Invisible

I don’t remember when I became invisible
It must have happened while I was sleeping

It has its benefits
I suppose.

For her

Every smile, every tear,

Everything in my life has settled into me -

My heart, my mind.

Every memory has its place,

Its room in this body that I call home.

Everything,

Except for you.

You have stained me.

You have seeped into every cell.

You have tainted me.

Turned white to grey and

Truth to lies.

You are the shadow cast over my days

You are the howl in the night

You are the silence that begs for a lullaby

And the screech that yearns for peace.

You are the pain that reminds me that I'm alive

And the ache that welcomes death

I don't know where you end

Or where I begin

Your need chokes me

Your anger scalds

You have taught me to hate

And to love

And how it is hard to distinguish between the two.

Comfort

It’s been so long. I should be better.

I realize now, that he was my comfort in life. I still love him, and I feel his love for me, but he can’t comfort me in this loss.

My time with him was the only time in my life when I felt comfortable being myself. He knew me and loved me, and let me be. I lost my husband, my lover, my best friend, and somehow I’m going on, but I don’t know how to go back to life without comfort. It is terrifying.

Faith

Rosh Hashanah begins tonight. This is the start of the Jewish Holy Days; a time when Jews gather as a community for self-reflection and penitence. I used to love these holy days. I appreciated the time to reflect on my achievements and failures. I took moral inventory to realistically see my strengths and weaknesses, to be grateful for all of the gifts in my life, and to resolve to work on bettering myself without judgement. I used to feel a wonderful peace in this opportunity to tune out the physical and focus on the spiritual.

Five years ago all that changed. After my husband Brian’s death I was consumed with grief. I become more active in attending religious services. I was desperate for some sort of comfort and understanding through Judaism.

I didn’t find it.

During those first holy days after Brian’s death,  I read about God deciding “who shall live and who shall die. Who by fire and who by water.” I read these words and felt an excruciating pain, because I do believe in God, but I can’t believe that God decided that Brian would develop cancer and die. I can’t believe that Brian’s death was some sort of punishment. I have never believed in a God that micromanages our lives. I believe in a God that gave us free will. Brian died because a cancer cell went rougue in his body and we did not have the ability to find it fast enough to stop it.

I am not angry at God because I don’t believe that God wanted to punish Brian or me. I think God is more involved in the big picture than with our daily lives, but I do get angry when I read those prayers. It has caused a real crisis of faith that I have been struggling with for five years.

Ultimately, I deal with this conflict by telling myself that the words of Torah, and the words in our sidurs are written by humans- no better, smarter, or chosen than me. That these are explanations and metaphors - not the actual word of God. This allows me to attend services. This allows me to say my own heartfelt prayers, to feel all the nuances of my gratitude and my grief, and to reject those parts of the service that offend me without being a bad Jew or a bad person.

So, as we prepare to observe these holy days, I am finally able to tell myself that these feelings do not make me a bad Jew; that I can reject these parts of our prayers without rejection my belief in God or my connection to my religion; that I can own my grief and anger without being ungrateful.

I still feel ambivalent about participating in services, and I still feel offended by these words; but I do finally believe that this is ok. I can immerse myself in self reflection and I can pray as a member of the community. I can own my discomfort.

As we begin this holy season, I wish all of you who celebrate a year of peace, health, happiness and understanding.

Complicated Grief

For several years I have been struggling with complicated grief. Grief changes with time, and it isn’t as raw and painful a it once was. It has changed things so profoundly in ways I wouldn’t have imagined. I knew that daily life would change; I expected to feel unbearable sadness and loneliness; I knew that I would always miss the future I had dreamed of; but I didn’t expect to lose myself. The loss of purpose and joy had been profound. I have felt like the best of me died with Brian and what was left we’re the qualities of which I am not proud. I feel more selfish, less companionate and quick to pass judgement.

So far 2018 has not been a good year. I’m fine - nothing particularly bad has happened to me, but a lot is happening with people around me. I have been feeling intense stress and anxiety. Things that Brian and I would experience and process together have been heavy on my shoulders, and the weight of my “aloneness” has been crushing. The last month for me has been pretty awful, and I coped by trying to sleep through as much of it as possible.

It has dawned on me, that this stress and anxiety might not be a result of complicated grief. I think it is the result of complicated life.

Brian, I believe, is the only person who has ever truly known me and love me unconditionally. There was nothing that we couldn’t talk about openly, there was complete trust, there was always a safe place for us to just be. All of our personal issues were discussed, understood, and forgiven. We both came with baggage, but together we were able to leave the baggage behind and move forward with so much less “weight”.

Now that he is gone the weight of my past is back. My self-confidence and worth are diminished, and my codependent tendencies now make me angry. I have been so angry since Brian died. Not at Brian or at God, but at myself and at all the people in my life who cant love me the way he could.

