Fading

The past three years of my life have been like no other.  While this time is not one that I would ever want to experience again or relive, there are aspects of it that I do not want to lose and want to carry with me as I journey along in this thing called life, my life.

Not so long ago, I read a blog posting on a widow's blog (unfortunately cannot remember which one to credit) which was called the "9/11 Effect."  I remember that time immediately following the devastation and tragedy of 9/11.  I remember how there was such a camaraderie, a pride for being an American... people were nicer, kinder, more understanding.  Then as time went on, that began to fade.  This blog posting compared that to the loss of her husband.  At first there were so many people surrounding her and supporting her.  But as time went on, so did life.  And for most everyone, life continued on in a normal manner.  It's the ones who were the closest that are effected the most, the one's whose lives have been forever changed and struggle to find "normal" since what once was will never be again.  In its place, a new normal needs to be accepted and that is such a difficult thing to do.

This past year, my time on this blog has significantly faded.  I've had plenty of thoughts and plenty of things to write about, but the focus of this blog that has served me so well began to fade.  At first I felt uninspired, but sitting here now reflecting back on 2014, that is a very unfair word to describe what was going on in my mind and in my life.  This year has been phenomenal.  Unfortunately, it is for that very positive reason why I have spent so very little time blogging.

I have found and accepted a new normal.  It was actually something that started the very first day of life without Dale and for me was something that took a solid 3.5 years to create.  I have healed and my thoughts and emotions no longer feel raw.  The hurt, sadness, confusion, and guilt have all faded to an extent.  They have faded enough to allow me to begin Life 2.0.  However, while I am happy to be in a place where those sharp feelings have faded, there are other things that have faded with time as well.

There was a reawakening that happened with me when I found myself in a position I never imagined.  I had to start a new life and because of what happened I saw things differently.  In many ways I felt like the small child along side my 20 month old son experiencing and witnessing things for the first time.  I was in AWE over so many things, simple things and found beauty in life.

I had a chance to start over.  I tried new things and rediscovered myself.  I took control over my life and made choices that I wanted to make, not choices that I felt obligated to make.  I found freedom and independence.  I traveled to places that I wanted to visit.  I found purpose and meaning in so many different places... through travels, reading, experiencing, even with friends that I made and people that I needed to let go of.

Now that I am in this new norm, I am in a place of peace.  I am in a place of happiness.  But that AWE has faded and I fear becoming content.  I am no longer a single mom doing it all alone in a city far away from those closest to me.  It is even hard for me to think of myself as a widow now.  I have not forgotten Dale.  I never will.  He has left a hole within me that will never be filled no matter how good life is.  But, I do not nor cannot define myself as a young widowed mother.  I am no longer that person.

So while I find myself in a phase of life where so much is fading... I know that the only way that I can continue on the path of a happy life is to live as I have for the past three years.  Attempting to understand life and finding myself and love were my driving forces.  These three can never be fully accomplished.  I can't check them off the list as they will always be a work in progress.  However, what once was... the present, has faded.  I know that my past will always be behind me, I can feel it like a hand on my shoulder.  But, I am at a point where I need and want more.  What it is though, I am not sure.  I feel as though I am at a significant crossroad right now.  I have options, but which path to choose?  I am not sure.

  

Blogaversary

Three years... that's how long I have been sharing my life on this blog.  Three years and nearly 350 posts.  I had no idea what would come of this when I started.  These past three years have been quite incredible, not necessarily incredible in a positive light all the time, but incredible nonetheless.

Three years ago, when I wrote my first post, I did so with the hope of helping to find myself.  I had wanted to find my voice and more importantly, to own it.  This blog served as a therapy for me, one that had lasted longer than any other form of therapy that I needed to get me to where I am today.

