it make if I "deserve" to be happy? Who doesn't deserve happiness? It doesn't mean we get it. I have no expectation of ever being truly happy ever again. I'm okay, but that just means I'm not mired in despair. I have no future, nothing to look forward to, and I'd be perfectly content knowing that an meteoroid was going to fall on me tomorrow, as long as no one else got hurt.

 

One of my friends replied, "Okay is okay." Um... yeah, it's okay. It's not good. It's definitely not great. It's all right for today, but for tomorrow and next week and next year and for the next three or four or five DECADES??? Just... "okay"?

 

When I answered (basically with the above question), she responded, "Some people never have any happiness at all."

 

That shut me up-- I closed FB and came here. I guess that's true... some people have nothing but misery throughout their entire lives. I had happiness. I had a husband who thought the sun rose and set over my head. I had deep and abiding love. I was grateful-- maybe not as grateful as I could have been, I took it for granted, because I thought I could. I thought I had time. But then he died, and I was shattered, and I've been trying to put myself back together ever since.

 

In the past year I've gone through shock, anger, despair, depression, confusion-- we all know the road through hell intimately, don't we? I've had brief moments of hope, a few flashes of color, a brief space of something that came perilously close to joy, but vanished as soon as I tried to grab hold of it. Now everything is grey and dull-- it's like being in the middle of an infinite, featureless desert, nothing but colorless sand from horizon to horizon, and no matter how far or how fast I walk, I'm always at the exact center. It really doesn't admit much possibility of happiness.

 

But I had happiness, yes? Once upon a time? So even if I never have any in this life again, I should be grateful for what I had and stop bemoaning my fate-- right? I am grateful, I truly am, but I bitterly resent the twist of fate that brought me here. Does that make me a bad person? An unfeeling one?

 

One thing I do know-- it's time to take my grief inward. No one wants to hear it anymore. Hell, I'm sick of it. I don't want to be here either. I need to just accept that okay is the best I can hope for, that happiness is beyond my reach, and stop bitching about it.

[Jess]

 

One thing I do know-- it's time to take my grief inward. No one wants to hear it anymore. Hell, I'm sick of it. I don't want to be here either. I need to just accept that okay is the best I can hope for, that happiness is beyond my reach, and stop bitching about it.

 

This is not true. I think something a lot of us can relate to is the pressure to just be "better" already. If people in your every day life can't handle it, so be it. They don't know what it is like to be you. I have seen you have moments of happiness- the awesome video of you singing immediately comes to mind. It is attainable and you have felt it. The happiness you have or any of us have is different than the happiness we had before because we are different people now and our circumstances are completely different.

 

I think sometimes that maybe you are taking on too much of the pressure to be better? There is no set time frame for you or anyone else so feeling like you are doing "okay" now is no indication at all that any hope of happiness is futile. It is simply not true. You also did not somehow exhaust your happiness quota for your existence. There is no such thing.

 

I used to get so angry at how naive it sounded that in order to be happy, we simply have to choose to be happy. Of course I would have been happy if I could be but Joe's death was too much. As time goes by I have learned the statement is less naive than it sounds, but needs clarifiers:

 

1. Sometimes there is too much happening to make the choice possible;

2. Sometimes we have to be willing to accept brand new ways to be happy because the old ways are no longer an option; and

3. There are degrees of happiness. Letting in the "little happies" makes it easier to let the "bigger happies" in.

 

I think much of my own journey has been centered around putting energy into my new life- the one I was left with feeling like a shell of a person. I will always mourn Joe. Always. But I like to tell myself that should he and I meet again once my time is done, he is going to want stories about all the ways I kicked life's ass. Those are much better than "I couldn't be happy without you."

 

I'm not sure if any of that was helpful, but there's my ramble.

[Guest TooSoon]

I could not agree more, Jess.  Now, if you ladies don't mind, I think I'm going to take some of that sound advice myself....Hugs, Jen.

[Trying]

Jess you are very wise and give very good advice.

 

My mother was widowed at 66, just 5 years before me, and she was one of the people who told me that she wakes up every day and makes the choice to be happy.  We celebrate my Dad's birthday instead of marking the anniversary of his death with any significant gestures (although I always send her a poinsettia because it's in December.). At first I thought she was crazy.

 

Now, If I'm having a bad day or a bad moment I work hard to change the negative thought patterns from "it will always feel like this, it will never get better" to "this sucks right now but it won't always be like this, I will be happy again". I no longer feel guilty when I feel happy or hopeful.  I may yell at or cry to DH when I am sad or overwhelmed but I also talk to him when something good happens or I do something he would be proud of. 

 

If you have had joy, happiness and love before (which you obviously did) than you are capable of that again.  You may need to redefine what happiness is and accept new ways of finding it as Jess said.  You may need some help in breaking the cycle so you can be open to letting happiness in.  Self help, cognitive behavioral therapy, spiritual advisor, antidepressants, dramatic lifestyle changes or whatever is right for you.

