Weirdness in My Land

There’s some weird energy in my life right now.

The other night, I got a frantic message from a co-worker that she had a dream about S.

The dream went as follows:

She was watching herself sleep (In the bedroom she has now), when S. walked in and walked up to her. He blew in her face and yelled “Wake up!” She sat up in bed, and he was rambling on. He was talking to fast and angry for her to understand. She told him to slow down, she didn’t understand. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her, and said “Fucking listen to me, this is important! I need you to watch M. really close. Especially at work. Watch every step she takes. I need you to take care of her and protect her, especially when she is driving away.” She then woke up.

The dream was so real, she was confused how she just woke up when in her dream she was already awake, and how S. was just standing in her bedroom, then was gone.

She said S. was very agitated, panicked, and in a rush.

I chalked it up to the recent car problems I have had (Details at the bottom) but decided to take extra precaution with driving. I have people run red lights on me probably twice a month, happens constantly, so I’m always watching, waiting for someone to run the light. I made a mental note to be careful driving, be careful driving drowsy (thanks insomnia), and to be careful because of my car problems.

 I seriously just thought my co-worker was worried about me because I was recently locked in my car with no way to escape.

This morning I had a dream that my friend texted me and said “S. is really pissed off, something is wrong!” When I got the text, I knew S. was dead.. and I knew he had been dead for a while, so I was confused by my friends message. I dialed my friend’s number, put the phone to my ear, then my alarm went off, waking me up.

I thought it was a weird dream. I planned on texting my friend later in the day and telling him about the dream, but first I had to get ready for work.

As I was getting ready for work, I heard my phone go off.. this is like 6:30am. The only person that texts that early is my boss. I checked my phone… and well, the friend I dreamed about had text me, had a dream about S. last night.

Here’s his dream:

So here is my dream as best as I can remember and some of it I don’t think makes much damn sense. Some of it is really clear, like I am clear about sitting at my desk right now, other parts are foggy and hazy like I can’t tell if they were real or what.

So it starts with S. and I sitting at what looks like a sports bar. It reminds me of the Bout Time by the E Center. We are sitting there at a tall table with two big beers in front of us. He is ranting about how I don’t understand how serious this is. I don’t have any idea what he is talking about but he is really irritated. I can’t tell if he is irritated with me or what he is ranting about. I had this sense though, which I really don’t have any idea about his size that he was much bigger than me. I know that sounds random but it was just a weird sense I got. Anyway, I was trying to calm him down so he would tell me what I didn’t understand and what was so serious. The felling I got is the same one I get when T. is ranting about something. He just goes off and I have to try and calm him down to get to whatever it is he is ranting about. Anyway, He just kept telling me that I didn’t understand how serious this was. So I sort of barked back at him that “ I got it” this is serious but what do you want me to fucking do. He said I have to take care of M. To look out for her and protect her. That he knew that I would always protect you. That he needed to be able to count on me. So I reassured him that I would but that he needed to tell me what the fuck the problem was. He just said again that I didn’t or maybe it was possibly that I wouldn’t, understand how serious it was. He got up and left and I asked him where he was going, that he hadn’t finished his beer and that I still didn’t understand. He looked at me and said “ yes you do” and that he knew I would take care of you….

Then things get fuzzy..this is the part that I can’t get a lock on so to speak..What is clear about this is you and I sitting on a bed in a strange house. The bed was one of those old time beds with the metal head and foot board. Anyway, we were running or hiding from someone or something. Not clear..but we were hiding in this house in this bedroom. I had my arm around you with your head in my chest and kept telling you that I would not let anything happen to you. That you would be safe. I was kissing the top of your head. You were crying and upset but I just kept telling you not to worry. I would never let anyone or maybe it was anything get you. Then a loud noise like a siren or something from down stairs went off and I woke up..

So it was weird. The S. part like I said was pretty damn clear. The you part was more fuzzy, dream like, ummm distant to some degree. But I had a very strong emotion about you when I woke up. I still don’t know what the warning was about but he was clear that he knew he could count on me to care for and look after you. Which is very true but I find strange given what has happened between us and that I have not been present in your life for the last 6 mos or so. So anyway, that was what I remember about my dream last night. I didn’t or don’t remember any other dreams or having any dreams for weeks for that matter.

When my friend told me about his dream, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. How is it possible I dreamed my friend texting me that, when my friend is having this dream about S. at almost the exact same time??

I’m on edge. Several people in my life are on edge. 

