2016 started less stressfully than I feared. When last we spoke, I had this weird seemingly conflicting feeling about not wanting to let go of 2015 because despite it being a big old pile of shit year-wise, it was MY big old pile of shit, and also contained within it my last memories of being with Leslie and holding her hand and kissing her head and saying goodbye.
And despite my reassurances to myself that in fact December 31, 2015 was "just another day" it carried with it decades of meaning..."this is the last day of this year...you will start anew next year" and starting anew meant starting fresh...with Leslie not by my side. And that was sucky.
And ultimately...like birthdays or New Years past...when the moment that the old year metamorphosed into the new...absolutely no meaning or feeling or loss or gain was conveyed, just as I'd "known" it wouldn't, and if I was a little more subdued than New Years past, I can perhaps be forgiven, but ultimately, it wasn't as painful to actually realize 2016, as it was anticipating ending 2015.
If that makes any sense at all.
-----------------------------------
Lily has started this new thing where she only sleeps until about 3:30 - 4:30 in the morning every morning. I'm not in love with it. The plus is that if I get to her before she's fully awake I can typically lie down next to her and cuddle her back to sleep. The minus is...she doesn't give any indication that she's actually awake. I must sleep relatively lightly, because the rustle of sheets and the change in breathing are typically all I need in order to know that when I creep quietly down the hall to check on her I'll find her sitting up in bed smiling cheerfully at me.
Last night she slept until 3:15 or so. I fell asleep next to her until about 3:30. I crept quietly away and slept until about 4:15 when she woke up again. Lather rinse repeat...I was back in bed by 4:30 until my alarm woke me up at 5:30.
-------------------------------------------
We talked at group support about "giving ourselves permission to grieve". The idea, essentially, that it can't always just be about taking care of the kids emotional needs, we also need to be able to process (I brought up "Oxygen Mask", "please secure your own mask before helping others", that sort of thing). The facilitator I think made it too black and white. One of the members in the group was really struggling and I found myself irrationally irritated with the soft-spoken discussion leader and leaping in.
Everyone in that room is in a "similar" situation. It's one thing to psychologically give yourself permission to grieve. To me, that's far easier than the actual "execution". Yeah, I'm fully permitted. I've already decided that when I'm sad, I'll let Emma see it, and so what? Frankly, I think it's good for her to see that I care, and that I'm sad. I think it normalizes it for her. Gives her permission to openly grieve too. That said, it's like anything. I can give myself permission to have a couple beers at night, but exercising that option means not being able to be 100% if Lily wakes and needs me.
There are lots of things I can choose to do, but choosing one thing sometimes means avoiding/ignoring/neglecting another. Life's way more complicated than just...'choosing to do X'. But I do get that if you are the kind of person who really hasn't allowed himself/herself to grieve...you should. Even if finding time for yourself is harder than what most people might think.
---------------------------
I'm going to get a tattoo.
I'm doing some...soul searching. I've always wanted a tattoo. I just never had anything I felt strongly enough about that I wanted to mark myself up permanently. And then when the kids came...I don't know...I think I just sort of felt it was frivolous. And it probably is. But frivolous and having to explain that shit to Leslie...and frivolous and not having to answer to her...well those are two different things.
I want something that symbolizes a psychopomp. A butterfly was initially what I was going with. Then I considered a raven. Now I'm thinking of an owl. Apparently the owl is specifically something that is spoken of in Polish folklore as a carrier or guide of souls to heaven, and Leslie was...very Polish. So it seems fitting. Also I'm thinking of having "Isaiah 41:10" or part of that text "I will uphold you with my righteous right hand" added because it's something that Leslie drew strength and comfort from, even going so far as to raise her right hand when she would struggle to breathe walking up the stairs to our bedroom so that she could take God's hand and accept his help.
I'm still a ways off, but I'd love to hear anyone's thoughts or suggestions, even tips for how to work with a tattoo artist to get the design you want, or how to find a really good tattoo artist.
