What am I doing?

[Epope]

I lost my partner Derek on June 17th. We had been together for seven years, lived together fo five, and planned on getting married next year. We loved fiercely, almost never argued, were best friends, soul mates, teachers, love of each other's life. We wanted to start a family soon, he had just gotten a new job to start the following day (his dream job), and our future was so bright and filled with love. 

He had substance abuse problems as a teenager. He grew up depressed, riddled with anxiety, and turned to drugs as an outlet. It wasn't until we started a relationship (after working together for two years) that he changed. It was almost like a light switch had been turned on. He transformed himself into the most beautiful, loving, and hard working man. He used to call himself a butterfly in the journals I found of his, walking around this earth like caterpillar only to realize his full potential and transform into a butterfly. He had a slight issue with prescription drugs last year after he had a kidney stone, but to get his dream job he had been completely sober and drug free since January. He didn't like drinking, and his only real drug of choice was weed - something he couldn't have if he wanted this job. 

When I came home from out of town, I didn't feel like anything was truly off. I had driven six hours home, upset that he wasn't answering my texts or phone calls. He always told me I worried too much, so I didn't worry. After all, where does worrying get us? And worrying does not save a life. I had come home and there was a substance on the table, our fur children (we have two bulldogs) were eagerly waiting for me to arrive, gated off in the kitchen. The TV was on. The backdoor was ajar. He was outside, in his favorite chair, and had been gone since that morning. I blacked out after that, and didn't sleep until my body shut off on it's own. I didn't cry until I said his name out loud to myself a day later. 

Derek and I were so spiritual that it has been one of the only things keeping me together. He loved nature, found beauty in the smallest, most overlooked things. He was so smart, reading so many books and practicing meditation and Buddhism - even though there was always a part of him that would stay a little bit Catholic because that was how he was raised. When i'm outside, I see him in everything. Sometimes I go on walks and feel like it's my first time on Earth, seeing blue skies and butterflies. The day we celebrated his life, the week of rainy days had passed and the sun came out. A butterfly idled in the space where he passed. Cardinals swoop down low in our yard some days when I'm feeling like the numbness, the sadness, the newness of everything is all too much. 

I cope with this in the way I think he would want me to cope. Hopeful, and realizing that love is circular. It doesn't end, no matter what. Perhaps, that's why I have never said goodbye to him and I never will. I know he'll be waiting for me the day I pass, but I'm only thirty. Derek was only twenty nine. I'm having such a hard time accepting that I have another life I have to live without feeling his hand in mine. 

I hate those moments where I realize one day I may have to date again. I may have to open myself up to another man and deal with the possibly jealousy they'll feel over a man they've never met and a man who has physically left our world. I hate that sometimes I'll be ok, watching television or putting together a puzzle, and I'll see him the way I had to see him in our backyard. I hate when some of his clothes don't fit me and I can't make them mine. I hate thinking about getting further and further away from a life that I loved, from a man that I loved. I try so desperately to plant good things in the garden of my mind, but these horrible weeds just sprout out of nowhere and I have to drop to my knees and yank them out as quickly as I can. I don't want them there. They don't belong there. But my fear is that they'll keep coming back and eventually take over. 

There isn't anyone I can relate to that is around me. My friends are all in serious relationships, or married, or married with children...and I don't fit the group of young widows because we weren't yet married, and some of the bereavement groups consist of those well into their 50's and 60's. 

I came here to let out words that get trapped in my throat and just sit there until its sore and i'm crying again. I miss Derek so much that I don't feel hardly anything at all most days. 

[KayC]

Your loss is every bit as real and your grief as valid as anyone married for 50 years.  You were each other's soul mates, you were best friends, you were each other's world.  You can't get much more married than that.  I lead a grief support group and would absolutely welcome you into it, you might try one, I'm certain you'd be accepted with open arms.

Try not to worry about the future, what you'll do, won't do, time enough for that...you are fresh in your grief, enough to just get through today.  This is akin to brain trauma, it affects every aspect of our lives, it's a lot to take in, to process, and it doesn't happen quickly or easily.  

You are here, where we "get it", we understand, all going through our loss together even though at differing timetables.  This can feel overwhelming, it helps to take a day at a time.  

[Epope]

Thanks for the response, KayC. 

I think it does all feel so overwhelming that it makes me just kind of shut down, space out, and not feel much. I wonder if there is something wrong with me some days when I feel almost normal, but then there is this horrible sense of dread inside of my heart even though the worst has already happened. I know we all deal with grief in different ways. It takes a lot of time. I think that I may be going through some sort of denial because sometimes I think he's on a trip, or he's at work, and he'll walk through the door again and smile at me. I have to say the words out loud that he won't be coming back so my heart understands. 

I have had family stay with me since Derek passed on, so this has helped a lot. I have spent only one night alone which was difficult and brought insomnia, panic issues, and lots of sadness. I can hear Derek as if it is my own thoughts in my head reminding me to be the strong woman I am and to not be afraid. Truth is, I am. I feel very uncertain, like my identity has been stripped down for me to examine. I try so hard to understand that the current of life flows in it's natural direction and the more we fight it and try to either go against it, or stand still, we'll just experience more pain...but I also feel like as more time passes, the further away I am from him, from us. It makes me so sad I feel like throwing up. 

I miss him. I wish he never had to go. I wish this wasn't us and I didn't have to stare at pictures and remember a life that feels like a thousand years ago. The only question I ask is why me, but I keep getting the same answer. Why not me? 

[KayC]

You are in the very early time, it seems unreal.  The old habits are not yet dissipated...you still expect him to walk through the door, to wake up and find out this was all a nightmare, someone made a mistake, this isn't real.  In time reality sets in.  Those early days we are somewhat protected by shock but I wouldn't wish them back for anything!  It is the hardest time, in my opinion, because it hasn't sunk in yet and when the thought hits that they're gone, it hits us afresh!  It's very hard to process their death, it took me three years, it was just such a shock.  It took me even longer to build a life again, longer yet to find purpose.  We were each other's lives! 

Our identity feels obliterated.  We were "wife", now what are we?  It's very hard to assimilate.

One thing to continually remember is his body died, but his spirit lives on and so does your love!