I had to do the one thing I hate doing. Reminding my mother that if something did happen to me, what I would want. I wouldn’t want to be paralyzed or left on machines. My mom hates these conversations, but without a spouse.. those duties fall to my parents, and I don’t want them to ever question what I would or wouldn’t want.

One thing that is repeating in all 3 dreams is S.’s agitation about the situation.

Something is amiss somewhere, and I can’t figure out what it is, what these signs are, or hell.. what to even do with the information.

For now I will be extra cautious with everything I do (lock the doors, don’t go out alone at night, be safe driving) and will be updating my will, yet again.

(Car details, this happened last week-While driving my 2005 VW Jetta the other day, the car started dinging at me, indicating that the driver’s side door was open. I pulled over (on the side of the freeway), went to open my door, only to find out I could not open the door. Nor could I roll down the window. I was locked inside of my car, on the side of the freeway!)

FYI Volkswagen is aware of the design flaw and has not recalled this part. So if you found this blog looking for reviews on Volkswagen, I say run to Honda.

Not to mention, we know people in high places!

Report Card

I had a dream about S.

It goes -
I was getting in the shower, and he comes into the bathroom.
He says "Do you have my report card?"
I say "What report card?"

"You know, the one that showed I had a 4.0 and was graduating a year early?"

Me "No, I didn't keep that."
S. "Why?"
Me "Because you are dead, why would I have kept it?"
S. "Because I wanted it!!"
Me "You are DEAD! What in the hell do you need your report card for?"

To which S. looks at me like I am insane.

I then wake up.

I will never forget December 23rd, 2010.
I was supposed to be watching S. graduate college a year early with a 4.0.

Instead I was facing the fact that he took his own life, and facing my first Christmas without him.

PS: If he asks about his report card, I still have no idea what he is talking about. Please explain to him he doesn't need a report card in heaven.

Hurricane Sandy

I have a confession to make.

Hurricane Sandy has me worried sick about my widow friends.

Sure, I have friends that are in Sandy's path, but they aren't ALONE. They have their husband!

I am just sick - watching and waiting for my widow friends (and their children) to reappear online so I know they are safe.

Now I feel guilty. Sure I am worried about my married friends, but I am worried sick about my widow friends.

I'm a shitty friend to be worried more about my widow friends then my "normal" friends.

I freak out with lighting and thunder, I can't imagine going through a storm like Sandy alone.
I can't imagine being hunkered down, in my house, alone, waiting for this shit to pass!!

Widow friends - I love you.
Please check in when you can!

Anonymous Post - Sex after the death of my spouse

One of the things I've struggled with since my spouse died is sex. On the one hand, I've really missed the sense of contact and connection, the closeness, and the purely physical enjoyment.  Heck, I also miss the idea of making someone else feel good, knowing I'm still at least capable of that, and having someone else care enough to return the favor.  I'm not the one who died, and part of being alive is still noticing the opposite sex, still wanting that.

At the same time, part of me still feels more than a little uncomfortable about the idea of being in bed with someone else.  I know part of it comes from having been married as long as I was.  I was never unfailthful during that time.  Sure, I noticed other people who were attractive, but anything beyond that would pretty quickly make me more than a little uncomfortable.  It got pretty well ingrained in me that being married meant that sex was something between me and my spouse...and not anyone else.  Now I'm finding that knowing that I'm essentially single again (at least as far as that goes) hasn't gotten through to that part of my brain that says that everyone else is off-limits.

So now I get to deal with being torn between wanting and sometimes hungering for someone else to be in bed with and a powerful aversion to that idea.  I know that there's no right answer, that this is one of those things we each get to figure out and deal with for ourselves.  No-one can give "The Right Answer" for it.  And it doesn't help that in the last few years my spouse was alive our sex life was getting increasingly strained and increasingly infrequent. Thinking back on the good times we'd spent with each other in that way is very difficult, too, as the reminder of what used to be and now is gone hurts, too.  Then again, so does remembering the times where things didn't work so well.

Since my spouse died, I have had sex with someone else.  Physically, it still feels good.  I'm glad to know I can still enjoy touching and being touched.  It is reassuring that it seems like those times have been mutually enjoyable, that that part of me isn't irrevocably broken.  At the same time, it feels bizarre when the old habits of what my spouse liked don't match up with who else I've been with. I've also found that I've kept part of myself shut off from them. I'm not ready to open up that much to anyone else right now.  It frankly has me worried, at least at times, about whether I'll ever be able to be that open with someone again, that it'll become making love once more and not just having sex.

