Just Do It!

Just do it! Take the chance. Step out on the limb. Do the thing. Risk it. Why you might ask? Because you, my friend, are worth it! You are worth the chance. Worth the risk. And, if you don’t ‘Just Do It’ you will never know. What’s the worst that can happen? Someone tells you no? You get your feelings hurt? Well, I’m here to tell you that someone will always hurt your feelings your spouse, your best friend, your kids, your parents… It’s a fact of life. You will get told no. That is also a fact a life.

The last two days I have been reminded of how short life can really be. How tomorrow is never promised. A close friend of mine is walking in the same shoes right now that I walked in just over four years ago. She is facing all of those hard decisions. She will have to sign on that dotted line when the time comes to end life support. My heart is extremely heavy for her and her family. For her father in law who will have to bury his son. For her brand new grand baby that will grow up not knowing her grandpa. For her children. But, mostly for her. She is strong. She is a fighter. She is a survivor. If I have to tell her that every day for the next year…I will.

So… I did something that I said I wouldn’t do. I did something that I feared was a mistake. I did something that will either bring me closure to another part of my journey or possibly begin something over. I had ‘buyer’s remorse’ so to speak, the next day. I went from, “I’m glad I did this” to “What the hell was I thinking?” From “Now I will know” to “I don’t want to know.” From tears to a bounce in my step. From fearing the unknown to meh.. what happens happens.

The last several months have been extremely hard in therapy. I have poured buckets of tears onto the floor of my therapist’s office. I have used countless tissues. I have bared my heart and soul. I have shoveled crap outta my basement for almost a year now. I am not the same person I was when I began this journey of healing. Hell, I’m not the same person I was just a few months ago. I’m a better version of myself. Stronger. More secure. I have a sense of peace that I don’t remember ever having.

Along this journey I met a man. A sexy, intelligent, kind man who has a passion for children like I do. Who wants to save the ones who need saved. Who has similar family values. Who loves and adores his children. We had an instant connection that still blows me away. Neither one of us were looking. Neither one of us were ready for that level of intensity. After a few months we went our separate ways. I learned so much about myself in those few months. He taught me and showed me things about myself that I didn’t see. That I didn’t believe. I learned that I could love again…I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to. He told me that I’m beautiful so many times that I believe it. He gave me back my confidence as a woman. He believed in me. He encouraged me. His energy level matches mine. His positive outlook inspires me. Grieving a relationship, the loss of hope for what could have been… is hard. Would I change any of it? Absolutely not. If you want to know why… re-read this paragraph.

I know you all are wanting to know what it was that I did… here it goes… fueled by cadillac margaritas and girl chat I stepped out on that limb. I took that chance. I risked it. I did the thing. I texted him. “I’ve been thinking about you…” He texted me back the next night. I din’t fall off the limb. I didn’t regret doing the thing. It was worth the risk. I’m not going to share the details with you.. somethings are meant to be kept private. I don’t know where this will go or if it will go anywhere at all. What I do know is that I am glad I did it. No matter the outcome I know he still cares.

I’ve learned in therapy to not look at the past or to the future, to live for today. You can’t change the past so there’s no point in camping out there. You can’t predict the future because there is free will and no guarantees. The only thing you can do is live for today. When I expressed my fear that I had made a mistake she reminded me that there are no mistakes only lessons to be learned. Maybe we still have lessons to learn together. Maybe we don’t.. I don’t know and honestly I don’t care. What I do know is that our paths crossed again for a reason. One of my best friends says it best when it comes to those who have come into our lives, “A reason, a season or a lifetime.”

So… text the man. Text the woman. Pick up the phone. Go on that date. Flirt with the sexy one. The one who gives you butterflies that feel like birds are flapping around in your tummy. The one who brings a smile to your face simply by seeing your name pop up on their screen. Love like there’s no tomorrow. Better yet, make love like there’s no tomorrow. Say, “I love you” if that’s how you feel. Buy the purse or the shoes. Eat the chocolate. Drink the latte’. Your pants will forgive you…mine always do. Most importantly, live your best life everyday.

Another Year has Come and Gone

Today we would have celebrated 29 years of marriage. Some days it’s still surreal that he’s gone. I’ve come so far on my journey of healing. In so many ways I’m not the same person that I was last year or even six months ago.

