From what I heard, it was the BEST CHRISTMAS EVERRRRRRRR from about everyone I asked this year. I had my first visitor in a long time, and that was nice having company. New year's plans are made and I'm ready to ring in 2012. (A fortune teller told me this year, 2012, was going to be a year of permanent change for the better...so we shall see.)
For New Year's Eve, I've made plans with a friend for dinner, then drinks in Wilmington. Kind of last minute, but I'll take it. Someone rented the place above me for the holiday weekend and I get hear them walking around. Their noise is comforting, and I'm realizing I need noise in my life.
I've decided I'm going to go ahead with my plans for building a house. The more that I try to think of a reason to move away, the more I know that the blissful moments of my life were all spent in New Hanover County, and that I need to live there. So...I'll spend another year on the beach, and plan on breaking ground by this time next year. I'm currently looking to take a stained glass class to create my own stained glass window for my prayer room.
I have no resolutions this year, except following through with getting my passport.
This is all I've got.
Happy New Year, Folks. Let's make every day count.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
A wild Imagination
When you're 6 years old, a wildly creative imagination takes you places. Two hundred acres of soybeans, pasture, and antique farm equipment is not only a playground, but a kingdom! Your imaginary farmboy says "As you wish" to your every command, and you ARE Princess Buttercup. We made fortresses out of bales of hay (when Grandpa wasn't looking), pretended to fly when jumping off the roof of the barn, convinced ourselves that certain hills had magical powers, and like Peter Pan, had no intention (or realization) of growing up.
When you're 16 years old, a wild imagination determines the places you want to go. I wanted to study in Spain, attend private school in an "exotic" place, like Louisville, Kentucky at Bellermine University. I worked and spent my hard earned dollars on dishes and furniture, hoarding household goods and carefully planning my escape. Life did not have to be miles away...it just simply had to be my own, and my dream would be complete.
When you're 26 years old, a wild imagination leaves you disappointed. By this time, you have a life that is your own. You might be sharing a life with someone, a partner to sail through murky waters together. Sometimes, by a twist of fate or niche in our Lord's Master Plan, you have experienced tragedy that had left you alone again. In my case, this leaves you alone (and okay with it), but this imagination can get the best of you. If I had no imagination, I would be sitting alone with Ben and Jerry, watching television like Bridget Jones. Unfortunately, I do have this cruel imagination....which leaves me expecting the phone to ring any minute with a friend calling that I haven't heard from in ages. This, is impossible, because in four moves, I have changed my number six times, and (in)advertently made it impossible to keep track of me, even for relatives.
So it's 8 AM on Tuesday morning. I was supposed to be on vacation this week but agreed to work. Fate has stepped in and I have lost my voice, therefore did not go into the office. My body is weak with fever, severe sore throat, and crippled with a bad attitude. I'm cuddled on the couch in the pink nightgown my Grandma gave me on last trip to Indiana. If I wasn't used to caring for someone with chronic illness, my hypochondria (root cause: imagination) and WEBMD would lead me to believe I have Epiglittitus, thyroid cancer, or possibly a hiatel hernia. My rational self beats out my imagination and I know I simply have bad luck. This is NOT a case of karma.....or if it is, it would have to be the case that I, in a previous life, was a total raving BITCH, and karma is just swinging it's way back around to me. (I don't believe in the previous lives thing...just saying.)
I'm disappointed, this morning, because my imagination combined with the constant state of irony I live in, leaves me expecting a surprise visitor, bringing popsicles, comfort food (Cracker Barrel's hashbrown casserole), and immunity that would allow them to sit on the other end of the couch and share the blankets and make me laugh without contracting my bad luck themself. This too, like the surprise phone call, is impossible because strangely enough, the only person who actually knows where I live is the (ever-continuing) oat-sower who is the only person to visit me here thus far. (NOTE: I am immune to those oats, as I spent the majority of that relationship not having any oats, while he had free flowing oats to spare.)
I'm tired now....and going to crash out again. Will update if medication + imagination + subconscience = wild dreams worth repeating.