 

Make a choice to try to find happiness.  Not by denying your grief, because you have to give grief it's time and space, but by searching for it in small ways and profound ways because you know you deserve it.  Grief is always going to be a part of us but it doesn't have to define us.

 

 

[donswife]

dont go inward , it would only fester and not be good for anyone

You and I sound like we had very similar husbands

who gave us deep love and respect, treated us like we walked on water .

Very rare indeed

Such a hard thing(to say the least) to have yanked from us

and I mean no flooring beneath and breath knocked out of us kinda yanked

I am here to listen if that helps

[Guaruj]

I was chatting with some friends on Facebook, and mentioned an ad that keeps popping up in my feed-- it's for an online counseling service, it says "You deserve to be happy," and it pisses me off every time I see it.

 

Hi Jen -

 

My wife, Catherine, died 3 months after your husband did.  My 1-year mark is coming up.  I also get pissed off at things that most people regard as normal or innocuous.

 

I'm sure you've heard other wids say that the nobody understands widowhood until it happens to them.  This is certainly true in person.  It wouldn't surprise me to learn that this phenomenon is even more obvious over social media.  Personally, I never signed up for Facebook because I knew other people would (with the best of intentions) start asking questions about my wife's cancer.  Neither of us wanted that openly discussed on the internet.

 

I have read many of your posts and do not perceive you to be an ingrate.  Given what you've been through, I actually agree with that stupid advertisement: You, Jen, deserve to be happy.  I also believe you will be happy one day.

 

Do you think taking a break from Facebook would help?

 

|+|  M a r k  |+|

[Guest Kamcho]

.

[BrokenHeart2]

Very wise words given. That's why coming to this site is so wonderful and profound. JJ you are early on and I can remember feeling as you do. Be gentle with yourself and maybe try doing one day at a time. I don't look to forward some days because I have no idea what the tomorrow's will bring.  At now 2 yrs out the days are not as intense as they used to be. It's doable. I had a 'friend' tell me I had to choose to be happy. I remember thinking yeah fuck you like I want to feel this pain. She had no idea. As the pain lessens the joyful moments will slowly seep in. Hang on dear Lady

[SoVerySad]

I think the verbiage of "choosing happiness" isn't really helpful to everyone. Personally, I usually take it with a judgmental tone. It feels like the people I have heard it from are implying that I'm choosing misery, when I could instead be choosing happiness. Our lives are much more complex than that (at least for some of us). As an example, I would imagine that being in a new relationship might frame your perspective differently than someone who fears they might never find a relationship again. Not that it makes missing your spouse less painful, but I'm imagining it provides a meaningful distraction and somewhat quiets that fear at least temporarily. Our situations are just so unique.

 

Jen, I have found it is best to tune out unhelpful comments (those that feel unhelpful to me where I'm at once I've considered them). If it needs to be reduced to a simplistic level such as choosing happiness, then I think it is better phrased that I avoid choosing unhappiness. I don't feel I can be happy just because I tell myself to be, but I do have a standard I've set for myself (not imposed by others) to make sure I'm not choosing unhappiness. I think I can control that much. For me, that means I grab onto moments of happiness when I can, savor them, and feel no guilt about them. I know you are doing this as well.

 

I also don't think feeling unhappy. sad, devastated, etc. is a reflection of one's appreciation for the blessings they have or once had. My memories of T and the really satisfying and happy life we shared are precious to me and I am grateful for each of them. That said, they don't have the substance to replace not having T here with us. I realize many never have the type of love I had. That knowledge informs my empathy for others, but doesn't lighten my personal grief at the loss of it.

 

I understand the feeling of taking your grief inward IRL, as I have done that myself. It was clear shortly after I hit the year mark that no one wanted to hear about it any longer. I wish there was a way we could defer support, because it seemed like at the year mark I was just really starting to emerge from the protective fog and face the horrible reality (and I'd had some personal health issues that had delayed my grief work). I hope you won't feel like you can't share your true feelings here, though. I'm still listening and caring, so don't feel like you have to hold it all in. You know how to reach me other than here as well.

 

Tight hugs...

 

 

[swilson]

Jen, I stay away from those who criticize or who try to help me manage my grief. You know the ones who tell you, "keep your chin up," or "keep calm and carry on," or "be happy, it will get better." While these remarks are usually well-intended, we don't have to accept them. We have a right to express our grief and no one has the right to try to take that away.

 

[Trying]

I agree with SVS that all of our situations are very unique and we each need to find our own way.  We were all unique before we lost our loves, our relationships were all very different and our journeys as widow/ers will all be different.