I’ve been on a different kind of healing journey the last 7/8 months. One that has had me digging up and purging decades worth of pain and fears. A journey that has been anything and everything except easy. I spent the first couple of months constantly crying. Not just sniffles here or there but the kind of crying that leaves you hollow and thinking there couldn’t possibly be any tears left to shed. Not just every few days… EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I cried at work. At home. At the store. Driving. I felt like I had gone back to year one in my grieving and in some ways I did.

I’ve learned so much about who I was and who I have become. I’ve rediscovered Melissa. I’ve learned what I’m willing to accept and what are definite “no goes.” I’ve learned that I can love again… I was afraid that I couldn’t. I’ve learned that I am worthy of waiting for the right person for me to come along. I’ve learned to love myself where I’m at.

For months before therapy I felt like I was chasing something that I couldn’t catch. I had become a person that I didn’t like and was ashamed of. My closest friends were worried about the choices I was making. I believe that things happen for a reason and I needed to walk that path for a while. Just like I believe that you meet people along your journey for a reason. Sometimes they walk just a short distance with you and sometimes they carry you when you can’t walk at all and sometimes they walk the distance with you. I’m grateful for the lessons I’ve learned.. which were hard but necessary. For without them I wouldn’t be who I am today.

We all say life is too short and that we should buy this or that or take the trip or eat the cake.. but we don’t always do it. Well.. maybe always eat the cake! We all get so busy making a living that we forget to live. I’m learning to live again. To live for today. To not look to the past and not look to the future. The only guarantees in life are that you’re born and you die. So, make the in between something to remember.

Writing the Next Chapter

I’ve begun to write my next chapter. I don’t know where it will take me or how long it will be. What I do know is that happy feels really good. I’m learning to live in the moment and to not get stuck in my own head. I’m learning to not overthink and over analyze things. I’m learning that I am in control. I get to decide which path I walk down. For the first time, in a very long time, I feel the shield that I have around my heart starting to loosen.

I am not naive enough to not know that in a blink of an eye my life can be irrevocably changed forever. I’ve been there. I don’t want to ever go there again. But, I’m willing to if it means that I get to be happy again. If I get to have joy in my life again. If I get to be loved again. If I get to be in love again. If I get to hold another in my arms again. If I have a partner and best friend again. It will all be worth it.

All of the pain. All of the heart ache and the gut wrenching tears would be worth it again. The sleepless nights. The grief waves that crash down and threaten to take you under. The ones that you just roll with. The ones that keep coming one right after the other. The curve balls that you swing at and miss. The ones that you hit out of the park. The emptiness. The loneliness. All of it.

I want to fly again. I want to soar. But first, I need to jump. I’m ready to jump.

Anger is a Cover-Up

Anger is a secondary emotion or as I like to call it, a cover-up so to speak, for other emotions such as fear or hurt. When I started seeing a psychotherapist on my way out the door from one of my first appointments, I had said something along the lines that “I am not angry with Jeff for leaving me. I know he didn’t want to.” She says to me, “I don’t believe that but we will talk about that another day.” Honestly, at first I was a little put off. What does she know about how I fee anyway we are just getting to know each other?

Fast forward about six weeks… I’ve been spending a lot of time in Jeff’s garage surrounding by his things. The work bench was covered in the stuff that we cleaned out of the shop truck, his personal truck and his car. All of it was just thrown haphazardly up there. It’s been rifled through, shoved around, things taken down or added to it. His hunting stuff, his work vests and hard hat, his golf clubs and golf cart, and on and on. We had gotten rid of his clothes but all of his personal belongings are in the garage as well. Up until a couple weeks ago I avoided the garage like the plague. There is also boxes of kitchen stuff from the remodel that I haven’t gone through and boxes of craft stuff that I need to consolidate…It’s all so overwhelming. My plan has been to eventually clean it out so that I can park in there and also have a work space for making custom cups since you use epoxy.

