When everything slows, I realize just how tired I am

I've been trying so hard to get things done.

I've been trying so hard, to ignore the reason I'm having to do them.

Neither one is going easily.

On Friday, since I didn't have to work, I decided to go to the tag place and get the title to my husband's pick up changed over to my name so that I could get the insurance changed.  It started out as a half hour wait, that went to fifty-five, that went to seven, that went back to fifteen. I sat there for so long that even though I had a lovely conversation with the lady beside me, I began to get sleepy. When my number was finally called, it took all of five minutes to sign three papers and get the new registration. She told me the title would come in a couple of weeks. An hour sitting for five minutes work. But it got done. It wasn't so difficult with the insurance company, when I called and let them know I had gotten the title changed she told me that she could and would handle everything for me.

 I had a couple of bills to get paid and a few other errands to run. By the time I got them finished, I did not have time to go to the cable company and get the bill changed over to my name. Yes, I could do that over the phone, but I'm needing to talk with them about either getting someone out to the house to fix the mess that their guy left, or get them to sell me enough cable that James can fix it for me. So that, I can actually watch tv in here should I take a notion I want to waste some time and zone out for a while. I decided that since they were open for a while on Saturday I would talk James into going with me, since he knew where the place was and I didn't. The problem arose when James came in from work and told me he had to work Saturday.

 I  figured I'd probably have to go myself. I didn't try to go early because someone brought me some flowers from their garden. We visited for a while and as we chatted, James came in. He was done for the day. I talked him into going with me by promising that I wouldn't ask him to stop anywhere else but to get gas for the car. When we arrived, the place was packed. James refused to wait as he told me they were incredibly slow and we would be there forever. So I turned and left the building, disappointed, frustrated, angry, tired.

 I was tired. I was tired of not being able to watch television if I chose. I was tired of fighting, I was tired of not getting things done. I was tired of the struggle to get past the reason I was having to do all of this to begin with. I was tired of pretending I was fine, that when anyone and everyone asked how I was, my response has been, "I'm okay." I'm not, not always.

 When people tell me they are praying for me, I'm very glad. I need them, I covet them, I appreciate them more than those who are praying know. I cling to my faith, I cling to the cross. I pray, at times constantly.

But I'm tired.

 I was told that I am a strong woman. I was told I am an intelligent woman. I was told that I have accomplished a lot in a short amount of time. I was told, that I would get through this.

But I'm tired.

 I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of struggling. I'm tired of wondering. I'm tired of trying to find ways to stay so busy as to forget or pretend that none of this is real.

 I have been given flowers, I have spent so much time working in, around and with my flowers, trying to stay busy. Trying to stay occupied. Trying to work until I am too tired to think.

Yet, when everything slows and there is nothing else to do for the moment, the memories invade my fragile peace. I remember why I'm doing all of this. I remember, what has happened, and what is still waiting to be done. I want to find a dark corner to hide in, I want to be able to shove everything under the bed and hope it goes away.  When everything else slows, my mind goes into over drive, my heart goes off the deep end and my tears linger, just on the edge, yet refusing to fall.

I'm tired, but I'm not giving up or giving in. I am strong and I will get this done, even with the frustrations, the anger, the pain. I will press forward, I will have faith and I will finish this.

Where the hell is normal, and how do I get there from here?

I'm so tired. I am physically drained to the point of falling asleep sitting here in this chair. I am emotionally drained to the point of simply wanting to curl into a ball and wish the world away. I had no idea, there was so much involved in this, as if losing my husband wasn't bad enough, all of this other mess is very overwhelming. Fighting my way through this, one step at a time, is a battle that I would not wish on my worst enemy.

 I've dealt with his death so far away and getting him home. Having to sit here and plan his celebration of life services and burial. I've spoken with insurance people and gone to the probate office. I have talked with the people over his pension plans. I have been blest, in that every single person that I have spoken with has been considerate, compassionate, respectful and so very helpful. I have had friends answering my questions and offering advice.  Still, through it all, I want to stand in the middle of nowhere and scream until I can scream no more. I want to start walking and walk until my feet will no longer carry me. I want to throw things and pound on things and act like an out of control toddler. I want this to be a nightmare that I will suddenly awaken from and find my husband staring at me, asking me if I'd had a bad dream. I want it to be like that Dallas episode where suddenly there Bobby is in the shower only its my husband, all well and good and complaining because I forgot to buy any of the bath soap he prefers. Instead, I can only wonder one thing.

