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If you believe the 1969 theory about grieving, then you know the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. This theory states that the stages may not occur in any sort of order, or you may only experience part of them (at least two according to the theory).
I have apparently found the anger stage. It comes and goes, depending upon what else is going on in my life. Tonight my anger has reached a new level. I just want to throw something – anything – in hopes that it will make me feel better. But I know it won’t. Nothing will. The anger will burn off, leaving nothing but sadness. And the aching hole in my heart where my darling husband belongs.
God, I never knew it was possible to miss someone this much. It makes me physically ill sometimes, usually coming out of left field to blindside me in a weak moment. I’ve always believed in love at first sight, but was a bit skeptical about dying of a broken heart. Now that I’m living that experience, I can certainly see how it’s possible.
While I may be battling my grief, I will not allow it to win the war. I will not allow it to defeat me. I may not be the same person I was before because everything we experience in life changes who we are, but I will survive. Anything less is unacceptable.
Well, I think my anger is beginning to burn off (and it should be after the way I’ve been abusing my keyboard!) so I guess I’ll head to bed in hopes that the rest will dissipate while I sleep.
I’ve been thinking about getting a new tattoo a lot lately. I have two already, from my ‘wild’ college years. Getting a tattoo was something that Chad wanted to do, but couldn’t settle on what & where he wanted it. I’d like to get inked again, doing something to honor him.
I have what I think is an awesome idea (no, there is no tattooing of names involved) for a simple tattoo that will have meaning for me without being obvious to the rest of the world. I’m terrified of needles, which is why both of my other tattoos are on my back – I couldn’t see what was going on, but I’m willing to tough it out for this.
My dilemma is this: where do I put it? I’d like to have it visible to me everyday without having to look in a mirror to see it. But I also want to be able to hide/disguise it if necessary. I realize that I will probably interview for a different job at some point in my life. Do employers really care about tattoos (as long as they’re not vulgar or obscene) anymore? I really like the idea of putting it on the inside of my left wrist, so anytime I wear anything with short sleeves it will be visible. I guess I could cover it with a watch band in that location too.
I am still in the thinking stages – no definite decisions have been made yet – so any input is welcome.
Today is the 35th day since my husband died. It feels more like 35 weeks. Most days I handle things pretty well. I go to work, come home, walk the dog, fix and eat supper, and putter around the house doing little chores or reading or watching television until it is time to go to bed. Weekends haven’t been too bad, mostly because there has been someone around every weekend. Until this one.
This weekend wasn’t all bad. One of Chad’s cousins got married yesterday and, of course, we were invited to the wedding. I realized early on that there was no way I would be able to handle the ceremony, so I skipped that part. But I did go to the dance last night. And for the most part, it was fun. I got to catch up with some people, hugged a lot more, and just tried to enjoy being social. There were quite a few people who wanted to chat about how I’m doing (big surprise, huh?) which was nice because I know the girls at work get tired of hearing about it all of the time.
It wasn’t all fun, though. Obviously, I didn’t dance – not much anyway. And definitely not to any slow songs. But I did learn something. I never realized it was possible to feel so alone in a dancehall full of people – people I know and care about and who know and care about me.
Today was worse though. I really was alone all day. I can only talk to myself and my dog so much. I can only watch so much television and can only read for so long. I should start sewing on Christmas gifts, but there are so many memories tied to my quilting hobby that I just can’t bring myself to go back to the sewing machine. The cold weather makes is hard to want to go outside and do anything. Sundays are hard anyway, because they mark the end of another week without Chad and the beginning of the next one. Part of the difficulties also lie in the fact that Sunday was his day off of work – the one day of the week that we worked around the house together, watched the NASCAR race, and just got to enjoy each other’s company for the entire day. I’m beginning to hate Sundays. Monday is a welcome relief because of the distraction of work.
I think it’s going to be a very long winter.