One day I was looking for something that I never did find and I got so angry with him that I took my arms and did a clean sweep to the right and to the left. Tossing stuff on top of stuff. I made myself an area to put my cup spinner and where I can use glitter so it doesn’t constantly look like Tinkerbell has sprinkled her fairy dust everywhere. The more time I spend in Jeff’s garage the more I’m looking around. The more I am remembering. The more I am feeling. The more I am becoming angry. I can see him clear as day tinkering with something while singing along to the radio. I can almost hear him. I can feel his presence when I’m out there late at night. I can hear him telling me a better way to sand or to apply epoxy. I can hear him telling me to slow down and take my time. Asking me why I always gotta be in a hurry? Which is something he would ask me often… because truth be told, I’m always in a hurry. I’m not patient when it comes to some things. I want to take the short cuts. I want to rush it. Well, you CAN NOT rush epoxy.

Half way through my session this week I started crying. I told my therapist that she was right. I am so angry with Jeff. She reminded me that anger isn’t a real emotion that it’s masking fear or hurt. I have so much fear because he is dead. In 18 months I lose the partial pension that I do get. Which means I need to figure out what I am going to do to makeup that income. Enter a BA program? Find a job that I work more than 170 days a year? Get a second job? All of those options send my anxiety soaring. Damn him, this was not in the plan. Being alone. Being an empty nester… alone. Being a grandma… alone. He left me to deal with all of this and so much more…alone. He left me to deal with the house… alone. The yard… alone. Repairs… alone. Yes, I am fucking angry as hell.

Because… I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the unknown. I’m afraid I won’t figure out what I am supposed to do to make more money. I’m afraid that I will make the wrong choice and hate what I am doing. I’m afraid of being alone for the rest of my life. I’m afraid that I’m not enough for my youngest son. There are times that I think that he would have been better off if it were me that died and his dad was here. I’m afraid that he hasn’t dealt with losing his dad at 18 and the guilt that he feels. I’m afraid that one day I’ll get THAT phone call. I’m afraid of dating because let’s face it… people lie. People are crazy. Reading through literally 100’s of profiles is exhausting. Finding someone that you think is on the level takes time and effort. It’s like having a second job. It’s depressing. Then, when you do find someone that you connect with on the phone and decide to meet… they aren’t who they portrayed themselves to be. Or… get ready for it… they ghost you. What are we in Jr. High? Aren’t we all adults? Pick up the phone and say hey.. nice meeting you but I didn’t feel a spark.. something. Anything.

Because… I’m hurting. My heart hurts. I fear that it will never be whole again. When in a wave of grief everything hurts. My body aches. My head hurts from crying. My heart becomes so heavy. There is pressure in my chest. The sadness that I feel is overwhelming at times. I’m tired of being the strong one. I’m tired of wearing my big girl panties. I’m tired of rolling with the waves. There are times that I curl up into a ball and not do anything. There are times when I wallow in my own self pity. But I really haven’t had many times that I have expressed my anger to Jeff. Until now..

I have yelled and screamed at him. I have flipped him off and said fuck you mother fucker (those that know him will get that). I have told him he’s an asshole for leaving me to deal with all of this. I have purposefully not put his tools back in the right place and then laughed telling him.. that’s what you get for not being here…it’s all mine now. For those of you who didn’t know him…he was OCD/Anal about his tools. Even if you did put it back in the right drawer he always knew that I had been in his tool box.

I know that all of these feelings and actions are a normal part of the grieving process. I know that anger is a step I have to take. A step that I have to work through. I know that, like the other steps, I can’t rush it. I have to be patient with myself. Because, like epoxy, steps of grief can’t be rushed. It can’t be skipped. You can’t avoid it. You have to let it level out on it’s own. You have to give it the time in needs to become smooth.

 

Widow, Covid 19 and Stay at Home Order

Being a Widow, Covid 19 and the Stay at Home Order has been a test of strength, faith and patience. Then let’s throw in being an empty nester on top of all of that. Which all has left me to look at the same four walls of my home…for days and days on end. I have had days of feeling lonelier than ever. It’s a different kind of loneliness. My therapist, whom I started seeing about a month ago, asked me last week how does it feel different than what you normally feel? I sat there and I thought about it. I couldn’t really describe it. I said, “I don’t know. Sad? Depressing?” Those things usually go along with being lonely so I was at a loss. So, once again I found myself at a loss for words. This has been happening to me far more often than I like…I’m never at a loss for words. EVER. It takes a lot to shock me speechless… those of you who know me are shaking your head in agreeance while you are reading this. She told me to think about it… she says that a lot. Some visits I feel like my four year old granddaughter and want to stomp my feet and cry, “I don’t wanna think about it!!” I still couldn’t come up with quite the right words to describe how I am feeling. How this “lonely” is different from my normal loneliness. One thing that I know for certain is that I absolutely, unequivocally, hate it.

