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our brains are so complex, in everyday situations, much less in deep grief.  the immediate aftermath of jim's death was horrible and then suddenly i found myself not so horrible.  i seemed ok, it felt like "ok if i get enough sleep and don't drink too much then yeah, i can do this!  i feel ok, this will be ok"

then the denial wears off...  and you are just left with the sadness.  there are so many layers to grief.  and then there are layers within layers- anger, denial, sadness.  the sadness is just so heavy, so very very heavy.  you feel like you will never be whole, you feel like this is going to last forever.  the only thing i can equate it to is drowning.  you literally feel as if you are drowning.  and then as suddenly as it came over you, it stops.  the tightening lessons and the numbness comes over you.  the waves are coming more frequent now, which is kind of ironic because this seems to also be the time where i feel everyone goes "ok ship shape now, let's get back to normal life"

it's crazy to me that even in the deepest of tragedy i can't let go of this perfectionist side of myself.  am i grieving like i should? what would all these people who are supporting me think of me if they found out x, y, z? does the church truly love me?  i can't even allow myself the grace to go through this without second guessing my actions.

this is the absolute worst broken heart i could ever imagine.  i feel as if i will never be whole again.  my mind swirling back to that week, what if? why?

most people don't know the details, but i did see my husband alive the morning of.  i can't explain the disconnect between thinking that my jim was grabbing the trash cans in from outside and being told he was dead.  it's asking for coke and getting pepsi on the deepest level imaginable.

the most difficult moments are processing the grief on behalf of my children and watching my children processing the grief and knowing the moments that await them going forward.  i've lived without a parent.  i know what it feels like.  i know the pain and grief and sadness that awaits them.  i know the job that awaits me of securing in their minds that a dad they either don't or barely remember loves them.  i know the job that awaits them of living their life and processing each stage without their dad.

as addy put it the other night "i wish daddy was still with us down here."
me too baby, me too.


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treat it.

to everyone who has never been touched by suicide,

i get it.  i used to be like you too.  here are the most common views of suicide i either heard or personally held growing up:

that person is selfish
that person is crazy
that person is a coward
they wanted to die
they were depressed for a long time and finally went through with it
there are always warning signs, so people know it's coming
that it's preventable

there is this social stigma around depression, suicide, etc.  i can't tell you what it is like to not be able to talk openly about my husband's death.  to see people either openly or privately distance themselves from my pain, search for reasons that he did it beyond the fact that he was ill and we didn't catch it in time, connect dots that aren't connected.  all so they can convince themselves that they will never know the pain, and i honestly hope they don't- but it's possible they will.  i know people whose lives…

life we expect over life we're given

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as i navigate these next steps, the great unknown, there are many that have opinions and voices into my life.  everyone wants what's best for me and everyone has their own idea of what that is.
people... i don't even know what that is.  but i know what i want…

dating in 2016, also huge LOL at even posting this.

Half of me can’t even believe I am writing this post.  Dating is gruesome, isn’t it?  Like most of life, I suppose.
The weekend that Jim died I was standing there, a wreck, while my phone was blowing up.  Alayne goes “who is texting you so much?”
I respond “oh those are just my tinder matches” 
and I know that not everybody gets the hilarity and all I can say is until you are in the fire, you don’t see the need for a respite from getting burned.
anyways, i was talking to my therapist about dating and i commented “single, widowed mom, sole custody of two kids… it’s a tough sell” and it is.  
i have this story that literally leaves people speechless.  most people when they hear it don’t even really know how to interact with me much less get involved romantically.  and i know eventually it won’t be such a big part of my identity, this widowed, grieving mom, but right now it is and if i want anything to do with the person then it’s like they have to know it.  
again, it’s a tough sell.