dead like me

i've heard and always known, "what you do matters.  what you don't do matters."  i try to make every moment count.  i work hard.  i keep a million things in my head.  multi-task.  i come back here to the apartment and i work.   and then i fall into the mattress on the floor. 

i think:  someday i'll save up and get a new mattress. 

i think:  someday i'll take a day or two and go over to the ocean.

i think:  someday i'll find a friend.

and then the pragmatic part of me reminds me that i need to make a car payment, car insurance payment, my lease will be up and my rent will be raised, and i need that surgery.  this isn't Canada and my insurance is only for 80%.  i hurt physically a lot. 

but i also hurt emotionally.  really wish i could find a friend, but when will i have the time?  or the balls to take the risk?  i'm a nothing little nobody and i am tired.

~~

my boss came into the store and was on a rampage.  "why did you put that double-sided tape under the velcro rolls?  we don't fucking use the velcro rolls as often as we use the fucking double-sided tape?" 
me:  sorry.  me in my head:  "are you fucking serious about being upset that you have to reach under something that weighs once ounce?"

she was pissed that i had put some bears on the counter while i cleaned the bin.  "why are all these fucking bears on the counter?  didn't i tell you to keep the counter clean?"
me:  sorry.  me in my head:  "are you fucking serious giving me shit about putting bears on the counter for less that 5 minutes while i clean a bin you told me to clean?  how the fuck do i clean the bin with the bears in there?  my levitation skills suck."

and more of the same.  i went to the bathroom and sobbed.  i put my head down on my hands on the sink and sobbed.

what we do matters.  what we don't do matters. 

i try so very hard.  i know i do good work.  i never am told though.  i do get shit for stuff like that up there.  and it's lame stuff.  just another way of doing the same thing.  it all comes out the same in the end.  i kept telling myself she was mad at someone else/something else that she couldn't yell out; so she gave me hell.

and the worst part is i expected it.  i expect to be treated like that because ........... it's all i know.  and i allow it.

yeah, Eleanor Roosevelt,  the whole people walk on your if you lie down, but i have to lie down.  i am only an assistant manager.  and shit rolls uphill.  if one of my part time managers makes a mistake, i get hell for it because they are my responsibility.  i can't just pass the blame.  "on, {insert name} did or didn't to that."  that's stupid to do and i refuse to be stupid.  i am, however, quite quick to lay down and get walked on, stomped on, if only to get it fucking over with.

i feel dead inside still and i don't know if that's a bad thing or normal, or just a me thing that will be from now on.  have i accepted that his death, the fact that i will never be loved again, never be seen as a real person with depth and feelings, accepted grief to the point that i am used to it and this is what acceptance feels like, or am i so fucked up from all the abuse over the course of my life that i have had my behavior and thought processes modified to the extent that i cringe when someone calls my name, or forgets i exist?  that i accept more abuse? 

i feel dead inside.  i was so excited to see my son in Florida.  and then i came back here.  reality sucks.  i was excited to start hitting golf balls at the driving range but i haven't had another day off since that one day and i won't have another day off until next Tuesday.  and that day i have to go to the doctor fasting for some more tests.  and to see about that damn surgery which i fucking refuse to have.

i do sometimes wonder if anyone else feels dead like me or if this is, like grief, my own personal, lonely journey.

what's crazy is that my daughter says i am a delightful person who has wonderful stories and a great sense of humor, if only someone would take the time to really get to know me.  i can be a fun girl.

i really can.

i can be interesting.  maybe it's revulsion at my physical appearance.  i've lost so much weight. i'm not slim but i'm better looking that i was a year and a half ago.  maybe contacts.  lose the specs.  makeup?  streak my hair? 

that would all be fake.  it wouldn't be me.  and it would take away from my new mattress fund.

my mother got mad at me once; she was always mad at me for something.  she pinched my throat and yelled at me that i was ugly and not a girly girl like guys like and that i would die alone.

as a child i was so afraid of her and i used to think she was a little crazy,

but i guess she was also a prophet.

what you do matters.  what you don't do matters.

i try to do the best i can.  i don't have a lot to offer anyone so i don't expect to have a friend during the rest of my life.

