Today I feel like I hate everything.
I hate facebook. I hate seeing every one's perfect lives. I hate seeing people's status updates and pictures and their happy lives. I hate it. I hate seeing people bragging about their husbands and them doing nice things. No one cares. Do people really get off on expressing to others how "perfect" their lives are?! You aren't making any one's life any better, you're not benefiting anyone by bragging about your wonderful life. I can only assume that you are doing it to make yourself feel better. I would really love to delete my facebook. But if I do that, I am sure I will be getting phone calls from everyone under the sun checking to see if I am still alive. Unfortunately, it's my connection to the outside world, my connection to the friends that I do have.
I hate that I am alone. I don't mind no one being around. I mind that Michael isn't here anymore. I just want my husband home! I would never wish this on anyone at all. I still cannot believe that this is my life now. I'm a widow. I still have a hard time believing it. I know I am still in denial. I bounce back to denial all the time. I hate that I know I need to go to therapy. I tired to make it seem like I can handle this. The honest truth is that I can't. I don't know how. It seems like my life will forever be this black whole and I don't even know where to find the light at the end. Nor do I really want to find the light. I don't think I will ever want to get over Michael. I never want him to be something that I never talk about. I don't want him to be something that I will just eventually throw out.
At the same time though, I don't see how I will last much longer with my life being like this. Feeling the way I feel. Will I ever find a balance? Keeping Michael alive with me but being ok that he really isn't here anymore (does that sound crazy?). I just can't imagine feeling this pain for another 60 years, if I am to live for another 60 years.
I also can't imagine being with anyone else either. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe there is someone out there that is willing to understand me and where I come from. Maybe I will find that balance. But I don't see it. I will never see how being with another man will make me feel ok or make everything better. I knew at 18 years old that I wanted to be with Michael forever. I knew then that I was ready to settle down, get out of the dating game. I found my missing piece. How do you move on from losing the love of your life?
I'm sorry for the rant and the venting. I promise it will happen again. :)
Showing posts with label DABDA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DABDA. Show all posts
Monday, June 14, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Acceptance
In the midst of moving in and adjusting, I had to write. I needed to get things off my chest and this is just the brink of what is running through my mind. I wrote this on 3/23/10...
Something that I just cannot do. I cannot accept that this is my life. Our path was clear. We had our game plan and within a matter of seconds that was completely stopped. Ceased. No more. Never again will things ever be the same.
I now live in a big house with my mom and 5 dogs in Fort Myers Florida. I used to live in a modest apartment with an outrageous rent, in San Diego with the love of my life and our two dogs and cat. We were going to start trying for kids around 2013. We wanted our own home in San Diego. I was going to graduate in 2011. I was going to graduate again in 2013 with a second bachelor’s degree. My husband, my tayte, was going to be commissioned as an Officer in the United States Marine Corps in 2014. We were going to grow old together and retire in our beachfront bungalow in Key West asking each other about cottage cheese and prunes in 2050. We had so much life ahead of us. If Michael was supposed to die, it was supposed to be in Iraq doing his job. The entire two years he was gone I had in the back of my mind that I would get that knock on my door with two Marines regretting to inform me that my boyfriend/husband was killed while deployed to a foreign land. Not while he was home, while he was safe. Instead I got a phone call in a mall by one of his best friends who was scared shitless to tell me that my husband, my tayte, my Michael was killed in a motorcycle accident.
I can’t accept it. I don’t think I ever will. I know that in this process called grief, you are supposed to go through these things, depression, anger, denial, bargaining, and acceptance. But I can’t. It just cannot be that my HUSBAND IS DEAD! He was indestructible. Untouchable. The pieces of this puzzle just do not fit together in my head; they don’t make sense. The pieces of my perfect life puzzle fit perfectly. Not this time. I would have much rather would have died in the place of my love. He was so much better than me. I don’t deserve to live, he does! What do I do now when the best part of me was him? I am forever broken. There is no man, no medication, mechanic, no amount of time talking to a professional that will fix me.
The huge part of me that cannot accept this is the same part that keeps me from visiting him so much. When I go and see where he is at, it’s just a rogue wave in the midst of a semi-calm ocean. It’s acceptance slapping me in the face. My husband is in there. He cannot breathe, he cannot open his eyes, no words will come out of his beautiful mouth. I do not even want to begin to imagine what Mother Nature is doing to his beautiful body. The body that I knew like the back of my hand, every scar, every freckle, every rough patch of his skin, I know it all. And now it’s just a memory. A bittersweet memory. Going there brings that pain that I know all too well how to avoid. Feeling the pain of Michael being gone just makes it even more real.
Something that I just cannot do. I cannot accept that this is my life. Our path was clear. We had our game plan and within a matter of seconds that was completely stopped. Ceased. No more. Never again will things ever be the same.
I now live in a big house with my mom and 5 dogs in Fort Myers Florida. I used to live in a modest apartment with an outrageous rent, in San Diego with the love of my life and our two dogs and cat. We were going to start trying for kids around 2013. We wanted our own home in San Diego. I was going to graduate in 2011. I was going to graduate again in 2013 with a second bachelor’s degree. My husband, my tayte, was going to be commissioned as an Officer in the United States Marine Corps in 2014. We were going to grow old together and retire in our beachfront bungalow in Key West asking each other about cottage cheese and prunes in 2050. We had so much life ahead of us. If Michael was supposed to die, it was supposed to be in Iraq doing his job. The entire two years he was gone I had in the back of my mind that I would get that knock on my door with two Marines regretting to inform me that my boyfriend/husband was killed while deployed to a foreign land. Not while he was home, while he was safe. Instead I got a phone call in a mall by one of his best friends who was scared shitless to tell me that my husband, my tayte, my Michael was killed in a motorcycle accident.
