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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I DON’T WANT TO MOVE ON.
That’s all. I don’t want to.
I know I have to.
But I don’t want to.
But I know I have to.
There is some sarcasm in that subject line, BTW.
For that matter, there’s some sarcasm in that first line there. But at any rate, it’s Monday, again, and I’m at work. Again. I never noticed what a drag this really is before. Or rather, I did notice, but I always had something better to look forward to once I got home.
The idea of trying to build a new life out of this is so daunting. This is going to be the hardest thing that I have ever done. I don’t like reaching out to people – it takes me way outside of my comfort zone. I know that reaching out is good for you, blah blah blah…I guess I expect people to let me down on some level, and that’s probably at least one reason that I’m hesitant to reach out to new people (or even people I already kind of know). Hell, Matt let me down. I know he didn’t mean to and didn’t want to, but he still completely did. But people will do that, and I’ve certainly let people down before, and I need to learn how to accept that possibility without letting it handicap me socially.
The problem which is nagging me in the back of my head (now matter how much I try to ignore it) is that I was SO HAPPY in my little world with Matt. If we spent time with people, it was typically just people who we were comfortable around. If we had to meet new people, at least we were there to help and encourage each other. Now I have to go back to doing it all on my own. That sounds a little melodramatic, I know, but really no one should be juding me for being dramatic right now (including myself).
Ohhhh…..siggghhhhhhh…..I don’t want to do any of this shit.
But I have to.
So does anyone want to hang out with me tonight?
Since I can’t text Matt to tell him how immensely I’m missing him, I’m writing it here.
One of my favorite things EVER was to get home after an unpleasant day at work (or any day at work for that matter) and snuggle on the couch with Matt. I’ve caught myself trying to look forward to that a couple of times this morning. It’s so very disappointing to realize that the reason I’m looking forward to being home is because Matt will be there. Because he won’t be there.
Oh fuck, I miss him so much. My cognative mind knows that I’ll be OK eventually. But that doesn’t really translate into helping me feel better at the moment at all.
I’m going to have to learn to live in a completely different way. I’ve been single before – plenty of experience there – but it’s horrible to be forced into this against my will.
A month ago, around 6:30am, I kissed Matt goodbye for the last time. Between 11:30 and 12:00, he shot himself after telling me that it was too late and to remember that nothing he was going to do was about me.
One month. He was in the hospital last June for almost the same amount of time, only that time I got him back. This time last year I had no idea what was about to hit me in a couple of months; I can hardly believe that all of this has happened in less than a year. What is the point of all this pain?? IS there a point? Why would there be a point? (This is rhetorical – please don’t answer – I have to find the answer for myself.) I know that I at least helped to make two people VERY happy by letting them adopt my daughter – that pain ended up being redemptive and gratifying, and time has mended those wounds so well. From what I read about dealing with my current situation though, I can see that this is not something that I will ever “get over.” I will always miss Matt. Sometimes that realization makes me want to slap him for doing this to me, though I know (as much as I can) why he did it and that he held on as long as he could because he loved me and didn’t want to hurt me.
I feel like I’m starting to say the same things here. I definitely keep thinking the same things over and over, so it seems appropriate that my writing would reflect that. I hope to be able to move on from these same issues at some point. Sometimes I feel like this is getting just a little bit easier, but sometimes it’s just as painful as it was a month ago. I know that’s natural.
Matt had a friend on FB – I have no idea what her name was – who used to post status updates all the time about how much she missed her late husband. I felt sorry and a little embarrassed for her – don’t people know that they shouldn’t be airing all their problems on FB? But now I understand. When you lose your husband, you lose your best friend and your support system (and so much more). You have to reach out to people somehow. And I am so, so lonely – even when there are people around. I long for physical affection and to know that I’m still special and loved. People tell me they love me, but it’s hard for me to believe sometimes. I guess maybe that’s my problem. It’s such a different love from the kind that Matt gave me though, and I miss that so horribly much.
Sometimes it feels good to get my thoughts into words and organized, but right now it doesn’t feel like it’s helping. I still feel fuzzy and cloudy and sad and lonely and confused.
I feel annoying disconnected at work. Everything is the same in my brain, but I don’t have any freedom of expression here (other than writing). It’s not so bad when I’m busy, but I don’t typically stay busy all day long. I want this pain to be over, but I know that I have to walk through it before I can heal and I’d like to get on with that. This is me being impatient though, and trying to fix the problem as quickly as I can. It’s not realistic. What IS realistic is that I am walking through this even at work – it’s just more frustrating here.
I found a suicide survivor forum which I joined, Alliance of Hope, and I read something this morning which has been stuck in the back of my head since then. The writer said something along the lines of, “How am I supposed to ‘move on’? The person who loved me and protected me and shared my life is gone. The person who was the reason I cooked meals, kept the house clean, and dressed myself up is gone. The person who made me coffee and sat with me every day is gone. How in the world can I move on?” This really resonates with me. My brain tries to downplay all the stress I’m under sometimes, but I shouldn’t let it because my life is very much pieces of what it used to be. I, myself, am broken too. Even though I had more warning than some people whose loved ones commit suicide, that doesn’t change the fact that it was sudden and unexpected and sometimes I feel like I’ve been through a paper shredder.
Today, at this moment, I am dealing with the fact that Matt is dead and will never, ever be coming back to me. I am accepting it. Further implications have not been acknowledged – I’m just wrapping my head around what I can and not worrying about the rest. I know this is subject to change at any minute but I’m glad that I can see it this way right now. It’s so much more painful to not be able to believe that I’ll see Matt again but at the same time not be able to let go.
For the record, every time any of you comments on my posts, I get excited. So you should keep doing it/do it more often. 🙂 Even if the feedback isn’t necessarily “helpful” to me, the fact that there IS feedback makes me glad.
No Promises This Time 