And it sometimes makes me wonder if it's worth it to bother at all anymore.  I generally know the answer to that, especially for the long-term, but that doesn't change those times when I get tired of feeling confused and hurt and scared and angry.  I hate having those kinds of feelings associated with something that can be so wonderful and beautiful.  I guess that's just going to be part of working through that aspect of living longer than a spouse and having to figure out how do more than just survive.

Survivors of suicide round table

I was asked to go Camp Widow East 2012 to lead the suicide survivor round table.

I jumped at the chance.
I didn't have to think twice about it.

Sure I was scared.
Thought "What if I cry??".
"What if I suck and I am no help to these survivors?"
I was pretty much terrified.

There was 11 of us. All different kinds of ages and suicides.
Some stories were similar.
Yet too complicated to compare to another.

I was taught so much from this group of woman.
I went into the round table thinking I could help them, if even in a tiny way.

Little did I know what I would learn from them.

I was reminded above a previous realization I had.
That was that S.'s suicide could have been worse.
Some of the things these woman experienced, should never have been brought into their life.
No one should have to experience these things.

Some of the suicides were a complete shock.
Some had a long battle with mental illness.
Some chose not to share their story.
Some have not told people their husband died from suicide.

Some are further out from the death date then me. And seeing how much pain they are still in, shattered my hope.
I keep thinking, eh, next year, I will be over this, and life will be beautiful.
Seeing these woman still suffering, was a shock.
It was a reality check.

I also knew suicide widows were in a different "class" then "other" widows.

But, I realized how different we actually are.
There is a betrayal that comes with suicide.
There is a sense of being abandoned.
There isn't a lot of people that "get it".
Even other widows don't get it.

Talking to these woman was hard.
Making them feel safe was hard.
I didn't think I could get them to feel safe.
I didn't think I could help them feel heard.
I think suicide widows are silenced.
Because no one wants to hear the awful reality of what suicide causes.

I learned that a lot of suicide widows suffer in silence.
They have no safe place to spill their anger, pain, embarrassment.

I was also struck by the fact that I am still ashamed my husband killed himself.
Ashamed that I wasn't a good enough wife or friend to keep him alive.
I know deep down in my heart, I did everything I could have to save S.
But I still feel like a failure.

I failed at the one thing that mattered most to me in this life.

Most of all, I learned I want to protect these woman.
I want to hug them every morning
And tell them it's going to be ok.

I don't ever want a widow to suffer in silence.

This is why I created the Anonymous blog
I want everyone to have a safe place to say whatever it is they need to say.
Without having to worry about being judge.
I want everyone to have a safe place to say anything - widowed or not.

"Secrets keep us sick. They keep us in shame and 
uncertainty."

Hiding suicide

I didn't sleep good last night.

I had a nightmare that seemed to last all night long.

I dreamed S. was back, and killed himself all over again.

Somehow I knew he was in my car, and I tracked down my car, and he wasn't in it.

There was pillows in the back seat, completely soaked in blood.


In the front seat, there was a bottle of some pink liquid. Something that I knew was some kind of poison to kill yourself with.


There was a suicide note (S. didn't leave one in real life). I can't remember what it said, but I remember it was like 6 pages long, and I was really pissed it didn't say anything about me. Not even an "I love you".

In my dream, I was frantically trying to clean up the blood. I had his blood all over me. Everything was soaking wet with blood. Everything I touched was wet.

I was soaking wet with his blood.

I was trying so hard to clean it up, and hide the fact that he killed himself AGAIN.

In my dream I remember thinking how ashamed S. was of his mental problems. I didn't want to world to know about his problems, because I knew he was ashamed. I didn't want the world to know he failed.

Again.

I haven't had dreams of S. and suicide. Not that I can remember. Now I have had one two nights in a row.

Today I am angry. Angry that I have to live with someone else's decision for the rest of my life.
Angry that it will never go away.
Sure it's gotten easier.
And will continue to get easier.
But I am fucking pissed that my reality is based off someone else's decision.

Pissed that it will never, ever, go away.

I am pissed. I am back at stage 3 - Anger

I know my brain is processing a lot. Things in life are going good, moving forward, but the lingering two year anniversary is eating at me slowly. How the fuck has it only been two years?

This didn't happen in this life. This was my last life. Somehow my past life and this life have gotten twisted together.