Being stuck in my house, ALONE, has been a constant reminder of how things used to be. How they should be. I’ve had way too much time to think about how things would look if Jeff hadn’t died. If his life hadn’t been cut too short. If he hadn’t left me to do this shit on my own. My logical brain tells me that everyone dies. Everything has a lifetime; people, plants, animals. It also tells me that I am not the only widow out there facing this struggle. There has been laughter with some people when it comes to; “Jeff would be losing his shit right now if he were here.” Or “I can hear him now bitching about not being able to work.” Or “Dumb ass mother fuckers need to knock that shit off because looting and burning shit isn’t gonna solve anything.”

Logic says that I should be thankful that I am young and that I have people in my village that would be here for me in a heartbeat… but wait, we are all on house arrest. No one can come see me. I can’t go see them. We are all stuck. Yes, there’s phone calls, texting, FaceTime and on and on. But I need organic, human interaction. I need organic conversations. I need to hug my people and to be hugged. I’ve been a good citizen. I’ve followed the stay at home order for the most part. I’ve only ran into the store to pick up essential items and prescriptions from the store. I’m claustrophobic so wearing a mask is a challenge in and of itself. Which is another reason that I stay home. I have also gained about 12 pounds and my body aches from sitting so much despite how much I stretch, which is not how I want to go into summer.

A very short list of the things I want to be able to do and will NEVER take for granted again.

• Hug my friends
• Have coffee with my friend in a real coffee shop and not in our cars sitting in a parking lot
• Just stopping by to say hello to my village
• Browse the grocery store for an hour or more because you have no idea what you are there for
• Go to work without a mask and a tube of Clorox wipes
• Go to the movies… don’t get me wrong, I still love a good Netflix binge, but I miss going to the movies. The social interaction

I can’t even begin to fathom what this world is going to look like in the months to come. What work is going to be like…to actually experience it, not just discuss possible plans that will be implemented. How do you teach students that are 3, 4, and 5 to keep a mask on and to follow social distancing protocol and to not share their materials? How do you teach them social skills, letter sounds, and to read facial expressions when you all have masks on?

There is no sugar coating when it comes to how I feel about all of this…I’m honest to a fault. I’m real. Don’t ask me something if you don’t want the answer. I’m scared for my students and all the littles in my life. My anxiety has been awful. Some days it’s just as bad as it was when Jeff first died. I’m dealing with bouts of depression more than ever. My heart is so heavy for my daughter who is raising two beautiful, mixed girls and how she has to worry about not only their safety and wellbeing but for her husband as well. My heart is heavy for her friends who have mixed children. For my mama friends who are black and have always had to worry about their sons, husbands, brother and fathers. I will never utter the words, “I know how you feel.” Because I don’t. I know what mama fear feels like. But this is different. This is so much more. So much deeper than I can ever begin to imagine.

All of the fighting amongst each other that I have seen or read about is exhausting. I believe in the freedom of speech. I believe in peaceful protesting. I believe that fair is based on need and not want. I believe that the color of your skin does not make you good or bad. I believe that justice needs to be served for those who are acting a fool and steeling what is not theirs. For damaging property that isn’t theirs. For the violence inflicted on others. I believe that you should fix what’s wrong in your own family before trying to fix others.

There is so much more that I could say. Writing about my journey has helped me to heal, to process things and to hopefully help others to heal along their journey as well. Those that know me well, know my heart. Helping others not matter how big or small the act, fills my cup. I will leave you all with this, it was a gift from my daughter a few years ago and it hangs where I can read it every day.

I’ve included a link to a beautiful children’s book that explains death in a way that children can understand. My grandma bought it for my children when they were little and my other grandma was dying of cancer. It’s been my go to book rather I’m reading it to a child/student or sharing it with parents.

Until next time, stay healthy, stay strong and never forget that kindness matters,

Melissa