i miss you, Dragon.  more than you'll ever know.  i like to believe/remember that you liked me and that, to you, i wasn't ugly.  you're dead.  i'm dead inside.  i guess we still have a lot in common.  {pssst. Dragon.  am i depressed or is it normal to be this down?  are you there?  }

lost soul

i feel like a lost soul these days. because of circumstances, i exist in a very limited way and space that makes me feel like a wraith in my own life. i wake. i work. i sleep. i do not go out. i am taken to the grocery store, for work supplies, and the used bookstore. then back. mondays allows me 3 – 4 hours out and away. clerks see me because they are the ones who finish the transaction i initiate by bringing what i would like to purchase to their counter.

i am lonely. would i like a woman friend, a peer to talk to about woman things? yes. it is hard here. i think the drawback of befriending me might be my lower financial situation, my lack of having a car which makes my company a burden, and my having come into already established lives that are flush with friends and extended families. i can only bring me to a friendship and so far i see that i am not enough.

my phone has rung twice since before Christmas that it was not my son or daughter. there are not many from anyone i have met here who check to see if i am okay and i have stopped calling. it feels too much like i am begging. it breaks my self-esteem. i did it for the first 11 months after i met a few widows but i was continually put off due to their busy lives. it lead to few of my calls being returned to none. like the song says, “I can’t make your heart feel something it won’t.”

i did get one “curiosity” call about my issues with the dentist. i said “hello” and the woman immediately advised me on what i should be doing, explaining that i was a fool to go back. she closed with, “See, you get phone calls. I just called.” the dial tone prevented even my chance to say “thank you,” and “goodbye.”

i do have a constant friend, that’s what i call him, my constant friend. he is my pen pal if one can be called such a thing when communicating solely on the computer. he is my husband’s Marine “brother.” i want him to know i am most grateful to him. one, he tells me stories about my Dragon which adds to the painting i had started in my head. two, he talks to me and has yet to find fault with me.

the stories. i seriously wish my husband’s friend had come for a visit. i would have plied them with alcohol and then taped them reminiscing about all their “adventures.” i would have been allowed such a legacy in that tape. two men whose lives were spent serving their country in places like Vietnam, Angola, Beirut, and Afghanistan, dancing on the tip of the iceberg. they have so many stories, both separately and together. some are wildly funny. some are just wild. listening when my Dragon told me things, i was always studying his body language to make sure he was okay during the telling. listening to my constant friend, i can continue my visions and empathy of what my Dragon and he went through. i can sense the fear they sometimes dealt with as well as the adrenalin rush. i can close my eyes in wonder at what these men were asked to do. most of all, i am continuing to learn what my Dragon and my constant friend live with.

i miss my Dragon. as each day passes, each week, i miss him more and more and yet, oddly, i am becoming more accustomed to feeling this way. it is not any easier. i am doing what has to be done to continue. I am adapting.

i am lonely for him. i miss the thrill i got when he smiled at me. i miss flirting with him. i miss his presence. i miss his words, his brooding, his nightmares, his laughter, and his breathing next to me in bed. i miss his warmth and his love. i miss his legs, arms, hands, mouth, and his eyes looking at me.

i wish he had not died. i sometimes want to go back to where we lived so much that it breaks me. i wonder if i could find peace back there. it was more a small village than a town. people knew us, they knew me and liked me. it was okay to be exactly the person i am. like my Dragon, they saw me, listened if i spoke, and liked what i made. i wonder if i had had the wherewithal to stay, if my grief would have been more poignant and less stressful as i settled in to wait to be with him rather than being here with this lonely gut-wrenching pain and not having anyone to talk about him with. the pull to go back to the cove is so strong inside me but is also one that, even with all the money in the world, would be impossible to fulfill. i cannot explain. the pain is so great that taking the time to explain would send me to bed. accept that it is beyond my reach. to quote another song, “you can spend your whole life working for something just to have it taken away.”

it was all taken away. it is for everyone who loses their spouse. i am not worse off than anyone else. i am simply trying to find a way to be heard. i am saying it was the same for me. here is the only place where i may try to express what i am feeling with any hope that someone will hear me.

when my Dragon died, i did not ask for any of my love to come back to me. i do not want it back. it belongs to him. i gave it all to him a long time ago. but i also lost my place in this life. i lost people seeing me, realizing i hurt as well. i lost our location. i lost our cove, our small slice of the ocean, our island, and all our dreams.

i lost the love of my life, the one i am meant to be with. it was sudden and he went quick. i did not get any last words. i wish i had. just to hear his voice again. once more.

sometimes, when i first wake up, or in the early afternoon with there are still hours and hours of living still yet to face in the day; i can get tricked into believing he is not really gone from me for the rest of my life. for a second i sometimes think that he should be back from his errand. but then i look out the window, not at the ocean, but at asphalt, and i remember.

friend request ~ denied

There is a commercial for gum that uses that phrase: friend request ~ accepted; friend request ~ denied.