Where am I today?  Three years later... I am sitting in my new apartment... the one that I just moved into with the man that is my amazing.  Despite all of the emotions and angst that I have been posting more recently that this move was causing and despite all of the boxes and messes that still linger, I feel at peace.  I feel a weight lifted from my chest and I can breathe again because I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.  And that is an amazing feeling.

So happy blog-anniversary to me!  It has been quite a journey.

Where Do I Belong?

Recently I have been more active in reading other widow's blogs.  Active in a sense that I check in and read a couple times a weeks and will even go back to posts that I have missed during the course of that week.  Even more than that, I have even commented several times.  Since becoming a widow myself, I have browsed blogs in the past few years, but not like this.  Never consistently.  And I never commented.  I just knew they were out there and knew that if I ever felt like I needed to feel that connection with other widows, they were out there.

I began frequenting these blogs more often in the past couple of months.  I think what I was really looking for was someone who had moved on.  I was looking for someone to describe what it was like to find another love and to create a new life with him.  I wanted to hear about the promise and hope of a wonderful present and future, but also the struggles that it entailed in truly moving on.  I can't say that I really found that blog.  What I did find is "Widow's Voice:  Seven Widowed Voices Sharing Love, Loss, and Hope."  What I like about this blog is that there are 7 different writers.  They all are all widows and all have their own stories and unique journeys.  There is even a widow who lost her husband to suicide.  I often seek out her posts because we share that commonality (unfortunately) and there is a comfort in that.  However, because of the variety of stories and widows, I have to say that I have felt some connection with each of them.  And it's nice.  Being a widow is an experience like no other, and being in my 30's, even a rarer commonality to find with anyone my age.

I was very proud of myself for commenting, not only because I was opening up my thoughts and feelings at the moment on that topic, but I also opened up my blog.  I made comments signed into my own blog account which opened the door to anyone who happened to click onto my name.  After all of this time, my blog is still a rather hidden blog.  I do not advertise it to anyone, even friends.  It has always been just for me, and for anyone who happened to stumble across it.  But back to the point I wanted to make, it was when I began commenting that I actually began to feel a disconnect with these widows.

It is not just this blog alone, but I have not come across any blogs in which there was trouble in the relationship.  I remember reading another post from another blog in which this widow attended a widow camp.  Even in her post she commented on the many different people she met and the many different stories that they all had.  The one thing that they all had in common was that they lost their husbands and the wonderful life and marriage that they had with him.  She said there were but very few people that she met there that didn't.

I think that is part of what has opened me up more and more about the tumultuous aspects of my relationship with Dale.  I felt as if I were not being genuine in not sharing my whole truth.  To me.  That is part of my story too.  That is my truth.  It has taken me this long to finally feel comfortable enough to reveal this part.  I don't think it was ever about protecting myself.  It was about protecting him.  The truth is ugly and I never wanted to paint him that way.  I think after 3 years of blogging and nearly 400 posts, I did a good job in not doing that.  I was trying to stay focused on the positives.  I needed to.  And I wasn't ready until now to reveal any more.  I needed too.  This move, this new life that is now just days away... it has stirred things up for me emotionally.

I have grown so much since I first began this blog.  And while the posts that I have written in the past month are darkest that I have shared, it is not because I am in a bad place.  I am in such a good place that I know that I am strong enough, brave enough, and confident enough to confront them.  I need to release these thoughts that have resurfaced so that I can let them go.  It is when they get stuck and swim in your head that they become most dangerous.

So where do I belong?  Everywhere and nowhere...

I remember the summer of 2010.  My sister had just gone through a divorce.  I remember sitting in this very apartment looking at my son and my husband and wondering how I could ever start again.  I wondered how I could ever love someone like I loved Dale.  He was the first and only man that I had ever loved and the thought was incomprehensible to me.  It was not that at this point only months, literally months before he took his own life, our marriage was absolutely wonderful.  It wasn't.  It was unhealthy then.  Call it denial, call it ignorance... I'll call it consciously unaware of our reality.  However, what was real to me at that time was my love for him.  I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.  So I do belong with those widows who grieve the loss of their loved one.