When you're 16 years old, a wild imagination determines the places you want to go. I wanted to study in Spain, attend private school in an "exotic" place, like Louisville, Kentucky at Bellermine University. I worked and spent my hard earned dollars on dishes and furniture, hoarding household goods and carefully planning my escape. Life did not have to be miles away...it just simply had to be my own, and my dream would be complete.
When you're 26 years old, a wild imagination leaves you disappointed. By this time, you have a life that is your own. You might be sharing a life with someone, a partner to sail through murky waters together. Sometimes, by a twist of fate or niche in our Lord's Master Plan, you have experienced tragedy that had left you alone again. In my case, this leaves you alone (and okay with it), but this imagination can get the best of you. If I had no imagination, I would be sitting alone with Ben and Jerry, watching television like Bridget Jones. Unfortunately, I do have this cruel imagination....which leaves me expecting the phone to ring any minute with a friend calling that I haven't heard from in ages. This, is impossible, because in four moves, I have changed my number six times, and (in)advertently made it impossible to keep track of me, even for relatives.
So it's 8 AM on Tuesday morning. I was supposed to be on vacation this week but agreed to work. Fate has stepped in and I have lost my voice, therefore did not go into the office. My body is weak with fever, severe sore throat, and crippled with a bad attitude. I'm cuddled on the couch in the pink nightgown my Grandma gave me on last trip to Indiana. If I wasn't used to caring for someone with chronic illness, my hypochondria (root cause: imagination) and WEBMD would lead me to believe I have Epiglittitus, thyroid cancer, or possibly a hiatel hernia. My rational self beats out my imagination and I know I simply have bad luck. This is NOT a case of karma.....or if it is, it would have to be the case that I, in a previous life, was a total raving BITCH, and karma is just swinging it's way back around to me. (I don't believe in the previous lives thing...just saying.)
I'm disappointed, this morning, because my imagination combined with the constant state of irony I live in, leaves me expecting a surprise visitor, bringing popsicles, comfort food (Cracker Barrel's hashbrown casserole), and immunity that would allow them to sit on the other end of the couch and share the blankets and make me laugh without contracting my bad luck themself. This too, like the surprise phone call, is impossible because strangely enough, the only person who actually knows where I live is the (ever-continuing) oat-sower who is the only person to visit me here thus far. (NOTE: I am immune to those oats, as I spent the majority of that relationship not having any oats, while he had free flowing oats to spare.)
I'm tired now....and going to crash out again. Will update if medication + imagination + subconscience = wild dreams worth repeating.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Perspective
There's a funny thing about perspective.
For years I was in a relationship "alone", silently living in solitude while my partner chose to continue sowing oats in whatever loose woman's field that was open. Instead of walking away from the relationship, I turned to bitterness. Not long after the bitterness was at it's max, I turned to purchasing at least two DVDs every evening to fill the hours between getting home from work, completing household chores, and waiting for him to come home hours later after his fun. Approximately 3,000 DVDs later, I got smart and started purchasing TV series' on DVD because they lasted longer and were more cost effective. Film has always been an easy distraction for me...cherry vodka helped at the time as well.
When this relationship finally ended, the oat-sower went on his way, taking with him my cherry vodka phase, and my DVDs and I began a relationship with tequila. I did not mind being alone, because I truly had been all along. I was such a stranger to love, I would not know him upon meeting on the street, or per chance, in a store, randomly.
When J and I became close, I eventually introduced him to my movies, which he loved. In his recordings, he stated, "One of my favorite things about you, are your movies. I plan on watching them...because I mean, who spends $20, 000 on DVDS?! We gotta watch at least half of them!"
Now that I've been living alone again, it is often hard for me to watch them, however I'm finding new depth in some. I'm deep in Grey's Anatomy Season 3, and am surprised how much this season is impacting me. After Dr Burke was shot, Christina has such deep resentment being "the caretaker" and nursing him and supporting him in his recovery. Meredith and Derek get together again and try to be "bright and shiny" only to realize their world is "dark and twisty" and they will get through it together. Chief Webber visits his love Ellis Grey in a nursing home while she's suffering from early onset Alzheimer's, and is disregarding his wife who seems to be an obligation instead of his spouse. Something about this last one tugs at my heart the most. Something about illness or injury that affects the mind and memory is so horrifically cruel.
