The cool, sunny, soccer Saturday mornings remind me of the calm before the storm that changed my life.
Halloween decorations and fall porch decor don’t mean the same that they did. Last year at this time my biggest issues were hay barrel remnants in my trunk and whether the burlap I was wrapping the mums in, was cut correctly.
It’s crazy to think of how much has changed for me in the last year. How things that I thought were so important, no longer are. They aren’t big deals.
So this year, the mums aren’t wrapped in burlap and most of the Halloween decorations didn’t make it out… and you know what? I’m okay with that.
I chose to play outside with the boys and enjoy the day instead of spending my time obsessing about the perfect porch.
The past month has been filled with learning a new job (which I love), soccer, laundry, cleaning, a little bit of cooking and a whole lot of BS.
I wish it was just the emotionally draining piece of reliving the events of last year, but it’s not…
The town of Colonie continues to fight with their lies to take the business from me.
If the last few weeks weren’t enough already, there have been meetings with the zoning board…listening to lies and trying to keep my shit together when all I want to do is scream.
Lucky for me, one of my lawyers said everything I was thinking at the last meeting. Thank God she did. As one more document from the town “appeared” she brought to light what was actually happening and had been since day one.
Once again the meeting adjourned until a later date…October 13th. The one week I was hoping it wasn’t. The same week last year that first meeting was…the one that he killed himself after. The one that changed everything.
How could I keep doing this? How could I sit there and keep listening to the lies? How could I keep fighting this? How could I keep reliving this?
I felt like the glue that’s holding me together was wearing off. There’s only so long that someone can stay composed and be strong when they are constantly getting things thrown at them.
I let myself meltdown Wednesday night. I let myself be sad. I let my mascara run…I couldn’t hold it together anymore.
Then I realized, I have absolutely no control over any of this. I just have to trust that it’s all part of the plan and it’ll work out the way it’s supposed to. Somehow giving up the need to control it, gave me control.
Whatever the result of this all is, it’ll be okay and as I’ve done this past year… I’ll figure it out and be stronger because of it.
In preparation for going back to work and the hopes of simplifying my life, I was yet again cleaning my closet…with some help. I love purging my clothes and am really striving for a work capsule wardrobe (thank you Tai!) While I was purging I was really torn with a few items:
• The absolutely beautiful and perfect dresses I wore to his services
• My “Mrs. Person” embroidered teacher sweatshirt
• NY Giants gear
The Giants gear made me laugh- I have no interest in football, but dressed to support Eddie’s team because it was important to him. I got the cutest and girliest tops I could find (hello Touch by Alyssa Milano). The Giants weren’t me though…they were us…they were him…they were ready to go.
My sweatshirt was a tough one, it labeled me as his wife…just like I felt the wedding and engagement rings did. As I felt weird wearing them, I felt the same way wearing the sweatshirt. I will always love him, but the label wasn’t me anymore.
The hardest were the dresses. They were the most perfectly fitting dresses for me and would probably have been my go to event dresses…if I didn’t say goodbye to Eddie in them. Everytime I looked at them hanging in my closet, I saw flashbacks of those days…the wake, the funeral, the burial.
As my therapist asks, “does it serve you?” The answer was no. They made me sad to look at. I was torturing myself to keep them hanging there, knowing I’d never wear them again, no matter how beautiful they were.
I didn’t want anyone else to wear my memories, they were mine to treasure…I didn’t want to share them. I folded them all up and put them in a box. They’ll always be there, just like the memories, but they don’t serve me to hang there and remind me of sadness. I needed to make room for better things (and clothes!) to enter my closet and my life.
It’s never going to hurt less. Grief doesn’t shrink, but what I’m doing is letting in more joy. Grief and joy can and do exist simultaneously.
There certainly have been some moments where I need to take a breath and focus on something good… because the grief takes over.
When this happens I try to focus on the present. (Don’t get me wrong, there’s still days I just snap…but I’m trying.) This usually means a lot of deep breaths and taking in what’s around me. It may sound silly, but I find 5 things I can see, 4 things to touch, 3 things to hear, 2 things to taste and 1 thing to smell. This immediately grounds me. Even when I don’t make it all through, it still helps.
This happened on his birthday. I knew what date it was, but I chose to go away for a fun weekend. I was having a wonderful weekend and happy… then I was flooded with Facebook and texts. I thought… I should be upset, I shouldn’t be enjoying myself.
This obviously made the grief take over, but in that moment I made the conscious decision that I was going to let myself be sad that he was gone, but also to enjoy the time I was having in that moment. I felt selfish and guilty…but remembered I’m still living and I still have so much to experience and enjoy. I had to let that joy in.
It was right then and there, where I truly saw how two completely different emotions can be present at the exact same time. Sadness that he’s gone, but happiness about the life and experiences that I have in front of me.