It is no secret that I am in a situation of being utterly alone due to the way life worked out for me. The only chance for getting to know anyone has been through the widow’s group.

It’s hard being the odd man, or woman, out. People have lives here. They have friends from work, church, neighborhood, from lives spent living here and the opportunities they had to develop friendships. They are busy with children, work, grief, extended family, finding new loves, etc. I am new and I have no car to go to church, to join any other group, to go to see anyone when possibly something gets planned. I have to depend on my daughter for a ride or the generosity of others.

I don’t know if my grief is worse for not getting to sit with someone face to face to tell my story, to talk about my Dragon, to feel someone in the room who sympathizes, to have someone simply hold my hand or pat me on the back when I can’t stop crying.

I took one woman's advice from the group and walked to another widow's group meeting. I have tried to find friends there, people to meet to connect with. It has been anything but easy. And after today's phone call, I am not walking down there again. I am too tired. Come what may, I am just spent working this hard to find someone to try to become friends with.

There was one woman who started out being pretty good. I called her only once when in need of someone to talk to about my Dragon and my grief. She was busy at the time but she did call back a few days later to check on me. I didn’t call again, but I have to admit I’ve emailed about four times since I met her a few months ago. Not over the top harassment. But maybe it was too much for her. Maybe it was too needy. The last time she called me she explained she was very busy with her children and the new man in her life. She is starting a new chapter with a new love and I represent grief. She told me I frighten her by my being so alone. What if it happened to her? She has not been alone, she said, telling me that she has surrounded herself with her family and friends and has not spent one single night alone in all the few years since her husband has been gone. She does not understand how I can stand it. She feels “creepy” talking to me. It felt creepy hearing that.

I do it because I have no choice. I kept my voice even and kind when I told her she was blessed with so many friends and so much family. I told her it was okay, that I understood her change of heart, what she termed as her “discomfort” in talking to me. What else could I say? I can’t force someone to become a friend.

There has been another woman who called and called and then fell silent. I called her once and she was very excited about getting together, very determined and exacting with her plans for us, day, time, but she stood me up. I called her the next day to check to make sure she was all right. She was. A friend had called and wanted to go to the beach. It had sounded like more fun. She loves the beach. I told her I did to, that I very much understood the pull of the ocean. She made another plan to call. She hasn’t called. I haven’t tried calling her. It would be hard to hear her excitement for us to get together, and then wait for the phone to ring and it doesn’t.

One other woman. She has contacted me because she feels that I shouldn’t be alone. She thinks it’s very sad. She had had so many friends around her when her husband died. She knows the comfort of telling someone your story. She wants to hear mine. She wants to know about my Dragon, “whatever you want to talk about.” She was very verbose and eloquent in her emails back and forth setting up our lunch meeting. She’s planning on coming to pick me up and take me to a fabric store she knows about. She first wants to come up to see all that I’m working on personally. She loves creative people. She also loves my photographs.

She called today and spoke of my bringing my camera to take photos of her garden. She’d like to see what I “come up with.” I, of course, acquiesced. She’s coming to get me, after all. It’s not a problem. I love taking photos. Then she hesitated and said, “Of course I’m very busy so I know you of all people will understand if I need to cancel at the last minute. We can always set up the session in the garden for another time. Of course, I’ll still provide lunch. Then we can talk. Besides,” she continued, “fall is a beautiful time with the leaves changing colors.” She knows I’ll do a good job.

Our luncheon had become a session. I might be misunderstanding her wording but I’m guessing this isn’t about friendship so much as a photo session.

I sighed. I said, “Not a problem. I’m always here. Working. You can reach me anytime.”

She told me she knew that, that that was why she had felt so lucky to have met me and seen my photographs. She likes my style. Then she thanked me and rang off.

To the empty air, I said, “Not a problem. I’m always here. Working. You can reach me anytime.”

