mangled and incomplete

I told someone recently that it feels like I am dying.  And it does.  Or at least I imagine in some ways it might.  It's as if all the things that made me, not so much who I am, but solid, are being pulled away.  Like I am a magic trick, the one where the tablecloth is pulled out from under you and all the dishes stay standing.  But instead of being pulled out swiftly, the threads that support me are constantly being unraveled. They began with the diagnosis, in October of 2010, three years ago.  When John died, the candles in the center fell and now, in addition to my tablecloth being unraveled, everything is on fire.  Things are still recognizable.  Some things are still lovely.  But mostly the tattered and charred and smoldering bits and pieces leave me confused, scared, angry.

I try to think of who I was, in his eyes.  And I don't really know.  So I try to think about who I was when I met him, but that would be backtracking on a significant amount of progress.  Although I do wish I could tap into the joy I felt at finally being able to teach my own class.  That was an immense and wonderful feeling.  So I try to think of the things that I embraced through our relationship.  I feel like so many of those things are beyond ethereal...traveling was a big one.  I had gone through Europe in a whirlwind tour that was a dream come true that I never ever thought I'd realize.  Then, I took myself to Australia to get my SCUBA license on the Barrier Reef, I tried surfing, rode in a Tiger Moth, went skydiving...What a treasure and magical gift those adventures were.  I got to announce dive shows to literally hundreds of people at Thorpe Park in London while he set himself on fire and did goofy dances day after day.  And our honeymoon was in South America, the Galapagos Islands and Machu Pichu.  That was something we had talked about, dreamed about, when we were dating and I was living in La Plata.  We were emailing a lot at the time, living two hours away.  A relationship through letters and phone calls, and weekends full of passion and playfulness and desperation.

I can't afford to travel anymore.  I have no one to watch the dogs and it would mean tickets and accommodations for four.  I barely make enough to get bills paid and take a few trips to Luray Caverns, see a few movies, and buy clothes for their growing bodies and my fluctuating one.

I was loving Tae Kwan Do at the time and learning to bounce on his trampoline team.  Now, not only do I not have the time for classes, I had a hard time finding a martial arts studio I liked when I moved here.  Plus, my damn body hurts!  My knees are the worst.  And as for flipping again, I couldn't keep up pace with simply bouncing at this point.  These things feel a little more like excuses than the money issues, I have to admit.  But I do feel like right now, I have three days of activities during the week, and church on Sundays.  That leaves Monday, Friday, and Saturday to rest, spend time with the kids, do what seems like three hundred loads of laundry, go grocery shopping, and try to do some tiny little version of cleaning something in the house.  I can't add anything else right now.

Who else was I, that he fell in love with?  It was so much easier to maintain a smile and a laugh.  I feel like I still laugh a lot, but there is this deep dark gray that lurks under the covers.  Even if you can't see it out there, it squeezes everything inside me.  All the time.  I was not naive.  I had already experienced quite a lot.  But there was a tenderness to my hope.  I haven't really let go of hope.  But it doesn't feel tender anymore.  It feels mildly bitter, it feels frayed, certainly subdued, almost violated.

It is too early to look for someone to walk beside me, to hold my hand, to help things feel lighter.  To help me laugh.  But I think of my babies and how much easier it is for the younger ones to accept a big change and how hard they might fight someone coming into our family the longer they have only me to rely on.  And I think of the fact that I am 39.  Perhaps 40 would have been a hard age to face even with John alive and well...but it doesn't seem that way when I think back.  What feels scary is that I am a 39 year old widow with three small kids, 60 extra pounds that won't go away no matter how well I eat (thank you, stress...and wine), and far more than what feels like my fair share of baggage to wade through.  Who the HELL would be willing to wade through all the crap I carry to jump into life with me?  With anyone who carried this much?  Maybe if I was younger...or if I were older and the kids were older, almost grown...or if I was my strong and healthy weight?

But these are all "what ifs" and I don't normally do those much.  I never saw the point.  So there is another change.

