Not Living, Just Existing

[Lily]

It's early am and my only hope for some comfort is here with all of you who

know the pain. It seems that I'm better off when I'm alone because then I

can cry and not feel that I'm making someone feel uncomfortable...when I'm

with someone I have to listen and participate, but it's just a sham. None of

me is really caring about the small talk, or who gets elected or the economy...it all just seems so what? to me...what does it matter. I haven't

had anything that has brought me even a second of joy since my husband died.

But people don't seem to realize that crying and talking about your loved

one really helps you...they want to change the subject or tell you you have

to try to do things to keep your mind busy and I find myself losing patience

with them...I do do things....I keep up the house (it doesnt feel like a home

anymore) I pay the bills, I shop for food, I go out to eat, I go to the dentist, But I don't feel like getting involved in activities that were never

of interest to me before...why do they think they will be now. I finally

went to a counselor. Didn't want to go because what could a counselor do...

no one can bring my husband back. But I did go and how it helped was that

it allowed me a place to cry without feeling that it was making someone else

uncomfortable...I don't know how often I'll go but I asked if I could call

for anapppointment if I just needed someone to talk to.

Caroline, I understand how you feel. Rich and I were married for

almost 45 years...we grew up together didn't we and shared all of lifes

good times, bad times and times of sorrow. I just told someone the other

day that I never felt old...we went biking and hiking and kayaking and we

walked in the evenings holding hands and joking....just simple times but

so heartfelt. I look in the mirror now and I see old lady...and you're

right about invisible...I understand. Lily

[PattyAnn]

Lily,

You put it so well. I've experienced the same thing. I never thought of myself as old, but now I feel so old. I also feel like I'm just a nuisance to the few friends that I have. None of them have lost their husbands. They can't possibly know the depth of pain that causes.

How differently I am being treated being a widow as opposed to a married woman. Life is not the same at all now. I mourn for the loss of my dear husband and the life we had together.

The loneliness is unbearable at times, but like you, I sometimes prefer to be alone rather than have to listen to the "lectures" on how I should behave, eat properly, exercise, etc. Do they really think I don't already know these things. I've been told that my behavior has got to change. This occurred only a few months after my husbands death!

It is hard. I don't have the answers. All I know is to push through each day and hope for a little kindness from someone or something to make the day worthwhile. But there are days I have difficulty getting out of bed! Not lazy, just can't face the day without Walter.

That's why this forum has helped so much. We can vent and pour out our feelings without the judgmental attitude that those not in grief sometimes have.

Keep posting. Your words helped me today! You described so well how lots of us are feeling. My deepest sympathies to you for the loss of your husband.

With Love,

Pat

[LarrysGirl]

I don't recognize the person I look at in the mirror at all. Time has passed but it seems like yesterday to me. My body has suffered under the terrible sadness and without much of any support its really taken a toll. Its so sad to me. I know how you feel. Deborah

[STARKISS]

Hi All,

It has been three years since I lost my dear mom and almost three years since I lost my dear father. At first I was all alone and for the first three months after both parents were gone I yell out and screamed an awful lot and asked just anyone who I thought would listen to me why me?? What did I do to deserve this large amount of sadness... I had my life taken away from me all the things that meant so much to me were gone or were going.... I lost my mom who was the world to me.... I lost my dad who I loved so dearly... My dog had to live with my brother because my sister had her own rules... I lost my friends because I was so depressed and sad no one wanted to be around me... I lost the best neighbors in the world... I had to quit my job to relocate... I lost my living space because the house had to be sold and this all happened within four months after my dad had died... Since my dad died after my mom the house and all the furniture had to be dealt with... It hurt alot to see my family come in and just decide what to do with it all... Alot of things where just thrown away and others sold or given away... I asked to keep some things but certain things were not kept when I asked for them... Family decided what was best and I got a few things because my own belongings... So the first two years since than I lived but did not seem to accomplish anything.. In the third year I am able to do things more on my own and make decisions what I want to do when I want to do them... I still have my bad days and Still do not have many friends which bothers my sister and her husband but when I am ready I am sure I will have friends again.... I hope this helps take care Shelley

[SusanK]

Yes, I isolate more and more all the time. I am treated differently as a widow--as if it is catching. SOme women "hide" their husbands from me.No danger! Some phone briefly to tell me what I should be doing. Some walk up to me and aske for one or two of his possesions. These are not close friends but people who want an item to they do not have to pay for it.