-----------------
Finally...I'm looking at trying to by a laptop shelf for my treadmill. I talked about choices above. Sometimes my choice is to exercise. Sometimes it's to read. Sometimes it's to write or play guitar. But I find I don't have time to choose all of the above.
I want to write more. If I can do that and get my exercise at the same time? Well...that's just killing two birds with one stone. One choice/option I don't have to turn aside from in order to pursue another.
Our true life adventures...
Showing posts with label 2015. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2015. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Thursday, December 31, 2015
2015 Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow
I know I sort of discussed this a couple days ago, but I really am having a difficult time getting past this weird feeling of loss as 2015 ends. Okay, yeah, I know, obviously...loss. But I don't mean Leslie exactly. Or rather, I DO mean Leslie, but I mean that it feels like Leslie is a part of 2015, like her memory is rooted to it. Like when 2015 ends, that door closes. It's really...disconcerting, and sad. And so I'm struggling with it, because I know that the door isn't closing...it just is difficult to get past that feeling.
I think because putting the old year behind me and looking forward to the new year has become so ingrained in my psyche, I feel like I somehow am also saying goodbye to Leslie all over again as this year draws to a close, like a barrier goes up when I open the calendar to January.
It's just another day, and I keep reminding myself of that. But everything moving forward always seems so tied to that, "first day of the new year" label, that "start here" mindset, that somehow starting new means ending old. I just have to wrap my head around it. It's just another day. It's just another day. No endings and no beginnings.
----------------
On the subject of New Year's Eve...and New Year's Day. I was talking to a couple friends about their plans. NYE always seems to be a bit of a disappointment. I don't know if it's because the evening itself is so romanticized, but I suspect so. If you're not on a marble dance floor gazing lovingly at the "one who got away" about to have your first kiss as snow gently falls outside, and the big band plays Auld Lang Syne while confetti dusts her long lashes...then it seems disappointing. It's just another day. It's just another day.
On the other hand...it seems like a natural drinking day. Drinking to good memories. Drinking to luck or fortune. Or even drinking to try to get rid of the foul taste that the previous year left in your mouth. It seems like a night that lends itself to going out.
I don't know. Do you go out on NYE? Do you enjoy it? Or is it always a bit of a disappointment?
-----------------
My sister is coming over tonight to HABLAB with me and we'll watch Dick Clark (Seacrest now? Or is that the other network) and the cavalcade of lip syncing pop stars du jour entertain until the ball drops. I'll probably have a shot of something expensive. That'll be for Leslie. But not two...that'll be for Lily. Because Lily's inner clock does not recognize my hangover's authority. Never has. And just like this morning, I have no doubt that I'll hear her softly stirring around 5:30 tomorrow morning. And I can't really parent her properly with a hangover.
------------------
Expect to read more from me in 2016.
I hope the New Year brings you peace. I hope you never forget 2015. Everything that happened then brought you to now.
I think because putting the old year behind me and looking forward to the new year has become so ingrained in my psyche, I feel like I somehow am also saying goodbye to Leslie all over again as this year draws to a close, like a barrier goes up when I open the calendar to January.
It's just another day, and I keep reminding myself of that. But everything moving forward always seems so tied to that, "first day of the new year" label, that "start here" mindset, that somehow starting new means ending old. I just have to wrap my head around it. It's just another day. It's just another day. No endings and no beginnings.
----------------
On the subject of New Year's Eve...and New Year's Day. I was talking to a couple friends about their plans. NYE always seems to be a bit of a disappointment. I don't know if it's because the evening itself is so romanticized, but I suspect so. If you're not on a marble dance floor gazing lovingly at the "one who got away" about to have your first kiss as snow gently falls outside, and the big band plays Auld Lang Syne while confetti dusts her long lashes...then it seems disappointing. It's just another day. It's just another day.
On the other hand...it seems like a natural drinking day. Drinking to good memories. Drinking to luck or fortune. Or even drinking to try to get rid of the foul taste that the previous year left in your mouth. It seems like a night that lends itself to going out.
