I didn’t go to work, today. I’m not feeling well. I still feel guilty because, by most peoples’ standards, ‘sad’ doesn’t really qualify as ‘not feeling well.’ I woke up and started to get ready for work and then decided that I needed to stay home, instead.
Chris’ birthday is in 2 weeks, and even though I didn’t feel like I was going to be sad, sadness kicked in last night and spilled into today. I’m taking the day to cry, to fall, and to pick myself back up and continue on. In a perfect world, I would run and lift weights tonight in the spirit of feeling better. Right now, I couldn’t even begin to set foot out of my apartment.
The more Jonathan and I talk about getting engaged, married, living together and having a baby, the more I feel like I’m laying Chris to rest. I’m scared. After almost five years, I’m still afraid of losing him…even though I already lost him. I just want to be with Jonathan, now. I want to feel safe with him and secure that he’s not going to go anywhere or die on me.
I’m ready to step outside of the past and into the future…almost. Five years. How did this happen? Where did the time go? Where did my old life go?
Okay. Enough. I’m just waiting for Jonathan. His going away on business has triggered a small grief-spell in me. I want him here. With me.
I’ll just cry myself out, and then try to go to the gym, tonight.
Shneed
Monday, November 9, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Admittance
Being smarter than myself is crucial to my forward movement. I am an extremely self-aware person and as such, I have found that being able to decipher and dismantle my psychological facades has proved to be a most helpful skill.
Most of the admissions I make evolve out of writing about my emotions and thoughts surrounding my tragedy.
After writing about my perceived distance between Jonathan and me, I admitted the possibility that I, myself, might be responsible for our stagnating would-be growth. I began to take steps to pull down the barrier I had built between my past and my present. It wasn’t an easy task.
I began by talking a little bit more to Jonathan about what upsets me, how I feel about him, and what I want in life and in love. He also shared his own needs with me. It was hard. I had to keep nudging myself forward even though my heels were planted firmly in my past.
Jonathan is too good a man for me to give only choice parts of myself. He deserves my passion, my honesty and all of my love. We are both alive. My love no longer belongs to Chris. Only my love of his memory does.
There are still some things I cannot do, yet.
I planned to swap the lamp next to my bed with the lamp in my office, the other day. I entered my bedroom, office-lamp in hand and I froze. Chris picked out the bedside lamp. He didn’t even like home décor, and I remember wanting to encourage him, since he took the leap and chose an accent for our apartment. How could I say no? It wasn’t my type of lamp, but he picked it and I loved it for that reason, alone. I couldn’t move it. My body wouldn’t let me.
I have been wanting to watch our wedding video, lately, but I’m too afraid to see him in motion. I’m afraid I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop. I still have trouble with the truth that a person who exists on earth can, one day, cease to exist.
Intellectually, I get it, but on a very basic level, I just don’t understand. And sometimes I still feel like I did something wrong, even though I know it isn’t true.
I had the most wonderful weekend with Jonathan. I am letting myself go. I’m letting myself live. I’m letting myself grow with him and I am letting myself begin to place my memories of Chris into storage, as cruel as that sounds.
I’m finally in love, again. I didn’t believe I could be. I never believed I would let myself be. I think about Jonathan and I feel safe, even though I know safety doesn’t really exist. Life exists. The ‘here and now’ exists.
And the only guarantee I have in life is the knowledge that I exist right now, in this very moment. And I believe that I will, someday, be reunited with everyone who has ceased to exist.
Most of the admissions I make evolve out of writing about my emotions and thoughts surrounding my tragedy.
After writing about my perceived distance between Jonathan and me, I admitted the possibility that I, myself, might be responsible for our stagnating would-be growth. I began to take steps to pull down the barrier I had built between my past and my present. It wasn’t an easy task.
I began by talking a little bit more to Jonathan about what upsets me, how I feel about him, and what I want in life and in love. He also shared his own needs with me. It was hard. I had to keep nudging myself forward even though my heels were planted firmly in my past.
Jonathan is too good a man for me to give only choice parts of myself. He deserves my passion, my honesty and all of my love. We are both alive. My love no longer belongs to Chris. Only my love of his memory does.
There are still some things I cannot do, yet.
