NOTE: this is nothing personal against the Army or Army wives in general, just this one in particular.
I read an article shared by another military widow today that has bothered me enough to blog about it. Rebekah Sanderlin is the author of said article and I am truly shocked that this is coming from an Army wife who writes about military marriages.
To Ms. Sanderlin I say: Our husbands have Both served this amazing country of ours in ways that are honorable. It is because of men and women like our spouses that YOU have to freedom to write such things. BUT how Dare you sit there and first of all call others "ignorant and irritating" when you yourself are showing the same disrespect that you received when people looked down on you for your husband's service in Afghanistan. I mean really? You sit there and say how thankful you are that he never went to Iraq, but you say it because to you Afghanistan is the "good" war which says you think that Iraq is the "bad" war. So you, too are judging just as others have judged you.
I *LOVE* the last paragraph which says, "I hope that, going forward, Americans will keep in mind that the men and women who served in Iraq did so honorably and nobly and that they and their families sacrificed greatly for our nation. They deserve the gratitude of the nation that sent them -- again and again and again -- to war." ...And by *LOVE* I obviously am being sarcastic. You sit there for an entire article putting down the war in Iraq and are smart enough to know that since there will be backlash for it you'd better end it on a positive note hoping that is the part that remain in the minds of others, not all the negative that you wrote for paragraph before. Well, it takes A LOT to offend me, but congratulations because you have! What a disgrace you are to being a military wife. You say it's "baggage" for us? For our families? You say this as if WE should be ashamed. Well, my dear, I say it is YOU who should be ashamed, and maybe even CNN for posting this (though for the record I do love CNN for all they have done about the American Widow Project).
My husband served in BOTH wars, Iraq and Afghanistan. I assure you, sweetheart, that both are equally as worth remembering and the sacrifice of those who served should be Honored.
.... To be continued when I calm down....
*EDIT*
I'm a bit calmer now after going to Spin class and hanging out with my neighbor having a beer. I am obviously a widow and in several widow groups and we all pretty much feel the same way-- disgusted by the things that were said by Ms. Sanderlin. Many Americans died in Iraq and to have someone like her sit there and make it seem as though it's a disgrace. I feel that Ms. Sanderlin is the disgrace. I almost pitty her because you know that she's not so popular in Fayetteville, NC right now where she lives (or anywhere else for that matter); I'm sure there are plenty of soliders and wives at Fort Bragg that would like to put her in her place-- I Almost feel bad for her, but I don't. I don't feel bad for someone like her at all and hope that she learns to be more careful about what she says on such a large scale as CNN.
Here's the link to the article...
http://www.cnn.com/2011/12/15/opinion/sanderlin-iraq-afghanistan/index.html
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Me? PTSD?
At the beginning of summer my Mom told me that she thinks I have PTSD. She was apprehensive to tell me this as she didn't want to upset me. Upset me? No. It didn't. It made me laugh actually because I thought the idea was Ridiculous! I could not possibly have PTSD! Why would my husband's suicide be something that could even cause PTSD? She went with the whole "Well, it IS a traumatic event" reasoning, so I ran it past one of my friends who's a Marine and has PTSD. He agreed with my Mom. I started to think about it and see why they think this way. I do show signs of it, but I'm still doubtful. I'll have to see a therapist to be formally diagnosed for me to really believe it, but I do know I have struggled with Tom's death greatly. They aren't the only ones who seem to think I am suffering with PTSD either...
So, this past weekend while I was in NC a fellow widow and I met up for a little bit, which is crazy in it's own right just because neither of us lives in NC anymore. The funny thing about this girl is that we originally met in high school because we share a mutual best friend, though we never really hung out together. She married her high school sweetheart and ended up at Camp Lejeune, too. Her husband died almost 6 years ago and our mutual friend put us in touch after my husband died. She was actually the first military widdow I ever talked to (RJP was the second). Anyway, we started talking about one of her friends. I'm not sure what her name is, but she reads my blog (HI, btw!). Apparently she started reading my blog before she knew Andrea and I were even friends. When she realized this she told Andrea that from reading my blog it sounds like I have PTSD and she needed to tell me that. I just find it amusing in the maybe-they-are-right-kind-of-way that everyone seems to think I do.
