tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38158492663934600922024-03-13T23:18:27.326-04:00Glimmering Through AspenAmaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.comBlogger346125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-76627266528963962092018-05-16T22:29:00.000-04:002018-05-16T22:29:12.515-04:007 Years <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was an unexpected find when I came to this blog, my safe haven, to reminisce on the past 7 years, only to find my unpublished post from last year. I am happy I did stumble upon it because there have been differences, changes in me, changes in my life that made me forget about where I was just a year ago. <br />
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Seven years. Seven years, wow. Seven years is a long time. It's so long that there are so many new people in my life that don't even know what happened seven years ago. They don't know that I was widowed. They don't know how I chose to stay in New York City alone. They don't know how I raised my son alone for four years. They don't know that my husband took his own life. And to be honest, sometimes, I forget too.</div>
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This past year has been extremely difficult and stressful. My son was having behavioral issues that worried me tremendously last year at this time. My best friend had just found out the she had cancer. Later on in the year, we found out that my grandfather had cancer. He passed away just last month, just days after my cousin died from pancreatitis. My cousin was only 22 years old and had spent a month in the hospital before my aunt had to make the excruciating decision to let him go after the doctors told her there was nothing more they could do for him. My mind was occupied with worry. It still is. Although my son is back to his old self and my best friend is in remission, there is one condition that I didn't yet share, and that is my mother. She has early on-set dementia. It's been about 2 years since we suspected and the testing began. She is still with us mentally. She has not forgotten our names and major events. But her short term memory has been shaken. And it is noticeable. And it is heartbreaking. Daily thoughts of my mother and her condition have seemed to replace my daily thoughts of Dale.</div>
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I was happy to be reminded from the post I wrote last year of how much I still thought of him. It was nice to read that those thoughts were all mainly positive ones. Unfortunately now, just a year later, I can't say that I think of him daily. I still think of him often. But not as much and not deeply. </div>
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Seven years ago, my world was silenced. You know how you feel after going to an extremely loud concert? When your ears are still pounding, yet you have a deafening daze about you? That's how it felt when I got the call seven years ago. I felt like I was in a daze. I could hear and see the world around me, but it was as if there was a layer of fog between us. Over time that fog lifted, but it always returned in May. That first day, it can back immediately. The countdown began May 1 and it was a painful 17 days until it came. </div>
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I am always very well aware of the date, but this year, it didn't hit me until tonight, a few hours ago. Once the night wound down and my son went to bed, the memories became to surface. It's different though. It's not a countdown of events. It's not the wonder of what he was thinking or doing the days before or even the hours and minutes before. It's now just a day, a day that I still wish I could erase from the calendar, but a day that still brings that foggy daze of silence. </div>
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My son, who is now 8, has been asking about the anniversary date. He has a memory like his father and its now locked in. He has requested that we look at pictures, watch videos, and go through a chest of his belongings tomorrow, before we go out to dinner to one Dale's favorite restaurants. I am happy that Ewan wants to do things to celebrate his father. I am happy that he initiated it too. </div>
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So that's all I have for tonight. My writing seems dull, I know. But despite that, I will still press publish, so that next year I can look back and see how life has changed. </div>
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-44092560426787034882018-05-16T21:49:00.001-04:002018-05-16T21:50:18.116-04:006 years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
**Note: I found this as a draft as I came here to post for the 7 year anniversary. I don't think that I have visited this blog since last year, on the same day, at the same time. Even though I didn't complete my thoughts, I decided to post it anyways.<br />
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<u>May 16, 2017</u><br />
For better or for worse, the lives that we are currently living can forever be changed in an instant. The life that I once knew and cherished began to crack long before it's destruction. It became weak and vulnerable. However, it didn't shatter until I got that phone call 6 years ago today. The words "he's gone" is all that needed to be said to let the bottom out. <br />
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Six years is a long time. It's the majority of my 7 year old's life. It's enough time to be immersed in living a new one. And that is where I am today...</div>
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I still think of him, of Dale, every day. But I don't let my thoughts linger or wander. I have exhausted all routes to further my understanding of all that had happened. There is nothing more to think about, it just is. </div>
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I still do dream of him. Sometimes I am conflicted in my dreams because both he and John are in the picture and Dale is never the person that I am meant to be with. Sometimes my dreams are so pleasant that I wake with a heartache because he's no longer in the conscious world.</div>
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I have found that while I do think of him less, I think of him more softly which causes me to miss him more now than before. We spent so much time together and so much time alone, that there will always be that "<a href="http://glimmeringthroughaspen.blogspot.com/search?q=black+hole" target="_blank">black hole</a>" of memories that only come and pass through me, but never are able to be revived again. That saddens me and makes me feel that Dale's death took a extra piece of me with him. </div>
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I have been hardened. I am not as empathetic as you may assume someone in my situation might be. My vision of what is truly sympathetic has been reserved for just that... truly sympathetic. I do not get caught up in trivial details nor in details in which people have control over, but do nothing about them. Sometimes this makes me feel that I am a bitch. Sometimes I am grateful that I appreciate that I haven't lost appreciation for the little things because I still don't get caught up in the big. </div>
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-47160590346942704102017-02-11T10:00:00.003-05:002017-02-11T10:01:00.754-05:00Moment of the WeekI currently have 3 blogs, lol. Amazing for someone who has had both writer's block and limited time to write over the past year or so. There's this one, obviously. The second, <i><a href="https://amomentsglory.com/" target="_blank">A Moment's Glory</a></i>, I started about two years ago as a spin-off to this one. I even said goodbye to <i>Glimmering Through Aspen. </i>My third is one, <i><a href="http://freshnfab.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Fresh and Fabulous: Capturing Your Inner and Outer Radiance</a>, </i>is what I use along side my "business" or better stated my hobby as a Lemongrass Spa consultant. <br />
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I go through an ebb and flow on each of them. Right now I find myself with a mild flow on each. I have even added a new feature on <i>A Moment's Glory, </i>called the "Moment of the Week" to help keep the flow going. "Moment of the Week" is just a way for me to think about and appreciate something that has happened to me during the week no matter how minuscule it may seem. It's also a good way to focus a day of writing and to help prevent writer's block, ;).<br />
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After yesterday's post <i>here, </i>I felt that my moment of the week from two weeks ago fit in perfectly to show exactly where I am at this point. <br />
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<a href="https://amomentsglory.com/2017/01/30/moment-of-the-week-2/" rel="bookmark" style="color: #333333; text-decoration: none;" title="3:58 am">January 30, 2017</a></div>
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I had just dropped my son off at school on Wednesday morning and continued along my own daily path to work when <em>Fields of Gold </em> by Sting came on the radio. That song always brought warm and loving imagery to mind when Dale, my late husband, was alive. It was unofficially <em>our </em>song. After he passed away, I was so laden with a multitude of emotions that the song lost its innocence. I just couldn’t listen to it the same as I once did. Until Wednesday, and as I made my beeline commute to work on Brooklyn side streets, you could say that I got swept away.</div>
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Long after the shock and confusion surrounding his death subsided, it was the bad memories and guilt that hung around. Guilt being the more powerful of those two forces. It’s taken almost every bit of the nearly 6 years since his death for me to finally feel those tight grips loosen up. Wednesday morning, they let go and I managed to listen to the whole song without a bad memory or an ounce of guilt (my nemeses) interrupting. It was warm and it was sweet and I cherished every moment of that 3+ minute song.</div>
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-55724350760225765612017-02-10T18:17:00.001-05:002017-02-10T18:17:54.500-05:00Recovery<div style="background-color: white; color: #111111; margin-bottom: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They say that there is a grieving process that one goes through when a loved one is lost. The 5 stages of grief according to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross are <span style="font-weight: 700;">1. Denial and isolation; 2. Anger; 3. Bargaining; 4. Depression; 5. Acceptance (PsychCentral). </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A death by suicide is different and a loved one's suicide can trigger intense emotions. The stages of grief differ slightly. </span></div>
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<li style="border: none; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Shock.</strong> Disbelief and emotional numbness might set in. You might think that your loved one's suicide couldn't possibly be real.</span></li>
<li style="border: none; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Anger.</strong> You might be angry with your loved one for abandoning you or leaving you with a legacy of grief — or angry with yourself or others for missing clues about suicidal intentions.</span></li>
<li style="border: none; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Guilt.</strong> You might replay "what if" and "if only" scenarios in your mind, blaming yourself for your loved one's death.</span></li>
<li style="border: none; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Despair.</strong> You might be gripped by sadness, loneliness or helplessness. You might have a physical collapse or even consider suicide yourself.</span></li>
<li style="border: none; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Confusion.</strong> Many people try to make some sense out of the death, or try to understand why their loved one took his or her life. But, you'll likely always have some unanswered questions.</span></li>
<li style="border: none; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Feelings of rejection.</strong> You might wonder why your relationship wasn't enough to keep your loved one from dying by suicide. (Mayo Clinic)</span></li>
