I don't know where I'm supposed to go from here.
My son is at school, safe and happy.
My niece is at school, doing whatever she's doing. And whatever that is, it is not my problem or responsibility any more. Maybe one day she'll grow up a little, but I have to step back from all of that until (if?) that happens.
My husband is dead.
And I am sitting here by myself.
In the mornings, I love being alone. At night, I hate it.
Everything seems like an effort that I can't make. I could finish this sweater, and I'd be happier knitting... but I'd have to figure out how to pick up the button band. And find the right needles. Or remember where I left off on the tank top. Or find something to string the beads for the new project. Or wind yarn. All of those things seem like something that I can't do. I'm just marking time until I can go to bed.
Nights are bad.
This is when I miss Michael the most, when the memories close in, when my own aloneness closes in, and all I'm doing is marking time.
I should be doing things to occupy myself... I managed this last night pretty well, tonight, not so much.
I don't know how to turn this around, make this different. I should be working... I forgot all about the fact that I should be working on this test bank and so forth. Maybe that can be the weekend. I want to pick up a book and some junk food and turn my head off. But I can't even do that any more. I've worked so hard to get this little bit of weight off, and I can't sabotage that.
But all the time, I think about being with someone else. I don't want that. I don't want to want it.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Letters to Michael, 2
I can't believe that you left me with this, all of this giant mess that I have no idea how to deal with, and just life in general, and after tomorrow, I'll be alone. Alone rattling around in this house that is too big for me to deal with, trying to reconstruct my life.
And I know it's not constructive, but I blame you, on nights like this, when all the alone seems like too much. It's hard not to sift through the rubble of the last years, of the last decade, to look at the shattered pieces in my hands and wonder where it all went wrong.
There aren't any answers to that. Not even fault, in a way, except maybe for the fact that you could never step back from that cliff, never stop dipping your toes into that dark channel, and so as everything got harder and harder, it was the only thing that you could focus on.
Of course I should have seen. But to what point?
So many days I can walk on by, keep passing the open windows... but it's been harder lately. So much of the time, all I can feel is the sad and alone. And the bitter anger that does no one any good. At the end of it, all that's left is missing you.
And I know it's not constructive, but I blame you, on nights like this, when all the alone seems like too much. It's hard not to sift through the rubble of the last years, of the last decade, to look at the shattered pieces in my hands and wonder where it all went wrong.
There aren't any answers to that. Not even fault, in a way, except maybe for the fact that you could never step back from that cliff, never stop dipping your toes into that dark channel, and so as everything got harder and harder, it was the only thing that you could focus on.
Of course I should have seen. But to what point?
So many days I can walk on by, keep passing the open windows... but it's been harder lately. So much of the time, all I can feel is the sad and alone. And the bitter anger that does no one any good. At the end of it, all that's left is missing you.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Weirdness
I sat at Tim's last night, and yeah, I'd had too much smoke and drink and not enough food, and I was more than a little out of it, unwise. But in addition to the claustrophobic, paranoid feelings, which stay with me a bit today, all I could think is, "Michael is dead. Michael is dead, and I just got out of bed the next day and went on, and I have kept doing this."
And I have. As with every other thing in my life, I've picked up and gone on, without missing a beat. Sure, there are things that I haven't done. But at the end of the day, Michael is dead, and I am here, and life has gone on, and how has this happened?
Sometimes I wonder if anything that I feel is real. I feel like I can't stay in my own skin today, like I can't breathe, and it's only getting worse.
And I have. As with every other thing in my life, I've picked up and gone on, without missing a beat. Sure, there are things that I haven't done. But at the end of the day, Michael is dead, and I am here, and life has gone on, and how has this happened?
Sometimes I wonder if anything that I feel is real. I feel like I can't stay in my own skin today, like I can't breathe, and it's only getting worse.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Letters to Michael
I miss you.
I loved you. It's so easy to forget that, because of the way that things were the last months. I hope you knew that. I hope that you could see me, and remember what you said about standing in the train station after your mother's death and feeling free, the weight of it all lifted from your shoulders. I hope that you remember how it was with your mother, how you said in the end that it was her or you, and that when she understood, finally understood that... that was the end.
