Struggle

Today is the fifth anniversary of Brian's sister's death. Connie was great. She was self aware, fun loving, and wise. She and Brian were so different in so very many ways, but they were both wonderful people who left behind legacies of love.

They both died far too young of cancer, but their experience with cancer was so different. Connie lived with breast cancer for 14 years. Fourteen years on active chemo. Fourteen years of not letting cancer define who she was, but of incorporating cancer as part of her self - not a favorite part certainly.

Brian was diagnosed and never came back home. He went from the hospital to hospice house and died only 3.5 months after diagnosis. Like Connie, he didn't let cancer define who he was, but the inevitability of his death was more immediate. From the moment he woke from surgery, he never had even a hint of normalcy left.

I don't think one is better than the other. They both suck. Whether you accept life with cancer and all the unpleasantness of controlling it for more than a decade, or whether you suddenly come face to face with mortality without the opportunity to choose the path of your last days, they both ended up leaving this world too soon. They both are gone.

I don't know where I am going with this. I have no words of wisdom. I would like to say that I've learned to embrace all the good and bad in life, and to live it to it's fullest because I've loved others who didn't have that opportunity, but I would be lying. I'm struggling. I'm struggling to accept my losses, and to find happiness despite them. But, I suppose, the fact that I'm struggling means that I am still trying. So many changes have been forced on me, and I'm sad, angry and depressed, but I still have some hope for a good life in the future. Some days it is harder to imagine, but I'm struggling to get there.

Sometimes it is all just too hard, but I think that Brian and Connie would be proud of me. I think that they would understand just how difficult this is.

I miss them both.

More Goodbyes

Life moves on whether we want it to or not. Sometimes it forces us to do things we don't want to do, and it is hard, and it hurts, and time doesn't ease that pain.

Two years ago I lost my Brian; the most horrible thing that I ever experienced. Last September I lost our cat, Tater. When Brian and I met I had two cats and he had one. Tater was ours. The sweet, loving kitty we adopted together. We both loved all of them, but Tater was ours. A week ago I lost our Lola Dog. She was ours. Our sweet, beautiful girl. I was her mommy and Brian was her best friend. She had a rough life before we adopted her, then she lost her best friend. Now I lost her. She was only 7, and her death was sudden and unexpected and horrible. When Lola left I lost all of them; my entire family. The pain was too much. Then a few days later I lost my job. That wasn't so painful, I hated that job. No, actually I liked the job, but the pay was lousy and my boss was abusive. I'm not sad to be out of that unnecessarily stressful atmosphere. But being unemployed now is scary.

My unemployment payment calculation includes the period when I missed so much work before and after my last back surgery. My unemployment compensation will be frighteningly low. I am completely dependent on my parents and my sister, and while I am so grateful to have a family that can help me, I am horrified that I need that help to survive.

For a while now I have been talking to friends about selling my house. I don't want to. I dread it. Brian and I build this house together, and it was a wonderful project for us. We both loved this house. We had so many happy memories in this house. And while those memories will always be with me, leaving this house, this last place where we lived together is heartbreaking. I've thought about it for some time, and always pushed it off. The house is too big for me. I can't keep up with the cleaning and maintenance. With my health problems, but stressful job, and my grief, the work was too much.

Now I'm being forced to get it ready for the market. I'm going out tomorrow with my realtor to look at condo options in town. My husband is gone. Our pets are gone. My finances are in ruin. My health is shabby. And now I am being forced to say goodbye to the house that we both loved.

Perhaps this is a good thing. Perhaps I hemmed and hawed for so long that life and all it's losses are forcing me to make the decisions that I couldn't make unemotionally.  Downsizing will make my life more manageable. Downsizing will make my finances much healthier. Downsizing is the right thing to do. But I feel like all the things we loved and shared will be lost. I just adopted a new little doggie named Max. Brian will never know him. I am looking for a job that Brian will never know about. I will be meeting new people that won't know Brian and who Brian never met. I will be living in a new place that was never Brian's. Now it is my dog, my job, my home, my life. Mine, and not ours. If anyone thinks that this is a healthy moving on, they are wrong. This might be the right thing for me to do, and I'm proud of myself for my pragmatism, but while my head is doing the right things, my heart is kicking and screaming. I hate this. I don't want a life without Brian. I don't want new things that he will never know.

Now I have to say goodbye to everything. And while it is the right thing to do, it hurts so very much. I hate this. I never asked for a new life. I don't want this new life, and I can't possibly have the old one back. My spirit feels crushed. My heart is heavy. I hate goodbyes.

When it rains, it pours

So, today I got layed off. As soon as I got to work I knew, but of course they waited eleven hours to tell me. You get to figure out people you work with, so I had several hours to prepare.

Budget constraints. They needed more money so my position was eliminated. Well, you can't get blood from a stone, so I guess it is better to be layed off and look for work full time than to not get paid for time work. Of course if the partners had been better business people they wouldn't be in this position, but, alas.