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<span style="color: #111111;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now that I am approaching the 6 year mark to the beginning of the end, memories and emotions for me are beginning to stir. Six years has given me time to heal and to be able to reflect on where I was and where I am today. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><br /><span style="color: #111111;">In the early days of this blog, when I was in the beginning-middle of recovery, I couldn't see as clearly as I do now. And reflecting back on the stages of </span><span style="color: #111111;"><b>grief</b></span><span style="color: #111111;">, I can look back and say that my state of <b>shock</b> did not last for long. There was the initial shock that began the moment I found out, but it didn't take long for that to fade and to only be hit with it sporadically over the years. Even now, 6 years later, for no particular reason I will think of Dale and say to myself, "I can't believe he's gone." I suppose there will always be that shred of shock, but not in a sense that is binding. I believe shock never stayed with me for long because I lived with a suicidal man for years. Many times he led me believe that it wasn't going to be </span><i style="color: #111111;">if</i><span style="color: #111111;"> but rather </span><i style="color: #111111;">when. </i><span style="color: #111111;">I lived my life revolved around that fear he bestowed upon me because somewhere inside, I believed him, and I tried to do everything that I could to never let that happen.</span><br /><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;">For me, the first prominent stage was <b>confusion</b>. I saw things in Dale in the last few months that I had never seen before. He had spoken of the demons, but for nearly 13 years, he kept them at bay. I was confused as to how one could get to the place he was at, not just towards the end, but his entire life. Why did he feel this way for so long? Why wouldn't he seek help? What happened in his life before I knew him? Was it depression alone? Did he have borderline personality disorder? What role did I play? Was I an enabler? Why didn't I see this storm coming? How could I have been so unprepared? I would look back on our lives and see things differently, but was it correctly? Did my perspective change? I. was. confused. I wanted to understand. But the more I thought about things, the more confused I became. It took more than a year to begin to let go. It was so difficult, especially with my introverted personality. By nature I think and process. However, I came to the point where I had exhausted all of my thoughts and questions due to the inability of ever having them answered. He wasn't here. I wasn't getting any answers from his family. I knew everything that I would ever know. I had to accept what I knew to be true and let go of the rest. </span><br /><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;">Dale's death broke my heart. It was a devastating and traumatic loss. However, I never found myself in <b>despair</b>. Sometimes I wonder if raising my son completely alone kept me from despair. I had no time for it. I had a child to attend to and there was not a single day that I didn't get out of bed to take care of that child. I also never felt <b>rejected</b> by Dale's choice. Admittedly, I thought that after our son was born, he would have been enough to keep Dale going. I never saw myself in that place, but my son, I <strike>believed</strike> hoped that he would be enough (what a burden to put on a child). I do not believe that it wasn't about my son or myself not being enough. Dale didn't think that he was enough. He was a terribly tortured soul and from the beginning, I always felt more sad for him (even though he was gone and in peace) than for us (my son and I). </span><br /><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;">It took <i>years</i> for <b>anger</b> to make its presence known. In a way, I understood what he did. I didn't and never will think that was the right choice or that it ever should have been an option. But despite what he left me to deal with, I couldn't be angry with him. Again, I was deeply, deeply saddened for him. Broken-hearted, alone, and confused... but I was alive. I had a beautiful son and a life. I was thankful for all that I did have. It wasn't until I was in "a good place" that I was able to open up the doors to anger. </span><br /><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;">One of the things that I had told myself from the beginning was that despite all that happened, I was not a victim. I was an active participant in my life (even when I was a mush of a person and I wasn't making choices, that in and of itself was a choice). That mindset made me not regret my decisions and my life with Dale. (If you haven't read much of this blog, the situation was much more than the suicide). Those thoughts gave me power, power because I felt that I had control over my life. It was a necessity, especially at that time.</span><br /><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;">It wasn't until about 2 years ago or so that I couldn't help but to compare my life with John to that with Dale. I even went further to compare my life in my twenties (I married Dale at 23) to John's and to other friends in their twenties. I didn't have many fun, exciting, young and carefree experiences because (even though I didn't know it at the time) life was already strenuous. I was taking care of a sick person without ever even knowing that I was doing that. That made me begin to feel resentful towards the life that I had with Dale because I felt that I missed out. That's when the anger trickled in. I have had to retell myself that I was there, I made decisions. I need to take ownership over my past. And I have and I do. Hindsight is always 20-20 and I have to keep that in mind. I cannot change the past, and to be honest, I am not sure if would even want to. All that I can do is make the most of today and to experience life to the fullest so that I don't look back and have any regrets on how I am living my life right now. </span><br /><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;">I also worry about my son. I always will. Whenever he gets upset and down on himself, I can't help but to have an internal panic attack. I can't help but to be worried about his mental state, or his future mental state. That causes me to become angry with Dale. I am angry with him for giving my son a predisposition. All I can do is fight with all of the nurture I can find and hope it kicks nature's ass!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;"><b>Guilt.</b> Guilt has been by my side for 5 years. It found me well before Dale took his own life. It found me when I finally spoke up about my unhappiness in our marriage and the lack of respect that he had for me... which led to his unraveling. It punched me in the gut when I got <i>the </i>phone call. It was there whispering in my ear as I tried to work though all of my confusion. It laughed at me when I began to find happiness again. It was there day and night and even in my dreams. I was swimming in guilt. I knew that it wasn't my fault, that it was Dale's decision. But I also knew that by my speaking up (which I had the right to do), I caused his derailment. It may have been an accident waiting to happen, but I was the trigger that led to his end. I felt guilty that I still had a life. I still had our son. I was happy to be alive. I found beauty in life, even in the darkness. I felt guilty that I was healthy enough to do that, when he wasn't. I felt guilty for finding enjoyment and for finding happiness. Guilt really threw its all at me when I found John. Maybe it knew that I now had the artillery to beat it. But for the first two years with John, I was almost consumed with guilt. What I felt most guilty about, was that I liked my life better now. I was happier now. Life was good. It wasn't heavy. It was healthy. Everything was just... better. God, that was sooooo hard for me to admit. Even now, I feel a tad bit dirty for say that. But its true. My life is better now than it was before. </span><br /><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;">My mind battled my guilt mostly through my dreams. I believe that's because I wasn't awake to put up my guard to protect my true thoughts. My dreams let me expose them in a safe place, within my own mind. I worked through it in my dreams. And I would say it took me up to about the 5 year mark from Dale's death for me to feel the clutches of guilt begin to release itself. </span><br /><span style="color: #111111;"><br /></span><span style="color: #111111;">Since then, I have noticed that I have been thinking about Dale more. When I think about him now, I can do so without the bad moments ruining the good. I couldn't do that before because I was protecting myself. Now, for reasons that I don't quite understand, it's safe. I can go there. So I have and as a result, I have begun to miss him more than I have in a long time and that is a strange place for me to find myself in. For the first time in almost 6 years, it's mainly just me, without shock, confusion, anger or guilt. What I am feeling is genuine and untainted by the stages of grief. It's new and I haven't fully processed it yet. I suppose that is why I am back here writing and sharing all of this. I can't imagine its a bad thing though.</span></span></div>
Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-60245871842840392422017-02-10T13:54:00.000-05:002017-02-10T15:20:05.593-05:00I Vow...We knew that we wanted to write our own vows before we were ever even engaged. I had ideas swimming in my head as to what I wanted to put into my vows, but when time came to actually put them down on paper, I was stumped. I didn't know how to organize and to explain and to show what I was feeling and what John meant to me. So I went back to where it all start, and it started with this blog. So to fully appreciate this post, you may want to read more of this blog or all of it, in case if you haven't. I'd start with the beginning, just sayin'. ;)<br />
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<span class="s1">Five years ago, I began a new chapter in my life. One where I began to look at life through a whole new lens. </span><span class="s1">It was a profound experience of self discovery and what emerged was a desire to find affirmation to the new thoughts and beliefs that I acquired along the way. </span><span class="s1">So many of my thoughts revolved around love and what it truly meant to love and to be loved. What I grew to believe is that the love between a husband and wife is like no other, but that this love only existed through proofs. These proofs are in the way in which you are looked at. The way in which you are spoken to and listened to. The way in which you are touched. The way in which you are made to laugh and the way in which you are still capable of finding individuality in togetherness. I believe that these proofs create a place where your beauty shines and all of your imperfections diminish because of their irrelevance. It’s a place where you find yourself happiest because you are safe to be your true self. And it’s a place where you want to go when you are up, down or anywhere in between because this place is home. </span></blockquote>
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<span class="s1">John, you have breathed life into my thoughts and hopes and have affirmed that I am not a crazy person or atleast that I am not the only one, lol. You have made my beliefs a reality and you are my amazing.</span> </blockquote>
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<span class="s1">Despite all of the years of adventures, heartaches, and happinesses that we did not share with one another, our paths crossed at precisely the right time. I am grateful for that and for you. So without further adieu…</span> </blockquote>
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<span class="s1">I promise to you to never lose sight of what brought us here today and to love, respect and appreciate you for all that you are and all that we are. </span><span class="s1">I promise to laugh with you, cry with you, and grow with you as we adventure through life together. </span><span class="s1">I promise that you will never find a better Internet steal than the 2 for 1 you found in Ewan and myself. </span><span class="s1">I promise to stand by your side to celebrate in your successes, to encourage you in times of doubt, and to take your hand when you may fall. </span><span class="s1">I promise to be as proud and as happy as I am today to be your wife… all the days of my life. </span></blockquote>
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-58616729322159293312017-02-09T13:32:00.001-05:002017-02-09T13:39:56.179-05:00AspenI don't know any other way to explain the connections that this blog and my wedding had than to share directly it's impact. This is the "thank you" letter that I gave to each of my bridesmaids. <br />