I planned to swap the lamp next to my bed with the lamp in my office, the other day. I entered my bedroom, office-lamp in hand and I froze. Chris picked out the bedside lamp. He didn’t even like home décor, and I remember wanting to encourage him, since he took the leap and chose an accent for our apartment. How could I say no? It wasn’t my type of lamp, but he picked it and I loved it for that reason, alone. I couldn’t move it. My body wouldn’t let me.
I have been wanting to watch our wedding video, lately, but I’m too afraid to see him in motion. I’m afraid I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop. I still have trouble with the truth that a person who exists on earth can, one day, cease to exist.
Intellectually, I get it, but on a very basic level, I just don’t understand. And sometimes I still feel like I did something wrong, even though I know it isn’t true.
I had the most wonderful weekend with Jonathan. I am letting myself go. I’m letting myself live. I’m letting myself grow with him and I am letting myself begin to place my memories of Chris into storage, as cruel as that sounds.
I’m finally in love, again. I didn’t believe I could be. I never believed I would let myself be. I think about Jonathan and I feel safe, even though I know safety doesn’t really exist. Life exists. The ‘here and now’ exists.
And the only guarantee I have in life is the knowledge that I exist right now, in this very moment. And I believe that I will, someday, be reunited with everyone who has ceased to exist.
Monday, September 21, 2009
The Ritualistic Autumn Fall
I feel like I haven't written in forever, but only one month has passed since my last entry.
I'm having "one of those nights" this evening. With autumn, always comes a great sadness for me, operating right alongside a great happiness. I don't know if I'm making sense. I only know that I have waited all year for this beautiful weather to come, and I love it....by day. By night, I'm sad. I miss him. The void is gutting me tonight.
I still know everything he would say in reply to anything I might say. Chris and I were fused in some way. I could feel it. We were cut from the same mold. My best friend. And he understood me like nobody else ever has.
The night's fall temperature and ever-earlier darkness brought me right back to my week-nightly walk up Pearson Road, straining to see the warm, amber lights glowing from our apartment windows. When I saw them, I knew he was there. Home. And I was so happy to be there.
After Chris died, I bought some timers for the lamps in our apartment, so I wouldn't have to come home to darkness. I used to fool myself on the way up the street. I wanted him to be there. I wanted to laugh with him. We truly enhanced each other.
And tonight, for some reason, I feel like screaming.
I don't know what's going to happen with me and Jonathan. There's a distance that perhaps only I feel. It's possible that I put it there and that I keep it there. I don't know.
I'm too scared to share my grief with him. How do you tell someone that you love that he's not the only one, that you have never been able to pull the knife out of your heart? It's still there.
I want to go to heaven and say hello to my husband.
Someday, I suppose I will.
I hope he'll be waiting for me.
I'm having "one of those nights" this evening. With autumn, always comes a great sadness for me, operating right alongside a great happiness. I don't know if I'm making sense. I only know that I have waited all year for this beautiful weather to come, and I love it....by day. By night, I'm sad. I miss him. The void is gutting me tonight.
I still know everything he would say in reply to anything I might say. Chris and I were fused in some way. I could feel it. We were cut from the same mold. My best friend. And he understood me like nobody else ever has.
The night's fall temperature and ever-earlier darkness brought me right back to my week-nightly walk up Pearson Road, straining to see the warm, amber lights glowing from our apartment windows. When I saw them, I knew he was there. Home. And I was so happy to be there.
After Chris died, I bought some timers for the lamps in our apartment, so I wouldn't have to come home to darkness. I used to fool myself on the way up the street. I wanted him to be there. I wanted to laugh with him. We truly enhanced each other.
And tonight, for some reason, I feel like screaming.
I don't know what's going to happen with me and Jonathan. There's a distance that perhaps only I feel. It's possible that I put it there and that I keep it there. I don't know.
I'm too scared to share my grief with him. How do you tell someone that you love that he's not the only one, that you have never been able to pull the knife out of your heart? It's still there.
I want to go to heaven and say hello to my husband.
Someday, I suppose I will.