 

My new relationship does provide me with distraction and hope that I am very grateful for.  It has added complications too but the positives definitely outweigh the negatives.  I am in no way trying to minimize the depths of pain our grief causes by talking about positive thinking.  I am as much talking to myself as I am to anyone else.  I have been facing some very difficult times and am fighting to not let it take me under.  I tell myself many times a day that even though today might totally suck, it won't always.  So many others have rebuilt their lives and found a new way of happiness while living with their grief so I tell myself that it's possible for me too.

 

I don't talk about my grief to many people IRL because they don't understand and either expect me to be over it or think I should still should be in bed under the covers unable to survive.  I have a therapist, I have all of you and a select few people that I can express it to so it's not bottled up.

 

We need hope or else we have nothing.  Hope doesn't mean denying the pain but having faith that things will change in time.  Change doesn't fall into our laps, we have to make it happen and be willing to keep going even when we take 1 step forward and 2 steps back until we reach our stride.

 

Maybe instead of choose happiness it should be choose hope.  As bad as today may be choose to hope that the future will be better.

[Mizpah]

I need to just accept that okay is the best I can hope for, that happiness is beyond my reach, and stop bitching about it.

 

I had resigned myself to a sense of this: He doesn't exist.  He is nowhere in this world.  I am left in a world without him.  I will never feel the feelings I felt with him again.  I'll never be loved like that.  I'll never have that euphoric "everything I need/want is right here" feeling again. 

 

By accepting that, I had low expectations, and I kept life very simple.  And after a long time of that, happiness seeped into me.  Simple happiness, based on stuff like, "This cantaloupe tastes good right now," or, "I feel good after that run," or, "It's sunny and not too humid."  I eventually went on vacation and got a ton of sun and was in his homeland, and I got really happy.  And it didn't go away (until I changed my life in a big big way and got real unhappy real fast, but that's another story). 

 

I'm not one who's into "positive thinking," I think it's artificial garbage myself, so accepting the worst made me open to all the little things that make up a healthy, happy life.  And I found happiness, made of tiny little shards of the simple things in life.  I hope that will happen for you too.

[Lisa]

I spent the first few years always judging where I was, how I was doing, and wondering if I was ok. I prefer to discuss my grief with people who really get it. you're not going to feel good about yourself if you take your advice and measure your progress from people on Facebook. I got sick of my grief too. I remember when I got sick  of crying in public. grief can be so inconvenient and messy. Please be gentle with yourself

[Jen]

I want to tell you all that I've read every single response, and I'm grateful for them. I want to respond, but tonight I can't-- just found out that a sweet friend of mine from high school died in a plane crash today. 41 years old, a wife and two small boys, a twin brother-- I can't stand it. Thank you all for being here. I'm so sorry any of us have to be.

[SoVerySad]

Jenn, I'm so sorry for the tragic loss of your friend.

 

More tight hugs....

[widowat33]

((Jen))

 

[Lisa]

Heart beaking Jen. I am so very sorry.

[Virgo]

I'm so sorry for your loss.

[Trying]

(((Jen))). I am so sorry to hear about the tragic loss of your friend.

[donswife]

thinking of you and so sorry

[Jen]

Thank you all. If you can spare any prayers or thoughts for Kate and her two boys, as well as Jeremy's whole family, I know they'd appreciate it.

[lcoxwell]

I've been away from the board, dealing with my own health issues and a few other things in life, but today, I read through all of this, each and every word. First of all, I am sorry for the loss of your friend and will gladly pray for the family. Secondly, I do not see you as an ingrate, at all. I see you as a person, who had something rare and special and lost it with the drawing of a final breath, and that loss is not something you can just walk away from with a smile on your face.

 

It is easy to tell people they deserve to be happy, and that all they have to do is choose to be happy by doing this or that. For some, that may very well be true. For others, they can do all the "right things", seek therapy, take medications, exercise, join support groups, go to church, develop a solid support system of family/friends, etc., and still not be truly happy, for a variety of reasons.

 

I'm going to make an honest confession here, something that I have never said to anyone, not to family, not to friends, not to my grief counselor, not to anyone, until now. The only reason I am sharing here, is because I hope it will somehow help someone else.

 

On the outside, I appear to be doing pretty good, all things considered. I can put on a really good front. When I sit down at the computer to type responses to others or to share on social media, I can say all kinds of positive things and put an encouraging spin on almost anything. When I walk out my front door, I can put on a smile and pretend that everything is alright better than just about anybody I know.

 

My personality type has always been to look for the good in everything and to always keep a smile on my face, honestly believing that even in the worst of times, things will eventually improve, at least a little. I am a survivor, who has lived through two separate, brutal attacks, one nearly killing me, who managed life as a single parent for several years, and who worked full time while taking care of a terminally ill husband for thirteen years. I figured by now, I could handle anything, and still manage to be happy, but I was wrong.