Over a month ago, I saw a fortuneteller randomly, without appointment, or giving any information. She described my husband's injury and called him by name when stating that I was grieving for him. She also stated 2012 will be a year of permanent change, and that I will meet my future husband., also giving an indepth description down to belt size, name, and profession. (Please note: although I am intrigued to know my "future husband" sounds very handsome and has a great job, I'm not interested in dating...yet again, leaving me in a state needing divine intervention to throw soulmate #2 my way and forcing himself into my life like J did.)
I've been trying to really LIVE life...for both of our sake. This week, I enjoyed a lot of activity, including dinners out, friends, musical theater, and dancing. Also, I walked on the beach with a stranger. Of all of this, I came to realize, I am happy. Not happy with my circumstances, but happy in spite of them. I have survived another day. Another thing, perspective as brought me? Answers. Nine alcoholic beverages later and standing on a rooftop bar overlooking the Cape Fear river in downtown Wilmington, NC, I had perspective. Perspective that made me realize, my husband is gone, and will never return. Perspective that this beautiful view was shared by us, and that if the world was right, he would be with me. Perspective that I won't ever stop missing him, and will never have a "replacement" or will love again like that. A void in my heart forever.
I have been praying hard on the articles regarding the 700 Club host Pat Robertson's views on Alzheimer's patients spouses' divorcing their sick partners. He received such grief and scorn from Christian leaders worldwide, however, I believe he has the right idea.
Although my "wounds" are still "fresh", I believe I've found some solace, peace in knowing that he was the ONE for me. Peace in knowing I have no reason to ever date, because I will never find that again. I visited J this week extensively, and he is much worse and has deteriorated heavily even in the last few weeks. I ache for him in his pain. I hurt when he hurts. Most of all, I yearn to fall asleep so we can meet each other in our dreams at night, well, laughing, with the promise of the future, and able to reminisce about our long life together. Our happy memories are my most painful...knowing they are limited to that short time that we shared.
For years I was in a relationship "alone", silently living in solitude while my partner chose to continue sowing oats in whatever loose woman's field that was open. Instead of walking away from the relationship, I turned to bitterness. Not long after the bitterness was at it's max, I turned to purchasing at least two DVDs every evening to fill the hours between getting home from work, completing household chores, and waiting for him to come home hours later after his fun. Approximately 3,000 DVDs later, I got smart and started purchasing TV series' on DVD because they lasted longer and were more cost effective. Film has always been an easy distraction for me...cherry vodka helped at the time as well.
When this relationship finally ended, the oat-sower went on his way, taking with him my cherry vodka phase, and my DVDs and I began a relationship with tequila. I did not mind being alone, because I truly had been all along. I was such a stranger to love, I would not know him upon meeting on the street, or per chance, in a store, randomly.
When J and I became close, I eventually introduced him to my movies, which he loved. In his recordings, he stated, "One of my favorite things about you, are your movies. I plan on watching them...because I mean, who spends $20, 000 on DVDS?! We gotta watch at least half of them!"
Now that I've been living alone again, it is often hard for me to watch them, however I'm finding new depth in some. I'm deep in Grey's Anatomy Season 3, and am surprised how much this season is impacting me. After Dr Burke was shot, Christina has such deep resentment being "the caretaker" and nursing him and supporting him in his recovery. Meredith and Derek get together again and try to be "bright and shiny" only to realize their world is "dark and twisty" and they will get through it together. Chief Webber visits his love Ellis Grey in a nursing home while she's suffering from early onset Alzheimer's, and is disregarding his wife who seems to be an obligation instead of his spouse. Something about this last one tugs at my heart the most. Something about illness or injury that affects the mind and memory is so horrifically cruel.