I don't know. Do you go out on NYE? Do you enjoy it? Or is it always a bit of a disappointment?
-----------------
My sister is coming over tonight to HABLAB with me and we'll watch Dick Clark (Seacrest now? Or is that the other network) and the cavalcade of lip syncing pop stars du jour entertain until the ball drops. I'll probably have a shot of something expensive. That'll be for Leslie. But not two...that'll be for Lily. Because Lily's inner clock does not recognize my hangover's authority. Never has. And just like this morning, I have no doubt that I'll hear her softly stirring around 5:30 tomorrow morning. And I can't really parent her properly with a hangover.
------------------
Expect to read more from me in 2016.
I hope the New Year brings you peace. I hope you never forget 2015. Everything that happened then brought you to now.
Monday, December 28, 2015
2015...On the shoulders of giants
I think a lot of people had shitty years in 2015. I know reading Facebook I certainly see a lot of that. And I'm tempted to tell 2015 not to let the door hit it in its ass on the way out to 2016, but I won't. There's a lot of 2015 that was amazing and awesome, and a lot that sucked. And overall, I think 2015 was probably a GOOD year. And I think that probably will surprise a lot of people reading this, so I wanted to explain a few things about 2015 for which I am IMMENSELY grateful.
Those are some of the big, headliner type things that happened in 2015. The obvious, unspoken big baddie also happened in 2015. But man...those other things. I've mentioned before how grateful I am that the family was able to be there with Leslie at the end. Holding her hand, listening to that horrible christian station she loved, telling her we loved her and we were proud of her.
We still talked in 2015. She held my hand. How can 2015 be a bad year when I know that 2016 can't offer the same. Nor any year.
---------------------
I've said before how this wasn't the way Leslie's story was supposed to end.
I read a lot. Or I used to. Before I grew up and became the man who falls asleep rereading the same paragraph five times before closing the book in disgust and turning out the lights, I was a younger man who devoured books like Galactus devours worlds. I read very few books where the hero died before the end. I wanted to read more about Leslie. I wanted more adventures with her. She was a character I could really get behind. She was authentic. She had a lot of integrity. She made the other characters in the story better than they were.
Leslie's sisters (have I told you this story before?) were (are) very talented. Her older sister is an amazing singer. Her younger sister was (is) very smart. Leslie loved telling the story about how she blindsided her mother by asking her, "Danette is such a good singer, and Lauren is so smart, what makes ME special?" And her mother's reply, "You make people smile" was something that Leslie and I enjoyed talking about. It's a perfectly valid answer, but not, I think, what young Leslie was hoping for when she asked the question, so we would often trot it out as a joking consolation prize...I know you completely wrecked this risotto...but at least you made us all smile.
But I think looking back on Leslie, if there was something that really made her special it was that she made the people around her better. Better friends. Better parents. Better people. She cared. She was genuine.
When I think about my life moving forward in the context of the continuing story that develops when the story of how "Leslie and Jim" ends, I think about the phrase, "On the shoulders of giants". I think about who I am and what being Leslie's husband for 15 years did for me as a person and a parent. I feel like I rode piggy back and watched what she did, and now a lot of who I am and how I parent is the direct result of that 15 year piggy back ride. And I feel like I can do it. But I feel like my ability to see that horizon is because I'm standing on Leslie's shoulders to get a better view. She made me better than I was before I met her.
Somewhere along the way the Jim's story analogy breaks down because it feels dismissive to think of Leslie in terms of "supporting character to Jim's story" even though I suppose each of us is in some way a supporting character in the novel of someone else's life. What I meant to communicate wasn't that Leslie just had a supporting role, but that where I am as a character in my own story is so different than it would have been if she hadn't touched my life. Our lives. Anyway.
She'll always be a part of our story.
