what is wrong with me?

i do not know what is wrong with me,

but something has to be wrong.

i'm not getting with the program.

i'm not moving on.

i miss him immensely.  i wish he were here.

i wish i were stronger inside.

i wish i wasn't so scared.

i am upset with myself.

i don't know how to fix this.

i try so hard to do everything correctly;

do what is expected of me.

i am working very focused on being what i am supposed to be.

but i cannot lie.

i am not happy.

i am not content.

in fact, i am miserable.

i am scared and worried and filled with anxiety.

i am deathly worried about money,

still, 

again.

right now i have to wait 3 months for health care with this new job,

but at least i have a new job.

the pay is less but at least i will have income.

so why am i so miserable.

no, it's not bears anymore.

i sell shoes.

and if i thought they could be unreasonable about bears

they are psycho about shoes.

beyond my fears of life,

as for searching for that happiness thing i have tried to promise myself,

i am failing.

i feel numb inside.

i feel insincere when i smile.

it's tired and fake.

but i manage it for a paycheck.

i keep it all inside until i get back here.

i am failing my children though.

they want me to be happy.

i lie but they can see that i am depressed.

i am too exhausted to do anything but sleep on my days off.

8 hour shifts.  hour + drive to and from work.

i am exhausted.

and i pay my bills but i have little left over for food.

i need the left over funds for gas to get to work and meds.

what is wrong with me that i cannot get on board with this new life?

i am lonely.  i miss talking to him.

i do not have friends.  i do not have the time.

and yet, i would really like to have someone to talk to.

i cry a lot on that hour + drive to and from work.

it's a long haul and takes so much gas.

it's a lonely drive way out there, to another town.

4 towns over.

one more week of that training and then,

i will be sent to another store.

only 40 minutes away, 5 minutes further away than Northlake

where i used to work.

i hate the idea

of always finding jobs

that want me in stores

that are so freakin' far away.

i wish i could find something where i could sit down

and work and make money

and be given health care

and it's only 10 minutes away.

i read about other widows who are getting along just fine;

in fact they are thriving.

they plan trips, go out with friends, date, get married again,

set up big foundations and become renowned as humanitarians

saviors,

put on pedestals

have people come to them sobbing saying, "you've saved me."

"shown me how to live."

they take tragedy and turn it into livelihood

into something so grand and honorable

while i have done nothing but try to write away my pain

and i've gotten

nowhere.

these women are living.

they truly live.

they are thriving,

not just merely existing,

like me.

i am not living at all.  i am struggling.

i am merely trying to survive.

and i think it's too much to ask life

to let me enjoy some small part of it again.

is it the money thing?

is it the feeling of safety?

of knowing they have a place to live and friends, support around them?

is it knowing, the confidence of being able to go to get food,

any amount of food they want at any time that makes life so much more bareable?

would having those things make it more bearable to me?

would this pain i am trying to write away right now vanish were i to have

enough to live on?

am i an ungrateful wretch for wanting that?

i should just be grateful for a job

that pays and gives health care; and i am.

i should just be grateful that that is all i have.

barely enough is as good as any feast, right?

but my dreams... my fantasies....

in them i have so much more.

nothing crazy, just a small cottage by the sea.

a place for my dogs and me to be free,

and safe.

what is wrong with me that i want these things?

am i that arrogant and selfish?

freedom from worry and anxiety.

i just want to have enough to eat and be safe.

i'd like to have him back.

i'd like to have a touch more than barely enough to get by.

such an arrogant shit i am.

what is wrong with me?

transitioning

 my store is closing.  they are closing my store.  that was the news i got 4 weeks ago next Thursday.  it slammed into me like a fist into my stomach.  my first thought was "no money and no health care."

i cried.  they let me go home that day because i was so very devastated.  they offered me a part time job back at the store i trained at, at that moment, i accepted.  but the next day i started looking for work.  that evening i had an interview lined up with Stride Rite - shoes.  selling bears to selling shoes.   they offered me a full time assistant manager position at a store the same long distance from my little apartment but it comes with health care so i took it.  $1 an hour less in pay.  so i took it.  because jobs are so hard to find and this one literally fell into my lap.  one week exactly from the day i heard they were closing my store, i had another job to walk into.

i was lucky and i know it.  but i am still scared.  tomorrow starts my new job.  first question?  what is the pay period?  when do i get a paycheck again?  second question?  when does health care kick in?

