Giving ourselves "permission" to live again

[mittam99]

I was chatting with Kay on the phone today and something we discussed struck me as very, very important. I will say in advance that this mostly applies to those of us who are further along in our journey but I feel it's important for all of us here. I hope my thoughts and words will help some of the members here who are hurting deeply. You all are members of my extended family and I do care very much.

Losing our beloved, our soul mate, is the most overwhelming event any of us has ever gone through. The emotional devastation and pain is at times, unbearable. I have the feeling all of us have, at one time or another, bemoaned the fact that we are still here and living this lonely life. Sometimes we just want to be put out of our misery! But, here's the thing... we are still here. We are alive (even though at times we're not so sure). And the fact is, life is precious. Your life is truly once in a lifetime.  

So the question is... how do we not only function but find some semblance of happiness in a world we clearly would have never chosen to live in? Now, I'm not about to suggest that I have the answer to making your life happy again. If I did, I'd be asking you to spend $35 on my new book available at Barnes & Noble! But, I want to throw out a concept... a thought... an idea that might just help if you try to put it in practice. It's not a magic wand and it's not going to instantly have you feeling better but it might just be that big step you've been missing. A step that might get you a little further in your grief journey.

Rinse, wash, repeat. Deja vu over and over. Groundhog's Day. You know what I mean. After losing our loved one our lives seem to have become a broken record. We get up, we have no motivation, we do basically the same thing day after day. We don't want to live like this anymore. It's torturous. And then, when we think about our future, it becomes scary. How on earth can we possibly live like this day after day, month after month, year after year? It's unfathomable.

In my journey, I was right there. Stuck in that dark place where it almost feels like hell. And to an extent I still am. But somewhere along the way, I found the key (or at least "a" key) to changing the direction of my journey a bit. The key word? PERMISSION.

There was a time I couldn't laugh. Wouldn't allow myself to smile or whistle. Couldn't even entertain the thought that my life might improve some day or that I could ever be happy. My mind simply wouldn't allow it. How could I? My best friend, my lover, my companion, my wife, my everything, my Angel Tammy had died and I felt like an empty shell of nothingness. Nothing but pain, tears and misery. How could I enjoy myself when my love was gone and in heaven?

Then slowly my thinking evolved. I thought about my Tammy and who she was as a person and the incredible love she gave me and I gave to her. Tammy loved to laugh, she cherished the happy times we shared. Just like I only wanted the best for Tammy, Tammy wanted me to be happy. Gradually I started to laugh a bit more at something funny I saw on TV. I began whistling here and there and not feeling so guilty (Tammy always said she knew I was happy when I whistled). And it began to happen... I started to give myself permission to "be myself" again. To live with less guilt. I'll never be the same. This grief will be inside me the rest of my life. But I knew that I couldn't survive or live a life with any sense of hope until I gave myself that permission to "live again"

And I know Tammy is OK with that.

 

[kevin]

Mitch the word Permission is a little different....I actually had this discussion with my Wife. The discussion was matter a fact and had more to do with what we would do if either one of us past. I voiced my words first and said I would do my best in drinking myself to death...she immediately made it clear that is not going to happen......I was to carry on and live life to its fullest and make everyone proud......I responded by asking her what plans she had in mind, short silence, then she stated she would move back east with her daughter and start a new life .....Both of us stated we expected to move on......easier said then done, but my plans will always be  to live in the present, and always move on ..... 

[mittam99]

Kevin, in my life with Tammy this was a subject we didn't discuss. And that was on me. I had been through the deaths of my grandparents and parents and death was something I couldn't talk about. Just too painful. I never could even think about the possibility that my beloved Tammy could die. With her health being what it was we dealt with many life and death medical traumas but Tammy always pulled through. Until March 6, 2015.

It took me a long time to take those baby steps in my early grief. It wasn't until I started to embrace some of the kind and enlightened things that members told me here that I started to progress. To dwell more on the wonderful moments I had with Tammy and less on March 6th. To realize how blessed I was to have been able to share my life with Tammy. To know that Tammy will always live on inside of me.

But still, I felt guilty if I found myself doing anything remotely enjoyable. But Tammy wouldn't want me to "punish" myself. That was coming from within.

I still have a long way to go on this journey. As I say, I'm a work in progress. But at least I'm to the point that the thought of happiness doesn't cause the deep guilt it did a few months ago.

[kayc]

I, too, had to give myself permission to smile again.  I remember the first time I smiled after George died, I immediately felt bad for it...it was somewhere on here that an article was linked or posted that said you needed to give yourself permission to smile again.  And I did.  I'd hate to think what my life would be like had I not done that.