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<span class="s1">Over the past year, I had a lot of crazy and indecisive moments that I reached out to you on, on more than one occasion. However, there were certain things that were an absolute no-brainer for this wedding… John, Ewan walking me down the isle, you, and an aspen leaf. Out of all of the little gifts to you and all of the details in this wedding, the aspen leaf carries a true significance and purpose. </span><span class="s1">Trees represent life. An aspen tree’s significance in nature is that it is one of the first plants to regrow after a natural disaster has destroyed the land. The unfortunate part is that once the land has healed and recovered, the other plants, that were able to grow as a result of the nourishment that the aspen’s provided the land; they take over and often the aspen trees die out. </span><span class="s1">Five years ago when the life that I knew was destroyed, I turned to writing to help me recover, heal, and regrow. Glimmering Through Aspen is what I titled my writing and it wasn’t until I was writing my vows to John that I realized the full extent the parallel between life and nature. Since meeting John my writing has decreased and I very rarely visit it these days. However, the words in my vows came directly from the raw and genuine thoughts from my recent past. John fits seamlessly into my beliefs and that is how I know and have known for so long now that I have found my missing half with him. </span><span class="s1">Thank you so much for sharing in this special time in my life. I couldn’t imagine doing it without you by my side. And should you ever find a time in your life when you have to start anew and rebuild, I am proof that there is a deep and true happiness that can be found again, but also that it’s in the lonely, dark times that the happiness is reborn. </span><span class="s1">I’m not sure if this is the best “Thank You” note for a wedding, but it’s original, if nothing else. :)</span></blockquote>
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Each of my bridesmaids wore an aspen leaf necklace.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes that is my son walking me down the aisle. <br />
And yes, it rained on my wedding day!</td></tr>
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-33768313755586561202017-01-30T23:45:00.002-05:002017-01-30T23:46:06.336-05:00Light at the End of the Dark TunnelThis blog was always my safe, happy place. When I look back and reflect on my thoughts and feelings, my reflections and revolutions, there was always a common thread. Yes, I wanted to find myself. Yes, I wanted to rebuild the best life for me and my son. But the key to all of that was to find love again. Through my growth I learned <strike>to be</strike> how strong and independent I really was. I took great pride in that, still do! But I wanted to love again. Not because I couldn't find happiness without it, I just knew that a true, loving and healthy partner in life would make life that much richer. So while I was searching for myself, I was also (mentally) searching for what I wanted and needed in a relationship. It didn't take long after meeting John to realize that he was just that. <i>My amazing. </i><br />
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On October 8, 2016 John and I were married!!! And in many ways, this blog came full circle as it influenced so much of that very special and happy, happy day. Life goes on and there is much happiness to be found. I found light at the end of my dark tunnel. <3<br />
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<br />Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-60559136027330972602016-05-17T00:45:00.001-04:002016-05-17T00:45:05.911-04:005 Years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On May 16, 2011, I got a call from Dale's mom in the early evening hours. He had missed a doctor's appointment and she hadn't been able to reach him. She told me that she thought it best if I stayed inside for the remainder of the night. At this point, I hadn't spoken to Dale in over two weeks and the last time I had he was angry. So angry. With me. So I took this advice from his mother with great heed. Not only did I stay inside, I barricaded my front door with a table. I had no idea what the situation was and didn't want to take any chances. <br />
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What I did know was that I was already on high alert and this day brought it up even higher. It is hard to put into words what it is like to be with and to love someone who is suicidal. There's no true relaxing. There's always some tension, because you just never know. You never know what you are going to see when you open that door. You never know what words are going to be spoken on that telephone call. Five years later, I can look back on my life and see that I was in a constant state of fear. Fear of the unfathomable. The unfathomable that became my reality. <br />
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I tried to treat this night as any other. I took care of my son. I made dinner. I put him to bed. I did the dishes. I sat around and waited. And waited. <br />
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Dale's sister was keeping me updated, but there was not much to report on. They lived 5 hours away. I could not have any contact with Dale. Prayers and hope were all that I had while Dale's mom made the journey to what I can only describe as hell all alone to search for Dale. They contacted his friends, but they hadn't heard from him. He either didn't show up for work or he had the day off, so they hadn't heard from him. Prayers and hope. Prayers and hope. <br />
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Things weren't right. The day prior, Sunday the 15th, Dale was supposed to move in to his new apartment. (I missed some events that happened between my last post and this one). It was only a few blocks away from where our apartment was, where my son and I were living. To this day, I am not for certain why the move never happened. His parents were supposed to come that weekend to help him move. I was told that the apartment ended up not being ready. I gut tells me that Dale lied to his parents. I think that he had made up his mind and there was no need to begin the daunting task of a move. <br />
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Shortly after 1:00 am on May 17th, I got a phone call from Dale's sister. "Amy..." (pause that felt like infinity) "he's gone." "No, Anne no." We didn't speak much more than that. If we did, I don't remember. She had to go and wake up her father and tell him. I called my sister. I could barely speak. The pause and hesitation in my own voice gave her a fear that I don't think ever escaped her. She thought that she was hearing my last breath, as I gasped for air and words. In a voice that I could barely recognize as my own, I hoarsely told her. He was gone. Dale was gone. <br />
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And just like that everything fell silent.<br />
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I went to our son's room, hoping that his spirit would find us. I didn't know what to do. What do you do? I couldn't comprehend what actually happened. I wanted to wake up Ewan and just hold him. But he was fast asleep and I just couldn't bear to wake him up. He was so peaceful. He was so innocent. He was so unaware of the horror that just took place. I didn't want to disturb that. I wanted him to keep that for as long as he possibly could. So instead, I laid on the floor in his room beside his crib. I didn't cry. I was too numb. <br />
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5 years ago... even the days match. Tuesday, May 17, 2011... Dale left us. Tuesday, May 17, 2016... I am writing and sharing my life, my breaths, my thoughts, my moments, my pain, my reality from five years ago. <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-71710122087650841482016-03-16T13:08:00.002-04:002016-03-16T13:08:51.128-04:00The Kraken & Adele<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The days between February 19th and March 16th were stressful and tense. For two people living in an 800 square foot apartment, we didn't see each other very much. Our once awkward apartment layout, turned to be useful when the one bedroom that was not attached to the rest of the apartment turned into Dale's room. He continued to stay at home with our son during the day while I was at work, and he went to work at night, right when I got home. <br />
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I remember very few details during that month. I remember that his parents came to visit one weekend during that time. But I don't remember anything about it. <br />
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I do remember that we discussed separating. Our relationship was so toxic and I was just a lump of a person. I had no personality and no backbone left to me. I still had hope that we could somehow end up back together again and happy. But I knew that wouldn't be possible if we were not healthy. I knew for my own sake, I needed to be away from him in order to become healthy again. When we were together we would find ourselves in a spiral downward and each time, we fell further and further down. <br />
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He wanted a plan. He wanted my plan. How did I foresee all of this taking place and how would it all work? That was fair enough, except the fact that it was near impossible to talk with him. He was angry and defensive throughout that entire month. I was the one who could afford to maintain our apartment on my own salary, he couldn't, yet he felt that I was the one who should move out. After all of his talks about us not being right for one another and divorce, now, he didn't like this plan of separation. Like a good lawyer, he had an answer and an attack for everything.<br />
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He did agree to go to family therapy with me. I was in the process of finding a counselor for the two of us to meet with simultaneously. We both desperately needed help. Had he decided not to come, I would have on my own. That's where I now stood. <br />
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On March 16, 2011 Dale got a tattoo. It was of a kraken. A kraken is legendary sea monster that was so large that it could bring down entire ships. The tattoo was on the inside bicep of his right arm. I only remember seeing this tattoo once or twice. The artist did an amazing job, just like he did on so many of Dale's other tattoos. But this one was different. It had such a dark meaning behind it as it had a direct connection to Dale's depression. <br />
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I knew that things were bad. I knew that things were tense. I knew that Dale was capable of manipulating me too. I knew that I couldn't revert back because Dale's depression made an appearance. I had let his illness control my lift as much as it controlled his. I also knew now that by letting myself be controlled and manipulated by him, I had become an enabler. None of that worked, look at where we had come to and what we had become. <br />
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When Dale arrived home that night, we had some words. I do not remember what they were. But, I do remember standing in our hallway, head spinning, and looking into the kitchen and watching him and listening to Adele's new song that was playing. He turned to me and said her words, "We could of had it all..."<br />
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Two months later, we had nothing. <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-49073539609996962432016-02-19T12:41:00.000-05:002016-02-19T12:57:45.239-05:00 Exactly 5 Years Ago<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Our very last of "The Talks" happened on New Year's Eve 2010. Instead of having a panic attack that time, it was the time that I told to myself that I was going to trying everything that I could do to make us work because it was going to be the last time. I took that vow as Dale spewed out the same words as in all of the other talks. I did speak up enough to tell him, when he got to the part that maybe we didn't belong together and that perhaps a divorce is inevitable, that if I ever said those words to him, they weren't going to be an empty threat. If I said them, I was going to mean them. <br />
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I have no regrets about the things that I did that January and February. I initiated, I stepped outside of my boundary lines, I gave it my all. I have no regrets because had I not done what I had, I may have been left with the "what if?" questions. There were none. I had given my all to my marriage without doubt and I knew deep in my heart that I had nothing left to give. I was not the one for Dale, and he was not the one for me. <br />
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Less then 50 days after our final talk, I broke. We were visiting my family over winter break, just like I am on right now. It was the middle of the night and our son woke up. I got up to comfort him. Dale walked in and told me that he'd take over. Sounds like a kind, caring, and loving act. That was the straw that broke my camel's back. I wanted to be with my son that night. I needed to be with him. Dale insisted that I go back to bed. But I didn't sleep. That is the moment that I woke up. For the first time in <i>years</i>, I was awake. My eyes were open and I couldn't pretend anymore. <br />
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I was in an abusive relationship. I was in an abusive relationship. It wasn't about the depression. It wasn't about Dale's illness. It was about the way that Dale treated me. The way that I had been treated for years, and I couldn't do it anymore. <br />
