Posts tagged ‘Grief Loss and Bereavement’

August 16, 2011

Lesson #30: The Passage of Time Heals Almost Everything. Give Time Time

by bye2mrwrong

How many times have people tried to comfort us with the slogan: “It takes time to heal”. I know I’ve heard it plenty. And every time the only thing I can think of is: “…but how long?”

Yup this lesson is a lesson of patience. In this lesson we must learn that we cannot rush our wounds to heal, our hearts to mend, or our minds to let go. Some things just take time.

But before I came to the realization that times takes time, I definitely can attest to being guilty of trying to rush the process. It didn’t take long before I started dating again. Before I went out, danced, flirted, and gave men that look. It actually was even extremely short before I met my rebound, before I fell in lust, and before I found myself shattered yet again. I was a broken girl on a mission. Find my next victim. Search and conquer. Hunt down Mr. Right.

But not giving myself enough time to grieve my loss did not help me heal. I’ve said before that I feel like after taking 2 steps forward, I’ve taken 2 steps back. To that one of my readers commented saying that maybe I hadn’t fallen backwards, but rather hadn’t gotten as far ahead as I thought; adding that often instead of grieving we immerse ourselves in little distractions, thinking we’ve moved on. He was so right. Hastily rushing, jumping from one relationship to the next is exactly that, a distraction from feeling the pain, a distraction from grieving the loss, a distraction from healing.

So I’ve decided to take a breather. Pause and stop trying to rush forward. While I may have a biological clock ticking, I also have a heart that needs  to go through some stitching, mending and an extensive recovery.  So meanwhile, until I heal. Until I feel that I can open my heart again. Until I long once more for warmth and comfort from a man rather than my family. Until I yearn for passionate kisses. Until I unlock myself to the new world around me… I have sheltered myself from new pain to seep in. I have built up a wall around the shattered pieces of my heart.

And when the time is right maybe Mr. Right might find a way to chip at that wall and slowly tear it down. Or maybe time itself will find a way of melting the barriers that have been built, opening my heart up again to a fresh new start.

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August 15, 2011

Lesson #28: Forgive Everyone Everything

by bye2mrwrong

We often hear the slogan “Forgive and Forget”. Most people can’t do the latter, and maybe shouldn’t, to protect themselves. But what if, instead of forgetting we retold the story? Instead of telling the saga that portrays you as a victim and someone else as a villain, rewrite the script. Once you decide to change your story you get your happy ending.

Too often we keep telling the injury story. We get attention and sympathy by being a victim or by being right or by being wronged. We seek cheap payoffs that keep us stuck. If we’re invested in someone being our villain, we must love being the victim. We have to let go of both characters in the story.”

I kept telling myself my husband was the villain. He broke promises, abandoned US, and hurt ME. But what if I saw the story in a different light? What if I actually accepted that my husband had done the best he could, but for some reason wasn’t capable of giving more. He couldn’t tell me the truth, if he wasn’t being honest with himself. He couldn’t love me or accept my love, if he didn’t love himself.

I don’t know if I want to forget. If I forget, I might always make the same mistakes. That’s not an option. And I don’t know if I want to completely forgive. If I forgive then I allow him to get a free pass for what he’s done. But if I don’t forget or forgive then I allow him to live rent-free in the catacombs of my mind. Catch 22 isn’t it?

While I’m nowhere near forgetting, and I’m not even sure I’m close to accepting, I think I’m half way at forgiving (at least in some kind of shape and form). I feel that I am no longer raging with fury at his choice, but rather disappointed and sad. I no longer blame only him, but rather partake. It’s not resentment I feel, but something else. What that something else is, I don’t quite know. Maybe it’s just me, as usual not being able to let go of the past. Or maybe it’s me not having accepted it yet. How can I accept that he let me go? How can I accept that he didn’t love me enough to fight for our relationship? I guess the loss of love is not nearly as painful as our resistance to accepting it.

July 24, 2011

2 Steps Forward 2 Steps Back

by bye2mrwrong

About a year ago my ex-husband and I finally reached the decision that there is only one path left for us – divorce. I never really agreed completely with this path, I didn’t want it, couldn’t fathom it, but logically there was just no other way. I was constantly angry and took it out on him; he had closed up emotionally and would not talk to me at all about the breathings of his heart. Finger pointing, blaming and harsh words were the only things we were able to do at the time; and with his refusal to go to relationship therapy it left us no other choice.

At first I left the bed, then I left the house. But when circumstances led me to come back it was his turn. He left the house, and I was left empty in an apartment full of memories, full of US. At first it was hard. I sat around and moped. Felt sorry for myself. Anger and pity were two emotions perpetually in my bones. But with time something changed and with a push from my friends I started to go out, to have fun, to meet new people, I even fell in lust. It felt like I was moving forward, like I was letting go.