I think for me it's a scary thought, not that I'm afraid of actually having it. It's just that it was my husband's PTSD that took his life and while I don't plan on taking that path, it's still one of those things that just shouldn't be. It's just too ironic to me. I may have to explore this a little more (and with a professional), but it's just coincidental that it keeps being brought up by various people.
So, this past weekend while I was in NC a fellow widow and I met up for a little bit, which is crazy in it's own right just because neither of us lives in NC anymore. The funny thing about this girl is that we originally met in high school because we share a mutual best friend, though we never really hung out together. She married her high school sweetheart and ended up at Camp Lejeune, too. Her husband died almost 6 years ago and our mutual friend put us in touch after my husband died. She was actually the first military widdow I ever talked to (RJP was the second). Anyway, we started talking about one of her friends. I'm not sure what her name is, but she reads my blog (HI, btw!). Apparently she started reading my blog before she knew Andrea and I were even friends. When she realized this she told Andrea that from reading my blog it sounds like I have PTSD and she needed to tell me that. I just find it amusing in the maybe-they-are-right-kind-of-way that everyone seems to think I do.
I think for me it's a scary thought, not that I'm afraid of actually having it. It's just that it was my husband's PTSD that took his life and while I don't plan on taking that path, it's still one of those things that just shouldn't be. It's just too ironic to me. I may have to explore this a little more (and with a professional), but it's just coincidental that it keeps being brought up by various people.
NCIS Released Tom's Belongings
I've been in North Carolina and since I don't have plans to be back for a while I called the Special Agent who worked Tom's case and was finally told I could come pick up his belongings (16 months after his death)! I wasn't sure how I'd do and didn't want to go alone, but I also didn't want Avery to go with me. I wasn't sure what to expect, so I asked Jena to stay at the house with her, which she did.
As I drove on base my anxiety increased and I could feel my chest getting tighter. I took deep breaths to try and keep me calm. As I drove towards the fire station (where Tom died) the song "Here Without You" by 3doors Down came on the radio. This is one of the few songs that can bring me to my knees. I broke down 3 weeks after he died at the bar when this song played, it's the song that cause my widow breakdown at work. It was one of the songs Tom put on the deployment CD he made for me. Hearing it as I drove past the fire station was another one of those moments that made me lose it. I composed myself after I pulled into the parking lot of NCIS.
As I got out of my car and walked up to the NCIS building it was as if something else took over. It wasn't me moving my body along the sidewalk. My body felt numb, as if I had no control over it. Though I had called earlier and was to be expected, I had to wait in the lobby. My chest was tense and kept getting tighter. Where was the special agent? I just wanted this to be over. I tried to keep my mind occupied with other thoughts with little to no avail. I heard a siren and it made me think of Tom that day and how they had to call an ambulance for him, though it wouldn't have made a difference. Several people in a few of the first cars on the scene were docs, and when I ran into one at NCIS months ago by random chance he explained how it was a fatal wound and nothing could have been done. It was over in just a few short minutes. I thought about that day and how much has changed since then... The door opened and interrupted my thoughts. It was the Special Agent. He called me into an office for a minute, sat me down and remind me of what I was getting back and made sure I really wanted certain items.
We had to wait a few minutes for his things to be brought from the other building, and chatted about things. He said since the case is closed he could talk a bit about it and mentioned the text messages between Tom and I from the previous days leading up to his death. Somehow his take on it gave me comfort. It also makes me want to go back and ready the messages, but emotionally I'm not ready for that.
The lady who handles the evidence came with two plastic tubs that contained Tom's belongings. For some reason I expected them to be in clear plastic bags, though they were not. She took the labels off the bags and when she came to the bag with his wallet, she handed it to me. They both knew how much I had been wanting his wallet and I opened that bag right away. The rest would be saved for when I got home and put Avery to bed....
I had a bit to drink to relax me and began to open the brown paper bags sealed with red tape that read EVIDENCE in larger black letters with NCIS underneath it. I decided that I'd start small and work my way up with the bags. There was one box, which cased the gun and near 20 individual bags of "evidence" in various sizes. I chose to start small seeing as part of me felt I was a little too relaxed for this. I figured I'd wait to open the larger bags for another night knowing his clothes were sitting in there. All of a sudden it seemed like a bad idea to have 3 glasses of wine before embarking on this "mission." I wanted a clear head. It wasn't going to happen tonight, okay... but I wanted to open something. I chose a bag. It almost felt empty. When I opened it, I pulled the plastic bag out-- it was a pen, no cap. Somehow it gave me the confidence to go on. Bag #2...