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The evening that I <i>awoke</i> was the night that Dale and I were supposed to double-date with my best friend and her husband. Because we had dinner the night before at my sister's house, he felt that he had done his part and didn't need to take part on this double-date. My friend's husband didn't go as a result and that left me and my best friend for 20 years to have "the dinner" of all dinners. <br />
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She came to pick me up and we drove but just a few blocks before I had to say, "I am in an abusive relationship." She immediately broke into tears because deep down, she had suspected and feared that. I was never willing or ready to entertain that notion, ever. Not until then. Not until I knew for sure and I did. There was no turning back from that moment. <br />
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I believe that it was exactly five years ago today, February 19th, that Dale and I arrived back home in New York City after a very tense and quiet drive back from my parent's house. When arrived home, that is when I told him that I couldn't take it anymore. Our relationship was toxic. <br />
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Over the course of the past few years, Dale had progressively got more hostile, angry, and resentful towards me. It seemed too energetic for it to be his depression, although I knew he still suffered. I had always viewed him as a man, who had an illness. I saw him first, not the illness, but the illness was always there and I knew it. However, I didn't blame the illness for the way that Dale was treating me. I blamed the person. After all, he was a person. I just didn't know how deeply he was consumed by his illness. I didn't think it was going to be easy or pretty, but he had told me himself so many times that perhaps we didn't belong together. It shouldn't have been so shocking and I certainly didn't think that telling him that I had enough, was going to cause him to unravel. But it did. <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-14552066645161863072016-02-19T12:04:00.002-05:002016-02-19T12:13:52.457-05:00Virginia: 2006<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I look back on our lives together, there were always red flags. From the very beginning they were there. They are easier to detect now then they were back then when I was so young and in the moment. But despite that, deep down, I knew they were there. However, in the beginning, there weren't many and Dale was an amazing person. What I got in return was worth it. What I didn't know and couldn't prepare myself for was the downward spiral that we found ourselves in. I don't know what happened or what caused it, but a pivotal point came during our last year in Virginia. We hit a point and snowballed down the hill until the very end. <br />
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Dale had started a new job that year. A new job meant new people and these new people sparked Dale to share their stories of love and lust with me. One woman had just ended a long relationship and she was taking advantage of this freedom to explore herself sexually. Dale thought that we should do the same. One man was openly gay. Dale admired him for being able to just be himself. A younger colleague had just lost her virginity. She was dating an older man and was trying all sorts of kinky things. Dale wanted to throw that into our mix. Another woman had a crush on Dale. It gave him the idea that perhaps we should let someone in and watch, during our intimate moments together. It seemed as though everyday he came home with a new story. They all revolved around sex and soon enough, things started to revolve around sex in our relationship as well. <br />
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This is when I began to notice the ingenuity of his actions. He began to keep score. He mentally tallied up the things that he did for me and what I did for him. He, of course, far outweighed me and it started off where he would joke that I owed him something. Then it turned into him being serious about it and it began to turn sexual as well. <br />
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I am all for people doing behind closed doors whatever it is that makes them happy... as long as what they are doing isn't hurting or negativity effecting someone else. At this point, we had been together for nearly 9 years. I wanted us to have a happy and healthy intimate life together. I didn't want it to become boring and infrequent. I didn't mind trying new things, but I did have boundaries. My boundaries were not respected and were under constant discussion with hopes of negotiation. <br />
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This was also the time that "The Talks" began. These talks happened about every 6 months and were about the same 3 things. 1. Dale's depression and how I am not helping enough. I was told that I needed to do more because I was actually causing it to worsen. My love was questioned. 2. Sex. I didn't initiate it enough. It was getting boring. 3. Sometimes that changed, but it usually was about my lack of domestic skills. Now, think of a convincing lawyer. That is how Dale sounded. He presented his issues with me in a caring and loving way. His words were chosen so carefully that it was hard to dispute anything. And when I did, my words were twisted and I was left feeling even worse. I felt confused. I felt like I was wrong. I didn't trust myself and my own thoughts. Those talks took a piece of my spirit away every time. It came to the point where at first I started to clam up. It was better to not say anything than to say something and have your own words twisted in a way that you didn't even know how else to explain yourself. Towards the end, I began to have mini anxiety attacks when I knew these talks were about to happen. My head would feel dizzy and my heart would palpitate. I had such a hard time breathing that I couldn't talk, even if I wanted to. I couldn't even cry anymore. <br />
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Virginia: 2006.... the red flags started to take over. I was so caught up in my own mental mess that I couldn't see it. There was so much that I couldn't see. <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-17770860238334694082016-02-19T11:17:00.003-05:002016-02-19T11:17:48.230-05:00A Long December<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="s1">December of 2010 is remembered as being grey. I don't have many memories or details of that month, only the color grey to describe it best. Perhaps that is because it was the silent month. It was the month that Dale ignored me, as much as he could, for a two people who were raising a child together and doing so in an 800 square foot home. This was the month of my forgotten birthday. The month that I was told that he loved our son so much that he didn't have any extra love for me. The month that once it ended, I was told that he purposefully silenced our month so that I would know how it felt. He said that was how I made him feel. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">He had my love, trust, loyalty, attention, friendship... mind, heart, and body. He had it all, including my spirit and he had crushed it so much that there was very little left of it. I was one step above being a zombie. </span></div>
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<i><span class="s1"><br /></span>I never thought that I could cure Dale and his illness. I knew that wasn't possible. I wanted to be a part of the happiness in his life though. At one point there was a lot of laughter and fun times. I thought that we could build on that. I thought that if we built a strong life together filled with wonderful memories, that he could use that to help him face the dark times. That's what I thought my role was. That's what I wanted my gift to Dale to be. I knew that I couldn't fight his battle for him, but I had hoped that I could add on to his supply of ammunition to keep on fighting. </i></blockquote>
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That December... it changed things. It may have been dark and grey but it was my moment of clarity. Dale was a master at hiding his illness. That month, he did just that and made me believe that it was <i>me</i>, not his illness. He wasn't happy with <i>me. </i></div>
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I was never good enough which is why he was always trying to change it. He tried to improve me to what he envisioned happiness or perfection or whatever word you want to throw in there, looked like to him. It didn't matter what I was wearing, what color my hair was, what words I said, what actions I took... nothing was good enough. I realized that I literally had nothing left to give. </div>
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-45248661614345277632016-02-19T10:43:00.002-05:002016-02-19T10:43:58.184-05:00November 2010<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dale had a keen sense for fashion. He worked in retail so it was part of his job, but he definitely knew what he liked both for himself and for me. He gifted me many clothes, complete outfits, jewelry, shoes, and handbags throughout the years. So much so that it would be fair to say that 75% of my closet was made up of clothes picked out by him. <br />
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In the beginning, it was really sweet and appreciated. Whose boyfriend does that? No one that I knew. It made me feel like he paid attention to me and to little details about me. When I met him, it was in the late 90's and I was kind of into that somewhat grungy look. I wore really big clothes, not flattering for my petite frame, and I wouldn't call my style feminine either. <br />
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Dale was the first to initiate more form fitting/flattering clothes. He complimented me when I wore them and showed off my body more. He helped to make me feel more pretty and confident and I started to embrace the style of clothes that he introduced and supplied me with. We had a lot of fun together, going shopping, for me. He was better than going shopping with a girlfriend. I defined my sense of fashion by what pleased him and still to this day, my choice in clothing still reminds me of him and his influence on me. <br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>At some point, an act that seemed to be genuine and caring at first, started to reveal more of a selfish tone. Something happened during our last year in Virginia. I don't know what it was and I didn't realize it until later on. But looking back at Dale and at us, something really fundamentally wrong started to take over.</i></blockquote>
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There came a point when it became apparent that these shopping sprees and gifts were not given out of pure love and the desire to make me happy and smile. The desire was his and it was sexual. The clothes became short and the heels became higher. They weren't practical for me, for my lifestyle, and they made me feel very uncomfortable. When I tried to express that, it turned to his wants and needs. He told me that he thought that I was beautiful and sexy and that it was for him, no one else, and that's all that should matter. <br />
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<i>What matters most is how one feels about themselves. Hypocrite sometimes passes my mind when I do wear something that is "sexy" today. However, I am a much different person today than I was then. I have found myself and I am confident. <b>I choose what I wear</b>. It is not imposed upon me and it is a reflection on who I am and how I want to present myself. </i></blockquote>
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The tip of the iceberg came in November 2010, just days before Thanksgiving. I had been coloring my hair for years, mainly blonde. I am a natural blonde, but not a natural beach blonde, which was my usual go-to color. Yes, that is what Dale liked best, until he wanted me to try being a brunette. I didn't want to. I withheld for <i>years</i>, yes this was conversation and request that wouldn't end. Finally, I decided to give in. I went to get my hair done and I thought I would surprise him when I came home with dark hair. The reception that I got was not what I expected, at all. Even though he knew that it was for him and him alone, I was told that it had taken me so long to do it, that he didn't even care anymore. It was still subconscious, but I believe that it was then that I realized that nothing that I could do would ever make him happy <i>with me.</i> <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-45728027638505559342016-02-15T09:06:00.001-05:002016-02-15T09:06:12.379-05:00Summer 2010<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My son had the biggest room in our new apartment. I loved his room. It got all of the sunlight and it's warmth as well as any breeze that would be had on a hot summer day. Today was one of those days. We were all in his room. Dale, our son, myself and our two dogs.<br />