Where the hell is normal and how do I get there from here?

 I can't find it at work, even as I go about my job. As I preform my regular duties and make sure all that is needed done, is accomplished to the best of my ability. I can find minuscule pieces of it, but even that is a struggle. One minute I'm in the process of one thing or another and suddenly I'm fighting the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me.

 I can't find it at home, there are way too many memories. Every room there he is, on the couch watching a movie yet again. On the porch in his chair drinking coffee, in the kitchen raiding the fridge even as he talks about going to get something to eat.

 I find a certain amount of peace at church, but everyone asks about how we're doing and if we need anything.  I don't know how to answer that. We're making it day by day. We do need things, but I'm not asking for anything because they have taken such good care of us, I feel as if I would be taking advantage if I asked for anything more.  Well except flowers, so many have offered me flowers from their own yards and I've appreciated that so much as I do love flowers.

 But yet, even when I'm trying to distract myself by taking care of my flower or vegetable garden, he is there as well. He always made comments on my gardens, on how well they were or were not doing. He was always trying to help, even to the point of accidentally mowing down two of my mother's rose bushes. Amazing thing that, they came back and are blooming. With each shovel full of dirt I move, with every plant or bulb or seed I drop into the ground, I think of him.

 When I'm driving, as I watch the road, as I watch the cars around me, I hear you, telling me where to go, how to get there, what mistakes I'm making. Then I hear you asking, "you're ignoring me aren't you?" yep. Yes, I know you're the professional driver. Yes, I know you do that for a living. Yes, I know how difficult it is to jockey one of those big rigs around. But, yes, I'm going to drive the way I want to drive. I'm going to drive as close to the edge of the road as I can because of people who like to straddle the center line. I'm going to drive int he lane I want, because its easier for me to get where I want to be with less lane changes. His voice a constant in my ear.

 As I try to sleep, he invades my dreams. My mind won't rest, my heart aches and I waken repeatedly through the night. I draw his pillow close or I find myself restless, thrashing about, moving about in the bed as I fight the memories and the knowledge of my loss.

 All I can do, all I can seek, all I can ask again and again.

 Where the hell is normal? And how do I get there from here?

 I have not cried since right after I found out. I stay on the verge of tears but they do not fall. My heart aches with the emptiness. My lungs feel as if they will burst from the lack of air, breathing gets difficult and the weight on my chest a burden I cannot shake. I want to get away. I want to go somewhere, but you would probably be there waiting. You loved the Gatlenburg area. You loved Myrtle Beach and even the Outer Banks of NC.  I can't hide in the house forever, and yet I can't ask people to let me tag along. I don't know that I'm ready, or if they are.

Where is normal...will I ever really find it again?

Two Months

Two months today. You have been gone two months today. I've tried to ignore it. I've tried to look around it. I've tried to pretend, but I can't.
I took more flowers and put on your grave today. They had put more dirt on it where it had settled. Deanna and Barbara have brought flowers and other things for your grave. I know you're not there, I know where you are. You did ask me once though, "when I'm gone, you're not going to forget me are you?" No dear, no, I'm not ever going to forget you. So nearly every Sunday since, I've walked down to your grave, just for a moment or two, just to visit. I'm going to get a marker for your grave just as soon as I get some insurance money.
It was funny about that twenty. I told someone at work about my finding another penny and telling you thanks for the reminders, but did you have any twenties to share, and my finding that twenty dollar bill in the drawer when I was looking for something. They told me that I needed to be careful for what I asked for. I told them, "Then I guess asking for that purple jeep with the moon roof is out of the question" You should have seen his face. I'll be honest honey, I took that twenty and bought two butterfly bushes. I was watching the butterfly dance about the other day with nowhere to find anything to rest on or feed on, so I bought those today. They're small, but hopefully that will help them live.
Two months, has it really only been two months? It seems like forever, and yet, it seems like only yesterday. There are times I find myself checking the phone to see if you've called, I know you won't but.. its still difficult at break times at work. I always called you on nearly every one, now.. I'm at a loss. I start cleaning the house and I expect to hear the phone start ringing. I started clearing some of those small trees away from the mail box, I could hear you telling me, "its about time, that was looking bad." I cleaned the saplings away from part of the front fence as well. I didn't get a lot done as it kept trying to rain. I'll get it finished though, they keep saying snakes are bad this year and I don't want one hiding in the yard anywhere.
A couple of people from church have given me flowers or bulbs. They are really generous of heart. I still wish I could find some coneflowers, you know how I love those. Maybe I'm looking too early, but the butterfly and bees always seemed to love them.
Two months, how could it possibly have been two months?
How angry I could get at you, how frustrated with you, but oh sweet heavens how I miss you.

