A rant. Blogging—who the hell am I writing to? Blogs are posted online and then what? You think your friends are reading them. As a way of keeping in touch with you and understanding what you are going through. But my friends are not reading my blog. I don't know who the hell is reading my blog.
I do know that I get these wonderful compassionate insightful comments from people I don't have a clue who they are. Just that something I wrote touched them to such an extent that they feel a need, a desire to reach out and touch me back. They get my pain. They connect with my pain. I guess that is the point. They are a gift to me from this blog.
But my friends? They don't want to think about the pain. So I walk around like I am in a bubble. In the bubble I have my pain and my grief. And I interact with regular people, normal people, people who have not lost a spouse, husband, wife. People who are not widows/widower. That's what normal people are. I say things, they say things back to me. There is an interaction—but the pain and grief inside the bubble is untouched.
These "others" I talk to—but they don't get it. They just see—I guess they just see what they want. Maybe the bubble is like a mirror. It reflects back what they want to see. They don't want to see inside. They don't want to see my pain. To them I am on a girls night out. They forget while they go home to their respective husbands, I go home to an empty house.
It is a really strange, bizarre, isolating existence. And if one more person tries to relate to me by saying they understand because their mother/father/sister/brother died, and then add their cat/dog/bird/gerbil died.....Hey, I'm an animal person and I keep hearing about dead pets. Does everyone get this? Do people say these insane things to other widows? It is mind blowing.
You think your friends are there, and they are not. They want to just keep moving forward. They don't want to hear that you are still grieving. They want to explain it away or they just don't want to go anywhere near the pain, the grief. And because I am still in pain and grieving, they don't keep in touch.
I have established what I call my Do Not Call List. This is for people who want to fix me. Or tell me I'm fine. Or have just the book that will cure me. Friends who don't want to take the time to listen to my pain at a particular month anniversary. Friends who believe I should be over it by now. They are.
I now see there is a universal Do Not Call List. And I've been put on it by a lot of people who I thought were my friends. Maybe the grief is too terrifying. Or losing a spouse is too terrifying. Widowhood—you do not want to go there. They don't want to think about it. And if they relate to me too much and if they empathize with me too much it means they have to think about the unthinkable. Thinking about what if their husband/wife died.
So I am left here in my bubble. In my bubble I can appear "normal" to some people. Does this mean I put my old friends on my Do Not Call List? And just stay with my new widow friends?!?! It is a really bizarre consideration. I find that I can open my soul to people I've known for such a short time because we share the pain and grief. And I can't open my soul to people I've known for a long time because they don't want to share that pain and grief. I find I am now searching for connections and compassion and understanding, and that distraction is no longer enough.
Hi Jamie,
ReplyDeleteI don't know if you will get this reply to the blog unless I send it to you personally so if you get it twice attribute that to my innocence about blogs. I have been reading your messages right along - I even have a file for them because I think they are interesting and also because they mark out your progression from the time Rob died until now. I'm pretty sure that one day I will find real personal comfort in that if I am the surviving spouse.
I've still got my husband so I don't have personal experience with what you are going through. I have had several very close friends who have had to deal with the death of a beloved spouse and from listening to them over the years I recognize that some of what you are going through was their experience also.
They have heard all the "I know what you are going through because I lost my mother/father/sister/brother/ cat/dog/bird/gerbil." The universal reactions range from THAT'S NOT THE SAME AS LOOSING A SPOUSE to knowing that whom ever says such an insensitive thing is well intentioned but being really stupid.
Everyone I know who has lost a spouse had figured out that they end up on a "do not call" list and that's largely from fear, as if the death of a spouse could be caught like a cold. Jackie Signore was furious when people she and her husband Joe had known simply refused to reminisce about him or let her talk about him. She did it anyway and took delicious pleasure in watching them squirm. Take heart and move on to be with people who aren't going to force you to conform to some idea that they have. It's ok to be yourself and to express that sadness and loneliness.
You talk about life in a bubble - I asked my friend Lee about that. (Lee lost her husband 8 years ago to stomach cancer) She says that you have a good description of what it feels like at about 6 months out. She also says to hang in there because you are in transformation and will find a new place of balance.
I hope that helps.