His suffering, my 3 years of suffering, his death, wasn't in this life.

Today I will call into work, get some sleep, and work on my crafty projects I have been working on.

I got the prouds

For anyone that doesn't know, I started a petition to congress to have the FMLA laws changed to cover the death of a spouse (more about that in a minute).

I have been losing sleep over this petition. Every time I check how my petition is doing, I cry.

I can't believe the stories. 

" When I was advised that I needed to come back to work I explained that I was unable to at that time because I was not finished with his funeral. I was told to be at work the next morning at 8:00am or I was fired. Not only had I lost my husband I now had to lose my job and my only source of income which in turn cost me my home"

"My boss told me that it was her expectation that I would never cry at work after the death of my husband. We are both nurses and she should have known better. I had to return to work almost immediately because I used my FMLA when he was in the hospital and in ICU."

Reading the stories, tears my heart apart.

But I realize I am not alone. I am not fighting a un-win-able fight.

I actually might be able to do this!

The little voice in my head says - "It doesn't matter".

"Congress could give a shitless about us".

"You CAN'T win this!".

But I think I actually might be able to.

I hope I can.

I had a thought yesterday.

WHEN (not if) I am widowed for the second time, I hope this law is in place.

I hope I can say "I did this, and now I can do the grieving I need to do".

The grieving that was taken away from me when S. died.

Because I had to get back to work, so I wouldn't lose my only source of income.

I see myself at the funereal of husband #2, standing up, and saying

"I get 12 months off for FMLA. I did this to protect other widows/widowers, and now I get to have the "luxury" of taking all the time I need!"

Who knows, maybe I can't make a differance.

But maybe I can.

And for the first time since S.'s death..

I feel proud.

I feel like I can make a difference.

I feel a purpose. 

And I hope at the end of my life, I can die happily, knowing I was able to protect someone else from facing the hell I faced.

I have a major case of the prouds.

Details on my petition -

I have started a petition to congress. My intention is to have FMLA rules and regulations changed to cover the death of a spouse.

Did you know that if your child or spouse is dying, you can take 12 months leave on FMLA.

BUT, after they die, you have 3 days bereavement. Then you need to return to work.

After your loved one dies, you are no longer covered on FMLA.

Please read my petition, sign it, and pass on!
Help us secure our jobs and our RIGHT to grieve!
http://www.petition2congress.com/6833/spouse-bereavement-leave-initiative-to-amend-fmla/


Also, please sign the petition to have FMLA law's changed to cover the death of a child.
http://www.petition2congress.com/3937

Right hand wedding rings

After having my wedding ring redone and turned into a right hand ring.

I did some research on WHY a right handed wedding ring symbolizes widowed, it's just generations of tradition.

Some countries wear their wedding rings on their right hand.

I starting thinking, IF I get remarried, would I wear my wedding ring from S. on my right hand, with my new set from the new hubby on my left hand?

The answer - Yes.

It represents a part of who I am. Not part of who I WAS.
I am a widow.

And eventually a wife (again).

Losing S. will always be with me.
For someone to love me, they have to have room in their heart for S. as well.
Just because I get remarried, doesn't mean my life with S. disappears.

I decided today, that when I get remarried... My wedding ring will stay on my right hand.
If the guy isn't comfortable with it, then he isn't allowing enough room in his heart to love S.. which is a deal breaker for me.

Here's a picture of my new ring

Grocery Shopping = Unexpected surprises

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. As most of you know, I would rather go to the dentist then the grocery store.
At least at the dentist, I only have to go every 6 months.

I was browsing through the store, trying to get out of there quickly.

There was a older gentlemen (probably early 60's) stalking the shelves on the isle I was on.

He said good morning, and asked if I needed help finding anything.
I told him good morning, and I was finding my way just fine.

I walked by, still looking at the shelves. Not really looking for something in participial. Just looking.

He came up to me and said "I'm sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are".
I was fidgeting in my shoes and purse. Feeling a little uncomfortable.
He said "You really caught my eye".

I said thank you, trying not to show how awkward I felt.
I joked that I didn't even take a shower, had no make up on, my hair wasn't even pulled into a pretty ponytail. I joked that we need more guys like him around.

He said "Why?".

I said well, seems like guys my age, you have to be drop dead gorgeous, skinny, have a lot of money, and an amazing personalty. Which I must not have any of the above, as I can't seem to find the one.

I said guys are just shallow now days (Shit I sound old) and there are no nice guys left.
He said that's a real shame. Agreed.

