In Isolation, No Comment

Isolation
Originally uploaded by H4rris

Life has got me beaten down. Nothing feels rational any longer. I know what to say, and what to do, but I want to just give up.

I wonder what goes into the making of each person. Why do some have so many challenges?

I don't know if I'm one of those people. Am I the challenged? Or, am I the person charged to care for the challenged?

When I was a little kid I thought the world existed for me. In my mind I pondered the idea that when I slept, the world failed to exist. With this line of thinking, the world was all a creation meant to busy me, challenge me, or entertain me. I had created my own little Truman Show where there were no accidents. It was all carefully orchestrated. Perhaps everyone had their own individual existence. Yet, if so, who was the mastermind who was manipulating my world, because he or she seemed to have it out for me.

My evening went so horribly wrong, so now I am sitting here in my room, isolating myself. I wish I could stay here forever, with no one knocking at my door. With no one needing anything from me. And, with no one being able to reach me.

I want to sink. I want darkness. I want to feel total isolation.

I wish the lights in the garden would go out. I don't want to see its beauty. Beauty no longer has it's place in my world. Joy no longer brightens my days. Optimism is for foolish. If I could find the master switch I would turn off all the power. Everything in my world would just shut down.

I don't want to be that survivor anymore. I want to be that broken person that cannot be fixed. I want to be lost beyond return.

I have sealed all the doors shut. I have raised the draw bridge. I cannot be reached.

Do I want anything out of life? No comment.

Do I want to be saved? No comment.

Will anything ever really matter again? No comment.

There is only one person I want right now, but the mastermind took him out of my life.

So tonight, no comment.

Tomorrow

♪♫♪ The sun will come out tomorrow ♪♫♪
Originally uploaded by cattycamehome

First off. Thanks to all those who left comments regarding last night's post. It was one of those evenings where I question whether I should be taking the time to post. It was a typical, if not less seldom, painful night of grieving. On nights like that I wonder if I should just post some short explanation about not being available to write, or do as I did, and describe exactly what was happening, in real time.

I think it comes down to being vulnerable. The guy in me, not like I have an inner woman, tells me to buck up, and not share with the world when I am knocked down by my grief. I also look carefully at my intentions, careful not to be overtly seeking sympathy from the crowd. But in the end I remind myself of the commitment I made to myself about this blog. Of writing in real time. I also remind myself that I have developed a great community of support here, and why not look to all of you during these challenging moments.

But to those who might fear drowning during one of these undertows, in my experience, I always wake up the next morning feeling much better, and with a renewed perspective. This is how I choose to walk through my grief. I purposely walk through it with my eyes wide open, and my heart bare, and vulnerable. I am of the belief that we should not run or hide from such pain. We should safely pace ourselves, but be willing to go through it. Anything that we choose to skip, or to turn away from, will only catch up with us later. I think that trying to sort it out later can be very difficult. You might lose the perspective that you would have today. When I am in pain presently, I clearly know why. It is raw, but it is also in clear correlation with where I am on my own time line of living through this loss.

For some reason the song from Annie keeps playing in my head. "The sun will come out tomorrow"...blah blah blah. "So I got to hang on till tomorrow, come what may." I guess you use what gets you through. If it takes the sun rising to shine a light on things so that you have a different perspective, then that's what you depend on. If it takes a little red headed curly mopped girl to sing you out of the darkness, then so be it. For me, I just need to go through what I need to go through. I have done this long enough now to know that while tonight may feel endlessly painful, tomorrow is indeed a new day.

"Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I love ya, Tomorrow, your always a day a way."

Day's End

Time For Bed
Originally uploaded by Andy Valde

11:28pm.

Just walked down quietly to my room. I didn't say good night to any of the kids, or to my cousin Fred, who is visiting. I suddenly needed to detach. I was at my limit, and couldn't sustain.

Sustain what? I don't feel like I accomplished much today. Bought some groceries. Busied myself all day, keeping my emotions at bay.

Today was not a bad day. On the contrary, it was a nice and relaxing day. One where I pause now and then to be sure there was nothing I was forgetting about. When I have days like this I often end the day feeling guilty, like I should have been more productive somehow. Maybe the guilt is less about productivity, and more about feeling detached. Detached from everyone.

Some days I find it easier to just stay a bit physically, and emotionally, detached from everyone around me. When one of the kids move in to give me a hug, I try to tolerate it, but find some excuse to move myself from that particular spot. It's not about who is trying to get close to me, it's about not wanting anyone to get close to me.