transitioning is so very scary for someone like me.  i'm still a Bunny of a woman.  i'm quiet.  i seldom defend myself.  case in point.  when i had to return the keys to my store, one of the part time managers at the store i returned them to told me i was crazy for accepting the job i did, that i was stupid to accept a job where i would still have to drive so far, and on and on.  what did i say in return?  nothing.  i cried and walked away.  she saw me crying.  she knew she had made me cry.  i did not look back.  what do you say to someone who points things out like that?  "is your life so miserable that you relish every opportunity to make someone cry and feel scared?  do you look in the mirror and see the monster i see inside you?"

but Bunny says nothing.  she just cries and walks away, and, of course, has yet another place and person she avoids.  such cruelty in the world.  thoughtless acts.  purposeless.

 i closed and locked the doors to my store for the last time on Good Friday.  i peeked back in and cried.  i cried for all the fuzzy friends i will not get to make.  i cried for the uncertain future i am headed into.  i cried out of fear and loneliness.  i cried all the way home.

home.  when i got home there they were.  my two friends.  they love me unrestrained.  they have no self-interests.  there is no evil in them, no malice.  they are incapable of revenge or cruelty.  dogs are "the rich man's guardian and the poor man's friend, the only creature faithful to the end."  ~ George Crabbe.

i love them.  i anticipate their greetings as i hurry up the stairs.  i open the door and sigh with relief.  i am with them again.  our little pack of three are reunited.  all is well within the sanctuary of our small little place.  we all pile on the bed and we all three sigh.  snuggle time.  cuddle time.  time to rest together.  one of our pack is now gone forever, and i know that these two will see him before i will.  but for now, we are together, and i can cry, ask them questions, "what do you think about this, or that?"  they listen with all the intensity of a worried therapist.  they lick my tears and sit on my legs trapping me, drifting off knowing that if i move, they will awaken.

transitioning is hard on them, too.  my daughter is coming over on breaks or after her own shift to walk them until my hours are figured out.  the first week i am being trained and have to drive an hour to another store and an hour back.  the company is paying for mileage but i do worry about my dogs, my friends, my babies; so my daughter is coming to walk them.    i can find comfort during the day in that.

so life has decided that i am to do something different now.  from bears to shoes.  a job of serving others.  on my knees fitting shoes to others' feet.  humble.  very humble.  i asked my children if they were ashamed that i had come to this and they said, no, that they were so very proud of me.  they felt i had earned this "move up" and they it was meant to be.  it all happened so fast and so easily.

i have no idea what lessons i am now supposed to learn and/or what i am to give to everyone now, but i guess i'll go with the flow.  i'll work, and learn, and give and give.  i'll keep my head down and work.

once i transition into this job i have made a promise to myself, set a new goal.  i want to try to be happy.  i want to try and find a way to accept this life better, be on better terms with it, because i am tired of being so afraid and so depressed.  i miss him badly.  i miss him as a friend, companion, lover, husband, as someone who truly cared about me.  i miss him, but i have to keep going and i want to do that "keep going" thing better than i have been.  fear and worry and grief have taken their toll on me.  so i am going to try to find "happy."  or i could grade on a curve and find "doin' okay."  i'd accept that.

life is a journey.  "doin' okay" first, then "happy."

and i'll take my little Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums along with me.  after all, "i get by with a little help from my friends."

p.s. the Veteran's Administration has approved my waiver and released me from any obligation to pay them back for their mistake.  {just keep breathing, Bunny.  for some reason that went your way.  just keep breathing.}

the antichrist and others

my time with this job is almost at an end.  as Dickens wrote, and is oft times true, "it was the best of times.  it was the worst of times."  i met some nice people.  i have guests who come in looking for me.  i have also met some of the worst people, some of my staff included.

i have shared stories of some of these people.  here is the last.

a woman comes in with 8 children.  are they all hers?  who knows.  she sits down to text while these children systematically destroy the store.  they reach into the acrylics and threw whole bunches of clothes for the bears into the air.  they grab the skater display dog and cat and have "races."  they throw panties into the air.  they terrorize the few guests who were still in the store, too far into the process to run out.  i walk in, ready to start my shift, and see my manager and an associate NOT doing anything to stop this.  i get our birthday party bell, very loud, and ring it halting all activity in the store.  "who is with these children?"  the woman texting says, "they're with me.  they're just blowing off steam."  i tell her to get them and leave the store while she has the chance.  the chance being i am picking up the receiver and calling security.  she whistles and they all come running, continuing to tear things up as they go.  fortunate circumstance, security is right outside our doors.  the children go flooding past him but he grabs the woman and the youngest child.  he tells me to call back to security for back up.  the woman is furious and struggles.  the child screams.  i explain the situation and that 7 more children are loose in the mall.  security sends out people to cover doors.  the PA system blasts out a warning that these children are loose and destructive, and "wanted."  it was a bloody nightmare for all concerned.
and it took 3 of us 45 minutes to put the store to rights.