It sucks. No I have not been to an individual couselo. the hospice here hard sells individual counselling. I have little confidence in the organization and would not consider one on one with the.

This is ot a good life.

s.

[fred]

Lily, Pat and others dealing with unrequested advice on how you should be dealing with YOUR loss, I´ve heard over and over again how friends and relatives tell the bereaved how to live their lives. The well-meaning, but misguided insensitivity is begining to make me angry, fortunately I have not had this experience myself. My response would be to interrupt them with a gentle pat on the hand and remark,¨It´s okay dear, I hope you never have to follow your own advice¨, and then walk away. They probably will not understand, but maybe someday it will begin to sink in.

[LarrysGirl]

Gosh Fred, you've been lucky. Thats all I've heard for two years... your doing this to yourself, Larry wouldn't want you to be this upset, you have to let this go and move on, at least he's not suffering, etc. and I've felt angry, frustrated, misunderstood and sometimes wondering who's crazy me or them!! Its like "What were you thinking????" I know they don't mean to be mean spirited but gosh think about what you are saying before you say it. Deborah

[STARKISS]

Hi Deborah,

I agree with you and even though it was my parents and not a husband or partner... People do say hurtful things without really thinking.. My boss at first would not let me leave on the day my dad died because it would mess her day up being short handed.... I know now she did not have anyone die in her family before because I would hope she would understand better than she did... Shelley

[kayc]

I don't know if men get treated the same way as women or not, but when George died I had a sister that was constantly telling me I should move, I should sell my house, I should get a job here or there, etc. My home means a great deal to me, it's where George and I spent the happiest years of our lives, it's where I raised my children, it's where (as Derek once put it "the deer and the antelope play") I see elk and deer and I derive a lot of comfort from the sounds of quiet and birds and hearing elk bugling, the trees, and the sound of the creek rushing by...how can someone who is a city slicker and moves every two years and never raised kids and isn't interested in nature or animals begin to understand how I feel? This place is my life's blood! But she would go on and on trying to tell me what to do...I finally told her, "Tell you what, when your husband dies, I'll tell YOU what to do!" That shut her up. My mom has told me many times how others have tried to tell her what to do (including my sister). I don't know why they feel it is their right, but they act like our brains died when our husbands did. Well right or wrong, my decisions are my own, just like my preferences are, and along with it, the consequences. I will gladly listen to someone's input, maybe I have something to learn from them, but if I disagree, they should jolly well leave me be! People need to respect each other's choices, not try to be so controlling and overbearing.

[Dusky]

Lily, Patty Ann, SusanK, Starkiss, KayC, Fred and LarryGirl,

Well – this discussion hit a nerve. I devoted almost one full chapter of my book – plus some other sporadic mention of it in other places. The “Invisibility” we experience – this “dealing with un requested advice” was particularly disturbing to me. Following were (are) my thoughts on this subject – and are lifted directly from the one chapter in my book I referred to. Here is what those four pages of my book said:

_____________________________________________________________________________

For at least six months following Jack’s death, the pendulum of grief swung feverishly, without break. Seeing how tormented I continued to be, a few well-meaning friends offered gentle, but misguided, guidance. “Just let it go,” they advised. “When you do, you’ll feel better.” They were being kind, but I believe they were thinking, Enough already, John. Get over it; it’s been months. All dwelling on Jack is doing is making you sad. Forget about him, and move on. They were ridiculing my grief! My life had been forever changed by Jack’s death. He was gone, and the person I once was went with him. I missed who I was with him; all that was left was this stranger in the mirror. The person I used to be was dead, and they expected me to move on. Where was I supposed to move on to?

My friends’ advice wasn’t unique; they were just repeating what society keeps telling them about the proper way to handle mourning. It encourages people to “let go” of their loved ones because this is the only way grieving hearts find closure and peace. Society is wrong! You have to keep going, and allow yourself to be reborn as the new you: the you who has journeyed through mourning.

I became annoyed—disgusted even—by some people’s resistance to my grief. Sometimes I received rigid and pious religious prescriptions for the correct way to handle grief. When I refused to do it the prescribed way, which is to “bury my past” and preclude Jack as a part of my future, I was accused of not being a man of faith. Again and again, I defended my belief that my future was not based on a buried past, but on a remembered past, our past. I defended my choice to rely on my deeply rooted spirituality, rather than on a specific religion, or the words in the Christian Bible.

Our disagreements put distance between us. Unable to accept my grief, they backed away. But why? Why retreat from me? Because the weight of my sorrow became too much to bear? Because I reminded them of their own sorrow? Because they were afraid, and their fear isolated me from them?