I don't want to put it that way, because I don't want to draw those parallels. I never did. But it was the same in so many ways, the disease, the obligation, the mental illness, the grinding wearing days. Knowing that whatever you do it not enough. Trying to keep your head above water.
Except that I'm stronger that you, and I always was, and I am going to survive this.
It's not a contest that I ever wanted to win. I believed, right up to those last months, that there would be a future in which we sat on the front porch in rocking chairs and made chicken noises.
And then I stopped believing. And I started fighting, and I let you go. It's the truth. I could not have done anything different, but it still true that I let you go. And that makes me so sad, because neither of us deserved any of this. And I wish that it could have been somehow different. I remember standing with my arms around you as you sat on the side of the bed and cried. I would go back there in a heartbeat and hold you even tighter.
I never stopped loving you, even when I couldn't. I know that makes no sense, but it's still true.
So many hopes and dreams and plans that never came true. So much in the wonderful person that you were... when you could be that person.
I miss you so much. I would not go back, for either of our sakes. But I don't think that there will be a moment of my life when I don't miss you in some way.
I loved you. It's so easy to forget that, because of the way that things were the last months. I hope you knew that. I hope that you could see me, and remember what you said about standing in the train station after your mother's death and feeling free, the weight of it all lifted from your shoulders. I hope that you remember how it was with your mother, how you said in the end that it was her or you, and that when she understood, finally understood that... that was the end.
I don't want to put it that way, because I don't want to draw those parallels. I never did. But it was the same in so many ways, the disease, the obligation, the mental illness, the grinding wearing days. Knowing that whatever you do it not enough. Trying to keep your head above water.
Except that I'm stronger that you, and I always was, and I am going to survive this.
It's not a contest that I ever wanted to win. I believed, right up to those last months, that there would be a future in which we sat on the front porch in rocking chairs and made chicken noises.
And then I stopped believing. And I started fighting, and I let you go. It's the truth. I could not have done anything different, but it still true that I let you go. And that makes me so sad, because neither of us deserved any of this. And I wish that it could have been somehow different. I remember standing with my arms around you as you sat on the side of the bed and cried. I would go back there in a heartbeat and hold you even tighter.
I never stopped loving you, even when I couldn't. I know that makes no sense, but it's still true.
So many hopes and dreams and plans that never came true. So much in the wonderful person that you were... when you could be that person.
I miss you so much. I would not go back, for either of our sakes. But I don't think that there will be a moment of my life when I don't miss you in some way.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Just stop
I was doing ok today, even with everything, even with sitting around for hours in B&N waiting for things that didn't happen and beating myself up about how stupid I'm being. Read a good article about surviving trauma, thought about it a lot, positive. Even with the constant feeling of being on the edge of tears, I was still ok.
And then I started working on the Toshiba laptop, and there they were. All the history, all the bookmarks. Suicide sites. How to buy helium in balloon kits. Everything. I thought it was gone, thought I'd cleared all that out before. And there it is again.
I want to know when these things will stop hitting me. When will I stop finding landmines? When will a picture of an English landscape or someone saying a few words of Greek not pierce my heart? I am not trying to dwell. In fact, the opposite... I am trying to be present, trying not to think about these things, associate these things. But this fine edge of grief is stabbing at my heart all the time.
Michael... I miss you. I don't miss all the horrors, and I don't know if I can ever stop being angry, pointless though it is. Or heartbroken. But there is so much I miss about you, and I just miss my companion, my friend. So much past. So, so much past.
It is not the present. There is no point in thinking about how it was, because it has nothing to do with now. Now is just now. I can't live with the memories; they will kill me. But how to I move on?
There's nothing for me right now, just the motions of going through this life. Nothing that makes me happy, not that I can have right now anyway. I want something new, need it desperately. But that new thing... all I know to look for is a person, and that's the wrong thing right now. Just the wrong thing, and I know it. Too needy, too desperate. Sometimes I think that I can see how to move past that... but then it all vanishes, smoke and mirrors and more heartbreak.
