Five stages on what planet?

 

Widow post!!!!

The grieving process is a load of crap for the most part. It’s some 5 part thing that someone came up with to help explain the process people with cancer go through when they come to terms with the fact that they are going to die. Seriously, look it up (I am kind of pulling that out of my half assed memory) and then people started taking it as fact for the stages we go through when someone dies and they expect 5 neat stages and that’s a load of fucking bullshit.

Nothing is neat about grief.

(Pause while I go do a cursory check on my history of the grief process . . yep, half assed memory was somewhat right . . good enough).

Today I was supposed to rearrange our bedroom. Wonder Woman and I are complete opposites in so many ways (I think Opposites Attract is actually our song) and so we do things separately, plus, I’m Self Saving Warrior Princess.

So, she’s off at Derby, having done her part of the room, and I’m about to actually move the room, and I’m a good ways into it, and suddenly I start flashing to the last time I moved it around. Or actually, Mickey and my home health care worker did. When I hit the point that I couldn’t keep it in the same position that it was in when Parker died.

And the room can really only end up in so many configurations.

And we were about to move it back to the other one that works well.

And I sleep on the other side of the bed now. . . . Parker’s side of the bed…..

And here I am about to move the bed and suddenly it hits me where I’m going to end up laying.  I’ll end up in the same exact spot that Parker was in when she died.  Where she was laying when I found her.

Those 5 stages of grief aren’t neat but sometimes you can go through all 5 of them in a matter of minutes.

“Nah . . it’s okay, I can totally do this, It’s not that big of a deal, I mean . . it’s just a spot in the room where I’ll be laying and a lot has changed”

“This is fucking bullshit . . . I’m tired of living with her ghost, I love her, but I’d love for her to not be interfering like this right now. I want my life to move forward right now, fuck this, I want my room the way that will work for US!”

“Maybe since it’s going to be a different bed, and mostly different furniture I’ll be fine, I mean, it’s been a lot of time.”

Tears . . .I just sat there for like 20 minutes while I couldn’t move forward or figure out what to do.

And then I started talking to people and figuring out what the fuck to do next. I don’t get to decide when to be grieving widow. It’s always there, and I can’t push it away.

And while Wonder Woman and I are opposites in so many ways, and while sometimes this whole thing isn’t easy, the minute I messaged her with a super vague message that just said I wanted to switch rooms and switch plans for grief reasons, she simply replied

“Of course”

Because she gets it, and what she doesn’t get she gives me space for.

I’m trying to accept that part too, because it’s not easy to believe I deserve to be loved this way. I want to believe it, and I’m trying to.

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Edited a few hours later to add . . .

She came home, she hugged me and we talked about some options. We let the house go for tonight.

I was pissed and upset with myself because I had made a clusterfuck of the house and was too overwhelmed to fix it.

Of course, once I let it all go, I was able to start tackling our bedroom, and slowly putting things into place the way we wanted them, even though that was the way they used to be. But once it started falling into place, it actually doesn’t look anything like the old room did. And it hasn’t felt like the old room for a long while.

We will see how I feel in the next few days, and when I come back from NY, we can always move rooms again in a few days.

I feel things really really big, especially when they first hit me. Sometimes having permission to act on them, and not being fought against is all I need to work back to my own calm.

Smile through it…

One of the things that hits me over and over again as my memories come up, is not just how often we had shitty things happen, but how often Kidlet is smiling in the pictures I took of him . . smiling in the face of really shitty stuff.

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That really became apparent after the accident. He wanted pictures of everything, from the wounds to the Xrays, to the various casts, he had a plan at the time (and it needed to be documented for insurance anyway), but it meant lots of opportunities to have the camera out. We have so many pictures of him in various stages of healing, throwing a grin for the camera.

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And the truth was, he was laughing and happy through most of it. There were shitty moments but we found ways to be happy.

I talk about resilience and grit and how I have a sense of humor in the face of all this. I talk about finding the joy and laughing when I want to cry.

Sometimes I wonder which one of us started that, did I learn it from Kidlet, or did he learn it from me?

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I know he went through a lot and I know these smiles weren’t just for the camera. I remember the first time after each major thing where I’d hear his first real belly laugh. Mostly it was with his online group of friends through the computer or the Xbox, and I’d finally release the breath I’d been holding. By the way, these are the same friends he still has, some of them have been commenting on my posts and holding me up now.

But the smiles typically came within moments or hours. Even while he was still laying on the ground after the accident he smiled and cracked jokes. Even in the trauma room he was making jokes through the morphine . . .okay, that was drug induced probably. In the days after, figuring out how to get him into the house and how we were going to make it work, he was joking about how crazy our luck was. And smiling.

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We fell apart, we screamed, we raged, we cried, but we came back together and smiled.

We found the joy in all of it.

Power

After an amazing weekend away, I’ve realized that my anxiety in public has virtually vanished. There were multiple times that I went off completely alone in NYC in crowds, without a thought.

I went and retrieved a pizza when they suddenly couldn’t deliver it and throughout the weekend I had no issue figuring out the subway and actually enjoyed getting lost and missing stops and backtracking. It was a puzzle, a game.

I survived one of my worst fears a year ago, and so those people in that giant city have no power over me anymore.

But now those close to me have 100 times more power than they can ever imagine. And it’s power they don’t want, and power I don’t want to give them and it’s become a whole different kind of anxiety that I’m now battling. These trains are just as loud as the trains that used to tell me I couldn’t leave the house.

I know loss, and not in the “we can’t be friends anymore” kind of way, and not even in the “this isn’t working out” kind of way. We had a fight, a stupid fight over stupid shit and she went to bed and did not wake up. And while I know I had nothing to do with Parker’s death, I cannot quiet that voice that tells me I did . . . . it’s part of the process . . .

Because of that, the social anxiety that was always there is now 100 times louder. The fear that everyone else is going to leave gets louder and louder.

Every time someone is angry with me not only do I feel that tension and need to run from it, but I’m internally petrified . . what if I don’t have a chance to make amends. What if there is no tomorrow to say “I’m sorry, this was stupid” after they calm down.

Because of it I end up sometimes becoming incredibly irratic and overbearing and talking over them and even over myself to try and fix problems that aren’t even there because in my mind . .

If I don’t put out those fires I’m going to lose more people.

And i LOVE my people. I love my tribe. With every bit of my being.

I am both thankful for, and sorry to those who have been so close to me this past year. I know I am a lot. And I know that by now, you thought it would not be so much to be so close to someone who you have given so much to. And I do appreciate you, more than you could ever know. I wasn’t on even ground to begin with, and a year ago that ground disappeared. I’m quite thankful that I realized I could fly, but you guys have done more than your fair share of carrying.

I am intense . . and I am trying to get better. All month I have been trying to figure out how things feel so right in some ways, and so wrong in other ways.

What Doesn’t Kill

So, here’s the deal. I’m not going to be one of those people that say God doesn’t give you what you can’t handle. Because, seriously . . look at my life.

However, I was one that said this phrase, a lot. But, each one of these things that kept hitting me, kept making me more of the me I was meant to be. And then, after I recovered from each major thing I would look back and say I wouldn’t change a thing because it put me where I am today, and I’m right where I am meant to be.

Now, before I say this next phrase, please realize.

I Want Parker Back. I want my wife back. There is NO denying that.

However. That situation made me who I am and put me where I am right this second. So no, a year ago, I wasn’t already strong enough, because I wasn’t who I was meant to be yet. If everything would not have happened I would not be where I am this second.

And I’m right where I am meant to be.

And I love me. And that, is an amazing feeling.