----------------------
Emma and I were watching "Good Luck Charlie" this weekend. It was an episode where Amy Duncan decides to throw herself a "surprise" baby shower for her 5th kid. She invites a bunch of people who she thinks will give good gifts, but talks shit about them in front of her three year old, who then regurgitates the information to the invitees during the shower and causes them all to leave.
Emma said, "Did mommy have friends like that?"
"Like, you mean friends she didn't really like that much but she sort of tolerated?"
"Yeah."
I thought about this.
"No. She really didn't."
Leslie didn't use people. Leslie didn't tolerate people. If you were friends with Leslie it was because Leslie wanted to be your friend. She didn't befriend you because she needed stuff from you. She wasn't in it for the perks. She just...liked you.
------------------------
Christmas was nice. We did pretty well. The big things seem more manageable to me. They always have. The little things sucker punch me, but the big things we've been good with.
2016 is coming, and although I personally have argued that January 1 is an arbitrary time to start "the first day of the rest of your life" it feels convenient under the circumstances. I have resolutions, but I still have stuff to clean up from 2015. So I'll start then.
I have to learn who I am without Leslie. I'm old enough now that I feel like maybe I can do that without letting my baser instincts govern me. For instance, right now I'm frustrated by my inability to do all the things I want to do. I want to get fit. I want to learn to play the guitar. I want to write. I want to read. I want to have a drink. I want to go out with friends. And I can't do all of that at once. And I have to decide...what's more important to me? How do I make it happen?
At night I think...okay, the kids are in bed, I'm free to do what I want...what'll it be? Get on the treadmill? Read a book? Pick up the guitar? And some nights the answer is...just go to bed.
I'm learning that when I don't sleep enough my mood and patience both go down the shitter. I'll have a really bad day, where I'm "blue" or depressed or whatever, and I just don't have the patience for the kids that I typically do, and then I'll get a good night's sleep and it's "fixed" and I'll remember that the previous night I only slept for 3 hours. That light bulb has gone on a few times. I'm starting to remember it.
I also know that sometimes when I'm feeling the most wrung out, stepping up on the treadmill and getting my blood pumping ALSO makes me feel better.
I feel lonely in a way that can't just be fixed with company. I miss "sharing time", even if that time is spent watching TV or reading a book in the same room in silence. I miss wordless communication or just knowing she was my safety net to tag out in case I started to lose my temper with the kids. That kind of loneliness isn't fixed by hanging out with friends and family or by dating. And dating is sometimes lonelier than NOT dating, though I know at some point I'll re-enter that fray. We knew all of each others stories. We were comfortable in each others' space and silence. Eventually getting to that point with someone else seems daunting.
At grief support we talked about the idea of wearing your wedding ring even though you're no longer technically married. I told them how it'd already caused one socially awkward situation (Happy Hour). Taking the ring off seems unspeakably sad to me. I told them I would most likely move it to my right hand. Taking it off entirely seems too sad. Thinking about a time when taking it off doesn't seem too sad ALSO seems too sad. Moving the ring...I'm okay with that, I think. One woman wore hers around her neck on a chain. Another man was still wearing his. Day to day. I was thinking about doing that in 2016. It seems like a sad way to begin a year, but really it'll be sad no matter when I decide to do it.
2016 goals...
Learn who I am without Leslie
Write more
Read more
Sleep more
Weigh less
Easy.
- In 2015 my wife's suffering finally ended.
- 2015 was the last year in which I was able to hold my wife's hand and tell her I loved her. And it was the last year she held mine, and told me she loved me too.
- 2015 was a year in which people, near and far, known to me and also unknown, showed how important my wife and our family was to them, and offered their support when we needed it the most.
- 2015 was a year in which I proved to myself and my family that I could do it alone* (even if I didn't want to)
Those are some of the big, headliner type things that happened in 2015. The obvious, unspoken big baddie also happened in 2015. But man...those other things. I've mentioned before how grateful I am that the family was able to be there with Leslie at the end. Holding her hand, listening to that horrible christian station she loved, telling her we loved her and we were proud of her.
We still talked in 2015. She held my hand. How can 2015 be a bad year when I know that 2016 can't offer the same. Nor any year.
