Identity Crisis

 

I've shared before that when Katie left home at 18, I found myself in a long spell of grief.  It was completely unexpected.  I'd been parenting for over 30 years, and I thought I was more than ready to lose that role of full-time parent.  I started out excited about the time ahead.  And then I was hit by the runaway car called grief which nearly debilitated me for two full years.  

I didn't know what to do with myself!  All those plans I'd made for the day when I would not be on call 24/7 mattered no longer.  I lost my footing.  It was totally unexpected and it took me by surprise.

Six weeks into losing John, I can tell you that I find myself in a similar place now.  

I had thought of life without him, in a vague sort of way, the same way that I used to muse about what I'd do when I was no longer needed as a parent on the same scale that I'd been needed.  I'd planned in my mind how I'd live life on my own, if those days ever came, a day when I was no longer a daughter, a mother, a wife.  But I had no idea that this time around I was not losing one role, but many.

I am not only no longer married in the world's view, but I am also no longer a lover, a companion, a partner, a stay-at-home wife. I hadn't anticipated that losing John would mean I'd lose so much I'd used to mark my own identity.   And if you want to know the truth, I didn't realize how this sort of loss also meant I lost so much of myself.  

Gain the independence I'd always craved?  I suppose I did.  But I'm not ready for it!  Not on this scale!  Not when it means the foundations are kicked out to have to build anew...

Frankly, it's a lot to come to terms with.

It's not loneliness that eats at me most frequently.  No indeed.  It's grappling with the idea of who I am, what I am, at this point in my life.  Not old (not by my standards) and not young (by any standard).  Not married, but not single.  Without a lover who am I getting dressed and made-up for each day?   For whom do I wish to be attractive? Without a companion, what do I do with my day? Who am I to bounce ideas off of, or read sticky passages of posts to?  To whom can I be an advisor since no one else is in the house with a creative sticking point?  With whom will I discuss pivotal quotes and scriptures or revelations?  And what about my role as a caregiver? Whose care do I tend to each day without my husband?   He hardly needed my care each day, since he was capable and able to feed and clothe himself, but I enjoyed taking care of his needs, anticipating what he might want, making meals, cleaning and decorating our home so that it was comfortable and pretty and something he might be proud of.  I struggle with the role of homemaker...Home is meant to be made for others, isn't it?  Can I make 'home' for only myself?  I mean beyond the need to eat and make a meal, or to do laundry...

Am I capable of self-care without becoming selfish?  That was a question when John was alive and now it roars at me in the night.   Am I wrong to admit I'm too tired for a grandchild to stay a night much less a weekend?  Am I wrong to confess that my energy has hit -10 on the scale and I desperately need something more to drag it up to 0?  

In the end, as I've been clearing spaces that were filled with John's things, I've realized that part of my issue has been not just the idea that I was erasing him, but that I was also clearing out things that represented my own lost roles. Grief piles on top of grief as I look at this month.  Grief that my husband is gone, grief that certain dreams will never come true, grief that I am no longer who I was.

I'm having something of an identity crisis. 

And yet the flip side to all of this is that I am finding myself mildly excited if I ever do stop to refuel myself.  As though this is a new adventure, a time to discover who I am without someone else defining me so fully as marriage and parenting have done in the past.  

Who exactly is this person staring back at me from the mirror?  Is she interesting?  Does she embrace life?  Is she someone I'd like to know?  Is her story going to be a good one?  

I can't wait to find out...

P.S.  The day this publishes will be our 32nd wedding anniversary.  And what do you do on such a day when you are no longer married?  Yes, I know I've kept saying we were together 34 years; we lived together for 2 years before we were legally married.

Making Changes 1% At A Time

 

I floated through the last of March and the first part of April as though I were lost in a fog and I was.  I realized in mid-April I needed to stop and just 'be' so to speak, whatever form 'being' took at the time.  Tears, making relational decisions, attempting social occasions and church solo, dealing with paperwork and appointments, and finally determining what I wanted beyond John's NOT being gone, which is not an option I can choose.

I realized I could re-establish some routines in my life and ground myself somewhat better.  I started with the Friday and Monday house blessings, those two days of the week when my house is most prone to be untidy and need real attention.  I like going into the weekend with it clean and neat and I like coming out of the weekend well rested and ready to set things to rights for the week ahead.  

Sorrow upon Sorrow

 

The thing I've found about grief is that it has a way of dredging up all the past griefs, ones I'd thought were long dealt with and forgotten.  

The need of a girl for her mother...

The desire to be an aunt...

Today, as I was leaving church, a young woman came and stopped directly in front of me.   I stood looking at her, sure I knew her, sure she was family, but not quite recognizing her.  I said "Hi..." a little hesitantly.  Something about her face kept nagging at me that she was someone I knew well.  It was my niece.  We hugged long and deep.  She is 30 years old.   I have had only the briefest moments of contact with her.

