Always Searching

I haven't written anything new here for a long time.  I sort of ran out of steam, and it seemed that the blog wasn't being read, so I figured... had a good run, I will someday do a hard copy version of things I have written and leave it with my grandchildren.  I feel as though it will always be a tribute of sorts to Erik, and if people read it, maybe a few of my words could be in some way helpful.  My heartfelt goal was always to hopefully inspire or comfort someone, to say that it is possible to feel life and joy again after the heartbreak of losing someone to suicide.

Today I had something happen that so belongs to the message of my blog that I just wanted to write about it.

It had been a very arduous, stressful, and upsetting week for me.  My life, eight years after my divorce, seven years after I bought this house I was sure would be my last,  and four years after I lost my son, has come to a major juncture and taken paths I wasn't expecting.  My plan of working til 66, which is really financially necessary, is not seeming realistic with some of my health problems worsening.  And, lo and behold, as a testimony to second chances, I have a new person in my life to plan a future with, who is to me the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. He however lives in another city.

I have spent 4 or 5 days of nearly constant thinking, discussing, and flailing about, trying to decide what I can do to be financially responsible and independent, and trying to know if I am courageous enough to take a leap into a totally committed life with another person.  And, I am wanting to know who is going to guarantee that this whole new life is going to work out okay and I am not going to end up penniless, or a widow in a strange city, so on and so forth.  And, at the worst moments of this momentous pity party for myself, wondering how it is that my life at 64 years of age is completely unsettled and now looking like a "do-over".
I don't know if I have the emotional or physical stamina for all this, and I really just want my life to be settled, and boring, and predictable.

So when my boyfriend handed me an article in his city's newspaper, that spoke directly to me, cut me to the core, and had me in tears, I just wanted to share it.  And if you believe in serendipity like myself, it is hard not to smile thinking that this article was printed on this Sunday morning, after this week of total anxiety in my life, and that if we look for it or maybe just are willing to accept it, there are always other people to speak to us and inspire us.

This article was written by a journalist named Nestor Ramos and these are some of his words of inspiration.  He wrote this as his last article for the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle.  His story was that he had moved to Rochester only five years ago, starting over in his life, and lost his wife two years after their move.  He is now moving again, and has found a new person who is going with him.  He writes this:

"...while I'm leaving, I'm not starting over.
After all, life doesn't really do subtraction, does it?  That's as true for places as it is for people:  Everything just gets piled on top of everything else.
Sometimes something big and heavy gets tossed on the pile:  illness and sorrow, tragedy both public and private.  Looking down at the pile, that one big thing is all you can see for a while.
But then new things -- small things -- start getting added:  A smile, a handshake, a hug.  That big, heavy thing starts to get buried too.  You don't get to choose what's in the pile any more than you can choose which memories rattle around in your head.
Today, tomorrow, whenever: you look at the pile and...that's your life."

Later in the article he talks about his five years in Rochester and at his job and he says:  "They're all in that beautiful pile I'll carry around forever: friends made and kept, lessons learned the hard way, loved ones lost and found.
Why would anyone want to give that up in the name of starting over?...Thank God, there's no such thing."

I often joke that when tragedy strikes, we become the target of endless cliches and analogies...What doesn't break us makes us stronger...one day at a time...et al.

However, I am so grateful to Mr.Ramos for this inspiring and beautiful analogy which came to me at a perfect moment.  I will be making changes in my life.  We all do, some more than others.  Some are imposed and some are sought after.  But I will no longer think of events stopping and starting what is the essence of my life.

I will simply add them to the pile.

                                                                                                                                       

Back to Regular Life...Sometimes Happy, Sometimes Sad

 

It’s not always Erik’s fault

A while back, I was a little upset or depressed about some personal issues which had nothing to do with the fact that I was missing Erik.  I suddenly realized, in the aftermath of a notable tragedy such as the loss of a loved one, that most people will assume that any struggle or sadness you have is because of your grief or mourning.  So I allowed my dark humor to kick in, and if I chose to say to someone that I was upset or sad, I would quickly add…”and it’s not Erik’s fault!!...poor Erik, he’s not even here and he gets blamed for everything!”.

