Three Years: When Do We Start Feeling Normal?

[melina]

Thanks Harry,

I'm afraid I can't express myself in the same eloquent manner, but to put it simply: I've had a truly, awful day, and it helps to have someone listen who understands.

I miss my husband - my best friend - deeply right now and have just been feeling miserable and alone.

That's as poetic as I can get right now, but I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.

Melina

[mfh]

Dear Friends, I broke down and read a couple posts (via email today) for the first time in a week, I guess. I have probably read and sent 4-5 emails all week, avoided Facebook, and the internet. I am off line for all practical purposes deleting rather than reading almost everything... It has been a learning experience. I find myself missing all of you with your acceptance and understanding...at a time when it would feel good to share so much of what is going on with me. Last evening after two full days of resting my eyes (i.e. listening to audio books with my eyes closed, closing blinds in house, a little TV, etc) I felt that the irritation to the surface of my surgical eye start to feel as if it might be starting to heal. I have wanted to cut my head off all week especially Monday and Tuesday when I over did it both days by being out and in the sun...and wind...even though I did little. I am not going to read any more posts or write any more and am totally out of the loop here and will have to stay out of the loop except for perhaps another post after several more days.

I chose to read your post Melina and then Harry's response...and HAD to let you know you are NOT alone. Harry's eloquent post speaks for me also...and I learned that having surgery really opened the pain even more. I won't go into detail because I do not want to strain my eyes typing which strain easily. Just know Melina...this journey is far from over. Truly I feel much like Harry....dreams that waken me in tears on occasion, missing Bill, feeling empty and lost...all of it. I just handle it better than I did a while back...for lack of a different word.

This is about all my eyes can take for now. I am feeling pretty alone these days in particular....the good news is that crying feels good to my eyes....and I guess to my soul.

Peace and love to all of you. I am sorry if I am out of the loop. Anne did email me about her latest news and I called her to reach out to her last evening. Otherwise I am not current.

Mary

[feralfae]

Dear Mary, if you see this sometime,

Thank you for stopping by to touch us all with your love while you are on this challenging healing journey.

I know you are doing the best things for you each minute, and that is wonderful.

Take care of you. And Bentley. And let him take care of you, too.

Much Love,

*<twinkles>*

fae

[melina]

Mary, I haven't been around on this site, so I didn't realize you'd had surgery. I'm wishing you a quick recovery, so try to avoid anything that will hurt your eye.

Thanks for your kind thoughts and being here for me despite what you've just been through.

Melina

[LarrysGirl]

Melina, my Larry will have been gone 8 years shortly. I recently had a melt down, pure exhaustion triggered it, I wanted and needed and pleaded for him to be here with me again, so I wouldn't have to go thru life without him. Most of the time, I go thru the motions everyday, wear myself out until I can't think straight. I have not learned a way to live without him, no joy, not much hope. The memories I have of our life together brings a smile and then heartache and tears. I'm sorry you are hurting, I guess when we love and our loved and share a special bond, it could only be this way. Deborah

[melina]

Deborah,

I understand so well what you're describing. It sounds like me and my life right now. I don't look forward to living this way for years to come, but I just don't know what to do about it.

I'm 55, and there are no widows among my friends. They don't get why I'm still grieving, and I'm so tired of hearing about their lives with their husbands.

Just want my old life back - and like you I find myself pleading with my husband to just give me five minutes - just to talk. I know he can't come back, but if I could just talk with him a little bit...

I wonder how other people are able to move on.

Melina

[enna]

Melina and Deborah and all tribe members,

I am only a little over one year of my loss of my Jim so I usually do not respond to this thread, but I came across this quote today and thought of you. I follow most of these threads, because I feel I am learning from what people say. I believe that if we have loved our spouses deeply we will NEVER be the same - we will never be the way we were when we were two - couples stop talking to us, they stop inviting us out to dinner, they do not know what to do with us now that we are one - I do not understand this because it hurts so much to be left out of functions that you were once a part of. I know it isn't intentional, but WHY does it happen? No one has answered that question as far as I know! No matter - this quote below reminded me of all of us:

We all do the BEST we can. We are beautiful. We are important. We are special. That IS what I believe.

We are not the same as we were but we will go on and we will find our own happiness.

