melina

Okay - taking up the thread from Anne. Yesterday I found one positive thing - I can't quite call it "joy" - but it was up there on positive experiences: I was walking the dog as usual and decided to take a new path I'd never taken before. I ended up getting lost (that's not the joyful part), but as I was walking, an owl suddenly flapped past me. It landed on a stump nearby and looked at me. I've never seen an owl that close before, and certainly not in the middle of the day in bright sunshine. Then it flew away. There were a couple of other things that weren't so bad either, but this is my "joy" of the day. Melina

Anne, Maybe I'll give that a try. Each day making an effort to find something - maybe not exactly joyful - but positive. And write it down on a calendar. I have an Audubon World calendar over my desk in the kitchen - a country for each month with little photos for each day. I'll try to write something in the empty space every day. If nothing else, at least it will look like I have a life. Can't think of anything positive today, apart from having brought out my sewing machine again. It's been in the cupboard for six months. Melina

Thanks Anne, I have trouble seeing grief as a friend though. I'd much rather it went to visit someone else. I see grief as one of those bothersome people who turn up, stick their foot inside the door and refuse to leave. A kind of sinister traveling salesman. Melina

Thanks guys, Anne: I admire your ability to find joy each day. I wish that came easy to me. I keep hoping that I can find something to feel joyful about - because that might be a sign that my grief is easing up. Hendrixx: I understand so well that roaring silence. And I agree that part of our struggle is to find our identity. Not just the new identity - but who we really were all along. I suppose when you are part of a close couple over a long period of time, your identity becomes intertwined with theirs. Now and then I find myself thinking - "is this something we believed and wanted, or just my husband? Or just me? How did he really feel about things - and how did I feel?" Who knows. For a long time we were thinking as one, I guess. This sounds complicated, I know. Kay: I know you've been struggling financially and not being able to work must be very difficult. I can see the problem of wanting to stay in the house you love, but not being able to get out there and participate in life outside the home. Mary: I went back and read your post on "Feeling sorry for myself". I can see why you confused the two. After all, I am also feeling sorry for myself. My surgery involved just cutting away some of the torn meniscus and removing a cyst behind the knee. It's an easy operation, but I won't be able to walk for a few days. Guess I'd better stock up on food. The dog will just have to walk herself out in the yard. I took your advice and ordered a book called "Introvert Power". Was that the one you were talking about? I do wish the author had included a chapter on grief and loss. That's what got me thinking about how we introverts manage when the few people we included in our lives disappear. It's always been hard for me to make friends. And I never had many boyfriends - because it was so much work to offer all that time to one person. But when I met Thyge, there was no work at all. He just sort of melted into my life. It was so natural. I can't see that happening again. Ever.

I've been reading a book about introverts, and I started to wonder if grief might be even more of a challenge for introverts than extroverts. If you're naturally social, it may be easier to reach out to people, get out to social gatherings, engage in life "out there". For those of us who have never been very interested in being around a lot of people - but have been happy just being at home with another introvert (in my case, my husband and soulmate), life becomes so silent when you lose that one person you wanted to be with. Everyone keeps telling me to get out there and "be social". But that's never been me. That would take massive amounts of energy and I wouldn't even enjoy it. Of course, I don't enjoy shuffling around in this empty house either. Does this mean I have to change my entire personality in order to stop feeling so lonely? I can't imagine ever finding anyone else who "fits" with me the way my husband did. I can't seem to get the energy to drag myself to various activities. I don't feel like talking to anyone if I don't have to. It's gotten to the point now where I don't see much point in the rest of my life. When I'm not working or walking the dog, I'm reading near death experience accounts. I don't feel like I'm living - just waiting around. I don't expect solutions, but if anyone else here is a staunch introvert like myself - I'd like to hear how you're dealing with the loneliness. I had hoped to be more or less over my grief at 1 1/2 years, but here I am still in pain. Maybe I'm making myself depressed. But how to get out? I have no idea. Melina

