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| And holy fuck have there been some brutally bad days in there... |
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Wordless Wednesdays: Remember You've Survived
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Sunday, July 5, 2015
The Difference Between Losing the Battle & Winning
A friend posted the photo this morning.
I've spent the last 3-4 weeks so busy I'm left exhausted, frustrated, defeated, and mostly numb & empty. I mostly prefer numb to the searing pain that was the weeks before. I have transitioned I think to speak of details of Ryan's death as statements of fact, separated from their emotional connection. I worry how this makes me appear to others (i.e. "insensitive", "crazy", "strong", "detatched") and while I say I don't really care - I do.
My fight is almost exclusively in my mind now. I've packaged up things so well that I am no longer the reactive, teary-eyed person in public that I'm anticipated to be or that people are scared I will turn into. I'm the occasionally screaming, silent tear mourner that lost her Every Day nearly 6 months ago now. The battle remains almost exclusively in private now.
I fear not seeing the year 2016 by my own hand. I fear looking back at 35 and wondering why I am still where I am at. I fear that if I move forward I will be subject to a different level of insensitive comments.
I want to take a trip. I want to challenge my brain and take the MCAT, continuing on with school. I want to crush it on the marathon next year. I want to be the little white lady one day drinking Guinness and telling stories and sharing experiences that leave people's mouths wide open and who then walk away inspired. All of these take day-by-day and even moment-by-moment struggles to challenge the way I can't help but think and the darkness I'd prefer to disappear into.
Just because I want those positives doesn't mean I still don't want Ryan. Running well next year, experiencing another birthday, finding my passions and trying new things doesn't negate the feelings of wishing for him to be there with and for me. It doesn't dull the pain of him not being there; it probably intensifies it. Because I'll look for him and not find him at the finish line, I'll cry for the empty spot on the beach next to me and the seat that won't be filled at graduation.
People are confused at times: "moving forward" = "moving on" they think. Ryan won't ever be forgotten. His memory brings me JOY, not pain! My Sweetheart won't ever not be loved, mourned, and missed. He was my first choice - robbed from me not by my own or his wishes. I can still carry him with me, literally and metaphorically, as I search for my own meaning in life and push myself to live in a way that he would be proud of. For now, I wander numb through the house - private tears running down my face searching for enough strength to begin the arduous task of feeding myself or even getting out of bed, hoping for strength to be gifted to me by a stranger or a less-than-handful of friends that didn't lose hope in me.
Friday, July 3, 2015
Oprah's Lesson to Me
As it's the day before July 4th and no traffic was on the road I was running early to work this morning.
I felt compelled to stop at Starbucks to treat myself. While my standard is a skinny vanilla latte or maybe a cappuccino, for one reason or another the Oprah Cinnamon Chai Latte caught my attention....things are getting crazy 'round here.
Got to work, drink still in hand, and hopped onto Facebook to see about putting up a post first thing on my work page. Was logged in to my personal, however, and at the top of my feed was a friend's post which had a Maya Angelou interview from OWN (Oprah Winfrey Network) called "Love Liberates".
I bawled.
A lot.
Being a widow to suicide has been an overwhelming and personally destroying process.
He was mine. To love, to take care of, to support. We had no children yet so every last ounce of attention and nurturing and every last drop of care that I had was poured into him. I cannot yet forgive myself for losing him. The last minute of the video just twist the knife so deep into my gut this morning.
"If you need permission to go, I liberate you...You see love liberates, it doesn't bind....Love says I love you...I would like to be near you; I'd like to have your arms around me; I'd like to hear your voice in my ear. But that's not possible now, so I love you. Go."
His first words to me in our last conversation were "I have to let you go." He asked what I thought about us and I said "Sweetie, sometimes things are rough and sometimes nothing can go wrong, but it doesn't matter what's going on outside because I love you either way." I repeated "I love you" perhaps 50-60 times in the 9 minutes I was on the phone with him.
I cannot let him go. Her words are so beautiful and as awful as it is to say, I've thought to myself multiple times "At least he isn't hurting any longer." It's so shameful to think because I know the stress and the frustration and the thoughts flooding over his mind were things that could be managed, mitigated, or removed entirely from their grasp on him. That the pain could have subsided and we would shift into more carefully and intensely managing his needs. I don't understand this concept. I want him released from hurt but not like this.
I imagine, though it is so far off it's inconceivable, that one day I can reach the point where I not only forgive myself but where I say to him "Ryan, Sweetie, I love you and I liberate you."
I felt compelled to stop at Starbucks to treat myself. While my standard is a skinny vanilla latte or maybe a cappuccino, for one reason or another the Oprah Cinnamon Chai Latte caught my attention....things are getting crazy 'round here.
Got to work, drink still in hand, and hopped onto Facebook to see about putting up a post first thing on my work page. Was logged in to my personal, however, and at the top of my feed was a friend's post which had a Maya Angelou interview from OWN (Oprah Winfrey Network) called "Love Liberates".
I bawled.
A lot.
Being a widow to suicide has been an overwhelming and personally destroying process.
He was mine. To love, to take care of, to support. We had no children yet so every last ounce of attention and nurturing and every last drop of care that I had was poured into him. I cannot yet forgive myself for losing him. The last minute of the video just twist the knife so deep into my gut this morning.
"If you need permission to go, I liberate you...You see love liberates, it doesn't bind....Love says I love you...I would like to be near you; I'd like to have your arms around me; I'd like to hear your voice in my ear. But that's not possible now, so I love you. Go."
His first words to me in our last conversation were "I have to let you go." He asked what I thought about us and I said "Sweetie, sometimes things are rough and sometimes nothing can go wrong, but it doesn't matter what's going on outside because I love you either way." I repeated "I love you" perhaps 50-60 times in the 9 minutes I was on the phone with him.
I cannot let him go. Her words are so beautiful and as awful as it is to say, I've thought to myself multiple times "At least he isn't hurting any longer." It's so shameful to think because I know the stress and the frustration and the thoughts flooding over his mind were things that could be managed, mitigated, or removed entirely from their grasp on him. That the pain could have subsided and we would shift into more carefully and intensely managing his needs. I don't understand this concept. I want him released from hurt but not like this.
I imagine, though it is so far off it's inconceivable, that one day I can reach the point where I not only forgive myself but where I say to him "Ryan, Sweetie, I love you and I liberate you."
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