But skipping forward one year, I feel like I have recently taken a few steps back. Suddenly I am again very sad. My outlook on life is not a happy or chirpy one. I go through the motions. I fill up my day. I make sure that by night fall I’m so excruciatingly tired that I can think of nothing but sleep. And when it comes to love I have become skeptical, pessimistic, and cynic.

Knowing that a few months ago I was better, I can’t help but wonder what brought me back, and why I’m now stuck here. When I hear the usual clichés (e.g. things happen for a reason, or everything works out in the end), unlike before when I agreed with them, and believed them to be true, now I challenge them. I’m not sure I don’t believe them, but it feels like I’m playing devil’s advocate, pushing my friends to the corner to see if they can find a new cliché out.

On the day of my flight my ex finally apologized. An apology that at last, after all this time, felt truly authentic. An apology that came filled with tears of remorse and self-anger, filled with pain and regret. He apologized for the things he had done, for the lies he had lied, for the words he had thrown, for the pain he had caused, for the life he had ruined, for the promises he had broken, for the hopes he had shattered, for the path he had taken, and for the one he hadn’t. He apologized from the bottom of his heart.

His apology which had been long overdue, had brought me comfort, for the words he spoke were words that I had been patiently waiting for, words that I desperately needed to hear. But with that comfort came grief, remorse and regret. Could we have saved us? Should we have waited longer? Is there still a glimmer of hope? Is there a sliver of love?

It has been brought to my attention that this may be the reason I am now stuck. Why I have now spiraled backwards. Could it be that my ex purposely and cleverly chose the very last moment to deliver his final speech? Could it be that he wanted me to go feeling confused? That he wanted me to stay stuck in that moment of US, to always wonder if I had made a wrong choice? Could it be that he was so cunning and malicious?

It was me who chose for him to take me to the airport, it was I who wanted him to feel the pain of coming back home to an empty house. It was me who wanted him to realize how much he would miss me, how wrong he had been, and how colossal his mistake was. But it seems the joke’s on me and the tables have turned. Because it seems that now it’s me who can’t stop thinking of the life I left behind.

April 22, 2011

Till DEATH Do Us Part

by bye2mrwrong

Yesterday I could not sleep. No matter which way I turned, or how my body slithered; it seemed that nothing could help this brain from switching off. Thoughts ran though my mind. Thoughts of loves lost, pain, hurt, revenge, betrayal, deceit, and lies. As I envisioned myself as the victim once more, tears came pouring down. Fragile and weak I felt myself crumble, as I hit the ground. How had I become so weak? How had I allowed this to happen to me? Who was in control? Is this the hand of God playing a game with me? Testing me? How much more grief can I take? How many more mistakes will I make? Is he laughing from above?

But the thought that scared me the most was the thought I had of death. At such a moment of vulnerability I welcomed death with open arms. If this was what life had to offer me, was there reason to go on? I’d be relieved to leave the pain of this world. Finally let it all go, leave it all behind.

I could play dumb, but I know exactly why these thoughts were going through my mind. I had just come back from meeting my husband, with both his lawyer and mine. We had tried to negotiate, to settle things between us, so that maybe if we were fortunate and smart we wouldn’t have to drag this thing out any longer or go to court allowing someone else to judge our lives.

Result: Unsuccessful!

And so I came home in tears… trying to figure out what that meant for the course of my life. How much longer would I have to endure this hell?  Should I just settle and end this misery? Emotional health vs. financial stability, that’s the real question right now. Seems like there’s no right answer to the question called life and the only way out is OUT.

I had been fighting this for so long, not wanting to leave empty-handed. I wanted to leave with my head held high. Initially my revengeful self wanted for him to have to sell the house. That way both of us would have to start from nothing. I already got screwed once. Vengeance and anger motivated me to stick it out. But after nine month that flame in me had long died down.

I could ask 1000 people what to do. But each answer would be different. Let it go. Fight! In the end it’s my choice to make. And what does it matter to them? Why would they care? It’s not really their problem. Today is a Friday. I haven’t had a single phone call. No they really don’t care. Would anyone know if I was gone? Would they miss me? What if tomorrow unexpectedly I died? How long would it take till someone noticed?

In the deep dark catacombs of my mind, it’s not death I’m worried about. It’s the fact that if I died I would legally still be married to my husband. Would that mean that he would get everything that was mine? Would that mean he won? Only for that reason I’m not ready to die. Could I make you my witnesses? Would you testify that I wanted my fair share, that I wanted him to have nothing of mine?