Now it seems that in a perfect world, anyone recovering from a suicide loss should somehow be blessed with a totally perfect life in every other way, so we could focus on our grieving.  Unfortunately, as we all know, (suicide survivors more than anyone), it is not a perfect world.  So, whatever shortcomings, challenges, or problems we faced before the loss of our loved one, will continue to be there afterwards as well.  The difference in this being, our ability to deal with them or how we react to them will be different.

I have found I have two different reactions to life challenges since I have experienced my survival process.  I think the more predominant one is that there aren’t very many things that really seem worth getting upset over.  At first, this was a very conscious reaction, and I had to guard against being impatient with people who were upset over something that in my mind was not worth the energy.  Initially, I had to be really careful not to just roll my eyes and say, “Are you kidding me?  What the heck would you do if your son died?”  I felt grateful that I at least realized in my head that just because I was extraordinarily sad, it didn’t mean that other people weren’t entitled to their own feelings of anxiety or sadness over what was going on in their lives. 

So I tried to flip this over in my brain, and be sure I was receptive to hearing others talk about their concerns or vent if they needed to.  I remember that at Thanksgiving time my cousin had told me that she was a little sad that it was the first Thanksgiving her daughter wouldn’t be there since she was going to her new in-laws.  I did notice that she said it, but was careful to commiserate with her.  A few weeks later, she apologized to me, saying she realized afterward that she was talking about missing her daughter because of going to the in-laws, when I would be missing Erik forever.  So I assured her that it was okay.  That just because I had an extreme situation on my hands, it didn’t mean that other people couldn’t be sad or worried about things in their lives.

Thinking back on this and how it has progressed for me, I think this may be a very specific thing that reinforces the “feeling different from others” that we talk about.  We are different and those around us can’t change their lives or fix ours.  They may sense or feel uncomfortable to talk to us about the normal everyday things people vent about or are upset about.  Initially, we may be truly unable to find the emotional energy to listen to other people or, sad to say, to care about their problems.  But I think the sooner we can find a balance to that, and welcome others to confide in us again, the better we will feel and the more connected we will feel to others. 

On the other hand, there are things I have had a much harder time “getting back” in my journey here.  For example, my favorite thing to do before Erik died was to buy gifts for others.  I thought it was fun, and it made me feel good.  People knew I like to do this, and often said “You buy the best presents.”.  The first year after Erik died, I figured that I just didn’t feel festive and it was normal to think of gift-giving as a less important event.

However, the second year came and went, and I still really could not find enthusiasm in my heart or emotional energy to look for gifts or be creative in my giving ventures.  I felt really bad about it, and thought I was becoming a selfish person, which made me very unhappy with myself.  But, feelings we know are just feelings, and it is hard to change them.  I of course found ways to compensate for my “bad attitude” regarding presents, and I am assuming people weren’t running around saying, “boy, that Mary Ann doesn’t even care about presents anymore!”  I tried to get suggestions, or use gift certificates.  If I had to buy a baby gift, I would buy books in the book store so I didn’t have to go into the baby department of a store.

Now, as I am heading toward the end of my third year, I suddenly realized I am really thinking about gifts I might buy for others, and trying to make them thoughtful and meaningful.  And while looking for gifts, I seem to be more interested in ornaments and decorations as well.  We are making different plans for Christmas than the usual. 

This has just sort of snuck up on me.  It may be one of the things that really was simply helped by the passing of time.  Whatever the reason, I am glad it has.  It feels as if a little part of my old self has returned when I wasn’t looking, and it feels so good.

So apparently I have not morphed into an old lady Grinch, and have days of gift-giving left in me.  Such a little thing, but at Christmas more than ever, it’s the little things that count, right?

Dear Erik - written 2-24-10

Dear Erik,

I'm not doing very well here, and am afraid I will never stop feeling sad or be happy again.   I tell everyone that I think you didn't know how sad you were going to make me, but deep down I know it woudn't have mattered.  I know that even if someone had shown you how upset we were going to be, you would have left us anyway.  I know you couldn't stand feeling bad anymore, I watched your pain for so long, and I am so sorry that you had to suffer so much.  I'm so sorry