I hope he'll be waiting for me.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
My Very Freudian Dream
Last night, I dreamed that Chris and I had moved into a new apartment in a bad part of town. I was scared. I left to go running and ran about halfway up the street, when I found myself feeling as though I had run into the middle of imminent danger. I turned and looked, and saw a man standing behind me, immediately became alarmed and ran, as fast as I could, to get away from him. When I stopped and looked ahead, past our new, decrepid, ramshackle apartment, I saw a beautiful horizon, blue sunny skies, a big orange sun and green lawns and mansions as far as I could see. Behind me, things were ugly, scary and gray, but up ahead there seemed to be warmth and hope. I stood in place for a moment, taking in the beautiful promise up ahead. I turned, once again, to look behind me and saw gray, cold structures, and felt mean undertones, and saw men dressed freakishly and evil clown-like, one in a hot pink tutu and one in women’s clothing and smeared hot pink lipstick. The scary man behind me was still there, dressed as though he had just stepped out of an old western. The scene reminded me of a circus. I looked ahead of me again and saw beauty. I wanted it so much, but I stood still, gazing and feeling like I could run towards the sun and be in that picture instead of the one I was in.
I am in love with Jonathan. We’re in love with each other. Last night was our one-year dating anniversary, and I wished it was our one-year wedding anniversary.
I think, eventually, it will be.
Still frozen, yet steadily thawing,
Shneed
I am in love with Jonathan. We’re in love with each other. Last night was our one-year dating anniversary, and I wished it was our one-year wedding anniversary.
I think, eventually, it will be.
Still frozen, yet steadily thawing,
Shneed
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Independence Day
July 4, 2009 was the most wonderful, happiest fourth of July I have had in many years.
This entire weekend was perfect. I spent most of each day outside, which is what I love doing. I ran 7 miles Friday, and then shopped and dined with a friend. I kayaked on the Charles Saturday morning, dined with more friends and walked to Harvard Square, sat on a bench on the banks of the river, let the river breeze soothe me to my core, and walked home. Then today, I ran 3.5 miles, dined with yet another friend and shopped some more.
I worried that I might be sad, once again, about that singular 4th of July back in 2004 when, despite the fact that Chris was experiencing horrid chemo side-effects, and I could do nothing to help him, the rest of the world celebrated with barbeques, beers and patriotism. I knew I was inside a bubble back then, that we two were not connected to the world the way we had been before the cancer came. Holidays, back then, always felt like nobody cared, because people who are not experiencing adversity of their own don’t want their own holiday ruined by the horrors of others. That’s just the way it is.
Case in point, on Christmas Day, 2004, when I called my family from the emergency ward at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, where Chris and I spent the entire day after his abdominal pain became completely unbearable, I was invited by my father to come to dinner, anyway. I know he didn’t realize at the time that he was essentially asking me to leave Chris at the hospital and come to Christmas Dinner (by the way, we’re Jewish), but there is a certain level of denial that spreads to those who come into contact with the adversity of others. For fourteen months, I had to investigate and find out if anyone at our family gatherings was sick, because nobody understood that Chris’ chemo treatments weakened his immune system and posed a very real threat to his health. I know it’s a compliment that they wanted us there, but that type of compliment could have killed Chris long before his actual demise.
I feel better this year, than I have felt in all of the years that have passed since Chris’ death. I feel happy and I feel able.
I will always cry for my Chris. I will miss him always and I will love him always. I suspect that I will always shudder at thoughts of all of pain, fear and anger he endured and the injustice of cancer. The broken promises of a life snuffed out like a candle flame will always make me doubt love’s durability, even when a relationship is good. But all of that stuff now fits into a much smaller compartment within my mind and most of my mind is filled with optimism, as always.
And I continue to trek forward.
This entire weekend was perfect. I spent most of each day outside, which is what I love doing. I ran 7 miles Friday, and then shopped and dined with a friend. I kayaked on the Charles Saturday morning, dined with more friends and walked to Harvard Square, sat on a bench on the banks of the river, let the river breeze soothe me to my core, and walked home. Then today, I ran 3.5 miles, dined with yet another friend and shopped some more.
I worried that I might be sad, once again, about that singular 4th of July back in 2004 when, despite the fact that Chris was experiencing horrid chemo side-effects, and I could do nothing to help him, the rest of the world celebrated with barbeques, beers and patriotism. I knew I was inside a bubble back then, that we two were not connected to the world the way we had been before the cancer came. Holidays, back then, always felt like nobody cared, because people who are not experiencing adversity of their own don’t want their own holiday ruined by the horrors of others. That’s just the way it is.