I also belong with those silent widows.  The ones who know true fear and horror.  The ones who have seen a different kind of hell.  The ones who can't help but to be thankful for their lives.  That is me too.

It is excruciatingly exhausting to be on both ends of the spectrum.  Like I posted yesterday, I have come to terms with my reality and 95% of the time,  I am in check.  I am balanced.  But when I lean more to one side, it doesn't matter which one, they both have negative consequences of guilt and self doubt.

Where do I belong?  Exactly where I am.

The Theory of... My Feelings

Last week I was at the height of my emotional roller coaster when I watched this trailer.  So when I unsurprisingly found myself crying within 30 seconds, I thought it was because of the beauty of this story.  It's sad and tragic, yet so hopeful and inspiring.  It's a love story.  A beautiful love story with all the glory and all the battles that life can throw at us.  That is something that I felt I could identify with and this short glance at this movie pulled at my heartstrings.  

It wasn't until and hour or so later that night when I began to question why I felt so affected by this movie.  And it was a hard truth.  

I do not know this story.  I never read the book.  I did not see the whole movie.  But what I took from this less than three minute preview is that this young couple had so much promise to have a wonderful life together and he a brilliant future career wise.  Then he was diagnosed with a horrible illness in ALS.  The awe and the inspiration that this short clip released was that despite the devastation and the struggle, they were still able to have that wonderful life and brilliant career... just in a different way.    

In another clip I had found, it focused more on his wife Jane and her strength.  She chose to stay with this man before she even knew what exactly it all would entail.  And she stood by him, until the very end.  Why I was so affected was because watching this drew out my feelings of guilt.  The insecurities and the questions that still exist on my role in what happened in my own life, in my marriage.  I questioned myself and my strength as Dale's wife.  And it was just another painful stab in what has already been a painful process in these past few weeks.  

It wasn't until the next day that I began to process all of my thoughts around what this movie conjured within me.  The thing is, is that I cannot compare my story to this one.  It is not the same and it is unfair to Dale and to myself for having done so.  Dale suffered and struggled with his mental illness for 25 years.   It was a tough and exhausting fight, but we had our moments of pure joy and happiness too.  He did not use all of the resources available to him, but he fought nonetheless and I stood by him for nearly 14 of those years. I never chose to walk away, it was a necessity that I was removed from the picture for the time being.  

I think that is where I get hung up.  There is a gap of 17 days from the last time I saw him to the day that he died.  Within that first week, the only form of communication was severed because even a phone call aroused the demons within him so much so that his mother thought it best that we don't talk for the time being.  It was a safety issue for my son and I just as much as it was for him.  But I was helpless.  There was nothing more that I could do, just hope. 

I think it is just that I still haven't fully comprehended and accepted what led us to that point.  It is hard to admit that.  To others.  To myself.  And one day, to my son.  He will have questions.  He will want answers.  Someday, he will deserve to know the truth.  

Ninety five percent of the time, I internally know and accept the truth.  I know that the decisions that I had made were done so with respect and with love.  I know that I gave everything that I had to my marriage.  And I have no regrets and no guilt.  But there are times, like when I saw this clip that the 5% comes out and I can't help but to wonder why things didn't take a different direction for us.  

It is not as if this story has the happiest of endings.  Perhaps its just because she was able to stand by him until the very end.  

Up, Down, and All Around

In 12 days, I will be spending my first night in my new home.  For now, I am still here and I can pretty much guarantee that anything that I post in the next 12 days is going to be about moving.  It has been an emotional roller coaster for me and like I've written in my last couple of posts, it has started to take its toll.  Twelve days.  It's not a countdown as in I'm wishing or hoping those 12 days away, but it is a focal point for me.  It is something that I need to look forward to because when I am at home packing and watching my home deteriorate into a shell full of boxes and emptiness, its comforting to know that there is something absolutely amazing waiting for me when I open the door to my new home and a new chapter in my life.