---------------------
I've said before how this wasn't the way Leslie's story was supposed to end.
I read a lot. Or I used to. Before I grew up and became the man who falls asleep rereading the same paragraph five times before closing the book in disgust and turning out the lights, I was a younger man who devoured books like Galactus devours worlds. I read very few books where the hero died before the end. I wanted to read more about Leslie. I wanted more adventures with her. She was a character I could really get behind. She was authentic. She had a lot of integrity. She made the other characters in the story better than they were.
Leslie's sisters (have I told you this story before?) were (are) very talented. Her older sister is an amazing singer. Her younger sister was (is) very smart. Leslie loved telling the story about how she blindsided her mother by asking her, "Danette is such a good singer, and Lauren is so smart, what makes ME special?" And her mother's reply, "You make people smile" was something that Leslie and I enjoyed talking about. It's a perfectly valid answer, but not, I think, what young Leslie was hoping for when she asked the question, so we would often trot it out as a joking consolation prize...I know you completely wrecked this risotto...but at least you made us all smile.
But I think looking back on Leslie, if there was something that really made her special it was that she made the people around her better. Better friends. Better parents. Better people. She cared. She was genuine.
When I think about my life moving forward in the context of the continuing story that develops when the story of how "Leslie and Jim" ends, I think about the phrase, "On the shoulders of giants". I think about who I am and what being Leslie's husband for 15 years did for me as a person and a parent. I feel like I rode piggy back and watched what she did, and now a lot of who I am and how I parent is the direct result of that 15 year piggy back ride. And I feel like I can do it. But I feel like my ability to see that horizon is because I'm standing on Leslie's shoulders to get a better view. She made me better than I was before I met her.
Somewhere along the way the Jim's story analogy breaks down because it feels dismissive to think of Leslie in terms of "supporting character to Jim's story" even though I suppose each of us is in some way a supporting character in the novel of someone else's life. What I meant to communicate wasn't that Leslie just had a supporting role, but that where I am as a character in my own story is so different than it would have been if she hadn't touched my life. Our lives. Anyway.
She'll always be a part of our story.
----------------------
Emma and I were watching "Good Luck Charlie" this weekend. It was an episode where Amy Duncan decides to throw herself a "surprise" baby shower for her 5th kid. She invites a bunch of people who she thinks will give good gifts, but talks shit about them in front of her three year old, who then regurgitates the information to the invitees during the shower and causes them all to leave.
Emma said, "Did mommy have friends like that?"
"Like, you mean friends she didn't really like that much but she sort of tolerated?"
"Yeah."
I thought about this.
"No. She really didn't."
Leslie didn't use people. Leslie didn't tolerate people. If you were friends with Leslie it was because Leslie wanted to be your friend. She didn't befriend you because she needed stuff from you. She wasn't in it for the perks. She just...liked you.
------------------------
Christmas was nice. We did pretty well. The big things seem more manageable to me. They always have. The little things sucker punch me, but the big things we've been good with.
2016 is coming, and although I personally have argued that January 1 is an arbitrary time to start "the first day of the rest of your life" it feels convenient under the circumstances. I have resolutions, but I still have stuff to clean up from 2015. So I'll start then.
I have to learn who I am without Leslie. I'm old enough now that I feel like maybe I can do that without letting my baser instincts govern me. For instance, right now I'm frustrated by my inability to do all the things I want to do. I want to get fit. I want to learn to play the guitar. I want to write. I want to read. I want to have a drink. I want to go out with friends. And I can't do all of that at once. And I have to decide...what's more important to me? How do I make it happen?
At night I think...okay, the kids are in bed, I'm free to do what I want...what'll it be? Get on the treadmill? Read a book? Pick up the guitar? And some nights the answer is...just go to bed.