I do feel like I am dying...like the woman he loved died with him and was burned up as his body was incinerated...pieces of her, melting into him.  And I feel like I am still burning up and reforming...like I am metal in a forge...and life keeps whacking the hell out of me, a blacksmith with a hammer and no clear plan of what they are making.  I want out.  I want to be done.  And I can scream all I want from inside the flames, but there's no one who can hear me. 


Besides, I don't want to come out all mangled and incomplete.  So I have to stay in...I have to stay feeling like I am dying till the fire burns out. 

moving forward, moving back...mostly deflated

For a while, I was laughing and smiling and moving along pretty well.  And then I realized the crutch I was using was not something that was mine to use.  So I put it down.  And when I did, I looked around me and saw, so deeply, that John was not there.  My insides crumbled again.  But when you are a mom and you support your kids all alone, you don't get to stop.  So I kept moving. 

There are small things that help with that.  But damn, this hand is f*cking hard to play.  Today, I stayed home and did 5 (yes five) loads of laundry, made pancakes for breakfast, another batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, cut up fresh fruit and cheese to have with carrots hummus and cheese for lunch, watch Star Wars 4 (again) with the kids, and literally just crawled through an empty shitty lonely day.  I think of all of you out there that have someone beside you.  Even if they are annoying and frustrating and don't get it a lot of the time, you are still not alone.  And those of you who would tell me that I have kids, you just don't understand.  If you stop and think a moment, you would know that is not what I mean. 

The washing machine seems to have a leak of some sort.  As does the faucet in the kitchen sink.  And no matter how much I bust my ass, nothing is ever clean.  

In my support group, there is this sweet woman who brings her husband's shirt.  It is just one of his t-shirts.  Nothing too special.  But she sprays it with his cologne.  And so it smells like him.  And she said her daughters (who are older- I forget how old, teens?) come in to her room sometimes to get a sniff.  She said she heard the one who is married talking about what she is going to do when she loses her husband because he doesn't wear cologne.  She wondered if she would end up rubbing his deodorant all over a shirt.  And that is just what I was thinking while she was talking, because John didn't wear cologne!  So tonight, when I got in my jammies (a new red, silky nighty I bought myself) I put his deodorant on.  Because of course I haven't gotten rid of it.  At first it didn't really smell like him, but now that I am sweating a little, it sort of does.  It is bitter sweet.

And our homework was to write a letter to him, to our husbands.  Just the statement made me cry.  And I wrote it last night.  I haven't sobbed that hard since the week after he died.  It's not even that I don't know what to do without him.  It's more that I don't WANT to know what to do without him.  I want HIM BACK.  We were not a perfect couple.  We had work to do.  But he loved me so much!  And I have never felt love like that- no matter what happened, I trusted him, believed in him, I knew he would be there for me.  And now all I have is an echo of him in everything I do.  I suppose I'm honored to have that, but it's just not enough.

The other thing, since I put that crutch down, is that the anger is visible below the surface again.  Close enough that it rears it's head a couple times a day.  It isn't as nasty.  But it is still as strong.  

I remember how I felt on our wedding day, in small ways.  I look at our pictures, and I remember feeling so full of joy, I was buzzing...every part of my body felt like it was alive and full of everything powerful.  I was excited and I knew that nothing was going to work out perfectly and it would all still be beautiful because I was walking the path to meet HIM.  He was so different from anyone I had ever known, from anyone I ever dreamed would love me.  I didn't have to be tough or cool to impress him.  I just had to be me.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

trying hard

the evening drizzle is cold enough to sting
in the aftermath
the cricket songs are continuous
the soft breeze creates gently dancing tree shadows
on my neighbors wood fence

I dream of moving
but there is so much
I would have to pack
I remember maneuvering his wheelchair
through houses we were shopping for

My baby says he misses daddy
My oldest asks if I am used to being without him yet.
No, I say.  No, I'm not.
I am, he says. 

I awake covered in pee,
I make everyone breakfast but me
grab my coffee and a Luna bar
and don't stop moving from 6:20 a.m. till 9:15

strange things
break me
at moments I can't predict
but mostly I can smile and play
while inside my heart curdles
because each moment, good or bad,
moves me away from him

How is it that he is not here? 
I don't understand that.
I live it, I just don't understand it.

sometimes I wish I could light myself up
like a cigarette or a candle or a fire work
burn and glow and send smoke into the atmosphere
and be done
I'd leave trailer lights behind the eyes of anyone who saw me
and I wouldn't have
to try
so
damned
hard.

beginnings of my credo?

