Category: grief

The most random things will make me want to cry.  For example, my boss just took two new sales reps around to meet all of the customer service reps, and she told them I’ve been here almost a year and have just been amazing and that they’ll be sitting in my cube at some point while they’re here training.  Obviously that’s a flattering thing for your boss to say, and I just want to text Matt to tell him about it.  He would be pleased for me. 

But I can’t…so I guess I’m telling all you people so that you can be pleased for me, too.  It’s a whole lot better than nothing, after all.  🙂 

I want to go to Target after work.  I’ve bought new clothes lately though, and even though I could use some stuff like a new broom, cat treats, and some Tums, I feel like I shouldn’t be spending money.  Annoying.  Maybe I’ll just stay home and work on a new quilt or something.  I need to keep going on that feather quilt.  Maybe I’ll do that.  I guess we’ll see.  I used to like being single because it meant that I could do whatever I wanted to, and whenever.  Now it just makes me sad.  I have to fill out a new life insurance beneficiary form and I have no idea who to list.  No idea.  I don’t like any of this. 

Well, actually, I am still glad that Matt isn’t suffering anymore.  I guess I like that.  It takes a whole lot of unselfishness to say that. 

Monday morning #6

Ohhh sighhhh….Monday mornings are still pretty shitty.  I’ve stopped myself from sending some arbitrary texts already today – I don’t have anything to say really, I just want to text Matt but can’t.  So I guess that’s why I’m blogging now. 

As recently as 6 weeks ago, I would go to work in the morning and view 5:00 as the finish line when I could stop sitting in my cube and go home to my favorite person.  The finish line isn’t as appealing anymore, but being home is still better than being at work so I’m trying to come up with some stuff to do this week.  Mostly – when I stay home anyway – I’ve been just watching TV and keeping the house clean.  Doing some reading – No Time to Say Goodbye and Without –  but I only like reading a little at a time from those books.  They’re not very easy to read.  I had been re-reading the Two Towers before Matt died, but I haven’t felt compelled to pick up that book again yet. 

Anyway.  So I need to start exercising when I get off work.  And I’ll need to start getting out and doing stuff, too.  Before, this wasn’t a problem because I would spent almost all my free time at Cafe Coco.  I don’t have as much motivation to go out there these days, not to mention the fact that I live further away now.  What do single people do?  What do introverted single people who aren’t necessarily looking for a new boyfriend do?  Join clubs?  Extracurricular activities?  I could find a suicide survivor support group.  I could start inviting myself to people’s houses for dinner.  I don’t have to meet new people right now; it’s probably sufficient for me to learn how to reach out to the friends I already have. 

Jot

I’ve noticed that I’m learning to accept all of this in my life. It’s not as hard as it had been – not as hard as frequently, anyway. I haven’t asked “why” as much, and I haven’t been fighting guilt or what-ifs as much. I still do – just not necessarily daily.

But I still miss Matt as deeply as I did that first week. I’m glad that I’m learning to accept it, but that gladness doesn’t hold much of a light to my aching just to be with Matt again.

Just musing….

So I’m just reading through Without, start to finish, and I’m about half way through now.  A lot of the poems are about his last days with his wife as she was dying from cancer, and he talks a lot about how they spent those days.  It’s such a different scenario than mine, but has all the same underlying themes and emotions.  It makes me think about how brave he was to remember all of that and write about it at such length; it’s so difficult for me to spent almost any length of time thinking about all of my memories with Matt.  I wrote out a bunch in my (paper) journal (plog?) and a part of me wanted to keep going, but I kept having to stop because I was crying.  But I’ll go back to it.  I don’t want to lose those memories.

IMG_0003

Another poem, sorry

I don’t have anything particular to write at the moment, but read this poem last night and really liked it.  It’s also from Without by Donald Hall.

Air Shatters in the Car’s Small Room

 

Distracting myself

on the recliner between

Jane’s hospital bed

and window, in this blue

room where we endure,

I set syllables

into prosy lines.

William Butler Yeats

denounced with passion

“the poetry of

passive suffering.”

Friends and strangers

write letters speaking

of courage or strength.

What else could we do

except what we do?

Should we weep lying

flat?  We do.  Sometimes,

driving the Honda

with its windows closed

in beginning autumn

from the low motel

to Jane’s bed, I scream

and keep on screaming.

