Sometimes I feel I’m on a strange roller-coaster and you are all joining me in my ups and downs, wondering when this ride will level off. Another widow advised me, before Brian passed away, not to make any decisions or any big changes for a year. I listened, but in the back of my mind I just knew I’d be different, able to do things in my own time and my own way. In some ways, that is probably true, but I am beginning to see the wisdom in her words. She’s lived through many years of the different life that follows losing the person with whom you shared an existence. She probably knows far better than I that time is a great healer and guide through grief, and that your perspective can change from one month to the next, or even one day to the next.
It’s not a big secret that I am an introvert, a person who craves solitude and doesn’t mind quiet. But solitude is quite different than loneliness and quiet doesn’t always mean silence. Unfortunately, filling the loneliness and silence isn’t as easy as it may sound. You can’t just go out with a friend or watch a comedy. It doesn’t work that way because the one you long for the most can’t be replaced with a laugh track or even another person.
I have a lot of trouble sleeping these days. For a while I was okay, falling into deep sleep and waking up rested and ready to go. That was probably because of the chaotic sleep patterns I had while Brian was sick. After he died it was a relief to have uninterrupted sleep and not worry about his comfort and care. That’s all far behind me now, and I find that sleepless nights have returned. The worst has been a period of almost two days with not much more than a wink. The norm is several hours that are restless and sometimes filled with dreams I’d rather not remember. Once in a while my body finally shuts down and I sleep for 10 or 12 hours. I wish for a regular pattern.
Family dinners are nice and I appreciate that I have my parents here to support me. I even enjoy cooking meals and the routine of setting a table and calling everyone to dinner. But they are nowhere near the same as they once were. He’s just gone and that has changed everything. I’ve been out to dinner and it’s great to be waited on and share a meal and good conversation with other people. But it’s not the same. His laughter and jokes aren’t there. And I drive away alone, not wanting to face that he won’t be there when I get home either. Eating out by myself is a new experience and one I should learn to be comfortable with, but I’m not. It has nothing, yet everything, to do with sitting alone. I was part of something and now I’m not. It was taken from me.
I had a normal life. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was good and I liked it. I had a family and a little world to tend to. It was ripped from my hands without my permission. That hits me more often and harder lately. Sometimes it makes me angry and the last words I want to hear from anyone are “things happen for a reason” or “this will make sense someday.” I do understand that we have no control over some circumstances, only our reactions to them, and I have been very fortunate to have lived and enjoyed what I have. But I feel selfish sometimes, wanting to rewind and have what was. If I were to make a big decision now, it might be to run very far away and leave everything familiar behind me, to start over where not a soul knows me or knows what has happened. That could possibly be a wonderfully amazing adventure, but not the smartest decision. Or I might try to reconstruct a very similar and familiar type of life to replace what I had in order to get those feelings back again. That could also be a great adventure, but not a really smart choice.
Instead of running or replacing, I am sitting still and waiting. I’m trying to wait patiently for the time when life will move forward… or maybe just sideways. I have responsibilities, things I need to do and wrap up before I go anywhere or try to do anything new. Then, I need to learn to be on my own. I need to learn to be comfortable coming home without anyone to greet me. I need to know it’s okay to live alone, cook alone, do laundry for one, and be happy without him here.
This is my sweet November of renewal and I have been focusing on gratitude and finding joy in the little and big things that are good in life. There’s a lot there – I haven’t lost everything, that’s for sure, and I don’t want to be grumpy and whine and wallow. This season will no doubt turn out to be a beautiful and transformative one. Time will surely show me that normal isn’t only what I had, but what I will one day have again in a new way.
Waiting for Normal = Joy
Joyful on Purpose 
Sending you lots of love.
Receiving it… thank you!!!!
so many lines that are true to my experience too. loneliness is hard but also deciding who you want to spend time with very important. thank you for sharing.
i was also told to wait a year to decide big stuff. i recently read a powerful line around losing a spouse; that the person you were with that person died also. that’s a knock between the eyes but making more and more sense. i was told that i would be having an identity crisis/ shift and that seems to be very true.
Oh yeah, I completely identify with the identity crisis! I was defined by my marriage and family. That was so comfortable. I don’t always know what to do as a single person. I have never thought about the fact that who I was with Brian died along with him, but that makes sense. The shift is difficult. Thanks for your perspective. I truly appreciate it.
oh Jacque, it might be healthy, it might be natural, it might be expected, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Its easy to embrace the present moment if it isn’t absolutely excrutiating. Your wisdom during the long slog of grief is inspiring.
Thank you. 🙂 I know you understand it and to know others are feeling the same things gives me hope and courage.
Raw words about grief, from a joy seeking heart, described so well.
Have u tried l-theanine, 5HTP, inositol and melatonin together for sleep?
I am commiting to pray for you to sleep when I am laying awake! The mind is merciless in the dark!
Yes, the mind likes to stay up and play when the lights go out! I have only tried melatonin, so it may be time for a combo. 🙂 Thank you for the suggestion.
I know from experience that your normal will never return the same as it was. You will slowly form a new normal. One that fits your new reality. That us not good or bad. It just is.
Thank you, Susan. I was just saying last night that my head knows that, but my heart is just not quite ready to accept it. A new normal will be welcome when the time comes and I know I need to let the old normal go and be at rest.
My loss may seem different – divorce – but it was for me a sudden loss of everything, my partner, my way of life, my identity; so the grief process is much the same as losing someone through death. I found that I had two grief cycles; the first was as expected where I was in deep pain but friends and family rallied round me and I went through the shock – anger – yearning phases etc and then about four months down I found a place of peace; I started getting up watching the sunrise and enjoying each day and thought I was doing fine. Then suddenly a few months later I fell into a hole again – a very deep hole and it was dark and gloomy. This was the real grief, that part of facing the stark reality of being alone – forever. I too went through a phase of not sleeping, not coping, and had a muddled mind of not knowing what I wanted to do or be. I craved feeling normal. Eventually I gave into it and stopped fighting it, I accepted that I just needed time to sit and wallow. I thought of myself as being in a cocoon and that I would emerge when healed and ready. I have never before felt like that in my entire life. Slowly, gradually I have been coming out of it.
Now is the time to be kind to yourself and not expect too much of yourself. It will take time. Take care …
Thank you, thank you, and thank you! That describes so much of what I am feeling and I’ve journaled that it feels very close to being in a cocoon. Sometimes I have even wished for a real cocoon!! You have no idea just how much your message meant to me today. It was timely and I am going to read it and re-read it as a reminder that where I am is absolutely okay. Have a beautiful day!!
Thanks.
You too have a beautiful day. 🙂
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