Beauty is not how you look.  It is how you love and how you speak and how you walk.

belief is not what you find written by someone.  It is what makes your heart relax and what touches your center in a way that opens everything inside you to hope.

Greatness is not being right or being followed or admired.  It is knowing what is right and standing up for it, while not allowing your stance to be on the backs of anyone else.

let the rain touch my pores.  let my heart connect to the mist that caresses the crevices of each mountain nook.  these are the places that allow me to live, without judgement

There are not answers.  There are questions cradled in the glowing sunsets, the sparkling sunrises, the crackling fires, and the smooth sleek tumbles of river waters

I believe there is nothing but what is here and can be felt, or created between each of us, be the pairing human, ursine, aquatic, somehow sentient, or solid and of the earth.

There is power in each of these things.  Some carry power in words, some in caress, some in strength and solidity or in their simple existence.

Find a path.  Hold a hand.  Touch something other than yourself.  These simple things are what I believe in.  These connections.  These moment of clarity that breathe comfort into the indifference or pain which all too often engulfs us.  There is no god or God, no Goddess or gods judging us, loving us, choosing among us, helping or hurting us...there is energy. There is expansion, growth, destruction, pain, death, sorrow...and love. If there is anything akin to being saved, it is feeling, finding, accepting LOVE. 

There is Divine Connection.

.

wishing for the woods

I am so tired.  I feel numb and hollow and lost.  I hate going to sleep at night because I know it will bring another day that I have to fight my way through.  I can't keep up with anything.  I have this friend who is a lawyer and several years back she was in a horrible car accident.  This was before we met.  They didn't know if she would live.  After recovering, she had so much pain for so long, they ended up needing to do this operation to implant a device that sends pain medication through her system at regular intervals.  You would never know there was anything wrong with her.  Plus, her third and youngest son is one of the kids that has the type of peanut allergy that, when combined with his asthma, could kill him, and almost has on several occasions. 

What this seems to have done is create this very intelligent woman who has a huge heart and a phenomenal talent for saying the right things at the right times.  At least to me.  I remember when John was first diagnosed, she used to pick up Aiden and take him to preschool with her two boys ever day.  One day, I got Aiden to the door and things were crazy as I was trying to get stuff organized to get John to NIH for his chemo and we weren't even close to being ready...she stopped me and told me in this amazing and awe struck tone that I get the kids waffles for breakfast every day and keep things going.  I was all "yeah, and?"  She told me that was huge.  That it was normal and one of the hardest things ever when you are dealing with they type of thing we were dealing with.  I had never thought of that.  She stopped me in my tracks.  Something in her eyes made me take the compliment, even though I didn't really get it, and something in her voice gave me a deep comfort. 

And now I get it...the fact that I am getting them their V8 Fusion every day, that I talk about getting protein and fiber and things like that, even when dinner is not so stellar (most nights), that I give them whole food vitamins...that we have clean (albeit unfolded) laundry at all...these things are so huge.  Gargantuan.  Because all I want to do is find a rock to crawl under.  No, some woods to go hide in. 

I want to set up a tent with no one around for miles.  I want to hike so far that my legs buckle, I want to be in the middle of nowhere so I can take my shirt off if I want and feel the wind and sun on my body.  I want to be rained on.  I want to get my hands and feet all dirty and muddy.  I want to have the smell of green things filling my nostrils and my pores.  I don't want to have anyone to talk to.  I want to be able to cry to the stars and even wail and not worry about who hears.  I want to strip and swim naked at night with the moon shimmering wavy on the water...I want to hide.  And I don't get to. 

So I write.  And stare, and struggle to find my smile.  And put one foot in front of another.  Over and over.

something like this could be a good choice...

like a bad dentist visit for my soul

I struggled so much this week.  I have let go of some of the inappropriate things I was doing for support.  They have been replaced my nothing but myself.  So the barricades are down and the waves crashing onto my shore are threefold what I thought I would face.  Or something like that.  Either way, I had three anxiety attacks in one day, found myself breathing deeply to avoid yelling, and finally had to take a mental health day on Friday. 