And then I started working on the Toshiba laptop, and there they were. All the history, all the bookmarks. Suicide sites. How to buy helium in balloon kits. Everything. I thought it was gone, thought I'd cleared all that out before. And there it is again.
I want to know when these things will stop hitting me. When will I stop finding landmines? When will a picture of an English landscape or someone saying a few words of Greek not pierce my heart? I am not trying to dwell. In fact, the opposite... I am trying to be present, trying not to think about these things, associate these things. But this fine edge of grief is stabbing at my heart all the time.
Michael... I miss you. I don't miss all the horrors, and I don't know if I can ever stop being angry, pointless though it is. Or heartbroken. But there is so much I miss about you, and I just miss my companion, my friend. So much past. So, so much past.
It is not the present. There is no point in thinking about how it was, because it has nothing to do with now. Now is just now. I can't live with the memories; they will kill me. But how to I move on?
There's nothing for me right now, just the motions of going through this life. Nothing that makes me happy, not that I can have right now anyway. I want something new, need it desperately. But that new thing... all I know to look for is a person, and that's the wrong thing right now. Just the wrong thing, and I know it. Too needy, too desperate. Sometimes I think that I can see how to move past that... but then it all vanishes, smoke and mirrors and more heartbreak.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Too much empty time
I don't have any idea what to do with myself.
It's not that I don't have things to do. Things that I should do, things that possibly I would like to do... a lot of things that just need to be done. And it's not even that I can't concentrate, because the meds have helped.
I just don't have any interest in doing any of it. It's the first time in years that my life hasn't been so full that there were no choices at all. And for a while there, I loved that. I loved the absence of constant demands. I love the ability to get up in the morning and just be quiet. I love putting music on... putting things where I want... things staying picked up... not worrying about things being on the floor. All the practical stuff.
But I miss... something. I miss Michael, the old Michael... sort of, although in truth I miss the good things, lying in bed at night and playing Scrabble and laughing, making snacks at 2 a.m., talking about things, driving... I miss the old days in England. I miss the things that we never did once we were in the U.S., sitting next to each other on the couch and falling asleep, lying in bed and watching storms through the window. And planning a future.
And it's more that than anything else. It all seems pointless without someone else. I've been so lonely, and it seems for so long, since Michael got sick to begin with and everything changed. Nothing compensates for that loss of a life partner. I don't know if I will ever have that again. I don't know how to find someone like that anymore... where to even look. It's too soon, and I know it, but I can't stand the drifting loneliness, the lack of grounding. The moments with other people these days only seem to highlight it. I could make this work as is with just a little input, a little structure, but this on-again, off-again stuff with Tim is not that, and there's nothing to fill the gap, just a flirtation that is foolish for both of us and only highlights my aloneness.
I hate it, and I don't know how to get on some different path. I can do things that distract me from this, but it's a temporary thing, and they are probably not good in the long run. And it's only going to get worse when Jonathan goes to school in a couple of weeks.
What do I do next?
It's not that I don't have things to do. Things that I should do, things that possibly I would like to do... a lot of things that just need to be done. And it's not even that I can't concentrate, because the meds have helped.
I just don't have any interest in doing any of it. It's the first time in years that my life hasn't been so full that there were no choices at all. And for a while there, I loved that. I loved the absence of constant demands. I love the ability to get up in the morning and just be quiet. I love putting music on... putting things where I want... things staying picked up... not worrying about things being on the floor. All the practical stuff.
But I miss... something. I miss Michael, the old Michael... sort of, although in truth I miss the good things, lying in bed at night and playing Scrabble and laughing, making snacks at 2 a.m., talking about things, driving... I miss the old days in England. I miss the things that we never did once we were in the U.S., sitting next to each other on the couch and falling asleep, lying in bed and watching storms through the window. And planning a future.