No one has to tell me that I need to cut these women slack. I know that they are dealing with their grief. For them it ranges from 3 years grieving to over 5 years. They are doing the best that they can with their feelings, wishes, desires, just the getting through each day without their spouses, and with the one, adjusting her family and friends to her new love. But why take me only so far and then drop me? If they cannot do it, do not feel any connection, why call me? And for the one, why tell me I am creepy because I am forced to live a very solitary life? It hurt to hear that. I know, more than any of them, what my life has become. Creepy is a very descriptive word.

I need to try to shake that word. If my Dragon knew about this, you would have heard his roar. He always tried to protect me, and if he couldn't, he was always there for me to crawl to and be comforted. Now I just talk to him but I can't hear his reply.

I love the ocean. I love Fall. I love Winter. I love my Dragon. Oh, how I miss him. All he wanted from me was love. And my eccentricities were never a problem for him. He was always there. He always wanted to be.

going out verses being alone

what's up with the gull face? it's my face. it's a face that says i could be friends with someone. how can you turn down a pensively weary yet valiantly strong face like that?

for the third time since my husband died, since i moved here to be close to my daughter, i went out to dinner. i only go out at night to the widow's group once a month, and twice since February they have skipped a meeting so i've only been to four meetings.

the first meal out was at my daughter's future mother-in-law's house. the second was with one of the widow's from the group. last night my daughter and her fiancee picked me up to have dinner with her fiancee's father. (her fiancee's parents are divorced and his mom has been remarried for about 4 or 5 years.) it was okay. three times, though, i almost called her to cancel claiming some small ailment but the sole purpose for the appointment was for me to meet this man. my daughter wanted me to meet him before the wedding so that it was gotten out of the way. now i've met everyone in the inner circle of her fiancee's life.

it's not the meeting that was odd. it was the going out that bothered me. i honestly don't know what's coming over me. am i slipping into this hermetic lifestyle to easily? is this a secondary side of grief no one told me about? why am i getting nervous to be away from my little apartment?

i can go out during the day to run errands. no problem. i have my list and my budget in mind. my daughter picks me up and i go and i return. i'm always glad to return.

i love it when i'm with my daughter. she and i are very close. she sighs heavily and i already know what's on her mind. my voice sounds funny on the phone and she knows i've been crying. we are in the middle of our transition into more than mother and daughter. we are becoming adult friends. better than friends because i am her mother but less of me being the guide and teacher i was when she was young.

i also love being with my daughter because we talk about my husband. i did mention him last night a few times but for the most part, i listened. i can talk, discuss, debate but i can quite easily be talked over. i stop talking and then can't find the bother to continue even when i'm given permission. i don't have any stories anyone wants to hear.

who wants to hear, well, "when my first husband pulled my son off the riding lawnmower to chastise him about mowing across the grass in the wrong direction for the growth of the grass, i put myself in between and took the hit." who wants to listen to the time i hid the kids when he came home on a tear because i'd spent $55 more at the grocery store than he thought i should have. i grew to hate online banking because he checked every damn day. he'd be mad before he learned i'd been asked to bring food to school.

i've already been telling you of my Dragon and of the time i was allowed with him. i've mentioned our walks. i've told you of the time the storm was coming in and cut me off on the rocks while i was too busy photographing said storm to notice. how many times can i tell you that he means the world to me? how many times can i say his eyes danced, he always held my hand, every time we walked anywhere - the grocery store, the library, driving the car? how many more times can i continue to write of our love without it being tiredly redundant for you, and i'll be sitting here knowing that?

i didn't say too much last night. i smiled. i responded at the appropriate length required to look invested in the conversation to questions put to me. but i felt out of place. it was a feeling akin to those first few steps after a stumble where you didn't actually fall down, just almost. and those first few steps are taken with the heartbeat still a bit rapid. the breathy "i almost fell down" adrenalin rush still coursing through you. that's how i felt all night out, until i got home.

my puppies were dancing, happy to see me. my little apartment looked cozy. my plants were full and gently moving from the little fan. my sewing, colorful and quiet was waiting. my photos of my life from before were looking at me from the walls and bookshelves. and my Dragon shrine was sitting on the mantle. solace. comfortable. sanctuary.

i read of everyone else going out and meeting up with friends. chillinwithlemonade had her scrapbook party and the photo looks like a bunch of women having such a nice time sharing and bonding.