I Became Their Greatest Fear

Some say that I can’t let go

Gentle hearts that think they know

Others say a buried past

Is where you should now rest at last

Others tell me that they know

How my past should be “let go”

How to grieve and how to cry

How to feel and when and why

Those who do not understand

Have not been to this dark land

When they could not see you here

I became their greatest fear

Friends who were the closest to us

Fussed and cared and brought food to us

Once you were no longer here

I am now what they all fear

Calls and contact used to flourish

Constant tales to encourage

Now the message is quite clear

I am now what they all fear

Those who do not understand

Have not been to this dark land

When they could not see you here

I became their greatest fear

For those who think they know it all

And those who cannot make a call

Letting go that’s what I must do

But it’s not you who must go

They will become my buried past

It’s where they should now rest at last

Letting go that’s what I must do

But it’s not you who must go

Those who do not understand

Have not been to this dark land

When they could not see you here

I became their greatest fear

There’s a saying that goes like this: “Grief rewrites your address book for you,” and my experience confirmed this. After I’d wasted too much energy responding to my critics’ advice to let go, and trying to get them to see pain my way, to understand that I expected my recovery to go on forever, I finally let go … of them. And I literally rewrote my address books. I removed names from my Christmas card and e-mail lists, and only kept contact information for family members and friends who understood the grieving process, or at least acknowledged pain without judging me.

I also made a decision to close my ears to the chorus of misdirected advice, because I often became so frustrated with these people that I wanted to scream, “Leave me alone! Your grief is measured in much less time than mine!”

Your Grief Is Measured In Much Less Time

For many months, I stayed connected

I shared, reached out, and felt respected

But as the months and years have faded

I know your heart is feeling weighted

He was my bright shinning star

His loss, a stunning, jolting, jar

It’s not that I have changed my stance

I speak of love and lost romance

I write of tears and grief that’s molten

Of broken hearts and futures stolen

I talked of pain that’s here and real

I made you think and made you feel

I seldom left without a passage

To lift your heart and send a message

He was my bright shinning star

His loss, a stunning, jolting, jar

I have tried with so much passion

To talk and teach and show compassion

All this despite my own faith shaken

My spirit crushed, feeling forsaken

I tried to put you front and center

To help you grieve and to remember

But as the months and years have faded

I know your heart is feeling weighted

He was my bright shinning star

His loss, a stunning, jolting, jar

My recovery spans a lifetime

Yours is measured in much less time

He was my bright shinning star

His loss, a stunning, jolting, jar

Some of you don’t want to hear

Of all the pain and all the fear

Run from all that’s here and real

Run and do not think or feel

Some of you I’m gently leaving

Letting go and sadly grieving

I seldom leave without a passage

To lift your heart, so here’s my message

He was my bright shinning star

His loss, a stunning jolting jar

My recovery spans a lifetime

Yours is measured in much less time

Some of my friends and family members couldn’t walk the road of mourning with me, but many could, and they became the core of my support. These kind souls drew closer to me as they moved toward my grief. They sustained me with phone calls to ask how I was feeling—and they really meant, “How are you feeling?” They listened to my every word, and offered a proverbial shoulder to cry on.

They extended invitations and opportunities for me to get out, and they complimented me on my strength of character, my ability to move forward, and on my devotion to Jack’s memory. They often remarked on my great capacity for fostering his legacy. I was humbled by their loving actions toward me, as well as overjoyed—and grateful beyond words—for all of their kindness. Because of them, I was up to every challenge put before me.

I, for one, refuse to be "invisible" – despite societies demand to be just that. The above words from my book were my way of “dealing with un requested advice.”

With love and peace,

John – Dusky is my handle on here

Love you Jack

[KathyG]

Reading some of your stories, I realize how lucky I've been since Bill died that I haven't bombarded with well-intentioned but not always welcome advice. Mostly, my friends and family give me opinions only when I ask for them. I've found that the best way to deal with nuisance advice, when it's offered, is to thank the person and tell him or her "I'll really think about what you told me." Then, I go off and decide later if I want to act on their advice or not.

What troubles me more is existing without really living. I understand that each person grieves and recovers and his or her own unique pace, and no one can predict when life will start to seem good again. But I get so discouraged and worn down by the constant feelings of sadness and loss, and I panic a little wondering if I'll feel this bad for the rest of my life. When someone tells me, "You have a lot of good years still ahead of you," or "You'll feel happiness again someday," it's hard for me to believe them, because there's no way to know if or when happier days will ever come for me. What if the best I can accomplish is to become neither happy nor sad, but permanently stuck in a neutral emotional limbo? I would hate to live that way.