But, for now, I am up, down and all around.

I actually took this picture myself, walking up the winding staircase to the top of the Arc de Triumphe.

A Tough Go

I'd like to think that I am a person that handles stress well.  I feel like I am someone who most often sees the big picture and therefore doesn't sweat the small stuff.  I try my best to deal with things as they come, one by one, until they they pass and when they do I don't usually have a difficult time in letting them go.  However, when multiple stresses seem to be coming right after one another, it always seems like the least significant one is the one that bites me in the ass.  And when it does... I feel the weight of not only that, but of all the recently past stressors that I thought I rid myself of.

There has been lots going on in the past couple of months and I have been dealing with it and handling it rather well until the insignificant one decided to show up last week.  Since then, I feel the weight of everything that is going on and then some.  I have been both physically and emotionally drained this past week.  Even my immune system has weakened as I have found myself with an infection.  I've been quiet and withdrawn and I've had a hard time staying positive.

One thing that I have learned is how to appreciate the process.  When it became official that I was moving, I knew that it was going to be a challenge both physically and mentally.  But I was so happy and excited and ready that I began this process about a month ago full of optimism.  Now, I feel burdened.  I know that the end of my apartment and all that it represents is coming to an end, but it feels like such a slow death.  The packing, the selling, and the memories both the traumatic and even the good have all taken its toll.

This mental hurdle is taking front and center.  This is probably the hardest and most challenging thing that I have had to do since Dale's death.  Taking care of my son, budgeting, started to date again... all things that were challenging, but this is different.  I worked so hard to not get stuck and to move on, face to the sun.  It wasn't until now that I realized how stuck I was in this apartment.  That is why it is so difficult to leave.  I'm not just moving out, I'm moving in... with a man.  There will always be ties and connections, but what is about to happen is going to sever the ties that can be broken.  This is truly moving on.

As happy as I am... As right as this is... It's still... hard.  I don't know how else to describe it.  It's so incredibly difficult.  So much so that I am at the point where I almost wish that I could just take my son and a small suitcase and leave.  Because the constant reminders of what I am leaving whether its a good memory or a bad one, both sting.  And it hurts.  

From 0-9

As my life approaches yet another new beginning, I cannot help but to reflect on my past.  Yesterday, thanks to an article posted on Facebook about the positives of moving, I couldn't help but to think of the many moves that I have made in my life.  As I did that, I fell into sort of a numbers "game."

2:  That is the number of states that I have lived in.

5:  That is the number of different cities I have lived in.

8:  That is the number of homes that I have lived in.

9:  At the end of this month, this will be the new number of homes that I have lived in.


Once I got started, I couldn't help but to think of the many other numbers that hold significance to me.   Dates and times, yes.  But even the single digit numbers hold so much as well.

7:  Seven years ago, I moved to NYC.

4:  Seven years ago, I moved here with a husband, two dogs, and I was nearly 12 weeks pregnant.

0:  Not of those 4 are still alive today.

Those are the tough numbers.  The numbers that have burned and scarred.  The numbers that remind me of how fragile life is and how quickly it can change.

But just as quickly, life can turn in the opposite direction.  And you can find yourself in new place and in a new time that you never imagined you would find yourself in, left with 3 last numbers.

1:  On November 25, I finally have a new and happy anniversary to celebrate.  1 year.  It will be one year since I first met John.

3:  And almost exactly to the very date of that one year anniversary, the three of us will move in together.  A new family will be created.

6:  I actually don't have anything for this number.  I'm sure I could rack my brain and think of something, but the point of this was that I didn't have to think about these numbers.  They are all connected around what is going on in my life right now, which is moving.  So, I don't know what this number holds, not yet.  It would be fitting if it made itself known rather soon.  And even more fitting that it lands itself on the positive side.