It was larger, but light, so I just went for it. I knew the heaviest bags had become home to his boots, blouse, and pants, for the last year, but I didn't think about what anything else could be. I reached in without looking. My natural reflex was to yank my arm back without hesitation as I felt cloth. My hand barely touched it, but automatically registered the different textures. Part was soft, while the other part was rough. I looked. It was his green shirt. It took me a moment and I just left my arm in the bag with it closed, though my hand not extended far enough to touch the shirt.
Once I got the courage (and the pep talk from myself that the shirt could have been taken from the back seat of the truck), I reached further in and pulled it out. This was the moment of truth and it WAS the shirt he wore that day. (Now, I will leave it at that, though I have my feelings written down for myself, this is a little too personal for me to share on here). I held it up and tried to recall what Tom looked like in it, how he filled it out, how much bigger he was than me. I decided to be more careful with the rest of the bags I'd open for that night. I chose the ones that were like the first-- small. Those were safe. And this one made me laugh. It was an empty strip of Zantac for his heartburn. The last I opened for the night just had some random papers. I was going to quit while I was ahead.
.... Ok, so it's been a few days since I wrote that (it was sitting in the draft box). I opened the rest of the evidence bags, and it was much easier than I expected. The way it was described to me had me prepared for the worst and it wasn't THAT bad. I mean, it wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't the way I pictured. In some strange way it really did give me this new sense of peace. I think it's the closure I've been waiting for, not that there is ever true closure with a suicide, but I feel like I can start looking forward. It was holding me back on some subconscious level that isn't there now. I love my husband and miss him more than I could ever explain in words. Only my tears hold the true extent of my grief for Tom. Those tears are rarely shared with the public, but in the quiet of my home where no one else can see, I let out my pain, my sorrow, my anguish for my love.
As I drove on base my anxiety increased and I could feel my chest getting tighter. I took deep breaths to try and keep me calm. As I drove towards the fire station (where Tom died) the song "Here Without You" by 3doors Down came on the radio. This is one of the few songs that can bring me to my knees. I broke down 3 weeks after he died at the bar when this song played, it's the song that cause my widow breakdown at work. It was one of the songs Tom put on the deployment CD he made for me. Hearing it as I drove past the fire station was another one of those moments that made me lose it. I composed myself after I pulled into the parking lot of NCIS.
As I got out of my car and walked up to the NCIS building it was as if something else took over. It wasn't me moving my body along the sidewalk. My body felt numb, as if I had no control over it. Though I had called earlier and was to be expected, I had to wait in the lobby. My chest was tense and kept getting tighter. Where was the special agent? I just wanted this to be over. I tried to keep my mind occupied with other thoughts with little to no avail. I heard a siren and it made me think of Tom that day and how they had to call an ambulance for him, though it wouldn't have made a difference. Several people in a few of the first cars on the scene were docs, and when I ran into one at NCIS months ago by random chance he explained how it was a fatal wound and nothing could have been done. It was over in just a few short minutes. I thought about that day and how much has changed since then... The door opened and interrupted my thoughts. It was the Special Agent. He called me into an office for a minute, sat me down and remind me of what I was getting back and made sure I really wanted certain items.
We had to wait a few minutes for his things to be brought from the other building, and chatted about things. He said since the case is closed he could talk a bit about it and mentioned the text messages between Tom and I from the previous days leading up to his death. Somehow his take on it gave me comfort. It also makes me want to go back and ready the messages, but emotionally I'm not ready for that.
The lady who handles the evidence came with two plastic tubs that contained Tom's belongings. For some reason I expected them to be in clear plastic bags, though they were not. She took the labels off the bags and when she came to the bag with his wallet, she handed it to me. They both knew how much I had been wanting his wallet and I opened that bag right away. The rest would be saved for when I got home and put Avery to bed....