And it's more that than anything else. It all seems pointless without someone else. I've been so lonely, and it seems for so long, since Michael got sick to begin with and everything changed. Nothing compensates for that loss of a life partner. I don't know if I will ever have that again. I don't know how to find someone like that anymore... where to even look. It's too soon, and I know it, but I can't stand the drifting loneliness, the lack of grounding. The moments with other people these days only seem to highlight it. I could make this work as is with just a little input, a little structure, but this on-again, off-again stuff with Tim is not that, and there's nothing to fill the gap, just a flirtation that is foolish for both of us and only highlights my aloneness.
I hate it, and I don't know how to get on some different path. I can do things that distract me from this, but it's a temporary thing, and they are probably not good in the long run. And it's only going to get worse when Jonathan goes to school in a couple of weeks.
What do I do next?
Thursday, August 16, 2012
My own fault
It is my fault that I've had too many drinks on an empty stomach, and that's making me sad and maudlin, and that's spurring all the rest of it.
My fault that I want to be with someone else too much. That I let myself fall into how great it feels to just enjoy someone else's company. To feel wanted, for whatever reason. To get lost in the only thing that really makes my head shut up these days. That I barely even care who that other person is, as long as I can get that distraction fix.
My fault for getting involved in an impossible friendship with someone who I want to just be quiet and make my head stop spinning. And that there's this huge physical attraction for me, but that I can't even talk to him about what his side of it might be. So I'm feeling all rejected because he doesn't want to be with me this weekend. Yes, he's on call. But he made that work before. And he didn't text me... I texted him, apparently so he could turn me down. And I don't know what the hell I expect or why I am being so butthurt. I obviously don't expect that he will always (or, I guess, ever) just drop everything or have nothing going on in his life just because I want him. (But you know what? I think I'm done with this, super attraction or not. Tonight's awkward texting, especially after the bat incident, means that the ball is in his court here, and I'm not holding my breath waiting for it to come back.)
And my fault, too, for starting to care more than a little about someone who isn't free to care about me, even though he wants to and he does. It's another road to heartbreak, for both of us, and I know it even if he doesn't. I resent that he wants to pull me down this road, and that I apparently don't have enough will to step away from it. Because that lure of attention and caring... it's the only thing that pulls me right now.
I was right to begin with when I said, no one for at least a year. I know that with absolute certainty. But I opened Pandora's box, and all this crap has flown out, and I can't shut the lid.
And everything I touch these days reminds me of Michael and how sad I am. I don't know what to do. I thought I could be alone, and I can, but it is so much better with someone else. Just to be with. My fault for feeling this way, for not just being able to sink my head into something else and move on. My fault.
My fault that I want to be with someone else too much. That I let myself fall into how great it feels to just enjoy someone else's company. To feel wanted, for whatever reason. To get lost in the only thing that really makes my head shut up these days. That I barely even care who that other person is, as long as I can get that distraction fix.
My fault for getting involved in an impossible friendship with someone who I want to just be quiet and make my head stop spinning. And that there's this huge physical attraction for me, but that I can't even talk to him about what his side of it might be. So I'm feeling all rejected because he doesn't want to be with me this weekend. Yes, he's on call. But he made that work before. And he didn't text me... I texted him, apparently so he could turn me down. And I don't know what the hell I expect or why I am being so butthurt. I obviously don't expect that he will always (or, I guess, ever) just drop everything or have nothing going on in his life just because I want him. (But you know what? I think I'm done with this, super attraction or not. Tonight's awkward texting, especially after the bat incident, means that the ball is in his court here, and I'm not holding my breath waiting for it to come back.)
And my fault, too, for starting to care more than a little about someone who isn't free to care about me, even though he wants to and he does. It's another road to heartbreak, for both of us, and I know it even if he doesn't. I resent that he wants to pull me down this road, and that I apparently don't have enough will to step away from it. Because that lure of attention and caring... it's the only thing that pulls me right now.
I was right to begin with when I said, no one for at least a year. I know that with absolute certainty. But I opened Pandora's box, and all this crap has flown out, and I can't shut the lid.
And everything I touch these days reminds me of Michael and how sad I am. I don't know what to do. I thought I could be alone, and I can, but it is so much better with someone else. Just to be with. My fault for feeling this way, for not just being able to sink my head into something else and move on. My fault.
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