(Journal date: November 27, 2011)
I spent a lot of the last two days in tears feeling...I don't know if "hopeless" is the word. I don't kno--stranded, like at sea, just floating, knowing I am getting closer to something but not sure what or when, just here.
I haven't been able to identify any real emotions other than sadness, and I wonder if I feel anything at all.
I have cried a lot.
Felt like just going to bed and not getting up until after my birthday. Then I realized that puts us six weeks from when Rob died. I cannot fathom.
And in the midst of feeling lost, I wrote the Christmas letter. I ended up taking out the part about me. I guess that isn't fair to the poeple who want to know about me, but there are some people I don't want to know anything about me. I think it is more than that, though. I think I never felt like I was "part of the group" with Rob and the kids, so why try to insert myself now.
In the letter, I wrote about Mom passing in 2010 and Rob's passing. I tried to be honoring to him, but I expect backlash. I expect someone to criticize it, tell me too much focus was put on Rob, need to be more honest, need to move on. Not sure what I am going to say if they do. I don't feel like explaining anything, not that I owe anyone an explanation, and who knows? Maybe if someone says anything, I will simply delete the message or hang up. I guess I will have to see.
I sent the notecard collage as a card. Pictures of Rob, the kids, them together, and one of me. I started not to put me in at all. However, for nine and a half months, it has been just the kids and me. It should be our family picture, but....But.
But, is it Rob's last year on the card, and it is hard beyond words. It is crazy surreal, and I find myself wandering through, trying to make sense of it, trying to find the truth, feeling like I failed, like it was all my fault. Maybe if I had done something different, maybe if I had understood...Maybe if I had understood who he really wanted to be and encouraged him there or supported him there, he would have been happy. Maybe he wouldn't have felt rejected. But then, I took him at his word, and there is really nowhere to go beyond that.
And it doesn't matter...except it does...because I failed before. How do I know I won't fail like that again?
I don't know, but then, the more I have read through the emails and texts from his computer and phone, the more I realize there is a lot I didn't know.
6 comments:
I can so relate to the floating, not quite feeling as if you belong anywhere, feeling like nowhere seems more the place you are and maybe it's also where you're meant to be. It's not true, though. You're a fighter. A warrior. Not a floater. Maybe you don't feel that way at this place and point in the journey, but you will again. I, too, of late have been feeling like a failure, but that's just lies. That's me taking responsibility for something I could not have changed. It wasn't for me to change nor is it or was it for you to change. Yes, we each have responsibilities within our former relationships and we each have learned about ourselves and our former spouses, but don't be responsible for his failures or inabilities. Those aren't your burdens to carry and nor were my ex's mine. That is an important reminder that we each have to give to each other. And very recently you gave that gift to me when I needed it.
You are more than that which was and you are more than you see yourself as in this given moment. I, for one, was sad to see the family letter not include more about you, but loved the end of it which was filled with the richness of what you've taken from this last year. You are amazing, magnificent and oh so giving. I am blessed to count you among my friends, dear one!
MizzBrizz,
Floating isn't a bad thing. It means things are changing, and change, in our case, means growth and good things. Yes, I am a warrior and a fighter, but even warriors and fighters know when they are in transit and just need to be along for the ride, and that is ultimately where I ended up being--happy to be along for the ride. It's a good place.
As for feeling like a failure and what happened, periodically, the junk comes back, and it sends me for a bit of a spin, but where it used to last for days or even a week or two, now it is a few hours or a day. He made choices that were bad that nothing I could have done could overcome. I didn't cause those choices. He made them. He *chose*.
Now I choose to move on, be whole, and like my life...and me.
As I said, it is a good place. Just took a few days to work through the muck to the good. :-)
Love you, too, amazing woman! You bless me huge!
I am so glad to hear that! Love you!
:-)
I totally relate to this - I just get it. And not because I have stood in your shoes - impossible as we all have a different path - but because it just makes sense to me. I would have done the same thing - the letter, the cards, the picture - I would have been afraid of backlash, too.
I read once, during my dark time, that divorce is like a death, only you are the only one who your spouse dies to. Everyone else gets him but you. And here you are with all these double, triple, quadruple whammies of grief. Grieving for everyone, everything at once.
I know what it's like to grieve, and I know what it's like to feel like you didn't know your spouse - or maybe there are things you didn't know. I literally felt like I was living with another person. And I know what it's like to smile for a Christmas card picture that isn't telling the story at all, in any way.
So I will not tell you that you are strong, because oh how I hated to hear that. I got up every morning by the Grace of God alone. Don't we all? :-)
I will say that everything you wrote makes total sense to me, and that I will pray for you, because praying for me helped. xoxo
Liz, thank you for coming by!
Wow. I had never heard that about divorce, but how powerfully true. Thank you. I am putting that in my journal. That is deep wisdom.
I feel so blessed, so found. I feel like handing you some coffee through the screen. :-)
It is...beyond words...and yet grief is grief. Pain hurts. No, you can't fully understand MY story, but you understand pain. You understand the confusion, trying to make sense of the puzzle pieces that you didn't know were even there and the ones that should be there but are missing, and then realizing the picture you had wasn't the real picture at all. Odd place to be...and who can be there with you...except someone who has been there?
Yes...oh...yes...the Grace of God alone. Sweet, peaceful...carrying...grace...
Thank you for your prayers and your sharing. You are a gift...and I humbly receive your heart kindness.
Blessings and much love...
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