Poem

On second thought, this is a stanza from the poem “Her Long Illness” by Donald Hall.  This one has resonated with me the most so far. 

 

     He hovered beside Jane’s bed,

solicitous: “What can I do?”

     It must have been unbearable

while she suffered her private hurts

     to see his worried face

looming above her, always anxious to do

     something when there was

exactly nothing to do.  Inside him,

     some four-year-old

understood that if he was good — thoughtful,

     considerate, beyond

reproach, perfect — she would not leave him.

Last night went much better than I had been anticipating.  I found the lady’s office with no problem at all (I’d driven by the building many times before going to Springwater or Centennial Park).  She was very nice and attentive and asked me questions whenever I would stop talking.  She seemed to be surprised that I was seeking out help so soon after Matt’s suicide – she kept saying stuff like, “This is so new, Erin.”  She also seemed to think that I’m doing the right things to cope – staying in touch with family/friends (even if it’s mostly through this blog), reading, crying, seeing her, etc.  So I was glad to hear that, as a professional, she thinks I’m doing as good of a job as can be expected right now.  I actually felt a little better after the session (which was helped by the fact that Ryan isn’t having to stay in Dickson indefinitely, I have to say).

Today, at this moment, I am not feeling so terrible.  I have plans for tonight (helping Ryan clean up his place in White Bluff) and plans for tomorrow (hanging out with some old B&C coworkers).  I’m not sure what I’ll be doing this weekend yet but I’m looking forward to being able to sleep in, anyway.  I still constantly miss Matt but right now it isn’t making me so depressed. 

When I got home from work yesterday, there were two packages on my front door – some flowers (thank you Vanny!! 🙂 ) and some books that I’d ordered from Amazon.  The books are Crocheting on the Edge because there’s an awesome (https://picasaweb.google.com/107633384795586606813/MANTELLEPONCHO4#5386792157984952770) pattern for a blanket in there which I’m going to make with some yarn that Helen bought me.  The other book is Without by Donald Hall.  It’s a collection of poems that he wrote about his wife (Jane Kenyon)’s death.  I’m really liking it so far and might post something here eventually.  We’ll see.

Anyway, this is starting to seem very rambly to me and I don’t feel like proofreading and revising, so I’m done for right now. 

The sun is out this morning….

I felt a little better when I woke up this morning and saw blue sky (also I went to bed earlier than has been the norm for the last month, so that might have helped too).  Last night’s bath was nice, and watching Babette’s Feast was too.  Ryan was there all evening so I didn’t do much straightening up, but I’ve done a pretty damned good job of keeping the house clean lately.  It’s not spotless, but it’s SO MUCH BETTER than it could be.

So I have a counselling appointment tonight.  I’m nervous, but maybe a little bit excited.  Not very excited though.  But even if I don’t like her and don’t go back to see her, it will probably still be good for me.  I’m not very good at talking.  As much as I am dreading this, I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for Matt.  I really can’t.  I’ve come to realize over this last month (plus) that I really had no idea what Matt was feeling.  I knew that I didn’t have much of a clue and I would try and try to get him to open up and tell me.  Sometimes he would, most of the time he wouldn’t.  But even the times that he would open up…I just didn’t have any past experience that helped me in any way to understand what and how he was feeling.  I didn’t know.  I feel like I could have been more supportive if I had been able to understand more.  I know there’s nothing I really could have done about that, but it’s just another “what if.” 

All my regrets concerning Matt have to do with not being able to spend enough time with him.  I guess it could be worse.

This evening

I get off work in 30 minutes and have been trying to think of something that I can do tonight that will help me feel better.  I think I’m going to straighten up around the house, then take a bath (ahhhh), then put on Babette’s Feast and do some crafting and/or drawing.  Sounds like a pleasant-enough evening, eh?  It makes me sad that Matt won’t be around for any of it (except as he is inside of me, which I’m struggling to understand and actualize… I guess).  But he won’t be there, and I’ll be alright without him.  It hurts me to say so, but it’s the bittersweet truth.  (More bitter right now but the sweet will come, I’m trusting.)

In other news, I can cross my legs under my desk now.  And I can buckle my belt a notch tighter.  Talk about bittersweet.

Thanks to those of you who have upped the comments here – it makes me feel good to have feedback, even if it’s just one line.