Wimps Need Not Apply~

Grief is indeed a holistic experience.   Mind, body, emotions, spirit.

I breathe in.  I breathe out.  Consciously.  Letting go of pain, opening up to Love.  Opening to Life.   I go all Zen about it and try not to try while doing it.  I just let it be whatever it is, with no judgement.  Yup.

Or I dig in and allow the flood of emotion.  I allow the force of memories (all good ones) and let the grief wash through me, stabbing and drawing blood and gushing forth devastation.

Physically I push myself out into the world, meeting new people daily, learning a new environment as I tow my rig and camp for the first time in my life.  I’d like to say I exercise so I seem all virtuous and stuff but I’d by lying.  I know exercise is a helpful thing during grief but I just can’t get there. Mostly, I don’t even remember that it’s an option and secondly, there is an over-riding exhaustion in me from doing the first two things from the top of this blog and my body and mind don’t align to get me out there to even do a meandering walk. I could push myself to push through that probably, with a great deal of focus, which is something I also seem to have lost since Handsome Husband died.

Nutrition? Vitamins? It’s hard enough to do with a home base, never mind living on the road. I don’t have a clue.

Papers get lost, even though I intentionally place them in the most obvious location to be found.  Things I know that I possess scatter into the stratosphere, to be found again purely through chance.  I plot routines in order to make habits, only to forget them or, if I write the routine down to remind myself, I then lose what I wrote.  Including if I noted it on my computer.  Passwords to various links swirl in my head, lost and found intermittently.

Phone calls that need to be returned.  Emails that need response.  The best intentions on both until they join the morass that is my brain these days. (So, please forgive me for that phone call you didn’t get from me).

Some of this can be blamed on the full-time traveling lifestyle I live.  Small space, attempts to organize, followed by the feeling that I’m lucky I can find my keys to drive at any point.   Most of it I attribute to grief primarily because I used to be really well-organized and competent.

So I go back to trying to breathe, which I haven’t done well since my husband died.  I try to feel joy in what I’m experiencing (because there is cause for joy, after all).  I try to feel contentment.  Or serenity.  Or anything other than grief but those emotions are intellectual exercises for me and can’t seem to make their way past the acid lump in my throat or the meat-slicer that resides in my chest or the exhaustion that sings through my veins or the heaviness that is my body or the maelstrom of devastation that is my self.  And I hate that I’ve lost who I was and have no concept of who I will be and I hate that I have to be me without him but that’s what I’ve got.

I was a strong woman with a solid sense of myself for the 24 years I was married to Handsome Husband.  We had an interdependent relationship and I felt strong within it and I mourn the lost me.  Because I feel no strength in this new life, I have no trust in it and honestly, I don’t care about it or a future.  I’m in this moment, surviving and trying to remember where the fuck anything is.

Which is why I give myself the FWG image to live into each day.  It’s the only thing I do remember to do.  I remind myself that I can do this because I fucking have to do this.  Period.  End of story.

Grief isn’t for wimps.

#FWG rising~IMG_2053

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12 thoughts on “Wimps Need Not Apply~

  1. Allison, you hit the nail on the head with this post. I loss my husband to brain cancer Feb. 20 2013, he was sick for 3 years I too was so organized but now walk around in a fog most of the time and have no energy. Example: I needed to have the septic tank pumped, the toilets gurggled when flushed, but for the life of me could not find the paper that had directions and measurements to where tank is located, so had to pay extra for septic people to find and uncover. At least I knew the general area. It takes me forever in the grocery store as I can not decide on what brand or size or kind to buy. I just stand staring at the shelves.Ditto on the exercise, I was doing 90 min. on the treadmill 5-6 days a week before my husband got sick haven’t been on it since. He needed total care right from the start and I took care of him at home where he died. The only relief I got was when he needed to be in the hospital because of complications. Widowhood, no way to prepare for this. I believe God’s promises and know I will someday be reunited in heaven but it is still so hard.

    • Alida,
      I hope, I hope, that Chuck and I will be reunited someday but my brain argues with my heart about an afterlife and the argument exhausts me when I add it to the mix of just trying to find things in my daily life. Living without him is exhausting in every way.

      Its good to know that there are others out “there” with me~
      alison

  2. I’ve always been absentminded, my husband used to tell me I walked above the ground, just barely in contact with my environment. Circumstances since he died have forced me to be WAY more organised that I ever was before, and oddly, It’s not as bad as I feared. I’m still missing my black purse with my other keys though, so….yeah, blame widow brain. I’m a LOT better now than I was 2 years ago, so yeah, it gets, not better, but less impossible.
    I’ve been dx’d with PTSD for 20+ years now, and it’s always caused short term memory issues. You learn to cope with the lack of firm short term memory in baby steps, and eventually, the little mneumonics become second nature. Be kind to yourself, you’re doing all you can. Lots of Love

  3. You are truly depressed. I am there too. Many beautiful people in our lives that make all this grief work worthwhile Alison.

    I too am looking for my keys..lost in my garage last week…..on a big lanyard to boot. I was so happy that I found them after having lost them for a week. And that fast, within 5 minutes of finding them, I put them some place and they are lost again. Hence, due to having only one keybad to unlock the car & making some type of powerlock button mistake, my car automatically locked my keys in my running car when I shut the car door. i was in thevlot @ Home Depot. A nice policeman had to break into my car to get me back into it.
    This is just one example. You are not alone dear friend. I too, am on a quest to re-find my brain. I love you ♡

    • I won’t even get out of my car any longer without the keys in my hand, wrapped in my fingers. The more I try to have a place for things, the more things get lost.

      Oh, how this grief affects every part of our lives, doesn’t it?

      I refuse to use the word depressed, however. I’m grieving hard. More than likely, if I saw a shrink, they’d want to medicate me. I use homeopathics, thank you very much, and they’re serving me well.

      We’ll be in NJ sometime in the early fall, and looking forward to seeing you, sweetie~
      alison

  4. Do you ever wish there was a person, or a service, that you could turn over all the mundane stuff of life to and have them handle it while you work on grieving? It seems to me that many emotional crises can cause life to spiral out of control with missed appointments, unreturned phone calls, miscalculated banking, and “I thought it was Friday so I didn’t get to the post office, bank, store, concert in time”. You have your daughter, but for those of us with no family to count on it’s harder. And I have been searching for YEARS to find someone to simply walk me. Seriously- – to just get the body moving! People seem to think “It’ll make you stronger if you do it yourself”. Uh, no!

    • Doretta,
      My life would be so much more organized if I could have someone to do that while my brain is inoperative from grief. I think its baloney that this can make you stronger, especially initially. Ultimately, we who survive, and go on to thrive, can make a beautiful life, but beautiful because it is tinged with the knowledge of loss, so it goes more deeply.

      I’d just as soon not have the experience, thank you very much~
      alison

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