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Dale was on the floor with Ewan, who was still a month away from his first birthday. I loved to watch the two of them together. I think that I enjoyed the genuine happiness that was all over Dale's face even more than the happiness and laughter that came from my son. Dale's was more rare and to be completely honest, it made me feel lighter to know that there was someone else by my side that could help Dale, even if it was my 11 month year old son. <br />
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That summer, my sister was in the middle of her divorce. She told us in February of that year. But only months after, the house was already sold and she was living alone with her two boys in an apartment. I remember looking down at my boys and just being completely happy and content and tried to imagine divorcing Dale. I couldn't. I knew that our marriage wasn't perfect, but on a day like that day, I couldn't help but to feel happy. I loved him more than anything, and now we had a son, whom I loved more than anything too. <br />
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Dale was my first love. He was my first everything. We had been together for nearly 13 years, that was almost half of my life! I didn't know anything different, and I didn't want to. I sat there watching him with our son and tried to imagine someone else in his place and trying to love someone else in that capacity. I couldn't. It was an unfathomable thought. </div>
Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-38701448034546624632016-02-13T11:10:00.000-05:002016-02-13T11:10:15.598-05:00Walking on Egg Shells<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was a constant state of not knowing what to say, what to do, or which way to go. My actions were determined by the mood that he was in. I tried to gauge that the best I could, but my true detector was my dog, who had become an E.T. type companion for Dale. When I was unsure if Dale was in a fit or just a "regular" bad mood, I would pay close attention to Argyle's (the dog) actions. (He was very in tune with Dale, it was both amazing and creepy at the same time.) The climate of our home was determined by Dale and his mood. As the years went by, his influence became stronger as did the intensity of those moods. <br />
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So in the beginning, it didn't seem out of the ordinary to step aside and let him have his feelings/moods. It happened sporadically and wasn't so intense. We dated for 3.5 years before moving in and lived together for 1 year before getting married. I was already deeply vested and accustomed to this routine, as it had become, well before it became so pronounced and disturbing. It was like gaining weight. When you see yourself or another everyday, you don't notice a few pounds here and there. It's not until you've put on way too much that you truly notice and it has become a real problem. I had stepped aside so many times that I took myself out of the picture. Dale's illness took front and center stage and everything, <i>everything</i>, was effected by it. Our lives revolved around it. <br />
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Dale first attempted suicide when he was in 5th grade. He again attempted two years before meeting me, when a long time relationship ended. Those were the only two times that I was aware of until he cut himself in March of 2011. However, he was suicidal. We had many, many conversations about it. He shared his thoughts and perspectives on it as if he were talking about the weather. And I know he thought about it much, much more than it came up in conversation. It was disturbing. It frightened me. I was determined for us to never get to the point where suicide became a real option (even though deep down I knew it always was for him) and I would do anything to stop that from happening. I don't know when I took that silent vow, but when I did, that is when I began to walk on eggshells. Some people fear their significant other leaving them, I never feared that he would leave me if he was unhappy. I knew that it would hurt deeply, but that I could survive as long it was what was best for the both of us. I feared him leaving, as in dying, not moving on in life without me. <br />
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Despite everything, Dale was a person. He was smart and kind, loving and generous. I chose to see the person, not the disease. He was like no one that I had ever met before and I absolutely adored him. <br />
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***</div>
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So when I stumbled across the article last weekend (the one that was mentioned in my past 2 posts), it surfaced pieces of my life that I would rather forget. That article shared how emotional trauma can lead to two things... "memory and an enlarged amygdala, which houses primitive emotions such as fear, grief, envy, and shame."<br />
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My memory had become so bad, that I had begun to take Gingko-balboa when I was just in my twenties. Dale shared his concern and thought that perhaps I needed to see a doctor. I was a hot mess. I had to write myself notes and reminders about everything. Dale would become frustrated with me as well when I couldn't remember something that he told me. Sometimes I think it was legit. Sometimes I don't think he ever told me and I truly didn't forget. Nevertheless, on top of everything else, I began to doubt myself. I trusted myself less. I trusted Dale more when it came to things that concerned what I should have remembered or known, the mentally unstable one. <br />
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As far as my primitive emotions go.... there was no reason to feel grief at that point. I was too isolated to feel envy and (and too unaware to feel) shame. I was fearful. Very fearful. Never for my own life, but for his. And overall, until about 2008, I thought that I was happy. Things had escualted by that point, but there was still enough good to make me think that I was happy and that Dale and our lives together were worth the stress and effort (I was very well aware of those.) that it took to make our relationship run. <br />
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***</div>
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Linda, my therapist believed that Dale was narcissitic. When I told her that I felt like I was constantly walking on egg shells, she referred me to a book, <u>Stop Walking on Eggshells</u>, by Paul T. Mason and Randi Kreger. This book introduced me to borderline personality disorder. The signs and symptoms include... (from http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/borderline-personality-disorder/basics/symptoms/con-20023204)<br />
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<ul style="margin: 0px 0px 12px 24px; padding: 0px;">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">An intense fear of abandonment, even going to extreme measures to avoid real or imagined separation or rejection</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">A pattern of unstable intense relationships, such as idealizing someone one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn't care enough or is cruel</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">Rapid changes in self-identity and self-image that include shifting goals and values, and seeing yourself as bad or as if you don't exist at all</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">Periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality, lasting from a few minutes to a few hours</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">Impulsive and risky behavior, such as gambling, reckless driving, unsafe sex, spending sprees, binge eating or drug abuse, or sabotaging success by suddenly quitting a good job or ending a positive relationship</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">Suicidal threats or behavior or self-injury, often in response to fear of separation or rejection</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">Wide mood swings lasting from a few hours to a few days, which can include intense happiness, irritability, shame or anxiety</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">Ongoing feelings of emptiness</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0px;">Inappropriate, intense anger, such as frequently losing your temper, being sarcastic or bitter, or having physical fights</li>
</ul>
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Along side of BPD, bipolar disorder and narcissism can be found. Most of these symptoms describe Dale to a tee. However, I will never truly know. Things were so complicated just before he died that I never met his psychiatrist. I was given her name after his death, but I never reached out. He had only seen her a handful of times and I just... couldn't. Somedays I regret that decision, but most of the time I don't think anything that I may have learned would have made much of a difference. It was already an open wound, I didn't want salt thrown onto it. Perhaps I should have learned more because I have a son with Dale. But I am hoping and praying for the best, but am preparing myself for anything. <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-30954654557422773772016-02-12T17:10:00.001-05:002016-02-15T09:15:11.219-05:00The Doctor is In<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
*This post feeds off of yesterday's, so if you haven't read "The Post I Took Down," I encourage you to do so before reading this one. <br />
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I don't post or share much about Dale and my life with him (other than here), especially on Facebook. So when I shared my post on Facebook which mentioned him, that was a big deal. I thought about it carefully and wavered back and forth for a bit before taking the plunge and doing it. However, it took but 20 minutes for me to retract both the the blog and Facebook posts. What happened in those 20 minutes? I stumbled across this blog and post... "<a href="http://letmereach.com/2016/01/17/the-little-known-reasons-why-you-need-to-leave-the-narcissist-asap/" target="_blank">The Little-Known Reasons Why You Need to Leave the Narcissist ASAP</a>!" It brought out thoughts, feelings, and trauma that I thought that I forgave and was able to move on from. It reminded me that my reality was not what I had painted in those few sentences in my post about parenting. That's why I had to take it down.<br />
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I met Dale in November of 1997. From then until March of 2011 (13.5 years), he had never seen any kind of doctor or therapist to help him with his mental stability. He told me that he had seen therapists and psychologists in the past and that he suffered from chronic depression. I was a psych major and from what I researched, it seemed to fit and I believed him. <br />
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In 2004, we were living in Virginia. We were starting to become more isolated. He was starting to put his unhappiness, his mental stability into my hands. He asked me to pay attention to his mood swings, to document them, to look for triggers and to suggest things for him to do like go exercise or walk the dogs, when I noticed a pattern coming. I couldn't do it. I tried, believe me. I just failed. Repeatedly. And I was reminded of it repeatedly. Dale was very high functioning. He got out of bed every.single.day. He was cryptic. He knew how to hide his feelings. I couldn't tell if I was coming or going with him. So I went to a therapist myself, for the very first time. <br />
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I wanted help. Not for me. I didn't think that I needed it. As far as I knew, I was mentally healthy. Dale wouldn't go himself, so I thought I would go and seek advise and knowledge on how to help me. <br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i> You know those moments, the ones where if they had gone another way, your whole life could have changed? I have a few of those. But not until just know, did I ever consider what I am about to share next as one of those moments.</i></blockquote>
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I wanted to focus on Dale and helping him, she wanted to focus on me. I didn't talk much and I remember her telling me that she never had such a quiet patient. I wasn't a patient. I was paying by the hour for in-person professional advise. I did talk some. I did have to give some examples and stories and background so that she could understand Dale as much as possible, so that she could help me help him. <br />
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She told me that it wasn't my job. She told me that he needed to see a professional himself so that he could get the proper treatment that he needed. She told me that I was his wife and it was too much to be both his wife and therapist. I agreed with all of that, but he wouldn't go see a doctor. We had talked about it so many times before. A bad taste had been put into his mouth in the past and he had no desire. So, my 25 year old self didn't know what else to do but to listen to the man that I loved and trusted. I wasn't about to give up on him or on us and was willing to do whatever necessary. <br />