It hurts. In a real physical way, it hurts. When I get like this I feel like I cannot breathe. I can feel my skin crawl when someone enters my space. It's a terrible way to feel, but it is truly how I feel. I don't want to be touched. I don't want any one's affection. I would rather be sitting alone in my room, surrounded by empty space, and silence.

I walked into my bedroom. I washed my face, and brushed my teeth. There are Michael's things. I run my finger across his tooth brush. I open the cabinet and see his things. I grab two tea candles from the shelf in the closet, and place them gently in the candle holders that flank the ceramic urn that houses Michael's ashes. I light the candles, take off my wedding ring, and place it along side Michael's. My hand runs across the top of the urn. I then reach out, and place my hands firmly on the sides of the urn. I take in the texture, which is beveled, but smooth. I whisper to him. I tell him of my love, and turn away to get into bed. My chest begins to ache. I now realize how tightly I have been holding down my emotions all day. My chest muscles are sore and exhausted. A deep breath in, I wait, I listen to the silence, a deep breath out. Tears, doubled over in pain. I try to keep my sobbing to a quiet pitch. I don't want anyone to hear me. I don't want anyone to interrupt me.

I wonder why I am here. I wonder why he is gone. I try to remember what all my efforts are for.

I have an image of myself. I am sitting here in my room, sitting comfortably on my bed. One small pillow being held closely to my chest. I am needing some kind of soft object to take up space. I have walked this earth too long without his body close to mine. Death is so cruel. Death is so final. Why does he not appear in my dreams? Why do I not even remember my dreams? I know that are there, for I feel their presence in the night. Yet within moments upon waking, they float away. Some kind of abstract mix of emotion and emptiness.

I begin to breath easier. I purposefully stop typing, and feel the pulse within my body. I hear the static white noise within my head. It is so familiar, and brings me comfort. I grab his pillow, and breathe deeply within it. Even if his scent is gone, particles of his essence are there. The fabric has not been washed. I am not ready to release that part of him. Why am I left to find comfort in the night with something so random as a pillow? Why is everyone else around me lying in bed with a warm body beside them? I am alone, yet not alone in my predicament.

I know many of you reading find this oh so familiar. I hurt for you. I know, you hurt for me.

Another day comes to an end.

A House Is Not A Home

06 Empty House
Originally uploaded by Anguluri

Tonight's post has a music accompaniment on my PlayList. If you like, just hit play.



I am a big Burt Bacharach fan. I have his whole collection of songs song by all the original artists. Somehow his music transports me to a very happy and loving time in my childhood. I used to hear all of Burt Bacharach's music around the house, and in the car radio. As I got older I continued to seek out his music, and collect some of his recordings. A few years ago he collaborated with another of my favorites, Elvis Costello, and they made such gorgeous music together. It was the perfect collaboration in my mind.

Recently Burt's music was profiled on an episode of Glee. I'm a late arriving fan of the television show, and found myself in pure ecstasy listening to the cast perform some of my favorite songs. And throw in Kristin Chenoweth, well, it was simply a gay man's heaven.

This all got me thinking about why I am planning this move. I love my house, and I'm proud of all the hard work I put into it over the years. It was quite a fixer, and it has taken quite a bit of effort to get it to where it is today. It has provided me with many happy memories, and has taught me many new skills. Then four years ago I provided me with a space to welcome Michael into my fold, and join my family. Up until then I always considered my house to be a home, and indeed it was. But I had no idea how much more transformed it would become. When love came my way, and I invited it in. Everything I had took on such new meaning.

This couch that I sit on became a place where Michael would sit in each other's arms, or with our legs wrapped around one another, reading, doing Sudoku, or watching a movie. That kitchen became a place where we put our love into the preparation of meals for the kids, or for our many visitors. That small kitchen at times transformed into a ballroom where we would spontaneously dance around, arms firmly around each other.

I go down to my bedroom each night, and it screams of his absence. Yes, at times it easier. At times I can absorb the essence of his spirit, or the memories of all the wonderful intimate moments shared. But most nights it brings my spirit down. Most nights it causes me tears.

He is not here. He is not here.

I think the kids feel this too. If not the same feelings, they feel my difference. I am no longer the same in our home. I have lost my joy. I feel beaten, and I feel betrayed. Not by my home, but by life. Some nights when sleep won't come I sit up in my bed and say out loud, "okay, you won." I'm not sure who, or what, I am talking to. I just know that I have lost that which I cherished the most. I deserved to be happy, and I was. I just thought I would have it longer than I did. I didn't expect it to be forever. Just a day or two shy of forever.

All of this weighs so heavy upon my chest. I can barely breath anymore.

I am slowly suffocating.

I pray for some relief.

And yet, misery is becoming quite familiar. At times it is my only company.





