I'm not a monster; I'm a widow.

There are so many things that are horrible when you mourn. Loneliness, anger, sadness are just a few. I think the worst is guilt. I'm not talking about survivor guilt - the "why is he gone and I'm still here" guilt that so many grief articles talk about. I'm talking about the guilt that comes from jealousy. I have it, and I hate it. I hate that I feel jealousy, and I hate that I feel guilty for feeling jealous.

Somebody celebrates a 10th, 25th, 50th, or any number in between anniversary, and while my lips say "happy anniversary", my brain screams "why do you get this and I barely got 7 years of my remarkable marriage?" Somebody celebrates that their cancer is in remission, and while I smile and share congratulations my heart screams "why couldn't we find a way for Brian's cancer to go into remission?"  Shortly after Brian's diagnosis I saw a car in the hospital parking deck that was filled with blue balloons and had an "It's a Boy" sign in the back window, and I blurted out"Fuck you!" Why did other people get to celebrate life, when Brian and my existence was defined by his impending death?

Of course I am happy for my friends who get to celebrate their love with double digit anniversaries! Of course I am glad when anyone can put cancer in their history. Of course I appreciate the beauty and promise of births. I'm not a monster, I'm a widow.

There are so many labels that can be used to describe me, but "widow" overshadows the rest. Being a widow discolors my world. Where once I could see beauty, I now see beauty and danger. Where once I could experience joy, I now feel it as fleeting. Where once I could feel hope, I no longer can. The envy that I feel when others celebrate anniversaries that cancer robbed us of isn't surprising. The melancholy that I feel when others celebrate life and I am reminded of death doesn't make me a bad person. The fact that celebrations often leave me feeling unbearably lonely doesn't mean I'm disconnected. I'm a widow, and my husband's illness and death redefined me. Cancer took his life, our life, my life.

I may find a path to happiness again, but Brian's death put my life on a whole new trajectory. I am alone on this uncharted path that I didn't choose. While I accept that I am here and that this is my new life, I got here kicking and screaming. I miss the life that I shared with Brian.; I miss my hopes and dreams of growing old with him; I miss coming home to someone who knew me better than I know myself. I miss my marriage; I miss my husband.

I'm ashamed when I feel envy over other people's happiness. It makes me feel petty, selfish, and small; but the guilt that I feel about my feelings is oppressing. I don't have energy for it. So I'm going to try and give myself a break. I'm going to try and remember that I'm human and that I'm trying to find beauty in the shadow of an unbearable loss. I don't lash out at others because they have reason to celebrate; instead I impose judgement on myself. I don't deserve it.

I'm not a monster; I'm a widow.

lonely

I honestly don't know if I'm Depressed or just unhappy - or even how I would tell the difference. I have family that loves me, I have friends that care about me, but I feel so alone in the world. I can't really talk to anyone except my therapist, and she doesn't talk back. I pay her to listen to myself drone on like a broken record. Things don't get better. 

This week I felt like everyone finds my to be annoying. I should just stop talking because nobody cares about what I say.

And writing this here, it sounds like indulgent self-pity, but it is how I feel. Really alone.

I hate having to ask people for help. I hate that I'm trying to organize social events that either fall through, or leave me feeling left out. I hate not having enough money to go out, to buy tickets to the theater, to take a much needed vacation. I hate carrying myself through this life as a widow.