So You Do It Alone

Loneliness.

One of the more painful realities of this life turned upside down.

It's burned into your heart the longer time passes and the more you watch friends out on date nights and vacations and holidays with the ones they love.

It's sandpaper to the soul to watch others achieve their happy moments and to know that you can't be as happy for them as you should.

So because the loneliness won't go away...I suppose I just need to accept that I do this Life thing alone. I was blessed to find my 1-in-a-million. I hit the jackpot in meeting and loving my soulmate, even if we never got enough time.

Letters to Ryan: You're Missing It Sweetie

You're missing it Sweetie.

I don't know how many times this thought has crossed my mind recently: You're missing it.

You're missing Buddy learning to roo regularly. I'm trying to encourage on command "Are you hungry?" now as we'd always planned. You'd love teasing him and encouraging him but you're missing it.

You're missing the little things I want to share with you. Conversations over recent politics. You're missing me coming home after volunteer orientation at the Thinkery. Telling you about how I'm excited for it and how I saw so many dads with their sons and daughters and how I couldn't wait to see you in that setting. I'm missing being able to come home and be excited about that opportunity with you; I'm missing coming home to you to share these things.

You're missing Buddy beginning to grey. You're missing my birthdays and yours. You're missing opportunities for me to spoil you and you're missing the comfort and reconciliation after an argument - the chance to learn and grow together.

You're missing the every day stuff. The hugs, kisses and hand holding. Helping you out of your boots or into your fleece. You're missing the evening cuddles and me falling asleep on your lap watching movies. You're missing sharing wine on our beautiful afternoons recently and eating home cooked meals together. You're missing rainstorms and you're missing the flowers blooming again this year.

You're missing me missing you.

Always yours,
Stephanie

My Wish

My wish...is that people would stop lying.
My wish...is that people who could not be a real support would not promise someone grieving that they could.
My wish...is to stop having strangers enter my life only to leave.
My wish...is to stop being the recipient of false promises.
My wish...is that I could avoid the pain of abandonment, over and over.


Maybe, if that happens, then I could trust people again.
Maybe, if that happens, I could stop being angry with so many people.
Maybe, if that happens, I could stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Maybe, if that happens, I could stop feeling like something is wrong with me, that I'm diseased.
Maybe, if that happens, I could stop feeling like I only had value to my Sweetheart.
Maybe, if that happens, I could find some of the nice pieces of myself again.

The Lifespan of a Heart

I’ve seen statements over the years of the average number of heartbeats we would experience before our hearts wear out. Humans, our bodies, our organ systems, can withstand so much punishment but one day they do tire.

One year, one month, and one day ago my Best Friend’s heart wore out. He’d given 29 years of love to those around him and for a decade he allowed complete strangers to take pieces of him. Compassion took its toll and his heart and mind sought rest. I was robbed of the husband I wanted to spend a lifetime loving, hugging and holding and spooning, parenting with, trading jokes, teasing and being teased by, being challenged by, sharing my days, asking advice from, and yes even crying next to, bickering and supporting each other through painful times. The world lost the privilege of an imperfect but amazing man living among them. Your sacrifice will never be forgotten by me, Ryan. 

.....................................................................................

I don’t like the word “strong” because I know the real me. Over the last 13 months the weak moments have infinitely outnumbered the strong ones. Any shining moments were things that HAD to be done, not because I possessed any particularly outstanding innate qualities, but because I have an outstanding man that was a role model for being a good person, through his struggles and vices, that I love unconditionally. I saw early on and throughout our years together how well Ryan and I played off each other (centered, of course, around our abilities to be stubborn-pain-in-the-ass-type-A’s) and would tell him we could definitely be a power couple. It took death to fully grasp the meaning of Ryan being my “other half”. Your absence, Sweetheart, is a loss felt most painfully in my soul – my being, who I have become as an adult. But it is felt every morning I wake up with a visceral emptiness across the fibers of each skeletal muscle, a dull ache throughout my gut, at each synapse and with each and every beat of my heart

If I could wrap my arms around you just once more, it would be all I need to keep going. Today undoubtedly, I will live Life for you. Thank you for giving me a reason.