I had a bit to drink to relax me and began to open the brown paper bags sealed with red tape that read EVIDENCE in larger black letters with NCIS underneath it. I decided that I'd start small and work my way up with the bags. There was one box, which cased the gun and near 20 individual bags of "evidence" in various sizes. I chose to start small seeing as part of me felt I was a little too relaxed for this. I figured I'd wait to open the larger bags for another night knowing his clothes were sitting in there. All of a sudden it seemed like a bad idea to have 3 glasses of wine before embarking on this "mission." I wanted a clear head. It wasn't going to happen tonight, okay... but I wanted to open something. I chose a bag. It almost felt empty. When I opened it, I pulled the plastic bag out-- it was a pen, no cap. Somehow it gave me the confidence to go on. Bag #2...
It was larger, but light, so I just went for it. I knew the heaviest bags had become home to his boots, blouse, and pants, for the last year, but I didn't think about what anything else could be. I reached in without looking. My natural reflex was to yank my arm back without hesitation as I felt cloth. My hand barely touched it, but automatically registered the different textures. Part was soft, while the other part was rough. I looked. It was his green shirt. It took me a moment and I just left my arm in the bag with it closed, though my hand not extended far enough to touch the shirt.
Once I got the courage (and the pep talk from myself that the shirt could have been taken from the back seat of the truck), I reached further in and pulled it out. This was the moment of truth and it WAS the shirt he wore that day. (Now, I will leave it at that, though I have my feelings written down for myself, this is a little too personal for me to share on here). I held it up and tried to recall what Tom looked like in it, how he filled it out, how much bigger he was than me. I decided to be more careful with the rest of the bags I'd open for that night. I chose the ones that were like the first-- small. Those were safe. And this one made me laugh. It was an empty strip of Zantac for his heartburn. The last I opened for the night just had some random papers. I was going to quit while I was ahead.
.... Ok, so it's been a few days since I wrote that (it was sitting in the draft box). I opened the rest of the evidence bags, and it was much easier than I expected. The way it was described to me had me prepared for the worst and it wasn't THAT bad. I mean, it wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't the way I pictured. In some strange way it really did give me this new sense of peace. I think it's the closure I've been waiting for, not that there is ever true closure with a suicide, but I feel like I can start looking forward. It was holding me back on some subconscious level that isn't there now. I love my husband and miss him more than I could ever explain in words. Only my tears hold the true extent of my grief for Tom. Those tears are rarely shared with the public, but in the quiet of my home where no one else can see, I let out my pain, my sorrow, my anguish for my love.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
A Different Kind of Fairy Tale
I haven't blogged in a while (except for the past week) and even less than that, I haven't read any blogs in as much time. Tonight I figured I would and the first (and only) one I read sparked something inside me. It's the latest post from the blog "A Grteful People" titled "My Version of The Notebook Sequal."
The pictures are from her family photo shoot with Marine husband and two young children. They are beautiful photos that look straight out of a magazine. I see this young, beautiful mom a family to match. It was bitter-sweet reading the post and seeing the pictures. It was so much sweeter than anything bitter, but I did feel a moment of saddness for myself, but it quickly disappeared as I admired this family. I'm not a "misery loves company" type person. I see happy people-- families/ couples-- and I get happy knowing that someone out there is happy. I sat there for a few minutes thinking how they look like they have a fairy tale life and it made my heart smile. I know behind closed doors everything is different and with two little ones running around there is sheer caos at times, but in the still pictures there is such love, peacefulness and elogance.
The fairy tales I read to my daughter are ones with a prince and princess and riding off into the sunset after the prince rescues her from a far worse life than she had deserved. There is no typical prince here, yet in my eyes one better-- a Marine.
I don't know why I got so lost in the idea, but none-the-less it's in my head. I miss my Marine all the time. I wish we had amazing family pictures together. I wish he was here right now and I'd probably scheduel a photo shoot for the tomorrow. But alas, he is not here. It doesn't mean I have given up on the idea of a fairy tale. Why can't I get a second chance at a fairy tale? I would love and adore a "Happily Ever After" and maybe it wouldn't be my original ideal ending, but with now as my new starting point I could really use Happily Ever After.
Most people who know me... okay, okay, Everyone who knows me knows that I have been extremely closed minded about dating anyone who is not a Marine since Tom died. I tried going on dates with civilians, soldiers, and Airmen, but I just couldn't get over the fact that they weren't Marines or at least hadn't been Marines in the past. I am really trying to not think that way. I will say that military is preferable for me and it doesn't have to be active duty now, but at some point and just because I feel like they will understand me a little better and where I'm coming from. I do have a thing for Marines though and everything Marine Corps. That is where my affinity lays and always shall.