Over a month ago, I saw a fortuneteller randomly, without appointment, or giving any information. She described my husband's injury and called him by name when stating that I was grieving for him. She also stated 2012 will be a year of permanent change, and that I will meet my future husband., also giving an indepth description down to belt size, name, and profession. (Please note: although I am intrigued to know my "future husband" sounds very handsome and has a great job, I'm not interested in dating...yet again, leaving me in a state needing divine intervention to throw soulmate #2 my way and forcing himself into my life like J did.)
I've been trying to really LIVE life...for both of our sake. This week, I enjoyed a lot of activity, including dinners out, friends, musical theater, and dancing. Also, I walked on the beach with a stranger. Of all of this, I came to realize, I am happy. Not happy with my circumstances, but happy in spite of them. I have survived another day. Another thing, perspective as brought me? Answers. Nine alcoholic beverages later and standing on a rooftop bar overlooking the Cape Fear river in downtown Wilmington, NC, I had perspective. Perspective that made me realize, my husband is gone, and will never return. Perspective that this beautiful view was shared by us, and that if the world was right, he would be with me. Perspective that I won't ever stop missing him, and will never have a "replacement" or will love again like that. A void in my heart forever.
I have been praying hard on the articles regarding the 700 Club host Pat Robertson's views on Alzheimer's patients spouses' divorcing their sick partners. He received such grief and scorn from Christian leaders worldwide, however, I believe he has the right idea.
Although my "wounds" are still "fresh", I believe I've found some solace, peace in knowing that he was the ONE for me. Peace in knowing I have no reason to ever date, because I will never find that again. I visited J this week extensively, and he is much worse and has deteriorated heavily even in the last few weeks. I ache for him in his pain. I hurt when he hurts. Most of all, I yearn to fall asleep so we can meet each other in our dreams at night, well, laughing, with the promise of the future, and able to reminisce about our long life together. Our happy memories are my most painful...knowing they are limited to that short time that we shared.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
A Different Kind of War Widow
The moment I met J is tattooed on the front of my mind. That day, he sought me out, and told me that he was going to marry me. I, having been burned once, had no interest in love, and was essentially, ice cold. J was not shaken. He coined this our "Day-we-met-iversary." We became friends, and slowly but surely (through "Date-iversary, Kiss-iversary, Engage-iversary, immediately followed by Wed-iversary) our souls were fused together permanently, and my frozen exterior and heart, melted and I was able to love with the passion that I am convinced that mostly the characters in our favorite movies love with. As his Afghan deployment loomed, my eyes were opened, and I had no fear. We had to get through seven short months, and the promise of the incredible life together we would share would have no further roadblocks. J was incredible, decent, and kind, and the most influential person I have, and will ever know in my life.
Before leaving he recorded approximately three hours of himself talking to me, in clips of advice on "any little thing" I might need his take on, knowing I would not have him accessible. These included things such as if the dog ran away, or the house burnt down, or if I lost my job. They also included things he would want in a new house, the names he liked for our children, and his favorite meals that I prepared.
My most cherished are the recollections of our time together from the moment he saw me. The last recording he made (used a smartphone and emailed it) was immediately after they got on the bus, but before taking off:
"The time I've spent back with you....has literally been the best time of my life...I've grown up and lived in a lot of places...and although I don't like it here...this is easily my favorite because this is where I met you. We will always come around this area....because it's our thing. I love you so very much and I AM coming home to you. I am your husband, and you are my wife....and I will give you everything, and I have given you everything, and you have given me everything, and when I come home, we will live a comfortable and amazing life together. I love you so very much, I can't express to you how much and I just know that when I come home you're going to see a different man...I'm going to look different, and I'm going to act different, but the only thing that is not going to be different, is how much I love you and how much I need to take care of you. Because I know you deserve to be taken care of, and I deserve to be the man to take care of you. I love you so very much <BUSSES ENGINES START IN THE BACKGROUND> and don't worry about me, I am in the best hands, the best hands of the world....and I'm coming home to you. I love you."