Today was like being dipped in Novocaine and drilled on.  We went to Adventure Park for a birthday party.  Last time we were there was the last little playful adventure we had with John.  I remember how hard it was to maneuver through everything with him on the wheel chair.  I remember constantly having to lift his left arm and put it in his lap so that it would not bang on things.  I remember how crooked his smile was, with the muscle weakness intensifying, and how hard that made it for me to truly enjoy his smile.  Then we went to the memorial service for my friend's father.  I didn't cry.  I did get tears in my eyes.  The quotes that she and her husband ended their speeches with  wonderful.  The service wasn't too long.  But my head was spinning, leaving me a little dizzy.  The exhaustion that lays on my shoulders feels elephantine.

Somewhere in the deep center of my chest, I think I can feel the place that proves I will get through this period of pain.  I can't really explain that.  Nor can I really reach it.  But it is there.  And if I am wrong, and it isn't there, I have to make it.  I have to build it into that tiny hollow space, make it grow and get stronger, choose the color, the size, the shape...

Aiden asked me this morning if I am used to not having Daddy now.  I told him I am not.  He said "I am."  We talked about how he will miss his dad at different times throughout his life.  We talked about how we had different relationships, that he was their dad, but my husband.  He was my favorite grown up human being in the world.  And Neil has been talking about his dad, too.  He has said that Daddy is in his heart, that he doesn't want me to to die.  My little three year old is thinking of these things at random moments in our day.  Plus, at the service today, Aiden was asking questions about if what was coming was going to be like when his dad died.  How is it that I live in this bizarre, alternate reality?  I never had any sort of plan.  I never said that I wanted a guy like x, y, and z.  I didn't have a plan for how old I would be when I got married, how many kids I would have, or any of those things.  I never even dreamed of what my wedding would be like, until after John proposed.  But I never expected something like this.  And I just do not know what to do with this. 

I do not want to be alone.  Not for five years, not for eleven, most certainly not for my life.  But I just don't know how I will ever find someone that will love me through the ruins that surround my heart.  Through the insane anger that seems to permeate everything around me.  And at the same time, I do not want to be with someone, like in Some Kind of Wonderful, for the wrong reasons.  I would rather be alone that with someone who wasn't kind enough, patient, committed, funny, smart...whose crazy fit my heart well enough to reach the gaps in me.

And I have no clue how to find that kind of person.  I have no clue how to be a solo mom. I have no clue how to keep the house clean, the laundry done, be a wonderful teacher, keep my temper in control, care for the dogs...in short, I have no clue what I am doing.  I have no clue who I will be when this part of my journey settles enough that I can see around me.  I wish I had someone here, close enough to me, to help me remember some of the things that I want to be...but we all have our own journeys.  And many people love me.  But none enough to accurately help me with this.  It has to be me.  And I have learned to love myself and live well on my own in the past.  It's just that now I have three kids,  a teaching career, and soooo much more pain I have to deal with.  I have a good archetype to work with, a good foundation.  But I have no mason to help me build.  I have no guide, no compass, no active team of workers.  I have lovely random patrons and momentary hands to join my cause.  I am incredibly grateful for those...

But I am lonely, and I have many broken parts, and I am scared.  And angry.  And it is so damn hard. 

And it doesn't matter.  I have to keep going...I have our babies to care for. 

Will I ever be done?

too much time
feeling the lonely aches
not enough time
letting the pain through

till too much
piles up
and other things drift away
so...
all of a sudden
the world
               without him
seeps in

Reality creeps into
every pore
till there's no room left
for the tears I hadn't known
I was holding
inside.  Like someone turning
on a faucet
they come
and they don't stop
not for anyone

All the layers
of empty and full
twist and curl
combining in my head
writhing and convulsing
some alien creature growing

A woman says she is no longer
who she had been
which makes me wonder
who I am becoming

and how I will know
when I
finally have
become.