there is a girl, 20, who works as a part time manager.  she moved here with her sister, her sister's fiancee, and her own fiancee after the death of her mother.  she has been here for well over a year and a half.  she broke up with her fiancee and started in a lesbian relationship with her immediate supervisor.  because of this relationship, our boss moved her to my store so she could continue working for the company, but she, her lover, and our boss are treading on a minefield.  our company does not like relationships within the company being so close.  our boss is the boss over my store and the store where this girl's lover is.  not only that, but our boss is best friend's with this girl's lover.  the three of them hang out a lot outside of work.  my problem with this is the stealing of company time.  the girl, now my part time manager, is always late getting to the store, even when she's opening that day.  late, as in 15 to 20 minutes late, but our boss covers for her.  and by cover i mean she clocks her in on time so that she gets paid.  to me, and to our district manager, this is stealing money from the company.  yet if i complain or call attention to it, it is me against them.  yes i can call up the computer evidence of time being approved by our boss, but our boss has worked for the company for 6 years.  her word against mine.  it grates but there is nothing i can do.

a girl came into the store close to closing time.  the mall does not allow children to be in the mall alone after 6 pm.  she said she was not alone, that the man in the suit standing at the entrance was her driver and responsible for her.  she chose her bear, put in 3 sounds, chose a lot of clothes.  it was late and i excused myself to shut the doors.  the mall was closing.  both the girl and her driver were very correct in their behavior.  the girl said little.  he said less.  as she dressed her bear and gathered up all she had collected to purchase and started ringing her up.  it came to over $700.  yes, you read that correctly.  she pulled out a platinum card and paid for it.  it had her name on it.  she showed me her ID, not a driver's license, merely photo ID that allowed her to use the card.  4 big sacks later she was ready to go.  she only picked up her bear.  the driver came over and quietly asked, "ready to go, miss?"  "yes."  she thanked for me staying late and allowing her to shop.  she said, "i don't like being on the mall with regular people."  i smiled.  she asked, "what?"  i told her i was "regular people."  her comment?  "you're a worker bee.  i have to speak to you to get what i want.  you did a good job.  you have dignity. thank you again."  i opened the door and let her and her driver out.  she walked with a maturity i have never seen in a 10-year old.

and now for the antichrist.  this one still has me rattled.

i was alone in the store.  we do not have anyone come in to help out until 1 PM.  a woman and her 3-year old son came in.  they were buying an "i'm sorry bear" for his 9-month old brother who was in the hospital.  i asked what happened to the little one.  mom said, "Baker here had an accident and his therapist thought an 'i'm sorry' gift would help him understand he needs to set things right.  he had an accident with the iron.  i was ironing and left it to answer the phone.  Baker unplugged the iron and took it down the hall into his little brother's room and dropped it in is crib.  Ben got burned."  it was all i could do to keep my face from showing my horror at this story.  Baker stood there looking at me with eyes that held no emotion.  he scanned the bears and grabbed one.  we went to stuff it and i asked if he wanted it soft and cuddly or stuffed really full.  he reached out and pinched the hell out of my leg and said, "don't ask stupid questions."  keep in mind this child is 3-years old.  his mother clucked -- i have read that word in books all my life and never really understood it until this woman did it -- she clucked, as if this was merely a dropped towel, "oh, Baker, sweetie.  she wants to give you want you want."  hearing those words the little boy asked me, "you want to give me what i want?"  in pain, i said, "i want to stuff the bear like you would like it."  "fine.  soft."  all through the process the mother was telling Baker that the bear was for his brother.  it suddenly dawned on him as they came to pay out that this really wasn't for him.  he stood in the middle of the store and screamed in outrage.  he stopped all action of people outside the store who looked in at this child's tantrum.  his mother ran to the wall and said, "Baker, honey, i didn't know you'd be so upset.  come pick one for yourself!"  Baker cut himself off, smiled at me, and went to pick out a bear for himself.  it took me 10 minutes of adjusting the stuffing levels to make this child happy.  in the meantime i found out that this woman had had both boys by different fathers, was not married, and believed men were filthy.  but if she was to be "cursed with boys" she would "raise them right."  apparently raising them meant that Baker could do what he wanted when he wanted how he wanted.  he controlled the entire show.  his mother whispered to me, "please don't make him mad.  he'll take it out on me."  she "protects him" by locking him in his room at night so she can sleep.  she "protects him" by doing everything she can to keep him from getting mad.
as the bears were being rung out, Baker took the bear meant for his brother, held it by its legs, and starting beating it against the counter.  his voice was raspy and deep as he said, "i wish Ben would die."  he said this over and over.  his mother just smiled nervously and said, "i think someone needs a nap."  he screamed no for the longest time.  he carried that note loud and long.  a Navy SEAL would have been impressed with how long he held his breath with that word.
the mother and child left the store and i just stood there, feeling so cold inside, and worried.  in about 10 years or so, i think i might be scanning the news for the name Baker, to see if he's done anything yet with the blackness and hatred he carries inside himself.