I can’t accept it. I don’t think I ever will. I know that in this process called grief, you are supposed to go through these things, depression, anger, denial, bargaining, and acceptance. But I can’t. It just cannot be that my HUSBAND IS DEAD! He was indestructible. Untouchable. The pieces of this puzzle just do not fit together in my head; they don’t make sense. The pieces of my perfect life puzzle fit perfectly. Not this time. I would have much rather would have died in the place of my love. He was so much better than me. I don’t deserve to live, he does! What do I do now when the best part of me was him? I am forever broken. There is no man, no medication, mechanic, no amount of time talking to a professional that will fix me.
The huge part of me that cannot accept this is the same part that keeps me from visiting him so much. When I go and see where he is at, it’s just a rogue wave in the midst of a semi-calm ocean. It’s acceptance slapping me in the face. My husband is in there. He cannot breathe, he cannot open his eyes, no words will come out of his beautiful mouth. I do not even want to begin to imagine what Mother Nature is doing to his beautiful body. The body that I knew like the back of my hand, every scar, every freckle, every rough patch of his skin, I know it all. And now it’s just a memory. A bittersweet memory. Going there brings that pain that I know all too well how to avoid. Feeling the pain of Michael being gone just makes it even more real.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
DABDA
DABDA...
Denial
Anger
Bargining
Depression
Acceptance
The five stages of grief. I learned about this while I was taking a CNA course the summer of 2008. We had to learn it because our main focus was taking care of the elderly and some day, a patient of ours might pass away. It was always made evident that once you finish with one stage, you quickly go into the other. They never tell you what it's really like. They don't include the different add-ins like the confusion and the inability to remember anything. They also don't include that you skip around. It doesn't go in a fluid progression from one into the other.
Denial... (BIG) check. Anger... check. Bargining... check. Depression... check. Acceptance......
I can't accept it. I still don't believe he is gone. I still feel like I am going to wake up from this nightmare and open my eyes to see him laying there next to me. I think about the life that we should have had. The life that was so close into grasp. We were going to be parents. We were going to have careers. Michael was going to be an Officer in the Marine Corps. We had an amazing life planned out for us. And a split second some ass hole takes it all away. Michael was HOME! He was SAFE!
I have said it hundreds of times before and I am sure I have even written it on here... When Michael was deployed, I held my breath. You always have it in the back of your head that anything is possible when they are fighting in a war. Every time my door bell rang or I had a knock on my door, I had a mini panic attack. That was the one thing you had to prepare for. But Michael came home. He came home twice. This last time was supposed to be the last time for a long time. He wasn't going to deploy with his unit at Miramar, he was going to stay home and run the shop until he was supposed to go to college. He had a guaranteed 5 years home. He was home and I was able to breathe. He was safe and nothing was supposed to happen to him.
I found myself the other day, being in the same turning situation as the man who hit Michael. I was making a left hand turn. I wasn't at a light. I found myself stairing at the traffic going in the opposite direction and I am just stairing in amazment because this man really did not care enough to pay attention. I could see all of these cars in plain view. How could he have not saw Michael?! Michael's bike was black and blue. He had a helmet on, which was also black and blue. He must have not looked. That one mistake look my husband's life and ruined mine.
I miss you Michael. My love for you is eternal.
Denial
Anger
Bargining
Depression
Acceptance
The five stages of grief. I learned about this while I was taking a CNA course the summer of 2008. We had to learn it because our main focus was taking care of the elderly and some day, a patient of ours might pass away. It was always made evident that once you finish with one stage, you quickly go into the other. They never tell you what it's really like. They don't include the different add-ins like the confusion and the inability to remember anything. They also don't include that you skip around. It doesn't go in a fluid progression from one into the other.
Denial... (BIG) check. Anger... check. Bargining... check. Depression... check. Acceptance......
I can't accept it. I still don't believe he is gone. I still feel like I am going to wake up from this nightmare and open my eyes to see him laying there next to me. I think about the life that we should have had. The life that was so close into grasp. We were going to be parents. We were going to have careers. Michael was going to be an Officer in the Marine Corps. We had an amazing life planned out for us. And a split second some ass hole takes it all away. Michael was HOME! He was SAFE!
I have said it hundreds of times before and I am sure I have even written it on here... When Michael was deployed, I held my breath. You always have it in the back of your head that anything is possible when they are fighting in a war. Every time my door bell rang or I had a knock on my door, I had a mini panic attack. That was the one thing you had to prepare for. But Michael came home. He came home twice. This last time was supposed to be the last time for a long time. He wasn't going to deploy with his unit at Miramar, he was going to stay home and run the shop until he was supposed to go to college. He had a guaranteed 5 years home. He was home and I was able to breathe. He was safe and nothing was supposed to happen to him.
I found myself the other day, being in the same turning situation as the man who hit Michael. I was making a left hand turn. I wasn't at a light. I found myself stairing at the traffic going in the opposite direction and I am just stairing in amazment because this man really did not care enough to pay attention. I could see all of these cars in plain view. How could he have not saw Michael?! Michael's bike was black and blue. He had a helmet on, which was also black and blue. He must have not looked. That one mistake look my husband's life and ruined mine.
I miss you Michael. My love for you is eternal.
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