(Queenie) Mary, Sorry to hear about your injury and I hope you soon feel better - even if you have to go it alone. I have a knee surgery coming up, and I guess I'll have to take a taxi home and hobble around at home. No one to pick me up or make me dinner. The hardest part is what to do with the dog. Like you, I enjoy having the dog around, but it is an extra responsibility that's a little difficult at times. As for depressions, I'm still taking antidepressants. I tried to reduce the dose, but I felt worse, and I didn't want to risk feeling even worse than I do. I suppose there are other ways of dealing with it - a therapist, maybe. I understand why you're feeling blue and also thinking about your son. I'm so sorry that you had to lose him at such an early age. Hope you'll start feeling a little better soon. Melina

Thanks Mary. I understand your feelings too. I guess there aren't many empty nesters on this site. Or maybe most people have had an empty nest for quite some time. Things aren't going very well. I feel like I'm skidding downhill. But thanks for your reply. Melina

Kay, Sorry to wait so long in replying. I agree with you - it's hard to be alone with just the dog. Often I wonder why I'm here at all. I can't seem to find my way back to any kind of meaningful life. I'm starting to worry that it's all downhill from here. It's a desperate feeling. Melina

Harry, Pam and Lainey, We never really gave Valentine's Day much thought, since it's not a big deal in Norway. In fact it only began being mentioned the last few years, mostly with the internet and American tv shows. Every day could be Valentine's Day at my house. Every day I think about him - look toward the remaining ashes, the ones I saved and did not spread at sea. Still, I understand the day is a reminder. I understand how it must be for those of you living in the commercial state of things, and also, I'm sure, memories of those you love. I also want my husband and my life back. I'm lonely and sad and exhausted. This is not the life I had expected. I admire all those who are able to gather their strength to fight against what took your wives or husbands. As for me - I fight other battles, but not this one. One day we'll eradicate cancer, but I don't have the strength to do anything about it. It won't bring my husband back. I know that fighting this disease might help to keep some other woman from losing her husband, or children from losing their father. But selfishly, it doesn't really matter to me any longer. We all die, some sooner than others. I've lost a lot of people in my life and have worked to spread awareness of the causes of cancer and suicide. But now - I just want to forget what took the most important person in the world to me. I don't want to think about it. Wishing you all a bearable day - with peace and hope. Melina

I'm now officially running an empty nest. All four sons have moved out. Since they're all students, I imagine one or two will come home for holidays now and then, but basically I'm on my own. It's a strange feeling - extra lonely. Are there any widows/widowers with experience of this sort? After years of living with a busy family, everything has now gone silent. It's almost surreal. If it wasn't for my job, I might question whether I exist or not. There's no one here to see me. Melina

Yes, but I don't sleep much....

It was the part where the youngest daughter is told that her mother was going to die. That was one of the most traumatic moments for me - when the nurse at the ICU took my sons into a room to tell them their father was going to die. And that look on their faces when they came out, my youngest son sobbing. Just too much for me. And then when they spread the ashes at sea - just as we did. I kind of wish I hadn't seen it. But then almost anything sets me off these days. Melina

Mary, I try to avoid films that will "bring it all back". But it seems lately that a lot of films and tv series deal with death - even cancer. It's hard to avoid. The other night I watched "The Descendants" and ended up sobbing and feeling miserable the rest of the evening. I suppose it was cathartic, but I'm able to sob on my own, so I don't really need a cathartic experience. Still, others may find watching sad movies helpful. I think I much prefer comedies and science fiction. Melina

Hope the day went well, Mary. It's tough to be face to face with death again - even with an animal. It must have been very emotional. Death is loss, no matter what. Melina

Dave, I'm sorry this was so tough for you - but I do think I understand. I work at the same hospital my husband spent his last few weeks in. Even now after a year and a half, I'm still haunted by the memories as I walk in the door. Even the cafeteria bothers me as I remember the cups of espresso I bought to bring him because he didn't like the coffee they gave to patients. I don't know how to help other than to say it does get a little easier. The first few weeks back to work were pretty bad, but it eases up over time. If not, as a nurse maybe you can explore other possibilities. I finally made the decision to switch jobs - but mostly because I was unhappy with some of the changes made in my work environment (like my new boss). I liked my job, but it will be nice not to have to spend each day at the hospital. Melina