i hold these stories inside. there is really no one to tell.  i tell my children bits and pieces but, you know, those daily things you wish to share, you share with your spouse.  "oh, my Lord, you won't believe what happened today."  and you talk.  they make you feel better.  they hug you.  they make you a hot cup of tea.  they laugh.  they comfort.  they are there.

i miss him.  with all that i am, and all that is happening to me right now, i miss him.  i do talk to him.  i do tell him all this.  there just isn't any answering voice.  there are no hot cups of tea being made for me.  and there are no hugs to be had.

Thursday's child

panic attack.  i am in the middle of one at this very moment.  i cannot get my breath.  my chest hurts.  i cannot stop crying.  i feel like i'm having a heart attack.  maybe it would be for the best if i did.  slamming pain into the chest and then gone like he was.  then all this fear and worry would be over.

i am so very scared and my typing that for you, whoever, to read; it doesn't have the impact that it does for me.  this overwhelming fear that is dragging me down into this abyss.  i've interviewed for two jobs and am waiting to hear back.  i think, i believe, i have a chance at both; one more than the other, but the waiting is killing me.

i need to know i have a job that i can transition into.  i need to survive.

there are all these quotes about finding your happiness inside yourself.  there are all these sayings about living rather than just existing.  living.  existing.  those are so far out of my reach.

i just want to survive.

where is my Dragon when i need him?

"it is darkest before the dawn." screw you whoever said that.  what if there will never be a dawn?  what if there was a child born on a Thursday - and it all came true?  "Thursday's child has far to go."

what if, for some children, dawn never comes.

the bad thing happened

i happened today.  i was called to a meeting.  they are closing my store.

the silver lining is that they want me to move back to the store i trained in; the one that is 5 minutes from my apartment.  i will be making $2 an hour less, dropping down in health benefits but still keeping some.  it all happens on April 25th.

i have already started looking for another part time job so that i can get back that 40 hour work week.  going to try to get something so much closer to the apartment.  no more 35 minute drives to work.  just 5 minutes up the road to the mall, or some shop close by.

please wish me luck.  i need it.  i cried all day.  i asked for it off, paid, so that i could grieve over this and get myself regrouped to face the upcoming fall out of putting up signs in my store that we're closing.

this has hit me so hard.  my daughter is sort of happy since i have been so very stressed.  it has damaged my health to be so stressed.  i hope everything works out for me.  i hope i get lucky and find another little job.

i'm a little bit happy to be going back to my old store.  it is so very close.  God, i missed being so close to home.  that drive was killing me financially with gas going up to $4 a gal, plus the exhaustion of working so long and then having that long drive back so late at night.  now if i can just find another position somewhere.  two part time jobs.  i'm not over-qualified so maybe i'll have a chance.

please wish me luck.  i need it.

i wish i could talk to him.  he had been in tight jams before.  he was such a survivor, well, until he didn't survive the heart attack.  i have to be honest and say i have been worried about myself, about the way i've been feeling physically.  i'm so tired and my back and neck burn and ache, and it sometimes goes into my armpit.  my blood pressure has been good and i take all my meds.  i pray, meditate, talk to ...... let's just call it prayer.  i'm trying to hard to be worthy of better luck in this life and then be worthy of peace and safety in the next.

but i am just so broken.

right now, tonight, i am terrified, filled with stress and worry,

and am having a hard time holding onto hope.

it's taking all i have left to keep going.

fear and worry

wish i knew what to say.  just reaching out to anyone who will listen.  fear and worry are taking over my life.  money.  stress.  my daughter is the same way.  gas is almost $4 a gallon.  $20 barely gets me half a tank and i have to drive 30 minutes each way.