[HAP]

Dear Melina,

You've put your finger on the worst part of this for me. We are too young to be widowed--and too old to be playing bachelor or bachelorette. I come from what appears to be a long-lived race. The only thing we seem to get is heart disease--and even it seems to be something we fight off well. My grandmothers saw their late 90s and my mother's dad was in his late 80s. Even my father's father got to his mid-70s despite endlessly abusing his body in an age when most people did not see 70.

So I figure I am looking at at 30-40 years or more potentially. And frankly, that scares me to death some days. It is paralyzing to think this is all I have to look forward to. I sense that is part of your difficulty as well. The fact is I am the only widower in our circle of friends and you'e right, it just feels weird. Not that I would wish this on anyone--but it does get awfully lonely. And how do we explain to people that even were we interested in moving on in that way the only single people we know are young enough to be our sons and daughters?

I try to remind myself periodically that I was 35 before Jane and I had our first date--that I lived and worked largely alone for the first 30-odd years of my life and that if I live until I'm 96 alone it should be no more unendurable than that was. Of course that was all before Jane and now I know what I had with her and before that I was ignorant...

I'm babbling and not making much sense, I'm afraid. I don't know how other people move on ever. I once said to Jane that sometimes I thought I loved her too much. She got very angry about that. I tried to explain that I knew what it would be like if I ever lost her--and that I didn't know how I would be able to endure that. I think at some point she understood that, finally, and I think she would be going through much the same turmoil we are.

But people do move on. I have a friend who lost the love of his life when they were still in their late teens or early 20s. He eventually fell in love with someone else and married her. They have lovely children and a good marriage--but he still thinks about the woman who died--still feels strongly about her. His wife is something else to be able to endure living with this idealized other in their lives. But he was so young when it happened and their is something about youth I am not sure I have any more.

Part of me wants to say those people did not love their spouse as much as we did ours. But I know it is not true. The statistics say that people who loved deeply are more likely to fall in love again than those whose marriages were less loving. I don't understand how that can be true, emotionally--though I can sort of see it intellectually--albeit not well enough to explain it to anyone else yet. And for me--at least to this point--I don't see it happening.

At this point, though, moving on consists of not having to fight my way out of bed in the morning. Once it was not crying every time I thought of Jane--or being able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. In that sense, we are all of us moving on in ways that are often imperceptible to us until we look back and see where we have come from. Ultimately, moving on depends on what we mean by it. At one point we all thought we would never stop crying all day every day; we never thought we would laugh again--or even smile again. But eventually we do begin to have intervals without tears, someone does something that makes us smile--or even laugh out loud.

Every baby-step once seemed huge. In retrospect, I can't even remember the first day I stood up as a toddler--but it was a big day for me that I am sure left me breathless with excitement. The places I have gone since and the things I have done dwarf that into insignificance. We are, all of us, still engaged in baby-steps no matter where in our grief we are. But each tiny step moves us along toward the day that we will wake up and get out of bed without the emotional effort it now takes. We may get frustrated with the pace of our healing, we may be angered when we fall back into the tears of loss--but every day is another step in the process--even when it seems like it isn't.

Be well, my friend.

Peace,

Harry

[Cosel]

It was three years for me on August 5th, and I asked Marty to help me find all my posts from the last three years. She was very helpful, I found them all and I looked through them.

I was going to print them but quickly realized I'd practically be destroying a small forest if I did, so I just copied them to a file and stored them on a flash drive.

I see that I'm not as desperate as I was to begin with, but I'm still stuck in that rut I posted here in April, only slightly worse. I should be thankful that I have my health, my kids, a home, a job, etc. etc, but still I feel as if I'm not really alive and that nothing really matters - just waiting around for life to pass. Putting on a smiling face for work doesn't make me feel any happier and sometimes I wonder how long I can continue this way.

Does anyone feel like this after such a long time?

Sorry for complaining. Wish I wasn't so whiny.

Melina

Melina, I do understand how you feel. It has been 2 years and almost 9 months since my husband died. I know what you mean when you say you are not really alive and nothing really matters. I feel as though I just exist. I was married for 46 years and never lived alone until now. I have a really hard time with the loneliness. I am blessed with family but they have their own lives and not much time for me anymore. I'm trying to find activities to do but nothing brings any happiness or joy. I try not to wallow in self pity but it creeps in every once in awhile when I'm alone. I have so many things that need to be done around my home but I don't have any interest in getting started. I just don't care. I still have a few crying spells but much better than I used to be. I have progressed. I will get better,

I just have to work on it.