Promises for May

 

1.  Life is too short to eat food that isn't good.   I don't mean spoiled food, but food that is lacking in taste or texture, or a recipe that didn't turn out and feels like punishment when I force myself to eat it. or the leftovers of it which haven't improved.  I did that too often in April and I've made up my mind that if I'm going to consume 'x' number of calories each day, then the food I eat shall (a) taste good (b) be something I genuinely enjoy (c) and look forward to eating.  

I've had ill luck of late with things I crammed into the freezer before John died.  WHY did I save those things thinking they'd taste better later?  

Closed Doors

 

John has been gone a month at the time I'm writing this.  One month ago today, I kissed his forehead and walked out of the room leaving his physical body, my dearest friend and great love, behind.  I realize now that I was in a state of shock.  Operating normally enough on the surface but reeling with sorrow underneath.  Holding myself together for the sake of my children, but bereft.  Probably not hiding it very well though I supposed at the time that I was.

But two things happened that I have not shared.  Two other griefs, which are wrapped up in losing my beloved.  The Sunday morning of his last day, when I'd been told he'd passed away, before I went in to see him and he miraculously regained consciousness, one of the first people I called was my brother.   I told him John had died. "Well Terri, it's going to happen to all of us at some point.  I'm sorry."    I asked him to please let Mama know.  

Coffee Chat: How I'm Really Doing

 

Dear Friends, 

I'm going to change the pattern of posting on you all for a little bit.  I feel the need to not be a writer but to be open and honest about how I feel just now.

No great revelation to any of you, I'm sure, that I'm grieving.  

Grief for me might look different than it looks for someone else.  I am not wailing and gnashing my teeth.  I do cry at times.  Little things, little tears.  And one stormy evening of wrestling with the real pain of grief and loss and longing to turn back time.  Those 34 years of John were far too short!  They went too quickly.  I wanted more.  I thought we'd have more.

Architect of My Soul

 

This evening on the way home from a day of appointment, errands, and a family visit, I finally put in the CD of John's music that he'd recorded and put in our safety deposit box.  I found myself singing along, smiling, raising a hand in worship at times, and thinking deeply about what a journey a life can be.  What we are truly building as we go is a Soul, that mysterious inner being that is so connected to heart and mind.  With the building of our Soul, we become our own three-in-one self.    

Hard Things

Fact of Life:  When you lose your husband, the world expects you to step up and adult even if you don't want to, don't feel like it, are anxious about it, or dread it because it's dang hard stuff you must do.

And it sucks.

But you get up each day, and you do it anyway, because no one else can do it for you.  Oh, they can...But how selfish to expect anyone else to stop their lives to do it for me simply because I feel lazy or low, or fearful, or whatever else emotion I might cough up.   I mean, they all have things they must deal with and attend to and face their own loss at the same time...surely, I can do just as much. 

Reflections on Loss

 

Does Loss count as a big emotion?  By definition it is not. The emotional response to loss is grief.  You grieve over a lost mate, a lost pet, a lost job, a major change in life, losing anything that you valued or held dear.  Grief is the big emotion.  But purportedly loss is what has happened to you, not what you feel.  So.

I cannot determine if I am numb, or if this past year, all the conversations John and I had, all the things we did to secure our future, my future, so prepared me for what lay ahead that I've accepted that easily that I am now alone.  I have discovered what it is to experience loss of someone who was so much a part of my life that I truly felt he breathed out and I breathed in.  

This New Season

 

In March, as I worked through big emotions and sorrow, I wrote out the posts and pre-scheduled them to publish.  I finished them a week before John died.   Since then, I've been doing a lot of writing.  The two posts published on this blog and on Blue House Journal about John's passing, posts for April, in my journal.

Writing being the cathartic exercise that it always has been for me; I'm finding my way as I go into this new season of life alone mostly by writing, not by word or book.  I don't know what it is I feel.  I'm having to stop and exam it as I go.  

Promises for April

 

1.  I promise to start reaching OUT to people when they are reaching out to me.  John and I tended to be selfish with our time together.  There's no one there for me now.  I'm not slighting my children.  They are being so supportive and would happily fit me into their lives even more than they did in the past.  But they have their lives.   I owe it to John, I owe it to them, and most of all I owe it to me, to not give in to the easy thing.  I need a new support system; one I'll build for myself.  I need to be open to people and stop thinking everyone is highly suspect and likely to hurt me.

2.   I promise to choose carefully who I allow to enter into my life.  That may sound contrary to the first promise but it's really an extension to it.  I attract needy people.  People are attracted to my co-dependent nature.  I want HEALTHY personal relationships in my life, not someone who will reduce me, use me, trap me in their dependency.