Lovely poems, Harry. Thanks for sharing... Melina

What a beautiful poem from your husband. That's certainly something to treasure. I'm wishing you peace and comfort today... Melina

I can't say I ever really feel good, but I no longer feel devastated. My sense of humor comes back to me now and then - so that must be positive. Now if this loneliness could just take a break for a while... Melina

Thanks all for your replies. However, I think this discussion is veering off into unintended directions and it's making me confused. Dwayne - I'm glad you have your church and your ability to attract other people whose spirits you can lift. Unfortunately I don't have the energy to be anyone's "weekly dose". But congratulations on your nursing exam. Amw - Thanks for your perspective on grief counselors. I agree my grief counselor is just trying to help me. Harry - I'm pleased you feel comfortable around me here in cyber-space. It's good to hear I might have said something helpful rather than just rant about my grief. And it made me feel a little better to think that I might have done enough for this woman just offering to help. So thanks for your thoughts. She hasn't called, but to my surprise, we did have two more chance meetings - in the same supermarket. She stopped me to talk again (My hiding place behind the potatoes and carrots was obviously not a very good one), and she seemed a little calmer, less intense. She even asked me how I was doing. I said I was fine. Just after she left I bumped into another widow - I don't know her well, but enough to say hi. She stopped to talk about her grief too. The moral of this story is - if you ever want to get out and meet widows - perhaps even widowers - go to the supermarket. Melina

Dwayne, Thanks for your thoughts, but I'm doing what's right for me. As a psychologist I work with people who need help all day. I'm entitled to take care of myself now and then. You do what you think is right, but please don't feel it's necessary to preach right and wrong to me. Melina

Kay, We're about the same age give or take, and in the last two years I've had two sons marry, and the youngest (my "baby") is in his first relationship. I'm so happy that they've found happiness - and not just in romantic relationships - but also in other areas of their lives. In just a couple of weeks, my third son is off to study in Australia for a year. He's looking with joy and anticpation toward the future. My youngest will be off to Japan for a year of study in about a year. Second son and his wife are planning to do humanitarian work in Africa for a year. My oldest and his wife are probably planning babies. Whatever path they take - it's about looking toward the bright future still ahead. All the dreams and possibilities. As much as I'm happy for them, I'm also a bit envious. All the opportunities they still have ahead, while mine have either been used well, screwed up (a lot of those), ignored or have disappeared. I also feel like I'm in this weird place: Too old for freedom and exploration, hope and anticipation. Too young to sit waiting to die. So what to do? Are there no new opportunities for middle-aged people apart from golf, cruises and TV? If I'm to be denied my husband, I might as well be completely free - no strings. Even backpack around the world. But all these obligations we've got. Work, mortgages, people who need us, pets who need us. What is there to look forward to here? How to break free? Melina

Thanks again Mary, and Suzie and Kay, I don't think I'll be my ex-therapist's shoulder to cry on. It just doesn't feel right to reverse roles that way. I said lot of strange things too when my grief was fresh, but I don't think I ever unloaded my grief on a client or ex-client. I did meet a few of them just after he died, and they offered their condolences, but I just thanked them and that was it. I live in a small country and a small town, and and I know most of the mental health professionals in my district. Many of us have been in some sort of therapy over the years, so after a while it's hard to tell who are the clients and who are the therapists within our group. It's a little murky, so technically I could lend my shoulder to this woman. Still - I don't think I can willingly allow myself to be open to more pain than I have now. I have to protect myself too. Thanks for all your thoughts. As I said, I'm doing fairly well. I can get through most days without crying, I can work, I can do stuff around the house - even catch mice (I found out yesterday). But life is still not what I'd call "good". I'm extremely lonely - but just for one person, my husband. I miss him so immensely. Now and then I'm overwhelmed by my loss and sit down for a real sob. I don't know if life will ever feel really good again. I can manage on my own, but I sincerely wish I didn't have to. Melina