"A House Is Not A Home" by Burt Bacharach and Hal David.

A chair is still a chair, even when there's no one sittin' there
But a chair is not a house and a house is not a home
When there's no one there to hold you tight
And no one there you can kiss goodnight

A room is a still a room, even when there's nothin' there but gloom
But a room is not a house and a house is not a home
When the two of us are far apart
And one of us has a broken heart

Now and then I call your name
And suddenly your face appears
But it's just a crazy game
When it ends, it ends in tears

Pretty little darling, have a heart,
Don't let one mistake keep us apart
I'm not meant to live alone, turn this house into a home
When I climb the stairs and turn the key
Oh, please be there, sayin' that you're still in love with me

Lonely Widow(er)s Wanted, All Encouraged to Apply

Help Wanted
Originally uploaded by Melissa Gorostiza

Being that I am currently dipping my feet into the job market, I got to wondering, what type of ad would encourage me to apply? Now of course I am looking for a job, and I suppose I should be searching the web for one right now. I can't just stop with the first job I came across. Right?

I have also been thinking this...some days I get a lot of visitors to my blog. Some stay and read awhile, others do a bit of a fly by. I have my regular net-friends, and I have my regular chat pals who leave comments, but I also receive many who appear to leave as quickly as they arrived.

What happens? Am I not what they were looking for? Was the blog not about the subject they expected? Were they looking for a male point of view, but not a gay one? Were they looking for a younger point of view, but not a young middle aged guy? Was the Latin flavor a bit too spicy for their taste? Are my posts too long? Is my hair too short? Okay, get my drift?

These are the crazy things that go through my mind when I finally come up for air. Earlier I was thinking that it would be interesting to conduct a bit of a social study. I could begin a few different blogs, with different identities, but with almost identical content, and see which one picks up the most steam. I sometimes wonder if we limit ourselves by seeking those that are most like us. I also wonder if we look for commonalities because we don't seem to find anyone like us.

When I first started this blog, I thought it was a way to reach out to other widow(er)s who identified as gay or lesbian, and who might feel a bit marginalized. Some have come and gone, but currently we are a rare breed in the world of grief related blogs. Actually, I might be it. Perhaps I'm extinct, but didn't get the memo.

When I look at the group of people I have come to know well through the blog, I get a sense of many feeling like a bit of a nomad. Some have chosen to hit the road, some had to move out due to extenuating circumstances, some yearn to be transported to far off galaxies, and some just think it might be nice to rest in the shadow of a large palm tree in San Diego. Perhaps what ties this group is a sense of isolation, or a sense of needing to reach out. I have previously discussed feeling like an outsider in many ways. Is that what joins us? I have sometimes noticed that my phone doesn't ring very often. Is it simply a matter of us paying our phone bills? What is it?

I know that I have had the good fortune to meet, by way of the written exchange, many wonderful and struggling people. There are many ways in which I identify with these individuals, and there are many ways that I see our differences. What I do feel though, is that we all welcome each other into our blog worlds. We encourage each other to lean on us, and to accept the mutual support.

I know there are many people who read the blogs each day. I often wonder if some feel like they may not have something to contribute, but I know that is not true. Today's post is a calling out to each of you. It's my way of saying everyone who visits is welcome. Everyone is encouraged to quietly read if that is what they need. And, everyone is encouraged to share their thoughts, no matter what your journey is, or what your journey looks like, or how you identify.

So here is a bit of a starter. My title says "lonely widow(er)s wanted," but you don't have to be one to share. The fact that you take an interest in our struggle, is enough for me to say "welcome." Even if you were looking for the video of the film "Dan in real life" and you got "Dan, in real time," you are welcome to stay and chat.

So...What brings you here? If you are grieving...What do you find online that you can identify with? And, what is it that you may not have found quite yet? Are there parts of your experience that still makes you feel like you are still searching for members of your lost tribe?

Please...share.

Hope Springs Eternal

I'm kind of in a holding pattern. Until I hear about the job, I don't want to put too much effort into figuring out the logistics needed to make this move. I think I would prefer to be given a deadline, and be forced to make it happen quickly. Yet, I have to remind myself that things don't always move as quickly, or a smoothly, as I would like them to.

I am also really troubled about my daughter, and the chaos that is her life right now. It is so hard as a parent to watch them make mistake after mistake. Then watch them sink deeper and deeper into the hole of consequences. I'm not really sure what the answer is.

Like my losing my husband Michael, I ultimately have no control over the choices my children will make. I'm not sure exactly what to do. I spent the last two years battling a tiny brain tumor, that out sourced, and out smarted all of the doctors and me. In the end I see how powerless I was, and yet I fought until the end. I was determined to keep Michael alive. I was determine to keep him here with me.

