Six Month Slump

July 1st was the six-month anniversary of my widowhood. From the many resources on grief I've explored, many of them identify landmark months that are difficult for many people - especially prominent are the fourth, sixth, eighth and twelfth months. So, I pretty much take this to mean that you spend the first four months walking around in a fog thinking "this can't be happening." Then you spend four months in an on-again off-again relationship with pain. I'm ok... wait a minute, no I'm not... no, no wait... yeah, I am ok... wait... no I'm not. Then you spend four months thinking ok, I can live through this... this sucks, but I'll be alright. Or maybe the previous four-month roller coaster is just so exhausting that you're numb for four months after that. But then one day you wake up and think... holy shit, it's been a year since my life was destroyed?

For myself, I'm finding this past month (month six) particularly difficult. As many of you know, I was blessed to have the opportunity to go on a trip to Ireland with my beautiful and amazing sister for two weeks. The country was incredible, I was ridiculously grateful to have the opportunity to become closer to Trace, and it was a chance to take a trip many people only dream of. But, to be honest, it was one of the hardest periods I've gone through since CJ died. I was so often reminded of him, of how life was before, of what it's like to be young and happy and in love. What should have been the trip of a lifetime was painful for me because in the end it didn't change my circumstances. Several times in the past six months I've thought about how much I just want to go away and start over. But that's not it, not really. More than wanting a change of scenery what I really want is a change of circumstance.

This month I have been so angry and cynical, far more so then before. The hope I was harboring that it was all for a purpose, or that it was all just a bad dream or whatever... that sense of "hang on, things will be alright" just never panned out. I've described before how I felt this driving sense of anxiety or anticipation, like I was waiting for change or waiting for answers. But at some point in the last month I've realized that I wasn't looking for anything new, I was searching for what I'd lost. Like my dog if you hide his toys from him. I've spent this past six months walking around looking for the missing piece of my puzzle, the one that used to fill this hole that consumes me. Realizing that has in some way reinforced the reality that he's not coming back, that I won't ever see him or touch him or talk to him ever again. And it is that realization that has preyed so heavily on my well-being this month.

My fourth wedding anniversary is this week. I guess that got me thinking about the idea of anniversaries in general. If you look at other young women in their twenties, their anniversaries are a bit different than mine, aren't they? They're six months pregnant, they've been with their fiance for 8 months, they've been out of college for three months, their baby girl is seven months old. All I've got to look forward to is counting months since he's been gone, counting the number of years we would have been married if he'd been here, his birthday next month would have been his 25th. I'm so dreading our birthdays, and don't get me started on the holidays. The first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas... all the New Year's. When you lose someone like this, you begin to count your milestones in reverse instead of forward. Instead of "someday we'll" you think "we used to". Instead of "two months until" you think "six months since". It's hard to focus positively on the future when you're living life marking time in "sinces" instead of "untils".

The widow support groups I participate in all assure me that the "six-month slump" is normal. I'm not even sure that's what this is. All I know is that the last month as seen me change into an angry, bitter, old, lonely and devastated woman. Before, I felt him. I thought I got signs from him... but now I don't feel him there at all. Me and what remains of my life are all that's left, and frankly, that's not amounting to a whole lot this month. Maybe it gets better. But in all honesty, my give-a-damn's busted. With that, let me also add a sincere apology to anyone who's been subject to my anger or my malaise of late. Apparently if you talk to me again in November, I'll be better. Maybe this drop is part of the healing process; what goes down must go up?

While I usually try to end these conversations of ours with a message of hope for all my fellow widders, I'm afraid I just can't make it work today. Everything I've tried to write comes out fake and forced. All I can tell you is that sometimes, you need to sit down and cry. Sometimes you need to yell at God and break things. Sometimes you need to drive ninety on the open road without a seatbelt on and dare fate to do something about it. Sometimes you need to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's by yourself and to hell with the fat count. Sometimes you NEED to grieve.

The following song is by Gary Allan, a country singer whose young wife committed suicide last October. His new album, Tough All Over, has several songs dealing with widowhood and grief, especially Just Back From Hell and this one, which I've been playing all week.

Life Ain't Always Beautiful

Life aint always beautiful
Sometimes it's just plain hard
Life can knock you down, it can break your heart

Life aint always beautiful
You think you're on your way
And it's just a dead end road at the end of the day

But the struggles make you stronger
And the changes make you wise
And happiness has its own way of takin it's sweet time

CHORUS
No, life aint always beautiful
Tears will fall sometimes
Life aint always beautiful
But it's a beautiful ride

Life aint always beautiful
Some days I miss your smile
I get tired of walkin all these lonely miles

And I wish for just one minute
I could see your pretty face
Guess I can dream, but life don’t work that way

But the struggles make me stronger
And the changes make me wise
And happiness has its own way of takin it's sweet time

No, life aint always beautiful
But i know i'll be fine
Hey, life aint always beautiful
But it's a beautiful ride
What a beautiful ride

-- Gary Allan