i watched a film with Jessica Lange, Kathy Bates, and Joan Allen called "Bonneville" and the deep, long friendship of these women was enviable to me. i wish i could find a friend like that. i'm trying. but one that is very close to my age is also very busy with her much younger children. only one is even in elementary school. another one in my age bracket is a maybe. she's busy also but her children are grown like mine. i'm crossing my fingers.

i don't want to be a hermit. if that is my fate, i'd like to live by the ocean. since that isn't going to happen, i'd like to find a friend. someone who knows the brief ups and consistent downs of losing a husband. no offense to widowers but i'd like my friend to be female as i am.

i don't want to lose my voice. i lost it metaphorically during my first marriage. i was getting it back with joy and, i have to admit, a little bit of bravado, with my Dragon and because of him because he liked the sound of my voice and what i had to say. but now, i think i'm losing it again. i loved talking on the phone to Suddenwidow. she thought i was fun. thanks. =o)

i can be fun. i'm just caught in this sadness right now with no desire to pull away. i love him madly. he is so cute and would say wildly inappropriate things to make me laugh, so i want to be friends with someone who is stuck here as well. we could pull up our little dinghies along side each other and drift together for a while sharing stories, crying, laughing, imbibing in too many Shirley Temples and snacking on port wine cheese and crackers. then when it's all our of our systems, we will be fast friends. we'll push away a bit, reset our oars and draw where our strength and the current takes us. but we'll have each other to call out to. we'll be able to row back towards each other should the seas prove too rough for one or the other.

maybe one day i'll have a photo of me with my friend to post here so that everyone can see. i'm not only the Dragon's devoted widow. i am also some one's friend.

there is no one to call

this photo is so much the usual for me and my Dragon. him further out, daring more that i ever would. me, the shadow, always taking his photo, always watching him, hanging back, in complete and total awe of his fearlessness and grace.

i'm having a bad day and there's no one to telephone. i've lost the phone number of one of the women here who gave it to me and i would hesitate to call since it would be so unexpected, so out of the blue.

i've called my daughter twice at work and cannot again. i can't do that to her and to her while at work. she can't come over to be with me and falling apart like this, i don't want her to hear when she can't do anything about it. she would feel trapped at work and worry about her mom. so, let's see, i'm not falling apart so much that i can't think outside my grief to her.

i'm going to be paid for some sewing i've done and i'm going to use a part of those funds for a beautiful urn i saw. i want him out of the black box the funeral home put him in and now i can afford to get him something nicer, something beautiful. maybe that's why i'm crying so hard this afternoon.

i'm also very tired. i've been working frantically to get a lot of sewing things done and out of the way. i now only have one more thing to finish before my daughter's wedding. but i now know who is coming with my ex-husband to my daughter's wedding - his current wife and his mother, my ex-mother-in-law. it was my daughter who told me. her own stomach is tied up in knots. but i told her and now i'm telling myself, "maybe she's mellowed."

Lord, i hope so otherwise, well, my daughter will be busy with being the bride and i'll be busy keeping everything running smoothly and being the photographer. i won't have time to get cornered by them. okay, so that's off the table.

but i miss him. our wedding anniversary was yesterday and last night was unexpectedly hard. i knew it would be. but it was a bit worse. my solitary existence was accentuated after it got dark and i closed the blinds. lonely. only television shows with laugh tracks to keep some sound in the apartment. and then shutting off the television after i put needle and thread down for the night. silence. no heavy tread locking the door. no wide shoulders preceding me down the short hallway. no give in the mattress other than my own weight. no snoring. no warmth. he is not here anymore.

this will be my life from now on, whatever it brings, i will be alone. i need to find a friend, someone who understands and on whom i can call for human contact. someone who's life is more like my own, with children grown and time on her hands so to speak. someone who knows what suffering is but wants to survive it just as much as i do. a friend. i simply wish i could find a friend like i hear about from the blogs here and in the widow's group i go to.

until then, i will dream of my life from before and work to create something good in this shredded life that i have now. right now i can only think of him. it hasn't been that long since i was with him and he smiled and held me. so i think only of him and if only for him, then i have a reason to make the best of things. for my children who's lives are only getting richer and happier, i will pick myself up and never let them see how bad bad can get with me. a smile for the wedding. a bright voice on the phone. i'll do this for them, for my Dragon. maybe someday it will be for myself.

but right now, i just want to get through this afternoon.