Not Ready

I am not ready.

I am not ready for Ron to be dead.

I am not ready for our relationship to be over.

I am not ready to be social.

I am not ready to do all the normal adult responsibility stuff.

I am not ready to laugh.

I am not ready to return to work.

I am not ready to invent a “new normal.”

I am not ready not to be sad.

I am not ready not to be hurt.

It has been four weeks since Ron stopped breathing.

I am still not ready for that to have already happened.

Well, guess what, folks, ready or not, life keeps coming at you.  Even when the worst thing imaginable has happened to you.  And you just have to keep plugging along.  You have to take the trash out and vacuum the dog hair and pay the bills.  You have to put gas in the car and buy groceries and sometimes you even have to make small talk with the people who don’t know – the people who cannot see how much you are hurting because it is not visible, like a gaping wound down your midsection.  The pain is invisible, mostly, though sometimes you see yourself in the mirror and you think you can see it - in your eyes, in your straight line mouth.  Mostly, though, you feel it – in the empty weight of what is missing, in the way that the joy has escaped you like air from a deflated balloon.

I met with my hospice grief counselor yesterday.  She is very serious and smart and takes me seriously.  I like her (but I only get to see her 8 times).  She seemed to know nothing about me or Ron or our story.  It was somehow refreshing not to have to play a role and to be able to just tell her the whole thing from scratch.  She gave me a framework (as developed by J. William Worden) that they use to help people move through “the tasks of grieving.”  The four tasks of grief are: 1) To accept the reality of the loss, 2) To feel the pain of grief, 3) To live life without your loved one, and 4) To move on with life. 

I am feeling the pain and I am feeling his absence in trying to live my life without him, but I don’t know that I am accepting the reality of it and I am certainly NOT READY to move on with life.  And, that is OK.  I don’t have to be ready.  I am where I am and I am really doing OK, all things considered.  That does not mean I feel OK.  I don’t . . . at all.  It just means that, in my process, I am doing and feeling exactly what I need to be. 

I also learned yesterday, after some discussion with my very supportive supervisor, that I will be returning to work next Monday (6/11/12).  I will be going back part time (just 16 hours divvied up into four 4-hour days) to start.  My employers are being flexible enough to gradually let me increase my hours as I am up to it.  I am really so fortunate with this situation.

But, as mentioned, I do not feel ready.  I am scared as hell.  I feel like my whole identity is tied up with Ron and without him, I don’t know who I am.  When I started my current position (after several job moves in quick succession), I was also starting my relationship with him.  I feel like my confidence about who I am and the job I do was partially because of Ron, who thought I was so great.  I know I have a lot of love and support from many people, but it is different than it was with Ron, who knew and fully loved every broken, stupid, insecure part of me.  He was always just a call or a text or an email away if I needed him, and he always made himself available to me.  He made me happy.  He made every single day worth living.  I am nervous to go into anything without him.  That includes work.  Not to mention how sad I am, how I don’t see the point to anything, how I spend so much time crying, how I avoid most social interactions and now will be thrust back into the world of talking to people.  It is anxiety provoking . . . but, I also know that avoiding anxiety provoking stimuli only reinforces the anxiety . . . so now may be as good a time as ever to jump back in and face the lion in the next room.

In the meantime, because I am not ready to be done with Ron, I just keep loving him.  I feel, most of the time, like an insane person.  I write to him throughout the day.  I talk to him when I am alone, especially at night in my house . . . especially in the wee hours of the morning when I don’t want to sleep because I just want to keep talking to him.  I search and scour everything I have for “more Ron” . . . things that are Ron’s, presents Ron gave me, communications (text, email, letters, notes, cards) we gave each other, pictures and videos we took of each other, etc.  I am looking for more.  More.  More.  I am not ready to be done.

Sometimes what I find conjures up the weird thoughts – stuff that, in my warped mental view, cancels it all out and says none of our relationship was ever meant to be.  My brain is so evil and this is in no way fair to Ron (who I know, deep down, loved me completely and was glad to have me in his life).  This is the dumb, protective thing my brain does – like, somehow, if it was not meant to be, then I didn’t really lose anything so I don’t have to feel as sad.  I can see where it comes from, but it is NOT helpful to me to add this layer of complication. 

Other times (most times lately), what I find reassures me and reminds me of how much we really did love one another.  It was real.  We were so “it” for one another.  We fit together perfectly – figuratively and even literally (ex: our walking strides were naturally the same length and synchronized pace, as we learned soon after we started dating).  We accepted and were proud of each other without wanting either of us to be anything other than what we were – just loved one another exactly how we were.  When I find evidence of these things, I am so happy to have found Ron . . . which then leads to me feeling – really feeling – the loss of this love in my life.  It is so awful.  So painful.  But, it is a much more pure grief than all the weird shit I make up in my head, so I’ll take it.

I am still learning from Ron.  Right now, I am working my way through his music collection.  This week’s lesson in music from Ron:  The Who.  Thanks, Ron!

I continue to be in love with him.  Mostly it is sad, but there are moments that are strangely, giddily happy, almost like they were when he was alive, loving me back.  I feel like a crazy person.  I am carrying on the most one-sided relationship that ever existed.  It maybe disconcerting, but I feel like I will be perfectly happy to just continue this relationship for as long as one can sustain in a one-sided love affair in the midst of having lost the very person that they love.  Again, it is OK.  I don’t have to give Ron up right now.  He may not be by my side physically, but I can still love him and maybe, if I am lucky, he is by my side in another energetic way (sometimes I think I can tell that he is).

In parting, I am sharing a photo I snapped when I returned from Texas.  This is me, in the bathroom mirror, facing one of the reminders of Ron’s love that I pasted up.  His note makes me both happy and sad (happy that he loved me, sad that he is no longer here to tuck little notes like this where I would find them).

This is what a 33 year old widow looks like - facing love and grief

I also want to share the lyrics to Flogging Molly’s song, If I Ever Leave This World Alive.  This was one of the songs Ron included in his “death list” playlist that I found in his iTunes music library.  I knew the song before, but it holds so much more meaning to me now, and of course I have listened to it at least 30 or so times since he died and have cried my eyes out each time.  I keep waiting for it to be true, for Ron to sit beside me and take on the sadness and for me to feel like it’s alright.
Love you, Ron, so much!

If I Ever Leave This World Alive

Flogging Molly

If I ever leave this world alive
I'll thank for all the things you did in my life
If I ever leave this world alive
I'll come back down and sit beside your feet tonight
Wherever I am you'll always be
More than just a memory
If I ever leave this world alive

If I ever leave this world alive
I'll take on all the sadness
That I left behind
If I ever leave this world alive
The madness that you feel will soon subside
So in a word don't shed a tear
I'll be here when it all gets weird
If I ever leave this world alive

So when in doubt just call my name
Just before you go insane
If I ever leave this world
Hey I may never leave this world
But if I ever leave this world alive

She says I'm okay; I'm alright,
Though you have gone from my life
You said that it would,
Now everything should be all right

She says I'm okay; I'm alright,
Though you have gone from my life
You said that it would,
Now everything should be all right
Yeah should be alright