and i have been told not to hang from a rope about a raise.  my store did not earn enough.  the traffic through there and the things they bought compared to other larger stores in more tourist areas did not make enough.  even the tourist area stores are down.  so how do i pay rent, gas, car payment, bills, and eat when i cannot afford those things?

really?  all the hard work i put into that store and there is no cost of living raise?  not even a $1 more an hour?

and looking for a job now, at my age, in this economy.............

fear and worry.  wish i had someone to talk to.  to unburden on.  holding it all in and crying alone on my own.

maybe i won't have to worry for long.  the freakin' stress will kill me.

i see the world so differently now.  so few care.  everyone is in the water fighting to hold on.  and the ones that have a place on the raft are trying to get away from the rest of us as fast as they can.

"this is the way the world will end

not with a bang but a whimper."  ~ T.S. Eliot

i hear the whimpering every day.  and with the intensity of my own fear and worry, my own has joined the chorus.

i need some hope.  can't seem to find where i lost mine.

oh, how much i wish he were here to talk to, to lean on, to help me.  the grieving process slows, comes to a complete halt, when there are so many worries.  it's a cruel, antagonistic world.  i need ............. something.

4 years

today is February 9th. at this exact moment, 4 years ago, he had already died. 12:03 AM. just after midnight and my life changed.

four years later i still grieve for him. but is that the correct word? by definition, grief means "suffering deep mental anguish due to bereavement." am i suffering deep mental anguish? not as much physical pain nor as much mental confusion as i once had, so i guess grief is the wrong word. but what word can i use that everyone would know? recognize? understand? melancholia?  the only word that fits what i feel is grief.

i miss him. i miss where we lived. where i am is okay. i provide for myself and get by; barely. life is hard. i am lonely, but i am lonely only for him, still, even after 4 years. i cannot bring myself to take off my wedding rings. i panic when i try so i acknowledge i am not ready for that step. when anyone asks, "what about dating?" i cringe. the thought of doing that, of interacting on a personal level with someone who might think of me "that way," it makes me hyperventilate. i am not ready. i know of others who went out and search, found other partners 3 years after, 2 years, and even remarried before the 1 year anniversary of the death of their loved one. i have not been moved towards anything like that.

in thinking of where i was at this moment 4 years ago i have questions that still haunt me. could i have saved him? was my CPR performed so badly that it was all my fault? if an EMT had been standing over him the moment it happened, could he have been saved?

what were my two children thinking during this long day that they were on airplanes, waiting at terminals during layovers trying to get to me? i have not asked them and have not ever thought of doing so until just this moment.  see what turning the microscope inwards does for you?

what have i done with my life in these 4 years? i work at a toy store. i build bears and bunnies and dogs and cats, etc. i make people happy. i live in a tiny apartment whose rent is entirely too much for the space. i take care of myself as best as i can and i live with my two Scotties, Carmen Sophia the wild gypsy girl with the sensitive soul and Scootie Wootums Lord of the Dance with the stardust eyes. we hang out when i am here and cuddle a lot. i still sew memory quilts for others but i am cutting back. time is precious and i have precious little of it working a 40 + hour week.

what have i done with myself these last 4 years? i have struggled alone with my grief. i write here and on a grief blog. i check back to see if anyone has commented. beyond that i have no one to speak to about this pain. i have not been fortunate enough to pay for counseling so me and Grief? we are on very intimate terms. i talk to her. she rides with me to and from work.  i eat with her. i sleep with her, a lot, probably still too much on my days off. we are sisters, soul mates. i have no idea how long she will stay but at least she is here with me while i, ah, grieve. i tell her i miss him and she understands. she knows. she is grief. i tell her i wish i could talk to him one more time and she crushes my heart in her embrace. i tell her i wish i could see him again and she expresses her wistfulness with me, our sighs blending in harmony, a song played out along the minor scale.

it has crossed my mind, very late at night when i am exhausted and worried out of my mind, that if she were to ever leave, i would truly be alone.

i am surviving but i am flat on my back. i keep track of everything, take stock in myself, my inner reserves. i try to keep a positive attitude yet allow myself to crumble every now and then. i am flat on my back at year 4, still laying here where his death has dumped me. but i am looking up at the sky, the oh, so beautiful sky, and i acknowledge that it is worth seeing. i am still here. i am still struggling but i am only human. i am a woman, a widow, and it has been 4 years. today.
so this little posting is simply me reaching out, touching base with the universe as it were, letting it know i am still out here. now, i must go. it is getting close to suppertime and my sister, Grief, is waiting to eat with me.