Always Yours, 

Stephanie

Life After Loss: Austin Marathon

2015 rewrote all of my goals. I have just one now. To Survive. To make a Difference.

I'll take 26.2 miles of steps toward that goal this Sunday, February 14th.

If you can donate to this Go Fund Me campaign, which goes directly to supporting The Code Green Campaign, click here. 

 

The Code Green Campaign's mission is to bring awareness to the high rates of mental health issues in first responders and reduce them. To eliminate the stigma that prevents people from admitting these issues and asking for help. To educate first responders on self and peer care and to lobby for systemic change in how mental health issues are addressed by first responder agencies.

What Does It Feel Like - To Lose a Partner...

A friend posted this today and wow. Yes, that's so accurate. There is a reason that some people describe marriage as "Two-becoming-One" and "My Better Half".

I've dated people that it hurt to leave but not in this way. I lost an essential part of myself when Ryan died. And it's excruciatingly painful in the aftermath of that. 

I've tried over the year to write out how it feels myself. To understand and hopefully heal through seeing it penned from my own brain. How are you changed once widowed?

"But To Be Alone" 

"The 'Worst' Loss"

"Suicide Changes You"

"My Life's Best Part"

"Unique and Devastating Loss"

3 Big Lessons Learned this Year

Photo Courtesy: Scribbles & Crumbs (http://www.scribblesandcrumbs.com/)
On Instagram @scribblesandcrumbs

Before Ryan died, I could not have understood (nor did I wish to) all the complexities of grief and the components surrounding a significant loss. Death happened to other people, it was unavoidable and I felt very detached: "Some people die."

The month of January was bizarre again in that I felt a significant return of confusion and haze. I felt empty. It didn't feel like Ryan was dead. Perhaps he's just gone? I've spent a lot of time trying to compartmentalize the information related to Ryan that carry a tag "death" to try and protect my mind better.

While it's true that "people die", there is nothing to be said that can make this process easier for the one experiencing it. They must learn how they will process, proceed, and in what direction they will attempt to go. In that choice, there is no right or wrong.

Through a lot of reading, writing, meditation and mistakes I have realized a few things.

I will always talk about him

Ryan, Sweetheart, you were mine and I was yours. Were it not for stress, family, employer incompetence, a whole host of things I could still say that with you present next to me. I will talk about you because I love you. Because you were worthy of being talked about. I will talk about you because I was blessed to be the only woman you wished to ever call wife. It would not have been easy (two Type-As) but how satisfying it would have been to be each other's right hand for decades to come.

Beautiful post from Scribbles & Crumbs - Mother of 2: "I talk about him"

Widows Carry Overwhelming Loneliness

Any significant loss presents its own unique challenges. What I could not anticipate was the loneliness that would take up residence without Ryan.

Physical Absence 

He's not here to fall asleep next to - half of the bed is cold. I've piled pillows or unfolded clothes to make that less obvious. But I still wake up and stare silently at the space he should occupy. I still miss the early morning view of his sleeping face. I still miss the snores from his nose buried behind my ear.

Loss of Intimacy

Intimacy is more than just sex.

Physical touch.
Romance.

I'm talking about cooking dinner and having someone put their hands on my hips or on my back as they peer over my shoulder to check on the status.

I'm talking about holding hands in the car, playing the shift game until we're in the perfectly-comfortable nook. I'm talking about a hand on the leg: I lost it the first time I saw that happen for someone else a week after the funeral.

I'm talking about little spooning.

I'm talking about not ever getting a hug from the person that made everything ok when he held me.

I'm talking about that one person's laugh that brings a smile to your face, even when you can't see him.

I'm talking about compliments. A complete stranger about 4 months after Ryan died commented to me "Wow, you're so pretty!" I didn't feel pretty. I felt exhausted. I felt unwanted. I felt lonely. And I'd not been complimented in 4 months. You don't realize it until it's gone how important something as fleeting as a compliment is.

I'm talking about having that special person around that looks at you in a way that you know you matter. If you were the only person in the room or in the largest New Year's party - you're missing that person whose eyes remind you you're loved and you're perfect.

Loss of Routine

There are no more wake-up calls as he gets off his night shift. 