While I handled the "discussion " professionally, I was seething. I don't think they handled it well. Nobody likes letting people go, but I think you should grow a set and actually look at the person you are sending to the unemployment office. In any cases, it is done. I'm upset because in many regards I feel that I was lied to. I did the right thing when I had to, but good deeds often go rewarded. I know that I worked hard and am leaving that place better than I found it.

It wasn't an easy ride. While employed there I developed an eye condition that damaged my vision and causes chronic pain. I had a doctor tell me that my husband had terminal cancer, and spent every day for the next 3 1/2 months with him in hospital and hospice. Several surgeries, painful wound care, two rounds of chemo. He died in my arms. (During this time my boss was incredibly compassionate.)

Seven months later I had back surgery. Painful, but my parents flew in to help me as I healed. Five months later cataract surgery. Four months later my back went out again. If the first time was painful, the second time was excruciating and immobilizing. By the time I had the surgery the smallest movement left me screaming and crying.  This is around the time my boss started hating me.  Nothing I did was right. My coworkers called her out on her cruelty and she apologized, but after a day or two the hostility was back.  A dear friend took me to the hospital, and I spent two nights there. Then I was sent home alone.

The following weekend I had been looking forward to attending my niece's wedding. Instead she arranged for her brother to skype the ceremony so I could watch live. A few hours earlier a dear friend, one of Brian's hospice nurses, came over for coffee. Tater, Brian and my cat jumped up to visit, and we immediately knew something was wrong. His eye was sunken and weeping, he had some sort of puss on his fur, and his breath was foul. I couldn't lift him, so Sharon put him in his crate and drove us to the vet. Cancer in his mouth had grown up into his sinus cavity and was pressing on his eye. There was nothing to do for him. I held him and cried as he was "put to sleep".

It was heartbreaking.

That Monday I called my office. My boss, who had read of Taters death on FaceBook didn't offer condolences. Instead she accused me of being a suicidal drug addict and told me not to return to work until I got my act together. I have never been suicidal  nor a drug abuser, and I was shocked and hurt. I healed and returned to work part time. Then one Sunday afternoon I started having horrific back spasms. Friends took me to the ER, where heavy duty muscle relaxers and pain killers eventually calmed things down. It was late evening so I called my boss to tell her I was in the ER and would not be at work the next day. She never asked what happened or if I had an accident or illness. Her only comment was, "if you're not going to be at work tomorrow, you better get a doctors note."

Things never got better. Her hostility continued to get worse. Not one to give anyone any benefit of doubt, she snapped, barked, yelled, or gave her special brand of dagger eyes every chance she got. If anyone in the office did anything wrong, I was blamed. It was daily abuse. I have been looking for a better opportunity, but hadn't nailed down anything yet.

So today I felt angry, then sad, then like a total loser. And then a new way to think about it occurred to me. I started listing my haves and have nots. I don't have my husband, my cat, my sweet dog, my health or my financial security. Frightening! And while I no longer have a salary (did I mentioned how pathetically underpaid I've been?), I also no longer have a job in a toxic environment with an abusive job. I may not have much that is good, but maybe losing a job that sucked the life out of me isn't so bad.

I need a job. I need benefits which she didn't offer. I need to work and have a sense of accomplishment and pride. I need to be in an environment where I don't have to walk on eggshells.

Losing my Lola and my job in the same week has been horrible. Nothing will ever replace Brian, Tater or Lola; but this job.....this job can be replaced with something to much better. It might not happen as fast as I would like, but saying goodbye to the toxicity of that job might be my biggest win in years!

Believe it or not, this was the cliff noes version. I didn't even touch on the racial, anti-Semitic and misogonistic and insensitive comments from the not so silent partner.

Wow. I think that now I might even get a decent night of sleep.

Bad luck

Lonliness wraps itself around your heart like a strangling vine. It possesses you and slowly forces your surrender. I hate my life, but I'm held so tight by the grip of pain so I can't break free.


Bad luck. Was it bad luck that took Brian so young? Was it bad luck that Lola didn't stand a chance?


Is my situation bad luck or the result of poor management, weak skills, or laziness?
My family is gone. My vision is severely limited. My health is uncertain. My finances are unstable.
Is all this my fault, the design of a punitive G-d, or just an unfortunate play of fate.


In any case, I feel beaten down, impotent to create change. I feel like a drifter in a storm. Danger and loss are everywhere. Hope is gone.

exhaustion

I keep looking for Lola.

She is gone and it is so hard to find a reason to get out of bed in the morning. When I walk to the kitchen I look for her. She would always come looking for a treat. The doorbell rang and I jumped because nobody could get near my house without her announcing them.  I look for her everywhere.

I still look for Tater. He was my baby boy. He used to curl up at night and sleep on my head.