Throughout his deployment, I was not aware of the combat action he was seeing, and he downplayed what he was doing. During his stint, he suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury that left him cognitively impaired as well as Severe Post Traumatic Stress that terrorizes him on daily basis. Outwardly, he looks no different, except the light in his eyes is gone. Mentally, his mind is gone, similar to a state of Alzheimer's or dementia. He is no longer capable of serving in the military, or able to work. Sadly, after nearly two years with no improvement, and significant deterioration, he decided I should move on with my life, aware of his situation, and knowing he wasn't capable of being what I "deserve" and that I would not make this decision myself, so he was making it for me. He believes he "died" and that if I continue to take care of his "shell" I will too. He only asks that we can be buried together still, and that should I remarry he be able to give me away.
His recordings were prophetic at times, telling me things I needed to do, dreams to continue following, but soul was tied with his...and his is still patrolling in Afghanistan.
It is entirely impossible to grieve for a person who has stopped living, but is still breathing, in a home across town.
It is entirely impossible to imagine ever finding a love so pure and true, that it is unnecessary for me to even look.
Acceptance of the things that took place that stole my husband's life from him are possible. I can accept he will never be "coming home." I have difficulty accepting that I envisioned our home, children, holidays, and vacations, and these memories were stolen from us before we could have them.
I grieve for the life we did not have the time to live. I have nothing to bury, and have to live knowing my husband is living the rest of his earthly life in limbo....and I can either continue to stop living my life....or can move on, leaving him behind.
Before leaving he recorded approximately three hours of himself talking to me, in clips of advice on "any little thing" I might need his take on, knowing I would not have him accessible. These included things such as if the dog ran away, or the house burnt down, or if I lost my job. They also included things he would want in a new house, the names he liked for our children, and his favorite meals that I prepared.
My most cherished are the recollections of our time together from the moment he saw me. The last recording he made (used a smartphone and emailed it) was immediately after they got on the bus, but before taking off:
"The time I've spent back with you....has literally been the best time of my life...I've grown up and lived in a lot of places...and although I don't like it here...this is easily my favorite because this is where I met you. We will always come around this area....because it's our thing. I love you so very much and I AM coming home to you. I am your husband, and you are my wife....and I will give you everything, and I have given you everything, and you have given me everything, and when I come home, we will live a comfortable and amazing life together. I love you so very much, I can't express to you how much and I just know that when I come home you're going to see a different man...I'm going to look different, and I'm going to act different, but the only thing that is not going to be different, is how much I love you and how much I need to take care of you. Because I know you deserve to be taken care of, and I deserve to be the man to take care of you. I love you so very much <BUSSES ENGINES START IN THE BACKGROUND> and don't worry about me, I am in the best hands, the best hands of the world....and I'm coming home to you. I love you."
Throughout his deployment, I was not aware of the combat action he was seeing, and he downplayed what he was doing. During his stint, he suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury that left him cognitively impaired as well as Severe Post Traumatic Stress that terrorizes him on daily basis. Outwardly, he looks no different, except the light in his eyes is gone. Mentally, his mind is gone, similar to a state of Alzheimer's or dementia. He is no longer capable of serving in the military, or able to work. Sadly, after nearly two years with no improvement, and significant deterioration, he decided I should move on with my life, aware of his situation, and knowing he wasn't capable of being what I "deserve" and that I would not make this decision myself, so he was making it for me. He believes he "died" and that if I continue to take care of his "shell" I will too. He only asks that we can be buried together still, and that should I remarry he be able to give me away.
His recordings were prophetic at times, telling me things I needed to do, dreams to continue following, but soul was tied with his...and his is still patrolling in Afghanistan.
It is entirely impossible to grieve for a person who has stopped living, but is still breathing, in a home across town.
It is entirely impossible to imagine ever finding a love so pure and true, that it is unnecessary for me to even look.
Acceptance of the things that took place that stole my husband's life from him are possible. I can accept he will never be "coming home." I have difficulty accepting that I envisioned our home, children, holidays, and vacations, and these memories were stolen from us before we could have them.
I grieve for the life we did not have the time to live. I have nothing to bury, and have to live knowing my husband is living the rest of his earthly life in limbo....and I can either continue to stop living my life....or can move on, leaving him behind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)