March 11, 2012

Time to bloom

It’s been 8 months.  It’s weird because the way our life is now is starting to feel like ‘normal’.  I don’t think about it constantly anymore.  I’m in the habit of pushing the thought from my mind a lot, because I don’t want to be sad.  I’m tired of being sad.  I’m tired of crying.  I’m tired of analyzing.  I’ve never in my life had to be sad for so long.  I still miss him.  See…tears are right there…just because I had the thought.  The mere typing of the words “I still miss him” causes the tears to well up. 

I amused myself a couple weeks ago by reading an article about the proper way to mourn in the 1920s.  Women were to wear black for a period of one year.  They were not to do anything fun.  They were not to be seen in a theatre or attend any social events.  The transition to normal clothing was expected to be gradual.  I take it people would have been aghast if on day 366 you wore a bright yellow dress to the circus.  Dating was not to resume for a period of one year, except if the widow was considered young.  Hmmm.  I wonder if I would be considered young?  I’m certainly not dying to be in a relationship again.  I know I’ve said repeatedly that I have no desire.  Actually, my exact words several times have been “he’d have to be superman.”   That, and he’d have to look like the Greek Adonis.  And he couldn’t be a whack job.  He’d have to have a witty sense of humor, ‘cause God I need to laugh again.  A lot.   Would have to have a positive attitude because I just can’t stand negativity.   Has to love kids.  Has to love me, of course, but also worship me, in a goddess sort of way.…secretly knowing that no one else would ever measure up.  Tall order?  I’m quite sure this doesn’t exist in real life.  I plan to hold out for it anyway.

The baby has been hurting my feelings all weekend by wanting only my sister.  He slept there two nights in a row.  He still managed to find the time to scribble with a purple permanent marker all over the wall in my kitchen.  He stood on a pack of paper towels so he could draw up high.  When I caught him he was sitting on the paper towels, leaning forward with a very intent look on his face.  When I saw the wall, all I could do was laugh and I had to quickly hide my face.  I didn’t even fuss him.  He blamed it on “wootie” with the marker still in his hand.  When I said ‘bedtime’ tonight, he ran to the front door and said he wanted to go to my sister’s house again.  Little booger.  I will admit having a significant break from him this weekend was nice.  When he cried by the door for her I said “What about me, what about mommy?” and he pushed me and said “No.”  I pretended to cry and he ran to me and threw his arms around me and said “I still wuv mommy.  I want mommy.  I don’t want to go to bed!”  I haven’t a clue how I would have survived the last 8 months without these boys.  These boys that I love so damn much.  Without a baby in my bed every night.  Little dimples on the backs of his hands.  Patting his little diaper.  Hearing his little baby voice, smelling his sweet baby neck.  Kissing his sweet baby toes.  How could Dave leave this?  How could he not want to be right here?  There are times when I feel he did this to punish me.  But then I think of them.  Surely he didn’t want to punish them.  Surely he was just out of his mind.  I don’t even care anymore.  I’m so damned sick of thinking about it.  I just want it all to go away.

For the past few months I’ve been keeping my eye on this beautiful orchid that Dave gave me last year.  Usually I kill orchids.  And then I throw them away.  But a couple months ago, I noticed this one was not  near death, in fact it was going to bloom again.  I’ve been convinced that the bloom would open on a significant day.  The first of several flowers on the stalk opened this weekend.  I’m taking it as a sign that my life will be blooming again too.  New beginnings.  Being reinvented.  It is spring after all.  The sun is out.  Everything is fresh and new and dewy.  I wish I was fresh and new and dewy…like I was when I was 25 years old.  But I think I can be fresh and new and dewy again, only now much smarter, much wiser.  Having extracted all I can from this hellish nightmare I’ve been living.  But willing to bloom again.  Funny when I took the picture just now I noticed there is a tiny angel on the pot. 

8 comments:

  1. I do believe the orchid bloomed for a reason. I don't know what yet...as you don't either. But, I really believe something good is coming. And I can't wait to see what it is <3.

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  2. I love that the orchid bloomed for you on a significant day, giving you hope and regenerating your spirit! March 11 marks a sad day for me. It was the wedding anniversary for my first husband and I. This year, it would've marked our 22nd anniversary. Dale took his life just short of our 20th anniversary, but I'll never forget this day, and I will always go and visit his grave on this day just to make sure he knows that it still means something to me. "There are times when I feel he did this to punish me. But then I think of them. Surely he didn’t want to punish them. Surely he was just out of his mind. I don’t even care anymore." I have this same feeling A LOT!! I know in my realistic mind that he was sick, but it's still hard to understand and wrap my mind around leaving our kids, leaving his siblings, his parents, his friends, etc. But just as the orchid speaks to you of hope and new beginnings, Dale uses the radio to talk to me. It's quite frustrating sometimes, but then, I think I'd be lost without it. At least it gives me a sense that he's still with me, talking to me. But don't totally count out having another man in your life some day. Mine came quicker than I ever would have expected, but he is everything I need and more.

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  3. Ever think of writing a book? You should. You have great writing skills and I like how you write, even though it's sad. You need to write a book and you know it.

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    1. Thank you. I have thought about it. The blog was sort of my way of testing the waters, just to see if anyone else would find it interesting enough to read.

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  4. Depression is the saddest most debilitating illness ever. Sometimes people do not "plan" it, they just want the pain to stop. You are just thinking of making it stop and of nothing else, unfortunately. But you are alive. Your kids are alive. You are surrounded by their unconditional love everyday. You know how a runner crosses the finish line? He pushes his chest forward, into it...that is what you do everyday, just to finish the day. One day, sooner than you know, you will look back on this chapter of your life and not recognized the woman you see in your memory. You will evolved into the strong beautiful woman you already are but do not believe in yet. But you will...you will.

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    1. LOVE the runner analogy. That IS me everyday. Thank you for those words, all of them!

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  5. Its awesome that I came across your blog. I love reading what you write, its comforting. Im dealing with my brothers suicide 8 months ago. Bipolar is supposed to be a chemical imbalance but I am convinced Ive recently developed it over night some days- I can go from happy to sad to raging lunatic pissed in 0-60. Im in shock and numb like Im just a character in somebody elses dream, and then its raw and all too real. Ive been reading and thinking about the strength you display and it gives me hope. Ok, maybe just maybe, perhaps I wont or am not totally unraveling, its going to be ok. Im dealing with loosing my brother. Im married with kids. I cant imagine the pain I feel, and then imagine that being applied to my husband and having to deal with the kids. Unbelievable, I just cant even imagine and I admire your strength and your courage to face life head on as you are and also would like to thank you for sharing your journey. I figured I should tell you that you are reaching people who need to read the things you are writing. You are doing something, as you heal you help heal others. So thank you, and Im going to continue on to read the blogs you have written that I havent read yet, but just wanted to pause a minute and drop you a note.

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  6. I have felt completely bipolar at times too...many days I questioned my sanity and honestly felt I was going crazy. I think it's just grief. Because I'm noticing these days I'm regaining my control...regaining the parts of myself that I let die over the last 9 mos. This suicide stuff...people can't even begin to understand it unless they've lived it. The guilt will kill you, rob you, destroy you. I'm so not letting it. I'm so humbled when people say that I'm helping others to heal. it's an honor, really, to play any part in the healing of another person.

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