 

The truth is, most of the time, I am not okay. Since Kenneth's death, I am dealing with nearly crippling anxiety, some days. I am having health problems, serious financial problems, difficulty managing at work, and my house is a mess. There are days, when I am starting to worry that I might be clinically depressed, because I just cannot make myself care or do anything, no matter how much I may need or want to. I go out in the world, and do the bare minimum I need to do to keep my job and a roof over my head, but then I come home and all I want to do is go to bed and pretend the world outside doesn't exist.

 

I've been trying the old "fake it, till you make it" routine for over a year, and I am still just okay. I am not steeped and mired in grief, but I am not happy, either.  Each of us has very different circumstances that can affect how quickly we move forward or how much happiness we can attain, but the loss will always be there. I don't think it's being an ingrate to not feel happy or to be bothered by those adds. They bothered me, too.

 

For now, I think just being okay is a stepping stone. Life is full of ups and downs and twists and turns and can bring joy and devastation, sometimes in the course of just one day. For now, I agree with the others. Try not to look too far ahead, and hold on to any measure of joy or happiness or moment of sunshine that you can. I do believe what others say, that eventually, things will get better. That key word, eventually, though, can be a difficult concept to grasp, some days.

[Max2507]

You may be clinically depressed. At about a year and a half I was full of dread, couldn't make myself do anything, struggling to do the bare minimum, having to force myself to shower, not enjoying anything. I started on a low dose antidepressant and it has helped a lot. I still have some struggles, a lot of the same stresses, but I am doing a lot better and coping a lot better. I think one can only get so worn down. I was totally depleted. Not 100% now but not hitting the snooze button 6 times either. Take care, this is such a hard road.

[Baylee627]

JJ,

 

Refrain from taking your grief inward. Instead, take it underground, to widda.org! Your post resonated with me, every word. I love the irony of a person motivating me--or even chiding me--to feel better from their cushy lil throne.

 

I'm like: is your hubby dead? No? Children alive and flourishing? Yes?

 

Then it's not possible for you to advise me. At all.

 

Baylee

[Jen]

I think the verbiage of "choosing happiness" isn't really helpful to everyone. Personally, I usually take it with a judgmental tone. It feels like the people I have heard it from are implying that I'm choosing misery, when I could instead be choosing happiness.

 

Yes, exactly! I felt judged by my friend who told me "some people never find happiness" (and by the way, she's a licensed therapist). It was as if she was saying "You had it good for awhile-- it may suck now and forevermore, but you don't have the right to complain because you were happy once upon a time, so stop snivelling and be glad for what you had." Maybe that's not what she meant at all-- I can't bring myself to ask for clarification; I already feel like I've all but exhausted my resources as far as support goes-- but that's how I took it.

 

I know there's no timeline. I would never expect anyone to "just get over it." But somehow I feel as though I've failed at widowing. It's been almost 14 months. I had my year in black, I should be finding some way to fill the emptiness, but instead it just gets bigger and emptier. I still cry almost every day. The rest of the time, I feel numb. Dead. I've had depressive issues most of my life-- I finally started meds about a month ago, and they have helped somewhat, but they can't change the essential reality: my husband is dead, the future I thought I had is gone, and I have no idea what happens now. I just know it hurts like hell.

 

I feel guilty posting here-- I worry that I annoy people, try their patience, or worse, scare them. ("OMG, she's further out than me-- is this how I'll feel at ___ months??!?") Thank you for telling me it's okay to keep talking, because I had just about decided to leave and spare you all my angst. I'm afraid people will think I'm a liar or worse. Everyone I talk to  asks, "But I thought you were feeling better... ?" Yes, I was, for awhile-- I really did think I'd found a path out of hell. I was wrong, it was a mirage-- or an oubliette, maybe. It just threw me deeper into the abyss, and now I think I won't ever get out again. I'm devastated-- utterly and irreparably broken.

 

Jess, you're right about the "little happies." Even I find them from time to time. That night I sang with my sister was one, and the play I got to do. A chance encounter at Starbucks yesterday with a complete stranger made me happy for reasons I can't even articulate. I'm grateful for them when I have them, but they pass so quickly, and the blackness swallows me again. I wish I could trust that those moments will become the rule, rather than the exception. I wish I could find the strength to believe that my life will be worth living again someday. Right now I can't-- I just know I have to keep going, even though it seems pointless and painful and takes entirely too much effort. I'd rather just stay in bed, to be honest.

 

At this particular moment, even though I recognize that it's irrational of me to say so, I feel as though everything I've done in the past year has been wrong. Like there's a "right" way to wid, and I've screwed up royally. I don't know what to do now. There's not really anything to do, except continue to exist and try not to inflict myself on anyone unnecessarily.

 

Thank you for listening, and for encouraging me. I really am doing the best I can. It's just not very good.