Change

I made this post when Rick had been gone nine months or 41 Mondays. This post eventually turned into a poem which I shared at the bottom of this post. It got more views than any of my other posts on my author’s Facebook page or Instagram. I decided to enter a few poetry competitions, each time I managed to get into the finalist’s category.

This post is about how many and how substantial the changes were after his death. I spent a lot of energy fighting the changes. It was a terrifying time for me because there is comfort in familiarity. But nothing stayed the same, how could it? Knowing this, still it was too much at once and I was getting lost in this new World that was flipped upside down. Worst yet, I felt like I was losing myself and I tried valiantly to avoid it. It’s no surprise I was unsuccessful.

Looking back, I see now that my resistance didn’t serve me at all. It created a level of anxiety that I didn’t need, it added to my sadness, and it was a fight I simply didn’t need to fight. I needed to embrace those changes and make them work for me, instead of fighting against them. It was a terrific battle within my head, and I wish I hadn’t wasted so much energy on it, because in the end the changes were inevitable. Once I realized that I was changing and there was nothing I could do about it, once I saw this new Dar (who was a hot mess virtually every day), I wasn’t a fan. I didn’t care for her. I liked the happy go lucky Dar married to Rick. Who both were gone. Two losses I had to grieve simultaneously.

Old Dar was strong, stubborn, didn’t like to be told what to do,  compassionate, funny, wise, organized, could multi-task like a boss with a memory like a steel trap. Old Darlene would face problems head on. Procrastination was Rick’s trait; she was the motivator. And while she had always been one to ruminate, she had a system to prevent her from spending too much time and energy on things she couldn’t change. She would ask herself, “Can I change the outcome or not?” If the answer was “no,” I let it go and tried not to waste any more time and energy. If the answer was “yes” then I thought about it and problem solved until I produced what I considered a reasonable solution. Old Dar was thoughtful, was head over heels for her man, adored her family, was happy and enjoyed every aspect of her crazy life running her private practice. Life was one big adventure that we were always learning from, the good and the bad. She preferred a full plate, was confident and didn’t feel the need for external validation.

I thought of myself as a strong independent woman, who didn’t need a man to complete me. I just so happen to have an amazing one by my side. We tackled everything together and things are much less scary when there is someone who is “all in” with you. Rick certainly was that. It took me a long time to realize so much of who I was could be contributed to my life’s partner, Rick. He had my back like no one else could and I lived life fearlessly!

The old Dar would have looked at this new Dar with scorn. She would think she was weak and indecisive with a tendency to procrastinate. All of the things old Dar loathed. She let her trauma responses rule her life and cried incessantly. She was a nervous wreck every day, incapable of completing even the smallest of tasks. She had brain fog and memory lapses, told the same story ten times, forgot conversations, was late everywhere she went, needing constant validation and reassurance. She avoided anything that she deemed “too hard” and would shut down immediately, she had no reserves, no strength or determination to push through. Procrastination was her middle name, now. She hated her life, viewed the World without color. Did I mention she was an anxious mess? She lived her entire days fearful that any second something horrible would flip her World upside down again. She could not endure a minute more  of the chaos life seemed to offer her. She viewed living as difficult and felt no pride or sense of accomplishment when she got through a challenging day. She lacked any motivation, and any of her past motivational techniques and self-talk were useless and didn’t work on her. She was a negative Nellie, who seemed hopeless and chronically sad. Rick was the steady rock she needed to live her life as she did. It was easy to believe in herself when Rick never doubted her for a second.

