I'm about to have a major pity-party and unleashing of the anger. I have felt it welling up in me all day. I'm climbing back out on the ledge again. So if you don't want to hear it, shut the window and get out now. You've been warned.
It's friday night. The start of another l-o-n-g weekend of nothing, absolutely nothing. I am so freaking angry at J for dying. I swear if I could see him right now I would slap his face with all I've got. I'm beyond angry. I'm livid. Furious. I want to punch something or someone out. I want to tear up the house and set it on fire. I want to break some damn dishes up in here. I want to go out into the middle of town and have a raging, screaming, kicking, fighting, hair pulling, cussing hissy fit!
I didn't even much get out of the parking lot at work today until the tears started. I cried all the way home. I'm still crying right now. I swear I just want to lay down and die. And no, it's not because I have nothing to do on a friday night. I'm not that shallow.
It's because I miss my husband. I miss him. I want him back.
I want to die because the pain is relentless. It's unbearable. And the loneliness is beyond unbearable. You can't even begin to imagine how excrutiating it is. I don't think words have even been invented to describe it accurately. It takes everything I have inside not to buckle under the weight of it. A lot of the people in the online support group talk about "skin hunger" as being such a big part of the loneliness - just the need to be physically touched (and not just in THAT kind of way - get your mind out of the gutter). It's not just hunger. It's absolute desperation. Just to have a physical touch from someone makes all the difference sometimes. Just a hug. Anything.
And I do admit THAT kind of skin hunger is pretty damn desperate too. I'm not ashamed. It's completely normal to like sex - even a lot of sex. Grow up already and quit being such a prude.
But anyway, back to wanting to die. I was in the middle of a tirade. Oh yeah, I remember now.
What the hell is the point anymore? You work. You maybe eat. You don't sleep. You exercise and feel better only to have the grief bite you in the ass the next day. (Sorry, when I'm angry I can have a foul mouth.) It's like five steps forward and 7,000 back. It's getting really old. I just don't know if I feel like putting much more effort into it.
I know I'm tough. I know that somewhere inside me is the will to hang on and beat this somehow. I'm just so tired of having to dig deep to find it every single damn day. I swear I better not hear one person say "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Or if someone even looks like they are going to say "time heals everything", I swear I will go postal. I mean it. Don't try me.
You know what? Let's just make a list. I'm good at lists. Let's make a list of things that you should and shouldn't do for people like me (I refuse to call myself a widow because I loathe that hateful word).
1. Please DO NOT say any freaking cliches to make me feel better. Eventually, you will get smacked. I promise you that.
2. Please DO NOT act like my husband's death is the 10 ton elephant sitting over in the corner of the room that no one can talk about. I already know he's gone. I know it WAY more than you do. Trust me on that one. Tiptoeing around the subject does not make it go away. He has a name. You can talk about him. You can let me talk about him. You can say death/dead/dying/expired/passed away/whatever, and I will not freak out. I'm very comfortable with death. It doesn't scare me. It's a HUGE chunk of my life. When you ignore it, you ignore something that has made me who I am right now.
3. You CAN NOT make me sad. I swear I'd like to write this across the sky so that everyone on the planet can see it. You CAN NOT make me sad. I am sad because J died. So unless you personally caused J to die, you have no part in what makes me sad. My sadness is all my own.
4. Please DO NOT say "call me if you need something." I'll let you in on a little secret about those of us who are going through this: We will not call you. Nine times out of ten, we have no clue what we need. And ten times out of ten, we feel like a huge burden to anyone if we do call. I know it's just a polite thing to say, but after hearing it for the 3 millionth time and knowing that's it just to be polite, we get a little worn out on it.
5. Please DO NOT cut me off if I share something personal with you. I know. I spill a lot out here, but in person if I tell you something personal, it's because I feel safe with you. I trust you with what's left of my heart. When you cut me off, I feel isolated and alone again, and I feel like you don't care about me at all as a friend.
6. If you ask me how I am, be prepared to hear just about anything. I might say "fine." I might say "I hate the universe." I might burst into tears. I might burst into flames. I really don't know. I go from angry to sad to devistated to hysterical to empty and back around to angry sometimes in 3 seconds flat. I know it's kind of like opening the Mystery Date door. You don't know who you'll get. Could be the tuxedo guy? Could be the bum? Who knows? So maybe you should just not ask at all if you can't deal.
7. Please make me laugh as much as you possibly can. I live for it. Most days it's the only thing that keeps me off the ledge.
8. Let me cry. Please, for the love of dogs, just let me cry. I'm not ashamed of it. Tears are perfectly normal otherwise you would go to the doctor for medication every time you cried. I have a lot to cry about. I have a freaking lot to cry about. If I don't cry it out, I'll be out somewhere taking a baseball bat to some mailboxes or even worse, I'll be back on here unleashing on the universe. Just hand me some kleenex, and let me at it.
9. Please realize that I am a person with a very fragile heart right now. Be careful with it. It breaks very, very easily. (I know what you're thinking. Well, a minute ago she was all smacking faces, throwing a hissy fit and beating up on mailboxes. How fragile is that? Shut it. You obviously just don't get it.)
10. For the love of dogs, just please, please, please if you see or hear me out on the ledge, just check on me. I'm probably in crazy mode. I might be about ready to jump, and you might be the only reason I don't.
Ok, I think I'm about ready to come down off the ledge. I finally stopped crying. I'm still pissed off, but I'll go to the fitness center and burn that off in the morning.
Here's some damn music for you. It's a good angry song and just about how I feel today.
Thank God, at least Trent Reznor gets it.
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