Love,
Liz
03/22 was the anniversary of my wife's death after battling hard against cancer. We knew it was terminal but she wanted to fight and I supported her. I wanted her not to go. I cry often. Often unlooked for, it takes me by surpise. I was reading yesterday and there was a passage about a guy who lost his wife and did not cancel her cell phone just so he could hear her voice again. I had just cancelled that line the week before the anniversary. I sat there alone holding my book, looking at her picture and sobbing as if I had lost part of my soul. Well, I have! And it still hurts. And that is OK. It shows the depth of love we had. It wasn't perfect, but it was perfect anyway. Crying happens as I am driving, walking through the grocery store or other times. Not so often now as before. It is more like waves lapping at the shore with occasional storms, huge surges, and the rare tsunami. Tsunamis of grief used to be every constant, overwhelming. They are still overwhelming, but they retreat faster now as I acknowledge the feelings, pain, and loss. You are not alone.
ReplyDelete*Hugs*
Bill
Hi Bill,
ReplyDeleteSynchronicity. Just today I called my carrier to see if I could get a better rate/plan - read cheaper. I still have my husband's line active. Could I cancel his line and save a bit of money? I burst into tears at the thought. I don't know why it matters so much, but it does, so I pay for two lines. Sometimes I feel I'm holding onto the phone line because you never know when he will call. Sigh. Saving it for a séance perhaps? Comforting to know others do the same thing.
I think about the anniversary which its months off— but it is looming just the same. Yes we have lost part of our soul. And right now the tears, storms, tsunamis as you say, are coming faster and faster. I know it they will pass. Thank you for reaching out again.
Jamie
I think is better when you are not expecting anything from others. I am my losing my health for a rare genetic disorder that affect my muscles (all my muscles). It is progressive so I am not going to die old. This is my problem and I don't expect people understand (also because there are only a few cases in the world with the same disorder).I try to live the best I can and I don't want to be sad, in the good days I want still enjoy my life. Life is beautiful. And every body will face problems in their life, specially when they get older. They will have face health issue and loss of dear people and eventually everybody is going to die, we are all in the same boat. This is life. I accepted my situation, very few people saw me crying or complaining and the fact that I am so positive I am inspiring many people around me. They told me that I give them emotional strenght. I was really surprise that a sick person like me can give this to a supposly healthy one. But things like this can happen. It is really important the approch we have with our life, I know my life is far less then perfect now, but I don't want to waste it
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for your loss. Your words have really touched me. Today is the 2 month anniversary of losing my husband. He was everything to me and he passed away 4 days before our 38th wedding anniversary. It is hard to breathe, eat, sleep, etc. I bought a puppy last weekend. I just couldn't take the loneliness anymore and was starting to worry about my safety. I have had her for 5 days and feel responsible for her health and happiness. I know this was an impulse buy and just a bandaid on my grief. I am happy to have her company, but the pain is so strong. I just want to burst into tears at the grocery store. I loved him so much.
ReplyDeleteI will add you to my prayers. May you find moments of peace...I'm trying to. I also know my true and loyal friends.
Oh I am so sorry as well. My heart goes out to you. I cry pretty much every time I'm at the supermarket. Tears just run down my face. I don't even worry about what people think, as I have never been approached with words. Sigh. There are aisles I just still can't go down.
ReplyDeleteMy cats and horses help me get through each day. I hope your new dog offers you some respite from all the pain. Hold onto her tightly.
May you as well find moments of peace. All my love.
Thank you so much. I think my husband's angels led me to this blog. I have read just about everything on the internet regarding widowhood, feelings, etc. You are the only person that reached me and I felt some comfort. I thought it was just me crying in the supermarket. He used to do all the shopping and when he started having problems with his legs, I took over that chore. I also can never figure out how much to buy. I am always buying too much, getting a little better though.
DeleteMy Pom puppy is named 'Arlee' a play on my husband's name, Arthur Leo. I am finding comfort with her. I am happy you have your cats and horses. Animals seem to sense our feelings.
Thank you for being so real in your blog. It is so refreshing.
Hugs to you! Love and Peace to you, Barbara
I cry while I'm driving. I cry while I sit at the computer typing. I cry while I'm playing with my horse. I sat in the airport (working on that post) and had tears running down my face while waiting for my flight. I have Kleenex boxes all over the house and on the passenger seat of my car.
ReplyDeleteArlee sounds just perfect. Yes animals do sense our feelings.
All my love,
Jamie
You're a beautiful person, Jamie.
ReplyDeleteI cried on Marathon Day and the opening of the Red Sox. All the things he loved can bring me to my knees. I melt like chocolate in the sun.
Hugs and Love,
Barb
Barb, we need to take this to the next level. email me jmg26@me.com
ReplyDelete