Case in point, on Christmas Day, 2004, when I called my family from the emergency ward at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, where Chris and I spent the entire day after his abdominal pain became completely unbearable, I was invited by my father to come to dinner, anyway. I know he didn’t realize at the time that he was essentially asking me to leave Chris at the hospital and come to Christmas Dinner (by the way, we’re Jewish), but there is a certain level of denial that spreads to those who come into contact with the adversity of others. For fourteen months, I had to investigate and find out if anyone at our family gatherings was sick, because nobody understood that Chris’ chemo treatments weakened his immune system and posed a very real threat to his health. I know it’s a compliment that they wanted us there, but that type of compliment could have killed Chris long before his actual demise.
I feel better this year, than I have felt in all of the years that have passed since Chris’ death. I feel happy and I feel able.
I will always cry for my Chris. I will miss him always and I will love him always. I suspect that I will always shudder at thoughts of all of pain, fear and anger he endured and the injustice of cancer. The broken promises of a life snuffed out like a candle flame will always make me doubt love’s durability, even when a relationship is good. But all of that stuff now fits into a much smaller compartment within my mind and most of my mind is filled with optimism, as always.
And I continue to trek forward.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Grief is my Mistress
Well, I’m finished with school. I’ll be taking the walk on August 29th to make my graduation official. As of last week, there will be no more rushing around, trying to write papers and collect research data. I have no more chapters to read in academic textbooks.
And I have so much time to myself, which is something I have craved for a long time. Time to be quiet, to be still, to rest.
The end of my school days has leaked into my workout schedule and created a pocket of ”I don’t wanna do it.” I’m just relaxing. And I’m still dealing.
I’m glad I have time, again. Time used to scare the daylights out of me. Now, I welcome it, even though I cry sometimes, simply because there’s time to, now.
July 4th is a trigger date for me. I don’t feel like going into detail at the moment, but I’m sure I have written about it in blog posts from Independence Days passed.
I still just remember a promise -- not made by anyone -- but a promise, no less, or a hope for a promise. I remember the History Channel all day and night for an entire day when I sat in my bed staring at the screen, watching men scalp other men and wishing I could walk out the door with my husband and enjoy the Charles River festivities. All we wanted to do was walk to the Esplinade, since we lived so close. But Chris was too sick. He slept the entire weekend, and anyone who has ever witnessed somebody fight cancer knows that by “entire weekend” I mean 24 hours a day, waking only to use the bathroom once or twice.
I was lonley for the life we had together. I was angry that he couldn’t rise up from the couch and hug me. I was helpless as he lay sleeping, and I wanted out of that nightmare so badly. I wanted Chris to get well and stay with me.
I can still see him passed out in a chemo-induced pseuda-coma. I would never leave him. Never.
Independence Day is coming, again, and I know if I try, I can have a very happy long weekend, even though Jonathan is away. That’s probably for the best, actually. When grief comes calling, I’d rather not have to explain to anybody. It’s nice, in a strange way, to be afforded the time to temporarily fall apart.
Our time is coming. We’re talking marriage and kids and living together, these days. I’m so happy I have him in my life.
Okay. If I'm gonna do it at all, tonight, I’d better cram something down my throat, wash off these tears and head to the gym.
...or maybe I’ll just curl up and read. :)
Shneed
And I have so much time to myself, which is something I have craved for a long time. Time to be quiet, to be still, to rest.
The end of my school days has leaked into my workout schedule and created a pocket of ”I don’t wanna do it.” I’m just relaxing. And I’m still dealing.
I’m glad I have time, again. Time used to scare the daylights out of me. Now, I welcome it, even though I cry sometimes, simply because there’s time to, now.
July 4th is a trigger date for me. I don’t feel like going into detail at the moment, but I’m sure I have written about it in blog posts from Independence Days passed.
I still just remember a promise -- not made by anyone -- but a promise, no less, or a hope for a promise. I remember the History Channel all day and night for an entire day when I sat in my bed staring at the screen, watching men scalp other men and wishing I could walk out the door with my husband and enjoy the Charles River festivities. All we wanted to do was walk to the Esplinade, since we lived so close. But Chris was too sick. He slept the entire weekend, and anyone who has ever witnessed somebody fight cancer knows that by “entire weekend” I mean 24 hours a day, waking only to use the bathroom once or twice.