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The therapist also told me some things that put a bad taste into my mouth and I never returned, not even for more advice. After sharing some stories about my life with Dale, she told me that he manipulated me. She told me that he was using his illness to control me and isolate me. I wasn't ready to hear that. My 25 year old self didn't know how to accept that. I was innocent and ignorant and grew up in a bubble. It was unfathomable to me that someone that you loved and trusted, someone that you called your husband could purposefully manipulate you. <br />
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Fast forward to March of 2011. (It took me <i>seven years</i> to finally accept the truth that doctor knew in one hour of speaking with me.) Things were bad, but I didn't want to give up and call it quits, we had a son now. I wanted to know that we had tried everything possible to save our marriage, if that was at all possible. So, we went to a couple's therapist. Dale did most of the talking, which turned out to be a blessing since that is the only time that we went, together. <br />
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Linda, <strike>our</strike> my therapist, called me the day after our first session and told me that she thought we should come two times a week. That never happened. The morning of our second session was the morning that Dale cut himself. He was hospitalized. He stayed for a couple of days and couldn't be released until he had a psychiatrist, not just a therapist. He was put onto meds. <br />
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I continued to see Linda by myself from that March all the way until June of 2013. I had found out that Dale was diagnosed by his doctor with bipolar and anxiety. Linda truly believed that he was narcissistic as well. If I could sum up my life with Dale in just a few words, they would be that I felt like I was always walking on egg shells. When I told Linda that, she encouraged me to read a book. I did and it gave me a whole new perspective. <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-50947373103549817872016-02-11T17:14:00.000-05:002016-02-11T17:24:52.817-05:00The Post I Took Down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On Saturday, I came across a blog post entitled "<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rosie-devereux/dumbass-stuff-we-need-to-stop-saying-to-dads_b_9186948.html" target="_blank">Dumb-Ass Stuff We Need to Stop Saying to Dads</a>." I agreed with it, so I shared it along with a thoughtful post of my own. I agreed with it so much, that after careful consideration, I even shared my post on Facebook for all to see. It wasn't more than 20 minutes, when I deeply regretted my thoughts shared and deleted both the Facebook post and my blog post. Here are my words from that deleted post...<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
I have never underestimated the role of a father in a child's life, especially my own. I was a product of being raised by a loving, kind, and active father (and mother too). I have so many wonderful childhood memories filled with games, jokes, and stories that revolved around my father. He was consistently there for not only me, but my sister and brother as well throughout our entire childhood (and now into our adulthood) so I never expected anything less from the father of my own child.</div>
<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
Dale proved to be as loving and as active as my own father was. He was there right with me... staying up late, changing diapers, going to Dr's appointments, etc. We were equals as parents. A team.</div>
<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
After he died and I adjusted to parenting on my own, I realized that I could very well do this thing on my own. I could raise Ewan to be a wonderful man (even potty trained him standing!) all on my own. But... I didn't want to. As much love, support, and experiences that I could give him, there would always be a piece missing from not having a father-figure in his life.</div>
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While John's parenting approach is unique at times, lol, his influence has made a positive difference in my son's life. Ewan has changed over the past year, and for the better. His relationship with John is very different than ours and John's provides him with games, fun, perspective, and knowledge that I didn't possess to share with Ewan myself.</div>
<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px;">
Never, ever underestimate the influence of a father in your child's life.</div>
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I meant every word that I wrote. However, seven little words in paragraph two are what made me take down the entire post. "We were equals as parents. A team." <br />
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Yesterday I shared how so many of my memories are tainted with negativity. I can't say that my memories parenting with Dale are tainted. We had disagreements as we learned how to parent, but nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, I still had to take down that post because we were not equals in our marriage. We were not a true team. If Dale were still here today, we would either be still married or divorced. And to completely honest, in either scenario, I believe to my very core that those words, "We were equals as parents. A team, " would not hold true. That is why I had to take it down. Even though those words were all true in context. I couldn't share that with the word because out of context, it was quite a different story. </div>
Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-4716115055023211722016-02-10T18:14:00.000-05:002016-02-10T18:20:57.926-05:00Nothing Sweet about this Bitter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In December, I shared a post about what I referred to as my "<a href="http://glimmeringthroughaspen.blogspot.com/search?q=midlife+crisis" target="_blank">midlife crisis</a>." I self diagnosed myself after doing a Google search and I even found this handy visual to show the process or steps of a midlife crisis. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SP_kNyxndJ8/VnjIKATfItI/AAAAAAAABLA/LuJPzTFNSjc/s1600/stages.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SP_kNyxndJ8/VnjIKATfItI/AAAAAAAABLA/LuJPzTFNSjc/s320/stages.tiff" width="320" /></a></div>
In December, I was feeling down... I was in the depressed stage. I got tired of it, and decided to take some action to help alleviate some of that anxiety. I have visited this blog more. I revived the blog that I left this one for, which focuses on living a happy and healthy life (and have been posting almost daily for nearly two months now). I have worked out 30 out of the last 35 days and my mood had started to lift. <br />
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As all of this was going on, I started to notice bits of anger come in and out from time to time, and they were directed at Dale. I can honestly say, that throughout everything, I never became angry. I never felt real anger towards him. I never hated or blamed God. I never hated or blamed society or the stigma on mental health or on the treatment that he finally began to take part in during his last few months. I did feel some anger towards this family. But never Dale. I was deeply sad for him. <br />
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Not all of my memories with Dale are happy ones. One of the things that I <strike>had</strike> have to deal with as I think back on my life with him, is that so many of my memories are tainted with his mood swings, sharp words, and the realization that I wasn't as happy as I thought I was during those moments. But I took ownership for the choices that I made and that empowered me rather than making me feel like a victim. And I had no regrets. I made, what I believed to be, the best choice at any of those given times.<br />
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So now as I am going through this "midlife crisis" I can't help but to think back on my younger years of my twenties and even into my earlier thirties and the truth of the matter is that those years were very heavy and stressful. Dale put his health and happiness into my hands. Not his, mine. And I was blamed when he fell into a bad cycle. Repeatedly, over the course of our 13+ years together. He was exhausting. I had very few friends. I was isolated from my family. Life revolved around him and his illness. I believe that there is a big part of him that wanted it that way, and I let it happen. And after all of this time, I can see the truth and the reality of our relationship and I am angry at him for not doing anything to help himself deal with his issues other than to dump and blame it on me. Those actions took pieces away of my life and I have so many empty, <a href="http://glimmeringthroughaspen.blogspot.com/search?q=black+hole" target="_blank">black hole</a>, memories as it is.<br />
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Part of me is happy to have some of this anger inside and to be able to surface it and release it. At the same time, I feel that this anger places blame on Dale and that takes away my ownership of it. That makes me like I had less control over my life, that I let things happen, and that is leading to the beginning of feeling some amount of regret and bitterness. Which I don't want to feel. <br />
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These emotions are not shocking to me. They have a right to be there. I do hope that they will come and pass. I do not want to get stuck in any of them and I do not want to live with anger or resentment towards Dale. <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-20291178475003065302016-02-08T21:36:00.001-05:002016-02-08T21:36:02.811-05:00Words I Was Ready For<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My son goes through the ebb and flow of missing his father. Weeks can go by with little to no mention of him. Then, for no rhyme or reason, he can't make it through three nights in a row without crying. It is something that I have come accustomed to. Even though my son was only 20 months old when Dale passed, as he has gotten older, he has gotten more aware. He knows that other children have a father and he doesn't. He is working through all of that and is trying to make sense and accept that. It breaks my heart to see him upset and cry, but he never really had the chance to grieve him when he did die, because he was so young. It seems perfectly natural to me for him to go through this process. <br />
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I also readied myself for words that would be completely logical to a child and words that I finally heard two weeks ago. "Mommy, I want to die so that I can see daddy." If I hadn't prepared myself for this, I would have lost my sh!t. But it seems like a reasonable request at the age of 6, when you don't quite understand what death really means. <br />
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Now if you don't think that there was a part of me inside screaming at the top of my lungs, then you're crazy! But, since I readied myself, I told him that I missed daddy too and how wonderful it would be to see him again. However, I told him that if he died, then that means that I would never see him again and that would break my heart. We talked about all of the wonderful things that we do in life that he wouldn't be able to do or see again. He seemed to understand and had to settle for feeling daddy in his heart instead. <br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-53153895845217183372016-01-18T00:21:00.001-05:002016-01-18T00:22:34.705-05:00At PeaceI have had two dreams in the past few weeks where Dale had appeared. While I remember just bits and pieces between the two, the general feeling that I was left after waking from them was the same. <br />
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In the first, Dale had come back. Although I have always been aware in my dreams that he is dead, his appearance has always been explained through him coming back to life or even that his death was a big hoax. In this dream, I wasn't aware of where he came back from, only that he was there. <br />
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The magnitude of the pull and the desire to be with him, to be near him, was so strong. It reminded me of how I felt about him in life. If I could choose one word to describe how I felt about him, it would be <i>adore. </i>I absolutely adored him. So you can imagine my elation to be with him once again. <br />
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What I was aware of in this dream, was that there was another man in my life, John. He didn't make an appearance, but I was fully aware of his presence and importance in my life. I knew that he, not Dale, was the one that I belonged with. He was the one that was right for me at the point in my life. <br />
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What I felt for Dale was a connection, not on a romantic level and far beyond a friendship level. I don't know quite how to explain it, but to compare it to a love that you feel towards your child. It was genuine and pure. Unconditional. A bond that could not be broken, even with having another man in my life. My second dream, which I remember even less details from, only reaffirmed this. <br />