I'm learning that when I don't sleep enough my mood and patience both go down the shitter. I'll have a really bad day, where I'm "blue" or depressed or whatever, and I just don't have the patience for the kids that I typically do, and then I'll get a good night's sleep and it's "fixed" and I'll remember that the previous night I only slept for 3 hours. That light bulb has gone on a few times. I'm starting to remember it.
I also know that sometimes when I'm feeling the most wrung out, stepping up on the treadmill and getting my blood pumping ALSO makes me feel better.
I feel lonely in a way that can't just be fixed with company. I miss "sharing time", even if that time is spent watching TV or reading a book in the same room in silence. I miss wordless communication or just knowing she was my safety net to tag out in case I started to lose my temper with the kids. That kind of loneliness isn't fixed by hanging out with friends and family or by dating. And dating is sometimes lonelier than NOT dating, though I know at some point I'll re-enter that fray. We knew all of each others stories. We were comfortable in each others' space and silence. Eventually getting to that point with someone else seems daunting.
At grief support we talked about the idea of wearing your wedding ring even though you're no longer technically married. I told them how it'd already caused one socially awkward situation (Happy Hour). Taking the ring off seems unspeakably sad to me. I told them I would most likely move it to my right hand. Taking it off entirely seems too sad. Thinking about a time when taking it off doesn't seem too sad ALSO seems too sad. Moving the ring...I'm okay with that, I think. One woman wore hers around her neck on a chain. Another man was still wearing his. Day to day. I was thinking about doing that in 2016. It seems like a sad way to begin a year, but really it'll be sad no matter when I decide to do it.
2016 goals...
Learn who I am without Leslie
Write more
Read more
Sleep more
Weigh less
Easy.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Headache
I spent a lot of time banging my head against the door this past week. And I know you probably think I mean that figuratively, but I don't. I mean it literally. I smacked my head off three seperate doors last week.
First, trying to quickly open the garage door, I whisked open the back door to reach out and stab at the button. The door hit my foot, which I'd placed directly in front of it for some reason, and, not expecting the door to still be there, continued to reach out for the button. The door met my face unexpectedly as I reached.
Next, I was putting a suitcase away in Lily's closet. I pushed the folding doors open, but the left side was hitting against one of her stuffed animals, so I had to push harder to get it open all the way. Then I let go to grab the suit case and slide it in, and the door closed on my face.
I know there was a third time, and that's when I decided that my door/face adventures merited a blog post, but I can't remember what it was, possibly owing to the fact that I bashed my head against doors no less than three times.
I think it might have been the sliding glass door leading to the patio. Yeah. I slid open the door to take burgers out to the grill. I expected it to slide open smoothly, so I was timing it, walking out as it slid open, but it stopped when it hit the shit ton of boots and shoes that were piled up in front of it, and I walked into it.
Anyway, there was some Facebook debate about what kind of year 2015 will be, and I stated that it HAS to be better than 2014, which was kind of a crappy year all things considered. But if week two is any indication, I'm very very concerned.
First, trying to quickly open the garage door, I whisked open the back door to reach out and stab at the button. The door hit my foot, which I'd placed directly in front of it for some reason, and, not expecting the door to still be there, continued to reach out for the button. The door met my face unexpectedly as I reached.
Next, I was putting a suitcase away in Lily's closet. I pushed the folding doors open, but the left side was hitting against one of her stuffed animals, so I had to push harder to get it open all the way. Then I let go to grab the suit case and slide it in, and the door closed on my face.
I know there was a third time, and that's when I decided that my door/face adventures merited a blog post, but I can't remember what it was, possibly owing to the fact that I bashed my head against doors no less than three times.
I think it might have been the sliding glass door leading to the patio. Yeah. I slid open the door to take burgers out to the grill. I expected it to slide open smoothly, so I was timing it, walking out as it slid open, but it stopped when it hit the shit ton of boots and shoes that were piled up in front of it, and I walked into it.
Anyway, there was some Facebook debate about what kind of year 2015 will be, and I stated that it HAS to be better than 2014, which was kind of a crappy year all things considered. But if week two is any indication, I'm very very concerned.
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