I suppose the same can be said of my children. I am battling genetics. I am battling prenatal substance exposure. And I am battling unknown demons that tempt them in directions I know will only bring heartache, for them, and for me.

Our lives are so fragile. Nothing is ours to keep. This is a lesson I am being taught over and over. Yet I must find some sense of hope.

This afternoon I went for a massage. The spa that I go to had a new massage therapist, so I thought I would give him a try. When I undressed and laid out of the table he was surprised to see all the ink on my back. For those that are new here, I am a bit of a tattoo collector. He was gently tracing the tattoo of the cherry blossom tree and small sparrow, and asked what they represented. He did the same for all the other tattoos on my back. When he came to the last one, of a Kanji symbol, he stopped and traced it as well. "What does this one symbolize?"

"Hope." It rests above the monogram initials for Michael, 'M W L' and a lotus blossom. I explained that it was a reminder to have hope when my husband was battling his brain tumor. It was a valentines day gift for Michael, to show him how committed I was in getting him through his ordeal. After offering his condolences, the massage therapist said he would stop asking questions, and get on with the massage. He was very sweet. After we stopped talking I laid there thinking about hope, and wondering where it fit in my life today.

I find that I am now a bit jaded where feelings such as hope once resided. In it's place has become a sense of utility, where I just focus on concrete things I can accomplish. These days it is the simple every day tasks that require so much energy, and anything beyond them is beyond me.

I wonder how we replenish hope in our lives. Is it something that can be returned by our own efforts? Is it like grace, something that is bestowed upon us? It's not surprising that so many people in this world suffer from learned hopelessness. They must have ran out of hope long before I did. Perhaps they lost hope in prior generations.

Hope is a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. Hope is the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.

If I really think about it, I would have to admit that I do believe that hope springs eternal, even when faced with adversity. I wouldn't be sitting here, writing, facing the harsh realities of life, if I didn't hope for better days.

A few Hope quotes.

In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs man's torments. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

If one truly has lost hope, one would not be on hand to say so. ~Eric Bentley

Some see a hopeless end, while others see an endless hope. ~Author Unknown

When the world says, "Give up," Hope whispers, "Try it one more time." ~Author Unknown

Stepping Outside My Comfort Zone

Moving forward.
Originally uploaded by Jason Lisiewski

A good day over all. It's not often that I have the opportunity to step outside of my comfort zone. Recently I made the decision to do just that. Of course, my decision was to relocate to San Diego. I have lived in my current home for 17 years, and in San Francisco for 25 years. I have been at my current job for 21 years, now I am choosing to walk away from it.

I don't know what the outcome of the job interview will be, but I know what the outcome of this process, and today's adventure, will be. It will be successful.

It was during my month long struggle in April that I realized that I needed to make a change. Since the beginning of my grief journey I have been feeling a pull to walk away from my current life. Dramatic, right? It doesn't have to be. Of course in my fantasy I just walked out the front door, and kept on walking. I walked through many sunrises, and many sunsets. I stopped when I got exhausted, or when I found a place that felt like home. This was all a fantasy, as I knew that I couldn't really do this. But when I was experiencing me deep sorrow and depression last month, I decided that not only could I make a change, I desperately needed a change.

Today's job interview gave me a good jab of renewed energy. I felt confident, and I felt energized. Whether or not I'm what they are looking for is beside the point. I realized that I have a wealth of knowledge and experience, and that I enjoy sharing it with others. I know that there can be many opportunities for me in the future. I just need to set my mind to finding them.

After my interview was done I set off for a day in the area of San Diego where I want to live. I wanted to be sure I was remembering it correctly, and being realistic in my expectations. I found that it was exactly as I pictured it. I know that I can live there, and I know that I can begin rebuilding my life.

Sometimes we need to step outside of our comfort zone to see who we really are. Sometimes we need the room to fully stretch out our wings. I realized that I need breathing room. Making this move will give me that breathing room. I know this is not for everyone, and I know some are concerned that I am making a move before the one year anniversary. I have been advised many times to not make any major changes in the first year. Well, that's not how I operate. I have decided to go with my gut. Speaking of which, is growing ever bigger. That's another topic.

Now that I am back in my home, and here sitting on my bed, I am feeling the comfort of my familiar surroundings. But I realize that the comfort will go with me. Those things that remind me of the love I shared with Michael will always be with me. He will always be with me. Where ever I go, I take him with me. Together, he in spirit, we will be stepping outside of our comfort zone, and look toward new beginnings.

I'm not walking away from anything. I am walking toward something new.