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I can't help but to let my mind wander from time to time to think about what life would be like if Dale were still here. I wonder what life would have been like if he stayed, but our marriage didn't last. How would we have acted and felt about one another? How hard would that have been to sever those ties? I can't help but to think that perhaps the timeline might have been the same. I'd like to think that in the end, we would have been able to remain friends, even if our marriage had come to an end (as it was heading that way). <br />
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Back to reality, I'd like to think that we are both at peace now. While his mind destroyed his life, mine has worked it's way to a place where I couldn't ask for more. A place where confusion, denial, fear, and anger have left and have been replaced with an indescribable warmth of peace and happiness to see him once again, even if only in my dreams.<br />
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I do hope that Heaven is real. <br />
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<br />Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-2607964849787647242016-01-06T17:14:00.001-05:002016-01-06T19:06:42.843-05:00It Gets Lonely<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My grandparents were married for 63 years before my grandmother passed away nearly three years ago. With what we have become accustomed to with marriages these days, that is absolutely incredible! If John and I were ever to reach 63 years of marriage, he would be 106 and I would be 100! LOL But back to my story...<br />
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You can imagine how extremely difficult it was for my grandfather to lose his love, the woman that he spent 63 years, and 75% of his life with. He had already become more emotional of a man as he aged and he could cry on a dime. Watching my grandfather mourn my grandmother was just heart wrenching. He visits her at the cemetery every day and he never misses a birthday, anniversary, or holiday to publish a small memorial write-up in the newspaper or to have a mass in her name at the church. She was the love of his life and that is how he honors her memory and keeps her alive and close. </div>
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This past Christmas I drove back to Western New York to spend it with my family. I stayed for about a week and the day before I left I went to my grandfather's house to visit. That is when he told me about his dream...</div>
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He told me how he had dreamt about going to a New Year's party at my cousin's house. At the party was this woman that everyone was trying to set my grandfather up with. This woman was real, the mother of a friend of the family's. However, in this dream, she didn't like my grandpa. It really hurt his feelings and so he came home early from the party. </div>
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When he finished, he didn't cry!, he chuckled at himself. Then he looked up at me and said, "It gets lonely... you know."</div>
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Yes it does g-pa, yes it does.</div>
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I could tell that he felt a little guilty for having this dream and since my mother was right there, he mentioned that perhaps he shouldn't say anything before telling us the dream. But I am happy that he did. As someone who has worked out so much through my dreams, I was happy to have heard his. I think that shows that he has come a long way. My grandpa is the cutest old man! He's 86 years old and I don't think the he is looking for a relationship. But I can imagine how lonely it gets for him. Atleast I had my son at night and I such a long future to look to fulfilling with love once again. I would be fantastic if he met a lady friend. But just in case he doesn't, my family has done a great job of taking him out and having fun with him. Sometimes I wonder if he has more of a social life than I do, lol. But good for him. He deserves to be happy and to enjoy the time that he has left here before he reunites with my grandmother once again.</div>
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-50508994365273440052016-01-01T14:31:00.000-05:002016-01-01T18:29:35.831-05:00Catching Up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What better way to catch up on an absent year than to reflect on the past year. Overall, 2015 was a great year and it leaves so much to look forward to in 2016! Ironically, that even though I declared myself in a state of a midlife crisis in my last post, I wasn't overly emotional about New Year's yesterday as I typically am. Instead of looking back too much into the past and too far into the unknown future, I was just happy and thankful for this past year and excited and hopeful about the plans that I do have in this new year. But just in case you missed me over the passed year, this is what I have been up too...<br />
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After saying goodbye to this blog in January, I immediately began a new blog, "A Moment's Glory." I thought that it would be an outlet and representation of where I was at the time. I took a photography course in January and February and was excited about showcasing my love for photography and my writing in a combined effort. However, neither the blog nor the photography lasted long. I loved the course. I learned how to use my new camera and how to take some great shots! I realized that like my personal/family photos, I just started a collection that had the potential to become a giant mass to put onto my to-do list. I hate editing photos and for whatever reason, I hate deleting them as well. I found it hard to write and my blog never took off. I can't say that I was extremely disappointed about it because I ended that blog to start a new one. Whaaaat?!? That's right, you read it correctly. I stopped writing in "A Moment's Glory" at the end of April because I had started a new blog, lol. But, before getting to that I have a few more events to update on that occurred in-between. <br />
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In February, John, Ewan, and I took our first family vacation. We went to Puerto Rico and it was fantastic! It was great to have some uninterrupted family bonding time, especially for John and Ewan. Ewan even began to swim on his own! thanks to John! Besides that, Puerto Rico was just beautiful. Flying in from NYC was so easy and being that we were still in US Territory made it such a smooth vacation. We enjoyed it so much that we even booked a flight back in October to check out wedding venues!<br />
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In March I went to a home party for a facial line of beauty products. I wasn't particularly interested in those products, but I wanted to help out a friend who had just signed up to sell them. Well... I didn't come home with products, but I did come home with the idea of starting up my own business! I had written in this blog before about wanting to do something more and different in the job field. So, beauty products (which I have never been into, besides wearing makeup from Walgreens) seemed somehow like a good choice, lol. I didn't sign up with my friend though. Those products were very expensive and full of chemicals. So I did some research. <br />
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In April, I became an official consultant with <a href="http://www.ourlemongrassspa.com/amymarie" target="_blank">Lemongrass Spa</a>. A small beauty and skin care line company with natural and organic products. The products are fantastic but even more so healthy and safe to use. I started to pay attention more to the products that I was using, not only in my shower but in my makeup and even in what I was using to clean the house. It's amazing what is allowed in our products! So I was happy and proud to share a safe and affordable alternative to my family and friends and clients that I met along the way. What I also learned along the way of this newfound business is that I am a terrible salesperson! I still have yet to recruit anyone to join the team. But I love the products, I believe in them, and I am doing something that is waaay outside of the box for me and my comfort zone regardless. I was also inspired to start that new blog with the focus on being healthy and happy. I posted about inspiring people, positive quotes, and whatever else I could find to help people to find and appreciate their own individual and unique inner beauty. I even set up a donation page with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention in which I (publicly) shared Dale's story. I donate 10% of my earning from Lemongrass Spa to the AFSP as well. In April, everything seemed to come together in an unforeseen way. However, I have to say that it has been tough to maintain. I have not been organized with my blog and go long periods without posting. I have also lost some intensity in my business since becoming engaged and busy planning a wedding. But they are both still there and were a big part of my 2015.<br />
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May marked the 4th anniversary since Dale's death. My parents were visiting that weekend and I tried to go along as if it were a regular day. That didn't come out quite right.... what I mean is that the prior 3 anniversaries, it was as if time stopped. I put my life on hold and dedicated that day to being alone with my son. This year, I didn't push anyone away. I found that I wanted to, but not only were my parents visiting, I now live with someone and couldn't escape. It proved to be a difficult day in a different way. It was hard living "normally" on that day. I think some built-in quite time is appropriate for that day, but I also think that continuing to live on that day is equally important too. I learned that on this anniversary. <br />
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Ewan graduated from kindergarten in June! He loved his teacher and he loved school and I couldn't ask for anything more. He had a fantastic year and I <strike>was</strike> am just so incredible proud of him! (More on him in a later post.)<br />
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Late June/early July is when I had <i>the dream </i>that awakened my midlife crisis. <br />
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In August, John and I vacationed in The Nordic Lands! We started off in Stockholm, Sweden for a couple of days. Then we flew to Copenhagen, Denmark for just a day and a half before taking an overnight ferry to Oslo, Norway. It was on the ferry somewhere in the middle of the Black Sea that John proposed to me. We had been taking about it and I knew that it was coming. Although, if he hadn't slipped and accidentally (without him even knowing it) showed me the ring in Stockholm, I would have been completely surprised that he decided to do it during the vacation. Needless to say it was an extra special and memorable vacation. Besides that, The Nordic Lands are just beautiful. We went hiking in Norway and OMG... the views were simply spectacular!<br />
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Ewan turned six and started first grade on the same day in September! It also became official that John had been in Ewan's life longer than Dale had been. It's sad to think of it that way. However, John and Ewan have developed their own special relationship. Ewan does not call John dad and when asked he says that his dad is dead and that he doesn't have one. He is very comfortable and matter-of-fact in his words when he says this. More so than I am. John is not upset by this at all and I respect and appreciate that from him. I have never spoke to Ewan about John and his role. I wanted that to take its own course. Honestly, it makes me happy that Ewan reserves that special spot for Dale. John will get all of the rewards of being able to be an active part of Ewan's life and being able to watch him grow. Dale won't. More than anything, I am glad that Dale is still alive in Ewan's heart and mind. <br />
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Wedding planning, wedding planning, wedding planning.... that pretty much sums up the end of my year! Yes, I am having a wedding. A big one in fact. I was perfectly fine in not remarrying. Once engaged, I was find with a small destination wedding. However, through a series of different events, we are having a wedding in NYC (Staten Island to be exact) and after lots of hesitation, we are all in. John has never been married before and has lots of friends and family. For me, my life is very different now. My family remains the same, but my friends are completely different than 14 years ago when I married Dale. My friend Jessica told me that I had more reason to celebrate than anyone and those words opened the door to wanting a day to celebrate and have a blast with the people who have been a part of (atleast on my end) the journey from picking up the pieces to building a whole new life in the past (almost) five years. <br />
