Early Morning (and other times) Anxieties~

What have I done?  is what’s on my mind.  How is it that, at a time when I’m already immersed in so many internal and external changes, I’ve added more in a huge way?

Last night, at 11:21 pm, it was 6 months since Handsome Husband died.  The thought sickens me.  We’ve never been apart for this long a time.   It really does make me want to throw up.  I look in the mirror and have no reaction to the person I see there, feel no relationship to that person staring back at me.  A stranger, in the most clichéd way.   This person I am now, since his death.

I feel neutered.  Not a woman, most especially.   Lacking emotion, lacking color.  Just a physical being going through the motions.  Which saddens me because I have been, for all my life but most certainly in my marriage, a woman who was joyful, who seized life, who lived in the moment, who loved deeply and passionately, and that all seems gone now.   I just am.  Which isn’t good or bad but does make me sad.

The one emotion I do seem to have is anxiety.  About so much and about everything that is new in my life.  Which is everything.   The hows and whats and whys and must do’s.

I bought a T@b trailer to be my new home on the road.  Which I felt I needed to do in order to stay on the road because I can’t imagine, and don’t want to imagine, settling down without Handsome Husband.  I’d like to be excited about the adventure of it but if I’m honest about it, I’m not.   It’s just what needs to be done in order for my life to be what I need it to be.    Let me tell you though, just the logistics of now owning this T@b, and driving it on the road, and parking it, keep me awake.

How do I know what roads I’m not allowed to travel on with this trailer?  There’s a GPS I’ve been told about that is specifically for RV/trailers but the cost of one is prohibitive so I need to rely on signs and knowledge that I’ll gain along the way.   Hopefully I’ll avoid tickets for doing  wrong what I don’t know I’m doing wrong.  Tomorrow I’ve got to get to NJ and I know I can’t go on the Garden State Pkwy but I’m not sure what other restrictions I might unknowingly ignore.  And how do I get to where I need to go if I don’t go on the Parkway?  Will there be signs to redirect me?

I know the height/weight specs but will it fit through the toll booths?  (I know it will but I’m anxious nonetheless).  It really isn’t a large trailer at all in any case.

It will cost more for gas.  That is now my primary expense.  It has always been a primary expense, just being on the road with a car, but it will be more now.  Which will be okay, and I thought it out beforehand, and the costs will be balanced out by staying at camp sites instead of in hotels/military lodging, but it still plagues me.

Hitching it up, backing it up, getting the routine down for setting it up, packing it up.  Anything new takes time to learn, I keep telling myself.  I’ll learn it given some time.  It’s the time until I learn it that concerns me.

Never mind any of this.   I just want my life back.  I want the life I had with my husband back.  I want him back.  Life was less stressful when it was the two of us getting through it, holding onto each other through good times and bad.  I had confidence and a surety of getting through life, no matter what. That surety is so, so, gone, now that it’s just me.

I look so normal on the outside, don’t I?  My insides are normal, too, considering all that has happened, but there is no serenity on the insides.   If you could see my insides, you’d see a person who is t-h-i-s close to the edge.   I want to fall apart and scream my rage and my pain to the wide-open skies and then fall to the ground and not rise.  I want to sob uncontrollably that this most loving, lovely man has been taken from me.  I want to rage at him for leaving me to do this on my own.  Which makes no sense, of course, because he didn’t want to leave me and I know leaving me was the most painful part of his leaving.  He told me how painful it was to leave me.  He fought as hard as he could to stay but the fucking cancer took him anyways.

I wish I cared about anything.  More accurately, I wish I wish I cared.  This me, who is living in a world without color (yes, in spite of all the pink), is not a me I recognize.  I’m doing all these things, these huge things, because I have to make a life.  But I’m not present in my body to have feelings about it.  I just am and it just is.

Just let me get through this.  Let me drive this car, let me pull this T@b, let me learn how to be out there in life without him.  Let me find some kind, any kind, of confidence in myself again.   Let some of the pain ease just a little so that I can take a breath and not feel cut by glass each time.

I’m doing everything in my power to do what I need to do to get through this.  I swear I am.  I’m getting up and showing up.  I haven’t broken.  Whatever Powers-That-Be that are in charge of anything, just please give me some ease.  Just a little.



17 thoughts on “Early Morning (and other times) Anxieties~

  1. Hi Alison,

    Hopefully this will get to you. Every word that you have written this morning rings so true. I was told not to buy or sell anything for at least a year after Jerry died. I listened, except I gave my car to one of my sons and traded his SUV in on a smaller one. Not a mistake. He loved our house and I am still there.

    I give you so much that you are doing all this so soon after losing Handsome Hubby. I too, in the first few years suffered a lot of anxiety, wanting to hear his voice again, wanting to feel him next to me again, no matter where I was. At work, I wanted to pick up the damn phone and talk to him, I waited for my afternoon call from him, asking me if I was having a good day and if I needed anything. Five years and I still miss him so much. I do take Xanax occasionally, especially in the beginning for the anxiety, it helped a lot. I have a friend who is on your page, after her husband died, two years later she had someone else sharing her home and bed. No one will ever replace Jerry and I don’t know if that is good or bad.