I was lonley for the life we had together. I was angry that he couldn’t rise up from the couch and hug me. I was helpless as he lay sleeping, and I wanted out of that nightmare so badly. I wanted Chris to get well and stay with me.
I can still see him passed out in a chemo-induced pseuda-coma. I would never leave him. Never.
Independence Day is coming, again, and I know if I try, I can have a very happy long weekend, even though Jonathan is away. That’s probably for the best, actually. When grief comes calling, I’d rather not have to explain to anybody. It’s nice, in a strange way, to be afforded the time to temporarily fall apart.
Our time is coming. We’re talking marriage and kids and living together, these days. I’m so happy I have him in my life.
Okay. If I'm gonna do it at all, tonight, I’d better cram something down my throat, wash off these tears and head to the gym.
...or maybe I’ll just curl up and read. :)
Shneed
Sunday, June 21, 2009
A Little Help
What I have come to understand is that anti-depressants are not the enemy. And I know that if there was no such thing as medication, I would be just fine. However, I am happy that I have the option to choose to use an antidepressant to help me get through the rough spots that still arise in my life.
After a small personal struggle, I recently decided to increase my dose, again, since I could feel depression creeping up on me. I know the signs like the back of my hand. I begin to feel angry for no apparent reason. I use more profanity. Motivation is in low supply. Loneliness takes over. Boredom sets in. I know the signs.
During the onset of depression, however, I still go out and have fun and laugh and carry on like my optimistic self. When the day is over, though, and I’m alone, I feel all of the symptoms mentioned above.
I have come to accept that because of the trauma I experienced, I am prone to depression. I refuse to say, “I suffer from depression, though. The real truth is that I manage depression on a steady basis. That scenario is more accurate, I think. I tend to focus more on alleviating the symptoms than on the pain I feel when I know it’s time to change my anti-depressant dosage. Doing well on medication is not something to be ashamed of. I have been through the mill and come out on the other side, with my life in tact. So what if my seretonin levels need help every now and again?
I’m in love. Jonathan and I have talked about moving in together. I am finally in love, again. I live a life filled with blessings from the lessons I have learned. I didn’t choose for Chris to die, but since he did die, I choose to view his demise as a gift in my life, a lesson in selflessness, resilience, a gift in the form of the knowledge that when faced with a horrible circumstance, I do the right thing. I’m a loyal partner. Once I give my heart away, my heart belongs to the person to whom I gave it, and the only reason I will ever reneg is in the event of infidelity. I have a zero-tolerance policy where cheating is concerned.
I digress.
Increased Zoloft = increased concentration, increased seretonin, increased well-being.
Shneed
After a small personal struggle, I recently decided to increase my dose, again, since I could feel depression creeping up on me. I know the signs like the back of my hand. I begin to feel angry for no apparent reason. I use more profanity. Motivation is in low supply. Loneliness takes over. Boredom sets in. I know the signs.
During the onset of depression, however, I still go out and have fun and laugh and carry on like my optimistic self. When the day is over, though, and I’m alone, I feel all of the symptoms mentioned above.
I have come to accept that because of the trauma I experienced, I am prone to depression. I refuse to say, “I suffer from depression, though. The real truth is that I manage depression on a steady basis. That scenario is more accurate, I think. I tend to focus more on alleviating the symptoms than on the pain I feel when I know it’s time to change my anti-depressant dosage. Doing well on medication is not something to be ashamed of. I have been through the mill and come out on the other side, with my life in tact. So what if my seretonin levels need help every now and again?
I’m in love. Jonathan and I have talked about moving in together. I am finally in love, again. I live a life filled with blessings from the lessons I have learned. I didn’t choose for Chris to die, but since he did die, I choose to view his demise as a gift in my life, a lesson in selflessness, resilience, a gift in the form of the knowledge that when faced with a horrible circumstance, I do the right thing. I’m a loyal partner. Once I give my heart away, my heart belongs to the person to whom I gave it, and the only reason I will ever reneg is in the event of infidelity. I have a zero-tolerance policy where cheating is concerned.
I digress.
Increased Zoloft = increased concentration, increased seretonin, increased well-being.
Shneed
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