Kevin, George and I had a similar discussion before he died (we didn't know he was going to die, it was hypothetical, we thought it'd be at least 20 more years), but there's no way we could have known what it would be like...harder than ever imagined.

[iPraiseHim]

My wife, Rose Anne, and I had this discussion a few times. Early in our marriage, and just recently before she died.  She wanted me to be happy and loved and asked me to find another wife who will love you like I do. She knew that I was very lonely most of my life and that I have a lot of love to give.  It was humbling and insightful. I cherish every moment of every day we shared our lives together. I didn't find her, she found me.  I was accepting the fact that I would probably be single my whole life.  It was a whirlwind, love-at-first-sight for me that I knew deep in my heart she was my soul-mate.  It took my wife a little longer to realize it for some reason. 

Now, I am learning to make peace in my heart with the fact that my wife has passed. I am slowly experiencing glimpses of joy and peace but it doesn't take away the grief.  I have started to playing some music daily when I wake up that encourages and motivates me to "keep walking" keep moving forward.   I am made to live each day, as fully as I am able to press forward to the mark until God calls me home.  Gratitude, Prayer, Purpose. I am not ignoring, burying or stuffing feelings.  I find they are an indicator of where I am on this grief journey and what I need to work on. I pray each of us finds our way; our own path through.  Keep sharing and growing.  Shalom - George  

[Patty65]

I always "liked" music.  Who doesn't, right?  I had my favorites from my era, what I listened to in college.  But Ron, he was the aficionado.  From Pavarotti  to Aerosmith (and worse, lol).  But his passion made me look at music differently, and more closely, and I would seek the meaning of songs where he did not... and we would talk about the lyrics... so he introduced me to all new genres and songs, I added in mine that he did not know but grew to love.

I was playing him his playlist when he was going.  He went to "No Ordinary Love" by Sade, I'm sure I've said that before. For the first couple of months, there was no music, none, too hard, too everything.  Then the need came.  In the early morning at the shop, I would bake and BLAST his music. On his Bose little portable speaker that he cajoled me into purchasing on a 10-month payment plan.  Then I would bake and BLAST and sing to it too.  It's been going on a while.  I did give myself permission, and it still feels very weird. Like a secret.  It serves two things -- It keeps my mind (sometimes) from going to all the scary and sad things, and it keeps him close to me (sometimes sad too).  In those moments, alone in the kitchen, baking and listening and singing, I can be a little at peace with him near.  It lasts 2 or so hours a few times a week.

What I felt/feel guilty for is singing.  I'm not a good singer (AT ALL) but you know, just the regular sing along to the lyrics.  All the messages.  All the good memories.  But to me, singing means "happy" and that is discordant to the situation.  So, as employees come in and witness me blasting music and singing softly to myself, it feels wrong.  How could I be singing amidst this tragedy???  But I've given up caring for the sake of survival - it is the ONLY time of day - 6am to 8am - that I even slightly feel I'm surviving ok. 

"Music soothes the soul of the savage beast!" Ron says.  That's me now, the "Savage Beast"... The other morning, the new partner came in and started to hook her music up to our Bose.  I let her, and I practically hated her in my mind for it.  Not only did she interrupt my alone time, but she commandeered my music. That's when I really realized how important that time and that listening to the music was to me, I didn't even know how important it was until she did that.  Now I have to figure out a way to let her know.

I'm really really bad at doing anything that is caretaking of myself, I let Ron do that after a lifetime of neglecting it.  But I do believe now that - in seeing my surprising reaction to my new partner using the speaker - that I actually am doing something that is helpful for me (and I didn't even really know it).

Yesterday in the middle of the day with lots of people around, I was playing his list in our office, and our first dance song came on - and that time, since it was already a crying day,  I had to run - I ran out to the back deck and hide with my speaker blasting as I held it against my chest.  I could SCREAM out every word through my sobs, and I could not be heard over the speaker.

So, listening and singing to music is how I am giving myself permission to keep hanging on for at least those two hours a few days a week when I can manage it.  Singing along does not mean "I'm happy" - which feel like a betrayal of my broken heart - it means "I'm surviving this minute".  It's literally ALL i have.  I have not been able to paint, or write, or play the piano-- I want to want to, because I feel I need to in order to literally survive this hell, but I don't have even a tiny gram of energy to do any of that since I fall apart when I get to the house.

So, singing-along is where it is at.  I finally told that to my therapist, and I felt so guilty saying it!  Like it was betraying Ron, but she was just happy I had any 'want' at all -- it is so hard to have any desire for anything anymore.