We started talking a little bit, and he asked if I was married. I said I was for 10 years. He said "oh, divorce?".

I said no.. he passed away two years ago.

Of course I got the sad "poor you" look and a "I'm so sorry".

He asked what happened, if I didn't mind sharing.

I told him suicide.

This older gentlemen stared at me.

Then started crying.

He asked if he could share a story with me.
I said sure.

He said last year, he tried to kill himself for the 3rd time.
And lived.
And decided god had another plan for him.

He said he became sober at that time, has been medicated, and is doing a lot better.

I told him S. had 3 suicide attempts.
And was successful on the 4th.

I didn't have to say much more then that, as I think he knew I was saying "Your luck is over, and the 4th time is the charm".

We talked for quite a while, and I left feeling..
Like I was right where I was supposed to be, that day.

That for some reason, my world, and his world, were meant to smash into each other with major force.

I drove home wondering "What did he gain from our conversation?"

And "What did I gain?"

I gained - knowing you can't protect someone from themselves (which I already knew, but this reinforced it).

I thought about how suicide tends to follow me now.
Why?
Is it my "job" to help suicide victims?

I also learned that because a 60 year old guy tells me I am pretty, I need to learn to LISTEN and not get weirded out.

Somethings in this life I will never understand.

Everyday

Everyday, I wake up, and think "Wait, what happened?".

You see, I was happily married for 7 years, to the love of my life. I never once thought "I shouldn't have gotten married".

My husband was (is) my world, and I was his world.

You see, one day in 2008, I woke up, and realized the man I married was not the man sleeping next to me. He was a person I did not know. The person that was my whole world, was gone, overnight.

After a long struggle, he was diagnosed with bipolar type 1.

For 3 long years, I watched the person I didn't know, suffer day in and day out. I quickly learned that mental pain is far worse then physical pain.

After three suicide attempts, my world collapsed at my feet. My husband shot and killed himself on 7/27/2010.

Over the 3 years of his illness, I became his nurse. His teacher. But far from his wife and friend. He pushed me away, I think not knowing any better.

When he died, I woke up and thought "Now what?". I'm no longer a nurse. I am no longer a teacher. I am no longer a wife, or friend. I am a widow.

Going from being someones nurse to them passing away, feels weird. You have your habits of taking care of your loved one. Medication, check, food, check, his mood, check. It felt like I partially lost my "Job" or my "Responsibility".

Not only did I lose my best friend, I lost my purpose in life.

I have always believed married is "Through sickness and health, until death do us part". I'll admit, I did not want to be married to this man I no longer knew. BUT (there's always a BUT or BUTT), I couldn't kick him while he was down by divorcing him. I hoped one day he would return to me, and the unknown man in my life, would disappear.

My husband over the 3 years told me time and time again, if it wasn't for me, he would have killed himself. When he did kill himself, I thought, "When did "I" become not enough to keep him alive?".

I have blamed god. I have blamed life. I have blamed him. But I have realized there is only two things responsible for this. God, and Bipolar. Not my husband. The person that died had died 3 years prior. I could not blame my husband, as he was completely out of his mind.

Sure, I have had my words with him. Screaming at him, "Are you fucking happy now??" or "Look what you have done to me, I am left to pay the consciousnesses of YOUR decision?".

I have become less angry with him, and more angry at god. I wake up every day, and ask god, "Why?". What have I done so bad as a person to deserve this life?"

Am I really a bad person? Do I deserve this lesson?

While trying to understand why I have been chosen to walk this path, I have discovered a couple of things about myself. I believe everyone is sent to earth, to learn certain lessons. I believe for whatever reason, I am supposed to experience this. And my husband was supposed to experience severe mental illness and suicide. I am starting to believe that my purpose now, is to help others. Fellow suicide survivors. Fellow widows.

But I still wake up everyday asking "God, why did you do this to me??"

Everyone said the first year is the worst. Some say the second is the worse. For me, the 3 years leading up to his death were the worst. The first year after his death was the second worst, and the second year is worse in some ways and better in some ways. I can function now. I can do the things I'm "supposed" to do. Go to work, go to the gym. But there are days that I get so overwhelmed with the life around me. Days that land me so overwhelmed I shut down.

These last couple of weeks, I am overwhelmed. I have so many things I want to do, yet no energy to do it.

I have learned being mentally tired is far worse then physically tired.

And I have learned there is no "vacation" when you are grieving.

It's always there. Always.