Cosel

[Wifflesnook]

Harry and all

I know so well (too well) how you feel with an empty hole (chasm) inside and trying to just do the ordinary things we need to do to carry on life without the one who gave it meaning. When I read Harry's statement about loving too much I really resonated with that, because I often used to think the same. Pete was too important to me and I knew how it might be if I lost him. Actually I didn't see how I would live on at all, and now I am doing just that it puzzles me how I do. I know how I do it I think. It's because I keep pushing the pain away. It's the difference between an acute illness and a chronic one. Mine is the chronic one, and I avoid the chasm of pain and loss by reading, etc etc. I suppose I am a bit better than this time last year. I don't even remember it. I must have experienced Pete's birthday last year without him, but I don't remember where I was, what I did or anything. Last year is just lost. We had professional photographs taken of our little family on Thursday (would have been Pete's 78tj birthday) and I am looking so happy. Huh the camera lies. I will never manage happiness again, and I can't imagine contentment. I need a different word to work towards. It isn't acceptance because I don't want to accept his death. Peace?

[kayc]

Harry, I smile at this last quip, yes indeed, where?

Melina, I feel as you do but have long since quit expecting otherwise. At first I tried to rebuild my life but now I realize it can never be like it was. I suppose it feels like we are waiting to die simply because we don't have the fullness of joy that we once had. I wouldn't quite say I'm waiting to die, but it sure isn't like it was. I settle for moments of contentment or happiness without expecting the utter joy I once had with George.

[Buddy]

I know exactly how you feel.I lost my husband a little over two years ago,and I have lost my spirit and my ambition. I look at other couples,and know I will never have that again. We never had children,and we were in the midst of moving to a very rural town. A year after he died I moved here on my own because we sold our other home. There are not even 100 people in the town I live in. I am by myself most the time. I finally found a job a week ago.I try to be pleasant around other people,but inside it really hurts.My life will never be normal again.This is a new normal,and I don't really like it. If it weren't for my dog,I would have lost it.I don't know if I should stay or go.It snows like crazy here,and last winter was very hard for me to run tractors and snowblowers. Still trying to teach the dog to shovel. I get angry sometimes because my life is so hard now alone. He was fine one day,and died six weeks later of kidney cancer.He was my best friend,and I just miss him terribly.I guess I just have to keep being strong,but it's tough to pretend all the time..Hope things get better for you!...

[feralfae]

Dear Buddy,

I am so very sorry to hear of your loss. I sometimes think when our Beloved goes, we begin a new life and that the spirit and ambition which we had shared and designed with our Beloved just doesn't feel like there is any of it left in our hearts.

It takes a while to get back to thinking some days are really all right. Being in a small town where you did not have history with your husband must be very hard. And in a town that small, it may take a bit to make friends. Are there churches you could attend, or clubs of interest?

My husband and I were in the midst of packing to move, had a new house, and were well on our way when he succumbed to his last bout in a three plus year fight against colon cancer. I did not move, was able to get the deposit back on the new house, thanks to wonderfully honest and caring people, and we had not sold this place yet, so I am still here.

And, Buddy, we are all here for you. You will be hearing from others as well. I think one thing we are figuring out is that the heart keeps no time: we heal at the right pace for each of us, and I think the healing is something we do the rest of our time here. After that, I am absolutely positive that we figure it all out in an instant Aha! and smile.

But for now, we are on this journey that we wish we were not on, but here we are. We try to help each other through the ups and downs, and it really does help. Welcome.

I hope you can teach the dog to shovel, or maybe take you ski-jouring some time.

I went to our hardware store today, and forgot about my wallet, because my Doug always led the hardware store expeditions and had money. But I did get everything I needed. I am staining the outside of my house. Doug has been gone 18 months, and I miss him every day, but the terribly painful hollow feelings are not as hurtful now. I am still not able to use his tools.

I am glad you have found us here, and I know you will be hearing from others as well. We have a wonderful and loving tribe around this little fire.

Blessings, Welcome, and here is some *<fairy dust>*

*<twinkles>*

feralfae

[kayc]

I am sorry, Buddy. I know what you mean about the winters, I get snow too and life is hard in the winter. I, too, don't know what I'd do without my dog. I hope you find comfort on this site, knowing you are not alone and there are many others going through the same thing. I'm glad you got a job, if nothing else it occupies time and distracts us.

(((hugs)))

Kay