I love my family, but we are complicated. My mom is incredibly smart and determined, but she suffers from depression. It’s not her fault, she loves us, but she is self absorbed and fearful. As a result she never taught me to follow my dreams. She never let me take risks. She always looked at all the horrible things that could happen, so I never learned to take risks or push my limits. None of this is her fault, but her depression has framed the way that I think. With Brian I could allow myself out of that box, now I find myself back there.

My dad is great, but he wasn’t always. When my sister and I were little he was an absent parent. Not a deadbeat - the opposite- my dad was driven to take care of his family. He worked hard, he worked, earned his PhD, and provided for us. It was a different time - my mom raised the kids, my dad provided for us.

I have had a privileged life, I know that. I have always had food, clothes, a lovely home and access to education, but everything I did was a responsibility and not a joy.

My parents are now old. My dad goes to dialysis three days a week. He doesn’t complain. He has mellowed. He is accepting. My mom has been really suffering from her depression. She has been angry, selfish and irrational, but she is trying. And through it all, I have been so ambivalent. I am broken hearted to see my mom suffer. I am sad to know that their time is limited. I am also furious. Furious that I feel responsible for my mom’s mental health. Angry that my dad can’t say, “I love you.” Angry that they will ask me if i am saving money and keeping the house clean but they will never ask if I’m happy - did I do anything fun. All this anger makes me feel guilty and selfish and worthless.

This isn’t grief - this is my insecurity and weakness. This is all the stuff that I had never dealt with before Brian coming back, but he isn’t here to help me.

I feel so alone and overwhelmed, but I realize that nobody can help me with this. I have to reframe my thinking so that I can be the person that Brian lived - that compassionate and ion person. This is on me. I have to fix this.

complete

I didn't post here on the five year anniversary. April 20th.

I took the day off work and checked out. I got through the day - the weekend - by not being present. I don't know if that was wise, but it worked.

I don't want to blog, I don't want to journal, I don't want to talk.

I'm alone in this. Nobody cares. I have nothing left but anger. Anger that he had to die young. Anger that I'm alone in this and in life. Anger at the people who take their loved ones for granted. Anger at my parents for not teaching me how to cope. I think that I might be the strongest person I know. I am also unhappy, emotionally immature, and full of rage. I get up in the morning and I get through each day. I do what I have to do, then I go home alone. Strong doesn't mean shit. i don't want to be strong; I want to feel complete.

12 Years - the good death anniversary

I remember

Twelve years ago tonight we had a house full of people.
Twelve years ago tomorrow we married; it was perfect.

In front of our friends, family and God, we declared our commitment to something that started earlier. Everyone who knew us then, knew that we had something special. History, circumstance and background would have never had us together, but fate knew we belonged with each other. We were unconventional. We first fell in love, then met. How wonderful to fall in love with a person first, to love their heart and mind and soul before setting eyes on them. At a time when both of us might have been guarded, we let ourselves trust and love. I knew we would marry before I ever met you. I knew you were my heart. I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. That didn’t happen.

But you did spend the rest of your life with me- loving, trusting, supporting. You knew and understood me more than I know or understand myself. You allowed me to be me, and in the process let me know true happiness.

I regret that I came with baggage; that I never was able to leave it all behind, but carried it and let it weigh on my soul. I don’t know how you understood, and saw the love under the scars. All my self doubt, all my insecurities, all my faults, and still I was luck enough to be your wife.

I think what made us so great is that we put us first. It wasn’t about what was best for you or what was best for me - it was about what was best for us as a unit. We both grew as people within the framework of “us”.

Twelve years ago I was so happy, so lucky, so blessed. Twelve years ago I became your wife and you became my husband. It breaks my heart that we cannot celebrate this anniversary. It tears me apart that we cannot grow old together. I don’t know who I am outside of half of us. But I do know, without a doubt, that I am the luckiest .

To have had such an extraordinary love. It is rare. I don’t think many couples get to share the complete trust that we had. I don’t think many couples laugh as much as we laughed. I don’t think many people get to love as deeply as we loved.

Living without you is not easy. I feel like you would be disappointed. As hard as it is, I don’t give up. I give in to the pain, but I keep trying. For this anniversary I want to give myself the gift of peace. I want to accept what has happened. To do that, I think I need to stop trying so hard to live well, and focus on making sure that I die well. I don’t want to suffer a dibilitating disease, or whither away alone in a nursing home. I don’t want a diminished mind in a healthy body, or a diminished body with a strong mind. I don’t know if I will die tomorrow or in 40 years, but I want to focus on having a good death. In doing that, I will have to have more peace in the life I have left. I think that maybe you would be ok with that.

I love you so, and I miss you so much more than I could imagine. You absence is felt every single day. As sad as I am, I know that I am

I am

I am

The Luckiest.

Happy anniversary, Babe. I love you more than an elephant,

In a tutu

In a pink VW bug.
❤️