My heart is a little broken

I have never been one to put personal drama on Facebook so it’s kind of ironic that my blog gets so personal. I stand behind my commitment to keep this raw and real so here goes… my heart has been broken. I realize it was pretty fragile to begin with and that I am a little dramatic, but right now there’s a new scar.

I’m sure this probably won’t be the last time my heart is broken either. And, to be fair, it wasn’t anything major or dramatic. I’m not even 100% sure that it is completely over. This uncertainty makes me feel like a teenager, but dating in 2018 is very hard to grasp. It can be very impersonal at times and I feel like I am not very good at it.

I’ve mentioned that every dating setback kind of opens up a wound for me. This isn’t really fair to anyone I’m dating but it’s part of my baggage. I’m alone because I was widowed. When things don’t work out with someone I’m dating, I am always reminded that I wouldn’t be going through this if THAT had not happened.

I also tend to question whether I should even hope to be lucky in love again. I experienced great love. Do you get that more than once?

I’ve always been a hopeless romantic and I still am. And, just like I want to repay the acts of kindness that were done for me, it makes me happy that I might be able to give another guy the opportunity to experience the love that I did. I think I am pretty good at relationships. Most recent guy might disagree but he never really got to experience that. I think I could make the right guy very, very happy.

I even question how I react to difficult dating situations because, if I feel I am experiencing hurt or rejection, I start getting behind my protective barriers that got me through losing Patrick. This experience is allowing me to learn a lot about myself and hopefully I won’t make the same mistakes again.

Part of me just wants to burrow under the covers in my bed and live the rest of my life with the happy memories of my marriage. But that’s not really living, is it? So, I will put myself out there again, be a little vulnerable and see what happens. As I always say, I’ve already experienced the worst thing that could happen to me so what could it hurt?

Grief is just a place I visit

I’m fairly certain that this title is something someone else said, I’m just not that original. Regardless of who coined the phrase, I really like it. Grief really is just a place I visit, I don’t live there.

I was recently talking about the day that Patrick died, with someone who hadn’t heard the story. This is a little bit unusual for me, in fact, I can’t remember the last time it happened. I really don’t mind talking about it. I’m not sure if that is good, bad, or neither but I think it might even be part of the grieving process to revisit it once in a while. The person I was talking to seemed to be worried that I would be too upset and thought he saw my eyes tearing up. I didn’t feel like I was going to cry. I made it through that day by keeping grief at a distance and for me, that has been a workable solution. I was able to get through the story with no problem.

I’m not saying keeping grief at a distance works for everyone. For some people, that might not be a healthy solution, but it works for me. And each time I tell the story I remember little things that I was grateful for and also just the wonder and the sense that I only made it through that day because Patrick and God were watching over me. I took things in little doses. Some were a bit strong but I didn’t feel like I was hitting a brick wall. Some of the memories are a little tougher than others but each time I feel them, it gets a little easier.

I know so many people who have lost someone in the last few years and it’s amazing how we all find our own way to get through it. At times I have felt that I have not been able to support people as much as I had hoped and I’ve tried to figure out why that is. Earlier today I posted my blog from the five-month mark. In it, I mentioned the Widows Hope Facebook group that frightened me early on. I think the reason is that I have never been able to imagine myself living in Grief. I can visit but I prefer to visit Hope, Laughter, and Love. I can handle being in those places. Occasionally I stop by Struggle, Loneliness, and Doubt, but those are brief visits too. I’m not saying that this is the only way to survive. I guess the only advice I can give is to try to give yourself a break from the grief. You can visit every day but keep your visits brief.

One of my favorite places to visit is Laughter. I think I made this clear to people early on. Living with Sierra and Camille has helped. They share their father’s sense of humor and it has gotten us through many difficult times. One of our favorite things to do as a family was to visit thrift shops in San Luis Obispo and occasionally in town. Patrick liked to be a miser and he actually bought his work clothes at thrift shops. I think his employees knew this without even being told 😂😂😂. He also liked to find little treasures there and the girls loved finding clothes. I usually bought books or odd household items. A short time before he died the three of them went thrifting and decided to have a contest. They could each spend $5 and I had to judge whose item was the “Most Awesome”.

The girls bought clothing so their presentation involved coming down the stairs wearing their purchases and working hard to sell them. Camille was first and she came downstairs in this ridiculous gauzy pantsuit with patches sewn on. Clearly it was supposed to be some sort of uniform. The funny thing was that I imagined it was originally just a pantsuit. She strutted down the stairs then jumped off and pointed at the suit. As she later said, the suit spoke for itself and words weren’t required.

Sierra was next. She is also really funny and has a background in Speech and Debate as well as Mock Trial and Moot Court. So she is very persuasive! She strutted down and twirled in the most ridiculous t-shirt I have ever seen. She said that she loved that someone put in the effort to display their love of frogs by cutting out a panel and carefully sewing it into the t-shirt. Then they decided it would be a little bit more awesome to keep that extra part, cut it into fringe and add beads. I was dying at this point!

Patrick went last because he knew his would be the most awesome. He bought one of those apple parer/corer/slicers. He gave an elaborate presentation on the virtues of this handy kitchen tool. I don’t eat a ton of apples but I could see the appeal in having them so easily prepared to eat. I deemed it a good purchase but Sierra was my hands down winner. I’m not sure he ever forgave me for not choosing him! 😉

The Friday after Patrick died, Amy and the kids arrived from Nebraska (Dan arrived a little earlier), and Dawan and Tom made it home from Europe. So, the house was packed and we were all very sad. I remembered the thrift store contest and asked the girls to recreate the presentation. That was the first time our house had been filled with laughter since the nightmare began and it was awesome. After the presentation the girls shared other stories about their dad and it was exactly what we all needed. We had been grieving a bit too much and we needed a laughter break.

Like I said, Grief is a place I visit. It’s not my favorite place to go but it’s not all bad. There are good memories there as well as painful ones. And sometimes I do get a little bottled up and I need to visit Grief to let it all out. I have no trouble finding my way there but I always make it back home. If you ever have to visit, try not to stay too long.