I don't know, but looking at the pictures tonight just made me think how nice it would be to have THAT again. To be married to a Marine and to have that life with a Marine husband and at least my two kids. Maybe it seems like I'm trying to replace what I once had, but I'm not. Nothing will ever be what I had and in some ways that's a good thing. I just feel most comfortable in that life and tonight it just brought up all these feelings about having my Marine "prince" come sweep me off my feet and have that Happily Ever After fairy tale ending...
The pictures are from her family photo shoot with Marine husband and two young children. They are beautiful photos that look straight out of a magazine. I see this young, beautiful mom a family to match. It was bitter-sweet reading the post and seeing the pictures. It was so much sweeter than anything bitter, but I did feel a moment of saddness for myself, but it quickly disappeared as I admired this family. I'm not a "misery loves company" type person. I see happy people-- families/ couples-- and I get happy knowing that someone out there is happy. I sat there for a few minutes thinking how they look like they have a fairy tale life and it made my heart smile. I know behind closed doors everything is different and with two little ones running around there is sheer caos at times, but in the still pictures there is such love, peacefulness and elogance.
The fairy tales I read to my daughter are ones with a prince and princess and riding off into the sunset after the prince rescues her from a far worse life than she had deserved. There is no typical prince here, yet in my eyes one better-- a Marine.
I don't know why I got so lost in the idea, but none-the-less it's in my head. I miss my Marine all the time. I wish we had amazing family pictures together. I wish he was here right now and I'd probably scheduel a photo shoot for the tomorrow. But alas, he is not here. It doesn't mean I have given up on the idea of a fairy tale. Why can't I get a second chance at a fairy tale? I would love and adore a "Happily Ever After" and maybe it wouldn't be my original ideal ending, but with now as my new starting point I could really use Happily Ever After.
Most people who know me... okay, okay, Everyone who knows me knows that I have been extremely closed minded about dating anyone who is not a Marine since Tom died. I tried going on dates with civilians, soldiers, and Airmen, but I just couldn't get over the fact that they weren't Marines or at least hadn't been Marines in the past. I am really trying to not think that way. I will say that military is preferable for me and it doesn't have to be active duty now, but at some point and just because I feel like they will understand me a little better and where I'm coming from. I do have a thing for Marines though and everything Marine Corps. That is where my affinity lays and always shall.
I don't know, but looking at the pictures tonight just made me think how nice it would be to have THAT again. To be married to a Marine and to have that life with a Marine husband and at least my two kids. Maybe it seems like I'm trying to replace what I once had, but I'm not. Nothing will ever be what I had and in some ways that's a good thing. I just feel most comfortable in that life and tonight it just brought up all these feelings about having my Marine "prince" come sweep me off my feet and have that Happily Ever After fairy tale ending...
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Miss You
Dear Tommy,
I. Miss. You.... A LOT!
I wonder what life would be like if you didn't die that day. I wonder what we would be doing right now in this very moment instead. I hate playing the "What...If" game, but I'm playing it anyway right now.
I could really use a hug and kiss from you. I love the way you kissed me. I wish your arms were around me right now. Guess wishing is all I can do.
Love Always,
Katie
I. Miss. You.... A LOT!
I wonder what life would be like if you didn't die that day. I wonder what we would be doing right now in this very moment instead. I hate playing the "What...If" game, but I'm playing it anyway right now.
I could really use a hug and kiss from you. I love the way you kissed me. I wish your arms were around me right now. Guess wishing is all I can do.
Love Always,
Katie
Monday, August 22, 2011
A Great Weekend
Jena came to visit this weekend. It's always so nice to have a good friend come for a visit. We went to Savannah and Hilton Head Island on Saturday. Savannah is my favorite place in the world. We ate at Moon River. I love it and take everyone there. It's Tom's and my place for sure, but kind of reminds me of "C" as well. I guess by now I should just be calling Savannah MY place. I love everything about it. Sometimes those memories creep up and get to me when I'm there. I think having Jena with me that night was really good. She understands and she accepts it all and she can get my mind off of it all, too.