The grief will never go away, but the life I continue to build and the joy that I allow in will keep filling my jar up.
I am so grateful… I’m grateful for my coworkers and friends who let me cry, made me laugh, and were there to listen…always.
This year sucked, but without them, it would have been so much worse. I was able to go back, do my job and do a great job at it because I had so much support. As the school year closes, it has been one like no other, for many reasons…but I made it.
I kept going even when it was hard… not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I showed up everyday, which forced me to think of more than just the pain I was experiencing. The pain only got better because I fought for it to.
I knew I needed another change… one I could have a say in. I was ready.
I applied for an instructional coaching position…and I got it! I am beyond excited and this opportunity came at the perfect time for me.
The best part of it, is that I’ll still be with my amazing coworkers half of the time and at another amazing school the other half.
In this moment, for everyone who has been there, everything I’ve become and everything I’m going to be, I’m grateful.
I made it this year and I came out stronger, more confident, and ready for new beginnings.
This year (for obvious reason), Mothers Day stung. I actually missed the way too early breakfast in bed, that got crumbs all over my sheets. Once again, the reality of it all smacked me in the face that my entire life was different and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it…except keep going (after a short pity party of course).
So, I went downstairs and since breakfast wasn’t going to make itself, I made my favorite gluten free cinnamon cake. It was delicious.
Different doesn’t have to be bad.
Fast forward to Fathers Day…
Zac’s teacher messaged me with concern over how to address the project this year. First off, I totally appreciate her being so thoughtful, as to how he would react and making sure she had a plan in place to address things. During all of this I realized more and more that just because their dad is gone, doesn’t mean that the boys aren’t surrounded by love.
Their “grownups” (which is what I refer to at school for my kids in regards to the people to take care of them… because everyone’s situation is different) care so much about them.
Now I could go down my rabbit hole, or I can change my perspective. What I’ve realized is that it’s all about how you move forward and adapt to the changes thrown at you.
How lucky am I? My father is so involved with his grandsons, that Zac wants to make his Father’s Day project for him and thinks nothing of that.
No, nothing is the same as it was last year and it never would be… but we aren’t the same either.
Personal development is supposed to be personal. It has everything to do with me and not all that much to do with anyone else. It’s been about working on me…becoming the best version of myself that I can and trying to find any glimmer of good in the tragedy that occurred.
So what’s been working for me?
One on one counseling, taking time for me when I need it, acknowledging and listening to my limits, certain audiobooks geared to specific topics that I want to work through and TED talks.
Most importantly, having a select group of friends that I can go to with anything and it is always 100% judgment free. They listen and help me decide what to do, not do what they they think I should do (big difference).
And yes… Dating. It has made me feel human again. More like myself than I’ve been in a long time. Being able to laugh. Being appreciated. Being admired. It feels good.
With any crossroads in life, we have a choice. I have chosen to take the opportunity that was forced upon me and work on myself… and I can honestly say, I love the me that I’m becoming.
This week I heard a rumor. A terrible, horrible, took my breath away rumor.
I wish people knew the extent of pain that words can cause. What’s even more hurtful than the actual words spoken, is the fact that some people think that there’s actually some truth to it and spread it to others.
Since it’s out there, let me tell you the truth of it…
Eddie and I had a wonderful marriage. It wasn’t perfect, but none are. Remember, Facebook pictures tell the story we want others to perceive. But the real truth is that people die by suicide because of a chemical imbalance in their heads… not because of a wife who likes her Tieks.
Thank God I’ve been in therapy since he died and know that I had absolutely nothing to do with him killing himself…no one did. He was sick.
If we’d like to talk about the truth of all of this… mental illness… then let’s. Let’s put it out there and take away the stigmas attached to it.
Eddie was sick and he hid it very well from everyone. I know we would all love to know the why. I sure as hell would… but placing blame on anyone is not the answer.
Hurtful, untrue words won’t change the fact that Eddie is dead. Love who he was and remember all the good that he did. Let him be dead. Let me live my life, the best that I can for my boys and I.
A crazy thing happened yesterday. I was talking to my therapist and I realized that the 8 month mark came and passed. I didn’t notice the date and make a connection to it. I didn’t anticipate the 17th as I had so many times before.
As soon as I realized this, I felt guilty. How could I miss this? My therapist on the other hand, had a different idea. She thought it was amazing and showed how much I’ve grown. That all of the work I’ve been doing is paying off. The goal is to keep living, not be shackled to one day a month.
I guess I have this expectation, that I need to be sad and torture myself on the 17th of every month…but that doesn’t serve me. It just takes any joy around me away.
That expectation comes from things I hear in society and how some other people deal with their loss. However, we know that no one is that same and however they choose to deal with their grief, is what is right for them.
To most people it may seem like just a day, but to me it was a sign. A sign that made me realize, I am truly moving forward.
Loss and Lashes 