 

[MartyT]

Thanks to both of you, Mitch and Kay, for sharing your discussion of this notion of giving yourself permission to live again; to be yourself again.

Kay, you said "it was somewhere on here that an article was linked or posted that said you needed to give yourself permission to smile again." That article was written three years ago by another of our members, Maria Kubitz, and posted on her Alive in Memory blog here: Learning How to Smile Again. Like you, I thought the piece was brilliant, and Maria graciously agreed to let me reprint it on the Grief Healing blog here: Voices of Experience: Learning to be Happy Again.

I think the insight you've described below is an important one, Patty, and I thank you for sharing that with us, too:

15 minutes ago, Patty65 said:

I do believe now that - in seeing my surprising reaction to my new partner using the speaker - that I actually am doing something that is helpful for me (and I didn't even really know it) . . .  listening and singing to music is how I am giving myself permission to keep hanging on for at least those two hours a few days a week when I can manage it. 

 

[KarenK]

Very early this morning, I watched a movie called "Songcatcher", the story of a city bred music teacher who visits her sister, also a teacher in rural Appalachia. She soon discovers the Scottish-English ballads that are a trademark of these mountain people. I am somewhat familiar with these songs as Ron was born and bred in the back hills of West Virginia. The first time he took me "home", I was appalled at the living conditions. Within this strange(to me) environment were many people sitting on their rickety porches playing and singing this music. These people are not poor. They are rich in their love, honor, and respect for their families and traditions.

The movie brought back so many memories of happier times and "fun" moments. Surprisingly, not one sad moment. It made me proud of the man I married and all that he had accomplished in life despite adverse conditions.

[KATPILOT]

Great discussion Mitch. Allowing ourselves to live is certainly no easy task. Let's face it. Living on is about the last thing we care about at first.  It's often ourselves that hold us back while others around us are suggesting we do so all the while falling on deaf ears.

What a great moment for you Karen!.  - a moment you find memories of Ron bringing a smile to your heart.  I'm reminded of a time when I discovered things in the house about Kathy's past, things I didn't know, and how proud I felt of the woman she was and how lucky I was that everything about her from her baby book her mom kept and forward were tucked away in this house just waiting for a forensic lover to discover them.

9 hours ago, kevin said:

Mitch the word Permission is a little different....I actually had this discussion with my Wife. The discussion was matter a fact and had more to do with what we would do if either one of us past. I voiced my words first and said I would do my best in drinking myself to death...she immediately made it clear that is not going to happen......I was to carry on and live life to its fullest and make everyone proud......I responded by asking her what plans she had in mind, short silence, then she stated she would move back east with her daughter and start a new life .....Both of us stated we expected to move on......easier said then done, but my plans will always be  to live in the present, and always move on ..... 

Had to laugh over this one Kevin. I often considered that had I been on the Titanic after it struck the iceberg, I would have found the booze and drank as much as I could. Kathy's death was a Titanic moment for certain and I gave it my best shot.  Months later I discovered my ship was still floating so I had to start figuring out what to do next.  I never thought about giving myself permission to live. I just kept hearing those words my wife said ever since I met her. "Live and enjoy life for you never know when it might end".  I felt I owed it to her to live on.

[KATPILOT]

9 hours ago, mittam99 said:

I still have a long way to go on this journey. As I say, I'm a work in progress. But at least I'm to the point that the thought of happiness doesn't cause the deep guilt it did a few months ago.

Yes we do Mitch. The journey will always be strewn with pot holes but you are traveling it with the courage and love. We should all never forget that life is an adventure. I may still cry often but I smile more.

Patty the music is one of the most powerful connections I have with Kathy. I have been listening to her IPOD ever since I discovered it in her office. I realize now that it is a perfect gauge to my growth. From the beginning it was gut wrenching yet it was hers. I loved the music but it tore me up. Still I kept listening to it almost as if I was masochistic. It was on at work before anyone showed up. It was on in my car as I drove up to Canada to get our stuff. I see how over the years, I still listen on but the tears over certain songs are so few now. They have been slowly disappearing as if charting my journey.

[scba]

Thank you Mitch for this post. I understand what you mean. I gave myself permission because there was no choice. Took me two full years and baby steps to leave the couch. Do I grieve? Yes. If I have to be honest, it all feels "forced" in my life and a repetition of events. Maybe this is fine, compared to before.