Jena came down because she needed a weekend away. We are both facing similar decisions in life right now, so I completely understand where she is coming from. It's great to have those friends who just get it and after every sentence it's that smile, or nod that says "I know, trust me, I know." Friends like Jena are Rare! I'm blessed to have her friendship. We are very different and very much alike at the same time. We can both be a little crazy and like to have fun when we go out, but we can also have a great time just hanging out and relaxing. We wear our hearts on our sleeves, though I've been told since Tom died I'm much more guarded. It's nice to have a friend I don't have to be guarded around.
Saturday was fun. I'm in a different mind set now and it was great to go out, meet new people, have a few drinks, chill by the water, and have those deep meaningful life talks about where we've been and where we are going. We met these really cool people who were there for a frisbee tournament and then started talking to some Army guys just back from deployment. They had their ball that night and one of the guys kind of seemed like an arrogant jerk before we got into conversation and his friend made a comment about Marines (we all know they have a rivalry). I told him not to make a comment like that to me and once he realized why he was apologetic. They were all pretty cool (ya know for being Army and all-- just kidding). It was nice chatting with them and their wives. I miss being a military wife. It's just so nice to be around people who understand me on THAT level even if only for a few minutes.
We left Savannah and met up with a friend and his roommates on the island. It was a great way to end the night. Sunday we had movie night and laughed until we cried. But of course we had to get into a deep conversation with one of our guy friends on the phone until 1am-ish. That put lots of things into perspective and I know I have tons to think about now (as does Jena, lol). Ugh! When will life be simple? Not sure it ever will be, but I'm just going to keep on living and doing what I need to do and hopefully one day life will be simple. I don't want boring or ordinary, just simple!
We went back to Hilton Head today (Avery was in school), just went and had lunch by the water, relaxed, and talked. I don't know what it is about that place, but I can be having the worst day (though today was a great day to start with), and as soon as I get on that island I feel at peace. I love this whole area down here. I know I need to move and get away, but if I can't be in Southern California then here is where I feel the most peace. Sitting by the water is such a soothing thing for me. I want to spend all my time out there and just soak it all up. If I could bottle it and take it with me I can honestly say I'd rarely have a bad day. Neither Jena nor I wanted to leave. She felt the same way there. I think I found one of my places to go and just write. I've been looking for that-- a place where I feel at peace to just sit and write; a place where my soul is full, happy, and at peace. I'm ready for that in life right now.
Jena came down because she needed a weekend away. We are both facing similar decisions in life right now, so I completely understand where she is coming from. It's great to have those friends who just get it and after every sentence it's that smile, or nod that says "I know, trust me, I know." Friends like Jena are Rare! I'm blessed to have her friendship. We are very different and very much alike at the same time. We can both be a little crazy and like to have fun when we go out, but we can also have a great time just hanging out and relaxing. We wear our hearts on our sleeves, though I've been told since Tom died I'm much more guarded. It's nice to have a friend I don't have to be guarded around.
Saturday was fun. I'm in a different mind set now and it was great to go out, meet new people, have a few drinks, chill by the water, and have those deep meaningful life talks about where we've been and where we are going. We met these really cool people who were there for a frisbee tournament and then started talking to some Army guys just back from deployment. They had their ball that night and one of the guys kind of seemed like an arrogant jerk before we got into conversation and his friend made a comment about Marines (we all know they have a rivalry). I told him not to make a comment like that to me and once he realized why he was apologetic. They were all pretty cool (ya know for being Army and all-- just kidding). It was nice chatting with them and their wives. I miss being a military wife. It's just so nice to be around people who understand me on THAT level even if only for a few minutes.
We left Savannah and met up with a friend and his roommates on the island. It was a great way to end the night. Sunday we had movie night and laughed until we cried. But of course we had to get into a deep conversation with one of our guy friends on the phone until 1am-ish. That put lots of things into perspective and I know I have tons to think about now (as does Jena, lol). Ugh! When will life be simple? Not sure it ever will be, but I'm just going to keep on living and doing what I need to do and hopefully one day life will be simple. I don't want boring or ordinary, just simple!