I am slowly coming to terms with this new me, and to be fair there are a few things I am learning about my old way of thinking that was purely signs of trauma. I have since learned “Suck it up, Buttercup” is a trauma response. I apologized to my kids when I realized that suck it up was not a sign of strength, it was a coping mechanism that I unknowingly passed onto my children. At first, I felt like suck it up had no place in grief. As time goes on, I realize it has no place, no purpose and I was a bit sad to see suck it up no longer something I would strive for. She taught me to be even more compassionate. I would see people who seemed broken walking blankly through the store. I would wonder what happened to them? I try to smile at anyone I see that might need it. It made me less judgmental and much more patient. I try to give myself the patience and grace I would give to an old friend. I completely understand that I still have a lot of healing to do and when it’s all said and done, I will be a combination of the Old Dar and New.

I don’t hate my life like I used to. I am learning to carry Rick with me and it’s not as heavy. I have learned that we don’t ever get over our loss, but we carry it with us and that’s how we survive. Nearly three years in, I have mostly good days, with an underlying sadness that I can’t seem to shake. The good news is that I have felt moments of joy and for me that is the best news imaginable. I was so sure I would never ever feel Joyful again and to me that didn’t seem like a life I wanted to live.

When I laugh now, it’s authentic and comes from my soul, my eyes have that sparkle back again. Now when I look at pictures of me in the first year, my eyes were “dead” too and I can’t bear to look at them and see the pain behind that smile. I think the thing that surprised me the most about grief was the constant ebb and flow. Every time I felt better and had a few amazing days I would think the sorrow was moving behind me only to wake up the next day and be broken and trying not to fall into the “rabbit hole.” By itself, it was mentally draining and incredibly frustrating to know people think we have control over this. That somehow, we can “just decide” to be happy to be alive. Trust me. We have little control over grief.

I quit saying anything about “getting better” because I don’t think that is a true statement. Getting better implies a pathology and grief is not a pathology, it is the result of loving someone. I try to say instead I’m healing. I remind myself every day that the words we say to ourselves and to others matter, so we should be choosing them carefully. If you are someone who is struggling to find your footing in your grief journey, I hope that my words resonate with you and provide a sense of hope. This is a rough road and the hardest thing you will ever endure, but you CAN get through it and trust me, there will be plenty of days you won’t want to. I’m glad you’re still here. Speak your truth about your healing, so others can learn and hopefully it will feel like a less scary place for those that come after us.

This is my original Facebook post.

It's still so hard watching the world go on, even though my life has frozen in time. It's 834 in the shop as your heart stopped beating, mine was shattering. I don't want to still be there. And yet I am. I'm trying every day. Every day I try. I know you would be heartbroken to see me struggling. But I also know if the roles were reversed, you too would be devastated. Just as I am. I am adjusting to my new life without you. I won't lie and say it's easy. It's not. I still cry every day, but not all day. Every morning, I want to hide under the covers instead of facing another day without you. But still I rise. I sit in silence, drinking my coffee. It is times like this that the silence is deafening. It screams. You are gone, I am alone, get used to it. And the truth is I am. I have more good days than bad days. I cry less, smile more, and even laugh sometimes. People who have experienced loss said I would be OK, but I would be different. I didn't want to be, but I am. I am happy. I am sad. I see blue skies and gray ones. I am a fighter, I am tired. I am alone in a crowded room. I want to quit, but I don't. I am alive. With a heart that barely beats, but I am.

I’m watching the World go on as my life has been frozen in time, it’s 8:34.

As your heart stopped beating, mine shattered.

I don’t want to still be stuck in that moment in time, yet I am.

Every day I try. You’d be devastated to see me struggling.

I know if the tables were turned,

You too would be wrecked, just as I am.

I’m adjusting. It’s not easy. I cry every day, but not all day.

As I rise to face another day without you,

I don’t want to live, but I am.

Each morning, I sit in the quiet drinking my coffee.

The silence is deafening. It screams you are dead, I am alone,

Get used to it. And the truth is I am.

I cry less, smile more. They told me I would be okay.

But that I would be different!

I didn’t want to be, but I am.

I am happy, I am sad. I see blue skies, and gray ones.

I am a fighter, yet I am weak. I want to give up, but I don’t.

I am alive. With a heart that barely beats. But I am.