Saturday, August 30, 2014

My evolution after the death of my husband

Wedging. A procedure for preparing clay or a clay body by hand: the lump of clay is repeatedly thrown down on a work bench; between each operation the lump is turned and sometimes cut through and rejoined in a different orientation.

I am that lump of clay that is being pulled and kneaded and pounded. I have no idea who I am right now. And certainly no idea of who I will become. But if this experience (I refuse to use process) has taught me one thing, it is to not look too far ahead. Focus on the moment now, and leave the later to deal with itself.

Some recent experiences that I find inexplicable!

#1
I am at a riding clinic with my horse 150 miles from home. The woman who trailered my horse comes into the lounge at the barn hysterical. She and her husband had a fight and he has taken the truck. She texted him asking where he was, and he said just about at I-93. She interprets this as he is leaving and driving home. So she is wailing about how could he?!?! and how was she supposed to get her horse home?!?!

My inner dialog goes like this,"Hell her husband is alive. So they had a fight. What's the big deal? They can choose what they want to do. Mine is dead." And I was amazed to find that I had absolutely no compassion for her. Huh? And more to the point, here I am sitting 150 miles away from home with my horse and apparently no way to get back. And I am not hyper ventilating or worrying about how am I going to get Cici home. I am completely dispassionate. Detached. I am completely aware that this was not normal. Well not the old normal.

#2
Drive 300 miles to meet a friend at a trade show. She made the hotel reservations. Great, one less thing for me to deal with. After the show she drives to where she thought the place was, as well as putting the address in her GPS. We drive 15 minutes in one direction (on a highway) and are directed to take a cloverleaf and change direction and drive now for 45 minutes in the other direction.

Following the GPS instructions we finally arrive in a small town that is completely shuttered—it is almost 9:30 PM. When we pull up to the motel—lets just say in the past I would have immediately dissolved into a anxiety attack, "Oh no I could not possibly stay here!" My friend and I look at each other as she drives in. She parks, locks all the doors in the car and pulls out her phone to call and cancel the reservation and make a new one. We never get out of the car. And by midnight are tucked safely into our new motel. And I find this all—well again the new normal.

#3
Driving home after three days of trade show, I hit the wall of exhaustion. In the past I would have pushed through it, continued to drive, Rob was home waiting for me. I was going home to Rob. This time I pull off at the next service area, put my seat back to recline, lock the doors, and take a cat nap! And continue the drive home refreshed.

#4
At the barn several people have left and a new crop of people are going to be moving their horses in. I recognize that I have no control over who is coming and what life will be like with the new people and horses. I can let go and leave the details to the universe.

These are examples of the changes I am aware of in myself. I don't understand, I don't know where or how or why. I have no choice but to embrace them.





Thursday, August 7, 2014

Once again my world has shifted after the death of my husband

Some thing has changed. My world has shifted. I have turned a corner. Most likely I am at the crest of the roller coaster. I will continue to hang on tight...but right now it feels pretty darn amazing. And the views....

It started when I found a few odds and ends from the Z3. Items that Robert had replaced, but kept the original parts. Can't just throw them away. So I contacted a Z3 group he used to belong to. An online group. The founder of the group, Rachel, responded to my email asking if I was talking about Robert 5 degrees. Huh?!?!!? She quickly shared, "You see when Robert introduced himself for Fixit Day 2003, he wrote: 'I love this car!! Bought it and drove home on a 5 DEGREE F. day.' Thus, Robert 5°. And you are Jamie 5°!"

What a welcome, especially as it brought back a flood of memories. Helped along with links from Rachel with photos. And comments Rob wrote to go along with the photos. Warm, funny, laughing, memories. Driving and meeting people. Exploring. Driving with the top down. Driving with the top down and heater turned on high. Driving with the top down and the A/C on cold. Driving. Laughing. Smiling.

I was fortified by this to go through more bins and boxes. Ready to make a further dent in the piles of stuff. To realize I don't have to hold on so tight. That he will always be with me. And I can start to let go. That this is my life. Mine. Alone. And say that and not be overwhelmed with grief and tears.

I even took on his computer. Had the presence of mind to recognize that a large part of my reluctance to even open it was the image he had as his background. A photo he had taken. A photo that I saw every time I sat with him and he opened his laptop. I could change it! This never had occurred to me before. There is movement. I am perceiving things differently.

Reset the background to the generic blue screen. Just like my laptop. And I began the process of going through his files and deleting what was not important to me. Any longer. Like going through the physical items he left behind. Now I'm venturing into the electronic. Even found myself thinking about using his laptop as my travel one. Thinking about it, not there yet, but thinking about it.

In a couple of weeks it will be his birthday, and then two days later the 11 month anniversary and then and then and then. At this moment I can believe I might just make it. And I also know that the roller coaster can easily change course. So I will embrace what I am experiencing at this moment. Hope.









Saturday, August 2, 2014

Moving into a World of Stark Contrasts After the Death of My Husband

I have not posted in a while as I am trying to sort out my feelings. Trying to find the words. How do I describe or explain what I have been going through? The highs have been amazing. I can be "out there". But the lows mirror the highs with their intensity. Moving into a world of stark contrasts.

Traveled to a horsemanship clinic which involved having my horse trailered by a new friend, as I do not yet (notice the yet) own a truck and trailer. Stayed for 5 days and 4 nights. Horsemanship Heaven. I talked about Rob. I talked about widowhood. I did Tai Chi each morning overlooking the mountains where we used to go for a yearly Tai Chi Camp. I cried during my Tai Chi as I felt the energy of the mountains and Robert fill me. And I played with my horse and danced. And found I could be whole. And found I could be shattered.

When I came home I felt like I was walking in a fog. Sleep walking. Everything was distant and muffled. All I really wanted to do was sleep. And cry. It took three full days to come back into myself, as I now realize how far out of myself I was.

I am okay one moment. And then the next I think of something. Something we did together, something Rob loved. Something. Anything. Everything. And dissolve into tears. And the Reality hits. Each time is like the first time. That this is it. That he is never coming back. That I.....

That I am on my own. This it might not seem like such a big deal. But cliche'd as it sounds...it was always us against the world. We were supposed to grow old together.

Today has been one of those days that keeps just going on and on and on. I did a lot of different things today. Busy things to try and make the hands of the clock move. Did not work. After being on the computer, sewing, reading the paper, emptying the litter box, napping, going to the barn, making meals, more computer work, I finally went into Rob's room to see if I could go through one box. Well one lead to another and another. Clothes, books and papers. And I found these type written poems from long ago. And feel joy at his words, and despair at the loss—both at the same time.

The Impasse                                                            Jamie

Alone, the two of us.                                                She rested her elbow
The moon through dark trees.                                   on my knee, as if
The lake beyond sparkling.                                       it were the most natural
You, all drawn in, waiting.                                        thing in the world.
I unknowing, afraid, yearning.                     
                                                                                It was.
Alone, the two of us.
My lips brush the hair                                                Astonished then,
On the back of your neck.                                         in the Spring long ago,
                                                                                I am astonished still.
All is still.