It’s been two months since I lost Trevor. He was killed on a Sunday the 17th of December so I’m not 100% sure if the actual 2 month mark is Saturday February 17th (which it logically should be) or Sunday February 18th. You see since he died on a Sunday every single week Sunday is the hardest. Dealing with grief throughout the week is hard but Sunday? Sunday marks another week without my hubby, another week since I last saw him, another week since I heard him laugh or saw him smile.
So while Saturday was truly the two month mark, Sunday was the hardest day. Sunday is when it hit me. Sunday is the day I have trouble getting out of bed, Sunday you can usually find me crying hysterically into a pillow instead of trying my hardest to function like a normal human being.
Blogging has been interesting since Trevor died. I want wholeheartedly to dive back in and work 100% on the blog and I do! But before Trevor died I could work a 7 to 7 shift at work come home and work 8 to 1 on the blog and then hang out with Trevor for an hour or two when he got home before waking up the next day and doing it all again.
I had so much stamina. My friends and family always told me they didn’t understand how I got by on such little sleep. How I worked full time and still managed to blog 30-40 hours a week. It’s just how I’ve always been… I don’t need that much sleep, if Trevor’s not home I would rather be working then anything else… I don’t do sitting still easily.
Since Trevor died I still blog as much as possible but I feel bad everyday. I have had a splitting headache for the last two months. My stomach hurts. My doctors are trying different things but it’s unclear what’s causing the headaches… my new medicine? The grief? The lack of sleep? Most nights I don’t get to sleep until 4 or 5 in the morning… and then I don’t feel good enough to wake up until noon the next day. So if I could blog from 1 in the afternoon until midnight that would still be awesome. But my stamina starts at 1 in the afternoon and about 9pm it fizzles out. I have no more fight left.
It’s like I have no energy and the energy I do have goes so much faster. It gets better every day but I don’t know when I’ll be back to “normal”. At this point I don’t even know what normal is and if someone says to me “you’ll find a new normal” one more time I’m going to slap them in the face.
I want to blog about Trevor and his passing and his grief but doing so every single week is just a bit much so I’m thinking about monthly updates. How I’m doing and even more importantly… how it feels. So that if someone in your life has lost their spouse maybe you’ll understand a bit more how to help them, or if you’ve lost your spouse you’ll know you’re not alone. You’re not crazy and life is no longer normal.
At 2 months people are starting to think I’ll feel better soon. I don’t feel better… two months is not near long enough to be better. He doesn’t even have a headstone yet but you think I should be back to normal? There is still dirt on his grave instead of grass… the earth isn’t even back to normal yet so don’t expect me to be.
I don’t know when I’ll feel better (a year? two? six months? never?) It’s too hard to think about the future… my entire future was ripped apart. All of my plans and dreams are gone and I don’t know how to go about putting them back together again. One day I will but I’m not ready to start yet.
I know you think you’re helping when you try to push me but please wait until I’m ready.
Please understand that when you say “one day you won’t miss him anymore” it hurts like nothing else. I will ALWAYS miss him. Hopefully with time I won’t miss him with such a sharp pain, maybe I can even smile when I remember him. But I will ALWAYS miss him. That will never end… and at 30 years old the future stretches on with an endless expanse of missing someone. The rest of your life is a long time to miss someone you love.
I could go on and on about how much I miss him, how I feel, how others hurt with their words when they only are trying to help but that would take days. So instead I will leave you with a few bullet points that popped up in a recent grief group. I won’t say who they’re from as this is not her outlet but it’s amazing how spot on this is… how many of the ladies in this grief group (people who have all lost a spouse) agreed that this hit the nail on the head. Thank you for listening.
Thank you for being there.
I appreciate your help.
“These are the things I wish people understood about dealing with grief:
- I have lost something precious to me. It can never be replaced. It feels like I have lost an arm or leg and I’m trying to learn how to live without it.
- It feels like my world has been attacked by a weed-eater. There are pieces of my life everywhere and I can’t seem to make them fit back together. I am shattered.
- I have been traumatized. Losing the love of your life is a traumatic experience. I may see, hear or smell things that bring it all back for me.
- Try to imagine what it would be like if you came home to total silence. You desperately want to tell someone about your day, but no one is there to listen.
- I want to talk to you about my lost loved one. Please don’t act as though he never existed. It hurts me to think that he may be forgotten.
- I may have mood swings. I might be fine today and snap at you tomorrow, but that’s because my emotions are raw. I am overwhelmed.
- I do not want to date. I don’t want to meet your next door neighbor’s cousin. I don’t want to go out partying with you. I have no interest or energy for it.
- Please recognize that this can (and most likely will) happen to you one day. Treat the grieving the way you would want to be treated if it were you who had had your heart ripped out of your body.
- Time is the only thing that may dull the pain I feel right now. Until then, I can do nothing else but take things one day at a time.”