    What you are going through is all okay, I have said this to you before, every word you write hits home. Every swear word is exactly how you feel. It got better for me for awhile and then it got worse, I missed him more. I watched him take his last breath in Hospice, a final choice of his, he did not want to die in the house that he loved so much. I still question that decision.

    If a semi truck can get through that toll booth, so can you! I give you so much credit for doing this. You are very brave and when I read that you had to go to another building in hour pajamas, well that did it for me, you are strong and only the strong survive. You just keep on doing what you are doing and you will know whether it’s right or wrong and if it’s wrong, you will change it.

    Take care Alison, you are helping many women who have lost their handsome husbands!


    Sharon (New Jersey)

  2. My heart aches as i know this feeling. Anyone who has lost someone knows this. Keep going forward…inch by inch lifes a cinch, yard by yard life is hard.

    • Hillary,
      So appreciated, always-your words of support and encouragement.

      One step, one breath, one heart beat. That’s my mantra each day.

      And the support of friends such as you means the world to me~

  3. So strong you are, i know with a strength you wish you didn’t have or need…

    This depression your carrying has to be such a heavy load…wish i could help you carry it somehow, or pry it off for you. I do believe you will find the other side of it, and find the joy in life itself again.

    I’m thinking of this verse from Hebrews for you, (out of context, but still) “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” I think of you walking in that again sometime soon…not just moving around, but walking in that faith and conviction and hope–waiting with you for the joy that comes in the morning after the mourning.

    Peace to you.

    • Katherine,
      Thanks so much for for reaching out to me and for the words of the verse. I’ve heard that verse before and do appreciate your sending it along.

      Stay with me as I travel-your support makes a difference to me~

  4. ;You’ve got to regain your autonomy. You shared so much of yourself in your love that you lost most of yourself when he passed. You’ve proven your strength, even before you met him, even way back when we used to go to high school together. You know you can do this. He knows you can do this. It will take time and new habits and lifestyle without the HH, but you’ve got to regain your autonomy.

    • Valerie,
      Thanks so much for checking in with me here and the encouragement that came with it.

      I am a strong woman, I know that, and Chuck knew that. I know at some point I’ll be able to put this horrible grief in its’ place-it’s getting there that is the hard stuff.

      It was weird in a way, at Chuck’s service, because I had 2 friends there from my high school days. Weird only because for so many years I wasn’t in touch with anyone and how blessed I am that I have so many to support me.

      Keep in touch-it helps and you’re support is making a difference~

  5. Hello! I have come across some women that are pulling trailers by themselves.. One calls herself Mocha Gypsy and she has a blog on wordpress and there is a woman that goes by Emma and I think she travels with a dog. There are others.. Maybe an avenue to get help on some of your questions.. (hugs)

  6. soooo, just a dry humor note, if you do get pulled over for being somewhere you shouldn’t be, hand him your card, start crying on the spot and tell him you have “dead husband” brain….I’m pretty sure you will get out of the ticket…:)
    Is it weird that I can really feel your actual emotion in this post? I just feel like I can, can’t explain it though….
    I know you’re not the religious type 🙂 but I do believe that there is more to this life and that this is just our temporary home….and I believe there is great comfort and hope when we tap into that….my prayer is that you will find that and that you will sustain the strength as you keep on keepin’ on….

    • Jess,
      I so appreciate your candor-I always have. These days it takes nothing for tears to fall and my chest to fill with pain, so going nutso on a cop who stops me would be no problem, believe me.

      Yes, I’m not the religious type, but your belief and your words are words I need to hear. I want to believe that I’ll see Chuck again. He told me that we would and I want to believe him. The pain of missing him is so intense that I just can’t breathe and, honestly, I have no emotional investment in being alive. Which is not to say that I’d ever do anything-I wouldn’t at all-I just can’t stand being here without him.

      Whether I believe in prayer or not (which is not to say that I don’t want to believe in prayer, just that I don’t know what to believe about it), I believe in the strength of the love of those around me, and I welcome your prayers, your love, and your support.

      I count on your honesty always, Jess. Stay with me as I travel and find my new life~

  7. I can’t begin to tell you how in AWE I am of what you are doing ! GUTS and COURAGE . I am so very sorry for your loss and that you are on this Grief Journey . I don’t know how you feel , But I do feel your pain. My husband died of Cancer 9.25.09 he was 49. It took everything I had to get out of bed the first 2 years. Opening my eyeballs to a new day was painful. YOU GO GIRL . Hugs

    • Tracy,
      Thank you so much for checking in with me here. My heart goes out to you in your own grieving. This loss is unbearable, isn’t it?

      I wish I felt some of what everyone seems to see in me-the guts and courage. Honestly, I’m doing this because I just don’t know what else to do, and I don’t want to settle down without my husband.

      It’s an impossibly difficult time in every way, and it’s people such as you who keep me going on a daily basis.

      Truly, thank you, and stay in touch~

  8. Six months after the ending of your life with your man is a minute in healing. In fact, in grief this is the time when all the emotions whirl around and you feel yourself backsliding, like you are getting nowhere and are actually in a worse place then where you were when he initially died. There is nothing to do but feel what you feel, rage if you want, roll on the ground and let the dirt mix with your snot and tears. This is the time of ugly, heartbreaking, I don’t think I can take another minute of this pain! It is unavoidable. Take care of your precious self. Handsome Hubby is rooting for you.

Talk to me~

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s