[rdownes]

I never thought of permission before, I do not think for me personally I will have to give myself permission to smile and live again I think slowly it will happen and I think this because I do smile still though not very much yesterday I played with my grandson and it was genuine joy for the first time in two months  and my grandson lives with me he is two. I can still sometimes smile at what people say and it is not forced,I am far away from being ok but I already walk around with the thought of the greatest man on the planet loved me and it gets me through, I love music Kevin's music keeps him close to me I know I am a younger widow so most people won't know the music Kevin listened to or even like it but he listened to rock and he loved metallica they have a not so hard song called nothing else matters I listen to it everyday it has a lyric that goes "trust I seek and I find in you, everyday for us something new,open mind for a different view,and nothing else matters"  I live by that I live by now. Me and Kevin never talked about death but who in their 40's thinks about dying, I love all the suggestions that come from people farther along I have learned so much from everyone and I appreciate everyone sharing their pain to comfort others.

[Froggie4635]

It has always been about "permission" all along.  Permission to grieve as I saw fit, permission to step out of it for a while and take a deep breath.  Pulling yourself out of that dark place takes SO MUCH WORK.  Doing things gradually for me is difficult.  I have always been an all or nothing person.  But realizing that I CAN'T do it ALL is so hard to deal with.  I'm supposed to grieve, supposed to find happiness, supposed to keep functioning in my every day life.  Using the word HAPPY just doesn't work.  It leads to comparing being happy before and after.  I have lost direction.  Today is a really down day, and my words are going to sound negative and depressed.  I am struggling.  I know I am a strong person, but I am so exhausted by all the things I am SUPPOSED to be doing.  I worry about finances, the heat is almost unbearable here in Texas right now...am having a harder time this summer than last (although not sure I remember much about last summer).  And it doesn't help that right now I am missing Mark so very much that I can't breathe.  I lose myself in binge television and have been so cranky, I don't like being around me very much.  I have given myself permission to laugh when something is funny and have still been trying to satisfy my creative urge.  I am finding ways to give to other people; that has always made me feel better.  But my mind is still a mess and focus is a problem.  I know everyone has their struggles; I read them in all the posts.  And I should be grateful that my struggles aren't as difficult as others.  But they are MY struggles, and now there are things that weigh on me that I used to share with Mark.  And sometimes my knees buckle.  But I keep going because there is no other option.  

[KarenK]

Maryann,

I'm so sorry that you are having a lousy day. I too, become overwhelmed with the harsh reality of carrying all the burdens alone. Thinking how nice it would be to throw them all down and run away. It would not work because wherever you run to, there you are. If your knees buckle, we will hold you up.

Karen

[WolfsKat]

Music was a way to connect, early on in our online relationship.....my Connor and I would "send" each other a song a day.....something we thought embodied what we felt for one another, until he finally moved here to begin our life together..  Most all of those songs were played at our wedding/reception....the last time was at his memorial service.  All of those cherished songs, music we both loved......almost 9 months later, and I still can NOT bring myself to listen to even one.  Perhaps one day I can.....but right now? No way.  The pain would be too intense.

[kayc]

Marty, it was way longer ago than that, it was early in my journey, but that looks like a good article too.  I actually remember reading the one on being happy again.

[Gin]

WolfsKat,

My husband loved music and played his mandolin a lot.  I can not listen to any music anymore.  Everything reminds me of what I lost.,

[Froggie4635]

I do okay with music, except on days like today.  It's funny.  The other day, I was working on putting some cds in a case to hold them.  They were Mark's Jimmy Buffett cd's.  I like mine in a case, in pockets; he kept his in the jewel cases.  They get so scratched and cracked, and putting them in a case takes up less space.  Well, when I was putting his cds in the new case I bought specifically for them, I kept having to fight to get them in the case.  After about 4 of them, I yelled out to him..."you're not here anymore and I am doing these the way I want".  

[brat#2]

Mitch - very good topic.  I'm finding it very hard to give myself permission to try and enjoy life right now.  I will catch myself smiling or laughing at something and feel guilty that I enjoyed that without Dale.  I also can not listen to music yet.  Music was a very big part of our life together and it is still too painful to hear the songs we loved together, I'll even change the tv channel if a song comes on.  It is very strange not to have music in my life, it always was such a big part of my life from an early age on, so I'm "hoping" I will be able to give myself permission to start listening to it again some day.

Joyce

 

[KATPILOT]

Joyce it's a rewrite of meaning to the song "The Day The Music Died".   One day dear lady - all in good time. When a gun goes off all the birds become silent................. to start singing again in time.