[Lin_in_Cave Creek]

I am so glad I found all of you. I can't begin to tell you how much better I feel knowing that everything I'm experiencing is normal for what I've been through with my husband's death. So many things that you have said, especially the "kind" words from friends and family is exactly what I've heard, but what really upsets me is when people say "let it go and move on." I want to scream. How do they expect for you to forget or get over someone that you've spent your life with for 20+ years. And where did all of our friends go? Face it, now that we're widowed, we really don't have much in common with married couples...we do everything alone now instead of with our mates. Someday I will have a life, but for now my life is my grieving and that's ok because it's part of the recovery. Now that I've had a taste of what it's like to share my feelings with others who are just like me (on this website) and visa versa, I've decided to join a couple of group counseling sessions. Thanks to all of you, I feel I am going to be ok, maybe not right away, but in time I will be doing more than just existing.

For those of you who live in the Phoenix area and would like to get together for a live meeting, please e-mail me. You have inspired me to plan a meeting where we can share our feelings and experiences. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

Here's to us...Lin

[kayc]

Even more exasperating are those that tell you right after your husband died that you need to move on and you'll find someone else. That is not the time to tell someone that, and I don't think they should ever tell someone that, no matter how long it's been, because those are our choices, noone else's, and whether or not someone chooses to let someone else into their life again or not at some point down the road, they will never fill that spot in their heart or replace what was lost. People are way out of line with the inappropriate things they say. There are also those controllers that refuse to let go of your declining to follow their advice and they persist and persist...and it is to those people you must remain strong and adamant and using tact and being considerate of their feelings will not work because they do not know the value of sensitivity. Most people, however, simply do not know what is appropriate and what you need because they haven't been through it. To those people I have tried to overlook their shortcomings and bear with them. As Jack put it so eloquently in his poems, sometimes we must let go of them and the moving on isn't so much away from the deceased loved one as it is away from the old life of former friends that are no longer there. Yes, we choose to embrace the memories of our loved one and the life we once had, even while working to create a new identity and life for ourselves. It is oh so much effort and it is not the desired chosen route, but rather the necessary one, because our old life and what once was has been ripped away from us, never to be in it's past form again. While all of this sounds pessimistic, really it isn't, because in all of this process we begin to be aware of how strong we are, what we have learned, and now we are new people, and while we would trade it all in a minute just to have our old life back, we cannot, yet we are more altruistic and evolved for the process.

[Lily]

Dusky, thank you...I just know you must be in so much pain...it's ironic

that your words tell me that and yet sometimes even the power of

words isn't enough to convey the magnitude of the hurt...I wonder

how our hearts and souls would be portrayed on film if they could

capture the desperation, the torment, the overwhelming sadness.

I hope you keep writing and take care. Lily

[fred]

Kay, Lily, Kathy and friends, Maybe I am wrong, but it is begining to appear to me that our grieving process, our way of dealing with this loss (which society at large may be opposed to) is actually the best way to cope. By not rushing through grief, by incorporating the loss into our new identity we will gradually accomplish healing. If a broken limb is not set properly, not given time to knit thoroughly, it will never again regain its full strength and usefullness. True, you could keep using the broken limb and accomplish more right after breaking it, but it will take longer to ¨heal¨, it will always be weaker and you risk permanently disabling it. Likewise, by taking the time to feel this pain, to cry, be angry, be despondant, suffer feelings of inertia, sleeplessness, loss of appetite, withdrawl, irritation, etc. we will eventually come to some sort of solution of who am I now. Hopefully, we will learn to be okay alone, if not comfortable, at least accepting. We will define ourslelves not only as a spouse, or partner, or lover, but with an identity of our own. Our loved one will always be a part of us, but we will learn to hold them in a way which others may not be able to see except through our eyes. They will be a strength we can rely on to carry us forward, because we know how much we were loved and that we were able to survive this unfathomable loss.

Kathy, I don´t know if I will ever be happy again. Friends that have made it through have said they knew they would never find happiness again even three or four years after their loss and yet imagine their surprise when they discovered love; all over again. Live today. Hope for tomorrow.

[kayc]

Fred,

You are very astute to have captured in words that which took me until my third year to fully realize, and it is so true, everything you have said.

KayC