Marty and Mary, Thanks for your thoughts. Re-reading my post I felt a little ashamed. Here was this woman going through all her horrible firsts - the first anniversary of her husband's death coming up in a couple of months - and all I'm thinking about is myself. Talk about egocentric. I think what made it so difficult was that while she was trying to talk away her pain, she brought up "positives", probably in order to make herself feel better. And her positives contrasted with my own life: She was so glad her husband got to get to know all their grandchildren. Mine didn't live long enough to have that pleasure. She was relieved she was retired and didn't have to deal with clients. I am a psychologist too, but I had to go back to work and deal with clients, or lose my job. She was so pleased that they'd sold their second home for a million and she never has to worry about her financial situation. I have to work two jobs to pay the mortgage on the one house we have. She knew all this about me too. But I suppose that in her grief, all she can think about is her own pain. That's how it was for me. I do understand she's grieving and needed to find some comfort. Maybe she'll call, and though I feel very awkward about being friends with my former therapist,I suppose I should reach out a hand. I just wish there was someone I could lean on - who would take care of me. In two weeks I'll be living in a completely empty nest. All four sons out a different universities. Just the dog and me left. A few weeks later I'm scheduled for surgery on my knee. I doubt the dog will pick me up at the hospital and make dinner for me, unless she's some sort of hidden genius. Just missing my old life a lot right now. Melina

I had a strange and difficult experience the other day. I've had periods of depression on and off throughout my teenage and adult years - not often, but enough to make life difficult and sometimes unpredictable. Several years ago I began seeing a psychologist during a bad patch, and I saw her again when my husband received his cancer diagnosis. My husband and I were both in shock and we went to her together, just once. After that, my husband decided he could manage without. I had a few more sessions and then quit. There was too much going on to spend time talking with a therapist. After he died, I thought of going back to her, but decided instead to continue seeing the grief counselor who helped me at the hospital. Here is the strange part. I was in the supermarket a few days ago, and someone came up to me. It was the psychologist I'd gone to. She told me her husband had died suddenly of a stroke a few months earlier. He must have died about a half a year after my husband. She began talking - very quickly - about her life, her grown sons, the second home they'd sold and about her retirement just before he died. She talked about how glad she was that she wasn't working - because she just couldn't handle listening to depressed people whining about their lives. This was pretty awkward. I was, after all, one of those whining depressed people. And here I was listening to her grief story. She never asked me how I was doing, but I figured it didn't really matter. And I wasn't in the mood to talk about my grief. I was just there to shop for dinner. So I listened to her and then told her to call me if she needed someone to talk to. As I left I thought - "why did I say that? I don't really want to talk to her". But it just came out. Now I feel as though all those sessions where I was pouring out my thoughts and experiences and sadness - were just fake sessions. She didn't really care about me. Then I thought about my grief counselor. Does she really care? She's been trying to wean me off the sessions. We started with twice a week, then once a week, and now once every two weeks. She suggested once every three weeks last time. Maybe she's sick of listening to me whine. I have only a couple of good friends, and I know they're tired of my grief. I don't want to drag my kids down. They're busy with their lives. My siblings and my husband's siblings have been unsupportive and distant. So all I really have by way of clear support is this group. Will you guys tell me when I've whined enough? Melina

Hendrixx, I'm so sorry you lost Donna and yes, it's still early days for you. That confusion, fear and loneliness is what grief is all about - along with the thinking, re-thinking, guilt, what-ifs, etc. It's even hard for me to remember the first months after I lost my husband, because there was so much pain. I still ask "why me?", but a lot of people are asking that same question - all over the world. It may be a while until we get the answer. When you're part of a strong relationship, you feel diminished when one part disappears. I hope you find some comfort in this group - and in the fact that you managed to stop drinking while Donna was still alive. That took a lot of strength, I'm sure. Melina