We went back to Hilton Head today (Avery was in school), just went and had lunch by the water, relaxed, and talked. I don't know what it is about that place, but I can be having the worst day (though today was a great day to start with), and as soon as I get on that island I feel at peace. I love this whole area down here. I know I need to move and get away, but if I can't be in Southern California then here is where I feel the most peace. Sitting by the water is such a soothing thing for me. I want to spend all my time out there and just soak it all up. If I could bottle it and take it with me I can honestly say I'd rarely have a bad day. Neither Jena nor I wanted to leave. She felt the same way there. I think I found one of my places to go and just write. I've been looking for that-- a place where I feel at peace to just sit and write; a place where my soul is full, happy, and at peace. I'm ready for that in life right now.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Widow Breakdown @ Work
I play my iPod and put it on shuffle while I'm taking a shower and getting ready for the day. Well, for the past 2 weeks or so (all except for 3 days) while I am in the shower my iPod has been playing songs that remind me of Tom. When I get out of the shower though, it plays songs that remind me of my ex-bf. It's a little weird-- and by a little I mean a lot.
The night before this first started happening I learned of the death of a guy from Tom's unit (later found out there were 2 others). So I was already upset over this news, then the songs started playing first thing in the morning. I cried a little and then went to work. I figured it would be a good distraction and was looking forward to it. Haha! So I am standing there as my manager is going over "game day" with the associates working that day including my good friend Kate and a brand new guy. And of course what starts to play? Yup of course, one of the songs that can bring me to my knees when I'm in a widow mood.
I start to cry and run into the back. Kate comes back and turns the song off. I went back out and thankfully we had a shipment come in that day and he kept me working in the back on that. I couldn't deal with people that day. Later I was talking to another manager about it and he said he heard, and knew it was the "wrong song" that set me off.
Now I understand that not everyone has had to deal with death and not everyone who does will deal with it the same way. I really do understand this, but the other day at work my "widow breakdown" got brought up and one of the newer employees who was not there really pissed me off. He asked what made me cry and I said it was a song that reminded me of my husband. His response: "Are you that sensitive that a song made you cry?" I didn't particularly like the way he said it either. I had a few choice words for him... I kept them in my head, but I wanted to explain to this person what it's like to be a widow, what it's like to have the love of your life die and to miss this man everyday of your life, to wake up every morning without him next to you knowing you won't see or talk to him again and to go to bed every night alone knowing that you won't see him the next day either or ever again. I wanted to explain that we don't choose when or what will trigger us to break down and cry and that sometimes I can listen to that song (and many others) and won't even blink an eye, but sometimes... sometimes when the circumstances are just right that little things like a smell or a song or a memory will bring us to our knees at a moments notice.
I was really mad at this guy, but I let it go. Well, I let it go at work and decided to write about it here instead. If crying over the fact that my husband died makes me "sensitive" I will always be considered sensitive and I am ok with that.
The night before this first started happening I learned of the death of a guy from Tom's unit (later found out there were 2 others). So I was already upset over this news, then the songs started playing first thing in the morning. I cried a little and then went to work. I figured it would be a good distraction and was looking forward to it. Haha! So I am standing there as my manager is going over "game day" with the associates working that day including my good friend Kate and a brand new guy. And of course what starts to play? Yup of course, one of the songs that can bring me to my knees when I'm in a widow mood.
I start to cry and run into the back. Kate comes back and turns the song off. I went back out and thankfully we had a shipment come in that day and he kept me working in the back on that. I couldn't deal with people that day. Later I was talking to another manager about it and he said he heard, and knew it was the "wrong song" that set me off.
Now I understand that not everyone has had to deal with death and not everyone who does will deal with it the same way. I really do understand this, but the other day at work my "widow breakdown" got brought up and one of the newer employees who was not there really pissed me off. He asked what made me cry and I said it was a song that reminded me of my husband. His response: "Are you that sensitive that a song made you cry?" I didn't particularly like the way he said it either. I had a few choice words for him... I kept them in my head, but I wanted to explain to this person what it's like to be a widow, what it's like to have the love of your life die and to miss this man everyday of your life, to wake up every morning without him next to you knowing you won't see or talk to him again and to go to bed every night alone knowing that you won't see him the next day either or ever again. I wanted to explain that we don't choose when or what will trigger us to break down and cry and that sometimes I can listen to that song (and many others) and won't even blink an eye, but sometimes... sometimes when the circumstances are just right that little things like a smell or a song or a memory will bring us to our knees at a moments notice.
I was really mad at this guy, but I let it go. Well, I let it go at work and decided to write about it here instead. If crying over the fact that my husband died makes me "sensitive" I will always be considered sensitive and I am ok with that.
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