[mittam99]

It's still so hard at times even after giving ourselves that "permission" I spoke of. A few months before Tammy died she turned me on to the Netflix series Orange is the New Black. I had only seen a couple episodes when Tammy took ill that last time. After she died, I started watching the rest of the first two seasons (Tammy had already seen those episodes). Of course my concentration was limited but I really liked the show based on the parts I actually did watch. Then season 3 arrived last summer and that was hard. Watching each episode was painful. All I could think was Tammy should be watching these new shows. It wasn't guilt as much as it was pure and utter sadness. Just recently I finished watching season 4 and it was upsetting for a couple different reasons. For starters they killed off a popular character and I simply couldn't fathom that this was the second season of the show that Tammy hasn't seen but I have.

So often, those things that gave us pleasure are now the things we avoid the most. Not because we don't enjoy the music, or the shows or whatever; it's just a painful reminder that our beloved isn't here to enjoy it as well. In time, hopefully, we can all get comfort and pleasure from these things again. Hopefully, we can find peace in the belief that our lost soul mate would want us to find happiness even though they are gone.

[brat#2]

Stephen and Mitch - so true, I just keep hoping some day.

 

[Gwenivere]

I'm reading all these experiences and had to really think what permissions I have come to see I need for me.  Music is out for now.  I do find myself smiling at certain things.  Being a volunteer you can't really be glum or it defeats the purpose.  

My permission is what I do and feel when I am alone.  What I have decided is anything I feel, do, don't do, plan or don't plan, accomplish or not is permissible.  Some of this came from the 'wealth' of advice and suggestions given me by people not in my situation but thinking they had answers I hadn't considered.  I found myself getting angrier each time I was told something by someone who hadn't a clue.  So I got tired of being angry, made it clear to everyone to not even cross the line of advice unless asked (and that is regarding day to day things like how to find a gardener, not how to deal with gut wrenching loneliness) and maintain those boundaries.  I caught myself defending my reasons on a choice to a person Sunday again and it so annoyed me that I felt that need.  I should have said.....thanks, but no input is needed, I already made my decision.  

This is clearly a thought provoking topic because of how many directions permission can go.  I even give myself permission to not like things I used to, even if they would 'honor' Steve, because I am not the same without him.  I give myself permission to be who I am now, and that is someone I don't even know yet.  A big permission I give myself is telling other people who are waiting for me to get back 'normal' is saying.....give up your waiting because she isn't coming back.  Some will stay. Some will go.  Some may come to understand it someday.  I haven't the energy or ability to keep trying to educate others about something you have to be in to understand the changes it brings.

[mittam99]

Gwen none of us will ever be the same. It's just an impossibility, of course. We've all had our hearts torn out and our idyllic life has been shattered. In time though, maybe we can fill the hollow shell that we have become with some of the happier spirit and zest for life we once had. We're all works in progress and we all are evolving at our own pace. 

[Margm]

21 hours ago, KarenK said:

They are rich in their love, honor, and respect for their families and traditions.

In one of the books I am perusing, (I don't read, I skim over), there is a visit for two weeks with country people back from where Dolly Parton comes from.  No electricity, of course no TV, only work from daylight till dark.  Two people in their 80's, him keeping the wood cut for warmth and cooking. Milking cows, making own butter, and living off nothing just fine. The visitor wondered what would happen if one of them were to get sick and possibly die.  I am sure by now they have done this.  But  people still live this way.  Billy did not have an inside bathroom when I met him and they did not have one until they moved into their daughter's house when she got married.  This was downtown "little town."  So, I know a small bit about country people and how they lived from my own mother and father and a lot of you do too.  

One of the happiest places Billy and I lived in was a tiny RV in a trailer park.  We did not have much money, but we were happy.  My Christmas tree, that first Christmas was made with Styrofoam balls stuck with toothpicks to form a tree with a Styrofoam holder.  You could sit on the  commode and take a shower at the same time.  In fact, you had to.  It was so cozy and we did not realize we could have died from carbon monoxide poisoning  by using the two burners on the stove to heat the little place.  We had a couch and we had a stove and bed.  Little blue balls on the Christmas tree that was sprayed with fake snow.  It was beautiful.  We were so close.  Had to be.  I was also pregnant.  My city (small town) grandmother, two aunts came to see me and I later learned that my grandmother cried because I was living in a hovel.  I was still happy and we moved out to a bigger place before the baby came.  Not much better, just bigger.  

So, moving to an apartment from a big nice house did not bother me at all.  But moving without Billy did bother me.  The places we lived have all been torn down now, except the first apartment and the lake house and the house the kids grew up in.  Scott wants to buy that house one of these days.  I wish he could.  I guess their growing up years were okay.  We were in Arkansas to get him away from the drug dealers.  We succeeded so it was worth it.