There are no more catching-up-over-work conversations. 

There are no more dreams and fantasies of the future.

There are no more silly games of "what if...?"

There are no more date nights. 

There are no more TV series that need watching.

There are no more reasons to celebrate holidays.

There is no point to getting home early.

There is no point in playing hookie from work.

There is no point in cooking.

Everything about my day changed when Ryan died. For everyone that knew him, Life will be different going forward. For a widow, Life IS different. Every day of it. Because there wasn't a day that went by that Ryan wasn't part of. And through ups and downs, he was still Life's "Best Part" for me for 4 years. He should have been my best parts for another 50. 

Loss of Direction

Ryan wasn't just my spouse. He was my Best Friend. When a decision needed to be made they were "us" decisions. So he was my counsel, my sounding board. Do you think it's a good idea? If we go on vacation how about ___? He was in my life because I wanted to experience the world going forward with him. Every step of the way.

He has died. I don't have my best friend to tell about my mediocre day. To share a joke I heard. To ask an opinion for what to cook for dinner. To refine plans for the upcoming weekend. To laugh during a TV show.

I don't know which way to go because I made all of my decisions for so many years with him in mind, with his input. Not because I couldn't make my own. But I'd fallen in love with him and a life with him. I wanted us both happy with how our Two-Became-One Life proceeded. So yes, I'm "stuck". Because I don't trust my messed up mind enough to not get some feedback, but the only one I trusted enough to receive feedback from is gone. Ryan had my success in mind when he listened to me. I've tread water, confused and alone, unsure of what to do next since I lost him 55 weeks ago.

The etiology of loneliness from IFLS: "How Does Loneliness Make Us Sick"

The Opinions of Others

I will freely admit that I have become a bigger asshole than ever before. Also, that I kinda care but I also kinda don't. Everyone will have an opinion of how their friend/loved on is handling their grief. 

"I don't want you to turn the house into a shrine"
"I think you're drinking too much"

"Why are you wearing his jacket?"

"When are you going to get rid of ___"
"Don't worry - you'll find another one"

"Why do you post so much/talk so much/write so much about him?"

Bottom line is, I know I can't please everyone. I have mounds of experience in all of the well-intentioned-perhaps-but-still-hurtful comments that people will say. I have spent way too much time, even the day Ryan died, trying to figure out how to "play" the widow role: what should I be doing? how should I react? I vary between caring about how I'm perceived (let's be honest, no one wants to be disappointing or not liked) but the guilt that I've tacked on based on words from people that honestly do not get it has worn me out so many times. 

From "A Dirty Secret Called Grief": Grief, I've realized, is like a dirty little secret. People who haven't been through pain like ours don't really want to know but want to be seen to care. 

I'm reading a novel called "Good Grief" by Lolly Winston and there have been 2 passages so far that struck a chord

The morning after Ethan died, I resented the mourners collecting in my living room. How could they fall into the role and accept Ethan's death so readily? While they wept and carried on, I cleaned the house. Scrubbed the shower grout with a toothbrush and Clorox. Now I'm one of the howling mourners. But they've wrapped it up already, moved on.

I told my therapist the same thing. How can someone say that a funeral provides closure? It didn't even feel like the beginning let alone the end. His response: funerals provide closure for people that Ryan's death just touches the surface of their life.

I want to be a classy widow - a Jackie Kennedy kind of widow. Slim and composed, elegant and graceful. White gloves and a string of pearls. But I seem to be more the Jack Daniel's kind of widow - wailing in the supermarket and mowing through the salad bar, hair all crazy like an unmade bed.
Lately, life requires so much self-discipline. While most people have a to-do list, I have a don't-do list. Don't eat Oreos until your gums bleed. Don't sleep in your clothes. Don't grab the produce boy's teenage wrists and sob. 

Even the moments where I'd felt like I'm composed to the outside world, I'm still a raging trainwreck of a mess inside. So p.s. I'm not "done" "over" or anything related to finality. I'm pissed that Ryan is dead. 

What a weird sentence to type; today it doesn't feel like he is. 

This Life I'm trying to figure out is way too messy to have anything figured out/wrapped up/complete after just 1 year.