The question I am asked the most is some variation of “How are you?”
That’s a loaded question for anyone but for a fresh widow it’s pretty horrible. Sometimes I just nod. Sometimes I squeak out an enthusiastic “great!” or “never better!”. And sometimes I just unload. Word vomit. All over people.
I feel really sorry for the people I unload on. They hear way more about my life than they bargained for when they asked a simple, innocent question.
The truth is I’m not ok. I will likely never be ok again. What is ok, anyway? Is anyone really ok? Because people can be ok in one area of their life and not in others. I think before cancer I floated around in a false sense of OK. I think most people do until tragedy strikes them in some way.
I know it’s inappropriate for anyone to expand on that question and delve deeper, but I almost wish they would. I would answer honestly.
Motherhood? Absolutely killing it. Just kidding. Send help. I have no idea what I’m doing but I do it with love. So much love.
Home ownership? Suck at it. I can’t fix things. I hate cutting grass. I try to hang something and it falls out of the wall a few days later.
Work? See motherhood above. Same. So much love. So much.
Friendships? Trying. It’s hard to be the grieving friend because you don’t want to bring everyone else down. I find it hard to talk to people at times because I do not want the conversation to turn to me. I love it when people tell me about their lives. It helps me take my mind off of my own things.
I have no choice but to be ok. I can’t lay around and sulk and feel sorry for myself because there just isn’t any time for that.
Matt died on a Saturday, Sunday we went to church because we didn’t know what to do with ourselves, Monday I had meet the teacher with my class at school, planned the funeral, had meet the teacher at my daughter’s school, Tuesday was his funeral, Wednesday my daughter started 1st grade and Thursday I started work after being a stay at home mom for 6 years.
For over 2 months I only averaged about 3 hours of sleep a night. I’m finally sleeping about 5 hours at a time, but it’s still hit and miss. I’m not awake crying all night. Mostly praying. Talking to God. Begging for sleep. Begging for peace. Begging for mercy.
I want to be truly ok. I don’t think I ever will be, though. I don’t think anyone really ever recovers from such a huge loss. It changes you as a person. It’s changed me in good ways and bad ways so far.
Good- I know the importance of friendship and family. I don’t hesitate to tell people I love them. I make time for people. I get on the floor at work and play with the kids and just soak in the laughter. I’m learning to be the fun mom.
Bad- I’m angry. I’m cynical. I’m sad. I’m lonely. I’m scared.
I’m different than I was before cancer took my life away. Love me anyway.
I’m ok. I’m fine. Everything is fine.
Someone get me this. Because adulting is hard.
Your local black widow, over and out.