I Am Not Okay (and that’s okay)
It’s not possible to be okay all the time.
Category: Rants
No More Blindfolds
The blindfolds are ripped off. Completely gone within one moment. That was the past and now we are here. Instantly. No choice.
One, Two, Three: The Widow is Me
You would think that once your tears fall on a dead body you are able to comfort others more easily when it comes to death. But instead, it’s more difficult.
Standing Naked
I’ve been stripping everything and anything that doesn’t belong to me while realizing nothing ever did.
Tinder for a Tender Heart
It always interests me when widows begin talking about dating. I’m a magnet to the comment section. There are so many different perspectives. Some don’t even consider it for ten years and others start almost immediately. There’s no wrong way. There’s no right way. And your timeframe on when you start dating isn’t a reflection …
When the Mind goes Blank
Because you were you, and then he entered, and now you’re you. And that’s just that.
Pure Eyes, Dirty Hands
I am a firm believer that empathy only leaves you when you’ve convinced your mind that no one cares about your pain. If yours doesn’t matter, why should theirs? And when I sit somewhere and I look up at a metal roof—first, I think of my husband. Second, I think of the crash. Third, I think of that man’s eyes.
Mindful Ramblings
While therapy and exercise have been beneficial for me when needing to clear my mind, address my grief, and work on self-discovery, writing has been the most accessible and enjoyable. In light of mental health awareness month, I wanted to share some of my journal ramblings with you. Writing has always been an outlet for me, whether it’s creative or therapeutic or both; it serves what I need in the moment. Crafting a story, structuring a narrative, or letting my stream of consciousness flow in whatever direction it needs, it allows me to zone out and then focus all in one place.
When Your Loved One is an Organ Donor, Part 2 of 3: The Conversations
In that memory I realized that of course he should donate his organs and we should wait a little longer for this to be possible. Not because of me. Not because of what this strange man was saying. Because he wanted to. Because he will no longer be here to help anyone, and in this way he can continue helping people.
Grief is a Motherfuc%@#
The foundation of what you built your life on is rocked. The very essence of your being. Who and what you identify with and as—is being rattled. There is no stable ground.