Tater and Lola where Brian and my babies.  When we met I had two cats and he had one.  Tater and Lola where ours. We were a family.  Now all three are gone. For the first time in 29 years I live completely alone. It is both heartbreaking and terrifying. My family is gone and I am left alone with my pain, fear, disappointment and anger. My sweet Tater lived a long life, but Brian died at 48 and Lola at 7.

I have chronic pain, and this grief amplifies it. Since Lola died I have had an unbearable headache. Tomorrow I see my doctor to see if we can find some answers about my eye. I know Brian would be so disappointed in me, but I wish I receive a terminal diagnosis. I just don't have the energy for chronic emotional and physical pain.

There are many people who I love, and I have many people who love me. I am great full for them, their love, and their support, but I'm sad, lonely, and exhausted. I can't find anything to feel passionate about. I can't find anything to look forward to. Life isn't going to change for me. I have to change, but I really don't know how. I really want to stop fighting.

Pain and Loss

I guess there are no limits on pain and loss. I would like to think that one might reach a limit after which they could be free of additional loss, but it just isn't so. At one time perhaps I believed that love and joy had no limits. Now I'm afraid to believe anything.

I have lost so much. My husband, my marriage, my partner, my career, my financial security, my health, my confidence, my cat, and my sweet sweet beautiful dog. Nothing is left from my life with Brian except memories, and while there are great memories they are shadowed by painful ones. I will always remember the incredible joy of my marriage, but the incredible pain of Brian's death is right there. I will always remember how happy we were to adopt Tater and then Lola, and now they are both gone too. All three died in my arms.

Every part of me hurts. Every part of me wants to give up.

If one more person tells me how strong I am, I might literally crumble. Fuck strength. Fuck courage. Fuck surviving.  I want to lean on someone. I want to acknowledge all my fears. I want someone to love, comfort, and protect me.  I want to be able to find something to look forward to. I want to do more than survive, but I am terrified that any more loss will leave me paralyzed.

My house is empty. The silence is screaming. I am overcome with pain and fear. I am afraid to want; afraid to hope; afraid to be vulnerable.  I'm done. I surrender.

i hate my life

Two years ago my beloved husband Brian died of cancer in my arms.
Last year our beloved cat Tater died of cancer in my arms.
Today our beloved dog Lola died of cancer in my arms.
My heart is beyond repair. My family is gone.

Hope. Fear.

It seems like forever since I've written here.  It has only been a few months, but they have been long months.  I've wanted to post several times but have had password problems.  I finally got them figured out, so here I am.  How to catch up?


Grief doesn't end.  Two years and four months and the pain is so strong.  I don't know how to approach life.  My grief has to be private - others not in this position can't understand it anymore.  I do have good things in my life, but there is an underlying foundation of wrongness since Brian's death.

I can't share my honest thoughts or fears, and the energy that it takes to appear ok is exhausting.

My job is sucking the life out of me.  I'm not sure when or why my boss started hating me, but it is a reality that is hard to live with.  I spend more time at work than with anyone else, and her behavior is abusive.  She isn't a morning person, and that is not on me, but starting every work day with her snapping or yelling is unbearable.  No matter what I do it is wrong.  She treats me like I am less than human, and I really don't feel that I've done anything to warrant this behavior.  I've been looking for a new job, I really need benefits, but I can't find anything.  I'm overqualified, or under qualified.  I did have great interviews for two jobs.  The first told me that I had the job, but then gave it to someone else.  I need more money.  Even if I made the same salary, having benefits would save me a lot.  I am living beyond my means.   I'm not extravagant with spending, but I can't make ends meet.  My parents are helping to support me, and while I am grateful, the knowledge that I need their support to get by has destroyed my sense of self worth.  I know that I am more than my job title or my salary, but I don't feel it.  I'm no longer a wife.  I'm not anyone's mom.  I'm not important to anyone in the way that Brian and I were important to each other.

My health is more or less ok, but I have worries.  My eye condition seems to be worse lately, and constant pain takes a toll.  I'm seeing some new doctors.  The cause of my eye problem may be a blood condition.  If so, the eye injections I receive are fine, but the systemic medications might be all wrong.  This condition could also cause other more serious problems.  Or not.  The uncertainty is hard to handle alone.

I have friends.  I have people that are important to me, but when it comes to the big stuff I feel very alone.  I've been making an effort to not isolate myself.  I'm trying to reach out and make plans.  I'm trying to find a new job.  I'm trying to find interest in life, but I'm alone and scared and sad.

This is not a life I want, and I don't seem capable of changing that.  I hate not having a true partner. I hate my job.  I hate that I'm no longer financially independent.  I hate that I have health issues.  So much hate!

I love my dog.

Grief changes over time.  It isn't as crushing as it once was.  But life seems more hopeless now, and that only gets worse with time.  I'm so afraid.  Brian would have understood that.