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So there you have it! The general gist of my 2015. I do have so much to look forward to in 2016 and I wish all of you a very happy and healthy new year!!!<br />
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-6179994640497628572015-12-21T22:44:00.000-05:002015-12-21T22:50:12.949-05:00A Midlife Crisis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
About 6 months ago, I woke up from an afternoon nap/dream in a sudden panic. I never could remember the details of my dream, but the aftermath of this particular dream has haunted me ever since. When I woke in that sudden state of angst it was because I had been hit with the realization that I will not be here forever. I have an expiration tag. <br />
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Now, this knowledge is not something that is new to me. I am very well aware that none of us are making it out of here alive. But whatever occurred to me during and because of this dream, made me acutely aware of this mortal fact. And it has effected me in such a way that I have since felt anxious, fear, and sadness. Not constantly, but it's there. I definitely feel it's presence. <br />
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It's weird, but Dale's death made me fear death less than at any other point in my life. Perhaps it is because Dale's death in someways defined death to me as a silence. Dale was silent. His memory lives on with us, but he was silenced from making any new memories and with sharing anything with us any more. As horrible as that is, I also told myself that Dale was at peace. That helped to soften the blow. Hell, I told myself anything and everything at that point to soften the blow, including the fact that everyone dies. However, when I told myself that just 4 years ago, it was a comfort to my situation. Now, it's the core for my midlife crisis. <br />
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There have been quite a few deaths in or close to my family in the past few years. Obviously, Dale, my uncle and my grandmother hit closest to home. However, I have seen a handful of my father's friends pass away in the past few years as well. My father is 66 years old. At one point, he had <i>a lot</i> of friends. Now, there is just one left (besides himself) from his core group of friends that he grew up with and knew his entire life. John's father is also 66 years old and lost two of his best friends in this past year and is coming to the same situation as my father. Selfishly, I am happy that my father is still among the living. But I can't help but to wonder what that does to a person. Life is a game of chance, a Russian roulette. And if you are lucky enough to escape sickness, an accident, or any other life ending event... at one point, you will find yourself left behind by so many that were once so near and dear to your heart. <br />
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My grandmother will be turning 90 in March. One of my earliest posts was dedicated to her, "<a href="http://glimmeringthroughaspen.blogspot.com/2012/01/inspiration.html" target="_blank">Inspiration</a>." Time when you are older, is much like time with a baby. So much can happen is such a short amount of time. It has been almost 4 years since I wrote "Inspiration" and since that time, my grandmother is near completely blind. Her hearing is going as well. Along with losing sight and sound, she has also lost her spunk. She is still capable of living alone, but it's not so much that she is living alone (she has for over 35 years), but she feels alone. Her inability to see and to hear well has closed her off to the world. This summer, while she was at my son's family birthday party, I saw her break down in tears out of frustration because her body is not letting what her mind is still capable of doing. Mentally, she is still all there. She is amazing. But her physical limitations are taking a toll on her mentality. It was heartbreaking to watch this. And it only fueled the flames of my own mortality issues that had only recently surfaced. <br />
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I have never been a numbers person as far as the number on the scale. But I have always been a numbers person as far as age. Two weeks ago, I turned 37. (I know 37 is still young in the grand scheme of things, but I remember when my father was 37.) As far as 37 goes, and looks, I am holding my own, quite well. However, I can't help but to compare myself... to myself. And I have noticed some changes that I feel really started about two years ago and that I have been in complete denial about. The first one being my weight. I've noticed a change in my body and how food effects me about two years ago. I haven't done much about it, being in a state of denial, but I have gained about 8 pounds in the past 2 years. That may not sound like much, but I have been a consistent weight <i>my entire life</i>. And I am attributing the change in metabolism to aging. While I don't feel like I have lots of wrinkles on my face, I am starting to see how I am going to age. Do you know Droopy? The Looney Tunes Dog? I've always had "chubby" cheeks and I am quite positive they are going to droop. I can see the very beginning stage of it, and my mother has it too. <br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ljoWi_rgdhs/Vni9RUgaGeI/AAAAAAAABKU/glPGurw_aVw/s1600/Droopy_dog.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ljoWi_rgdhs/Vni9RUgaGeI/AAAAAAAABKU/glPGurw_aVw/s200/Droopy_dog.png" width="99" /></a>I've also been obsessed with my teeth! (Sounds like I'm a hot ass mess, doesn't it?) I hate the dentist. Every time I go, I have a new cavity. I'm at the point where I don't even think that's even possible. But each time they find a new tooth with a new cavity. Fortunately, I still have all of my teeth. But I fear losing them. I really do. I have cut down on sugar. I brush. I floss. I use ACT. But it's still the same every time I go. It's going to be a very sad day for me with I lose my first tooth. Unlike my six year old, I know there isn't one waiting to replace it. Again, aging! <br />
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You know the saying, "Don't regret growing old, it's a privilege denied to many."? <br />
There is a beauty in that saying. It is very true. I do hope that I am one of the lucky ones who gets to grow old. However, I cannot deny what I am feeling at this moment. This fear that I have stems moreso from aging than actual death itself. So just this past weekend, I have declared myself in a state of mid-life crisis, at the age of 37, which if you ask Google, isn't so uncommon. What may be odd is that I feel like I am going through a man's mid-life crisis (almost to a tee! ) as opposed to a woman's mid-life crisis (almost none of those!)<br />
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All I know is that whatever this is, it isn't stopping me from living my life. Some of the fear and anxiety has crept in and has taken away some joy, I must admit. But... I'm just hoping that this only happens once in a lifetime. I am paying my dues now. I can't help but to wonder if this is hitting me at an earlier stage because I have been somewhat aged by my experiences. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good news for me... I think I am in the depression state. Only 2 more to go!</td></tr>
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Is anyone else going through something similar to this? Please share. Just reading that people in their 30's can go through something like this has made a huge difference... it's not just me!</div>
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Midlife Crisis Images taken from http://thedailypositive.com/30-year-olds-handle-mid-life-crisis/</div>
Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-26311191331699931502015-12-16T19:07:00.002-05:002015-12-16T19:07:32.610-05:00Right Now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="s1">Where do you begin when you have been gone for so long, only to reappear for an instant to drop a bomb before vanishing once again? I feel like a character in a movie. You know the kind of movie where the troubled child leaves home and then returns only when they need something. Only in this case, I’d prefer to think that I am not troubled nor do I<i> need </i>something. I just miss writing. I miss the structure and routine that I created when I was writing on this blog. Since “retiring” in January, I have since created two other blogs. Neither of which I could commit to in a way in which I had originally envisioned when I first created them. Needless to say, they haven’t turned into much of anything and more importantly, haven’t quenched the desire to express whatever it is that is in me that I feel needs to come out. Although I have to admit, I have had a hard time expressing myself in any sort of written way in well over a year, which is the reason why I had left this blog to begin with. I thought it was this blog’s focus. But it wasn’t. It <strike>was</strike> is completely me. I have ideas, but cannot put them into words. A complete writer’s block. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">So now I am here. I am back. At least I am at this moment, so what do I want to say? (Insert shocked-faced emoji and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure”.) When I think back on all that has happened over the past 12 months, it seems so overwhelming to pick where to begin. Do I start from the beginning? Do I start with my last post, the lonesome random visit to announce my engagement? Or do I start with the moment? </span></div>
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<span class="s1">A little over two years ago, I sat in this very same bar that I am sitting in… at this very moment. A glass of Pinot Grigio and a pretzel accompany me, along with my laptop. I think that I am sitting in the very same spot that I occupied while writing that post from the past. I have not yet found this post to reread and to remind myself what was going on at that time. I don’t have to. I was declaring an end to online dating and was looking for different ways to meet people. I was thinking about joining a book club. I had wanted to join a board game “Meet-up” group, and I had just began or was about to begin a belly dancing class. Well… that book club was canceled before I ever began. I did go to a few belly dancing classes and loved it! But I stopped going only after a few classes for the same reason that I never went to the board game group… I had met John. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">It’s amazing how today, as I sit in the very same seat… Heck, in the very same shoes (well not literally) that I am here today with such a different head. I guess that is what the future is all about, the wonder. Two years ago, I was looking for the life that I have today. And let me tell you, it’s a pretty damn good one. But the details will have to wait. This bar has become my Wednesday ritual while I wait for my son to finish his religion class. (Whaaaat? I know… that’s a whole story in and of itself!!!). </span></div>
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**I did recall that post quite well. (<a href="http://glimmeringthroughaspen.blogspot.com/2013/11/climbing-back-on-to-turnip-truck.html" target="_blank">Climbing Back on to The Turnip Truck</a>)</div>
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Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815849266393460092.post-79689843880938362942015-10-18T00:44:00.001-04:002015-10-18T00:44:53.503-04:00Hello Old Friend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It is weird to be back here. When I left in January, I stayed away for quite some time. Months. Then every so often, I would check in and read some old posts. It usually began with the curiosity of what was going on in my life at a certain time and a desire to reminisce. Ironically, I found this blog to be much like the appreciation for a dead artist... more popular now then when I was actually writing, lol.<br />
But I have been thinking about a revisit for a while now and today just happens to be the day I have actually clicked onto "New Post" and am actually typing. <br />
<br />
I am getting married. Married. Yes, I am getting married. In less than a year, I will be getting married... again. <br />
<br />
When I left in January, I was only a couple of months moved in with John. In the past 10 months very little, yet so much <strike>has changed</strike> evolved. Perhaps blossomed would have been a better choice of word to use since I feel like I have rooted myself during this process as well. <br />
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I am getting married. It became official just this past week, that on October 8, 2016... I will say "I do" to John, the man that I had referred to on this blog as <i>my amazing </i>so many times before I had ever even known his name or his face. </div>
Amaryllishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736133753702255206noreply@blogger.com0