Season of Sadness

Yesterday was a not good day. Scratch that, yesterday was a good day, just not a feel good day. No, that's not right either. Yesterday was a good day, there were moments that brought smiles and even cheers, but, yes, the infamous but, the sadness attacked and held on as tightly as a frightened kitten complete with claws.

 Yesterday, I awoke when I should, I got ready and got to work in plenty of time without issues. The day was a day pretty much like all of the other days this week. One disaster after another, one issue, one more roadblock to maneuver around. Even with the stress, maybe thanks to the stress, I made it for the better part of the day without that overwhelming sadness striking. Maybe, it was lurking, and I just didn't see it waiting for a weak moment.

 As always, that weak moment came precisely at four o'clock. When I should be relieved that the work day was over and I could now go home. Right when I should be happily gathering all of the belongings that make it appear that I am moving in or out and tired but contentedly making my way out, it strikes. Four o'clock, the time when the call came. The time when I found out. Every day now, I have to face four o'clock and get past that moment. Lately I've been able to manage pretty well. I am clinging to my faith, I am clutching tightly to the cloak of Jesus and sitting at the foot of the cross, praying near unceasing, still the moments come.

 Last night, when the storm woke me, I lay listening to the thunder and the radio playing softly. Our outside dog was nervous, but not begging to come inside so I lay still, and listened. I realized something that I had been ignoring.

 We will have seasons of sadness. It is those seasons that are important and should be recognized.

In 2008, when I went through my cancer battle and my husband's unemployment, I found a stronger faith. I walked the woods, I sat near the pond, I sat on the back steps, listening and growing closer. I learned how to lean on the Lord and have faith that He was with me, that He would guide and love me always. My cancer was dealt with, my husband got a new job- an amazing story in itself- and life continued. So much so, that we became comfortable. My husband had a few health scares, ending up in the hospital a couple of times, two out of the three times he was here at home. (My husband was a long haul truck driver) He would get better and he would go back to work and life was life.

Then four o'clock came and with it the call and now nothing is the same. Scratch that, there is one thing that is the same. Christ is still with me, still loving me, still guiding me, still walking the woods, sitting by the pond, waiting with me on the back steps as I sit quietly. That, is my understanding for the reasons of sadness, that we may draw closer to Jesus, that we may hand the sadness, the sorrow, the pain to Him. He will take our burdens, when we give them up and not carry them as an albatross around our neck. That we understand, His love waits, He doesn't want us to bear the burden alone.

 As I travel this road to our new normal, I'm going to deal with moments of joy, moments of gladness, of comfort. I'm also going to have to face the not so good moments, such as yesterday. I'm going to have to remember, He is waiting for me to come to Him, to hand over the burdens and sadness and allow Him to comfort me. Through His word, through the words of friends, through the songs on the radio. He doesn't want me to wallow in the sadness, suffering in the pain, He wants me to draw closer to Him, and He will strengthen me and give me peace.

I can't shake the sadness

 Its after eight in the evening, I've gotten to where I'm usually doing pretty well long about this time. Today, I'm not. Today, I simply cannot shake the sadness.

 It could be because today is mom's birthday and you aren't here to help celebrate. I can remember how you were concerned about living so close to my parents, but how they embraced you like a son, not just a son-in-law. That's my family, we have always been told and taught that family is very important, and to treat each other well, love strong and defend each other no matter what. When you realized that my folks were not going to be anything like any of the horror stories you hear about, you relaxed and grew to love them almost as much as I do. And even tough they didn't always agree with some of the things you said or did, they loved you dearly.

 It could be because I'm so very tired. Physically from trying to fill that flowerbed by hauling that dirt around the house. And don't ask where James was, he was still at work or just got home, obviously exhausted. You could see it in his face and body language. I'm not going to ask him to haul dirt when he's so tired already. My heart is so tired from the missing you. Every break at work,I want to call you so badly.. because that was what I always did. I expect your call the minute I walk in the door, of course it doesn't, and won't, come. I'm tired from all of the decisions that I'm suddenly having to make alone. I'm tired of pushy people and so very thankful for those who have gone out of their way to help me. I have no idea what I would have done without them.

 I'm tired of worrying about the mistakes I've made along the way and wondering how they may effect any outcome.

 It could be because I know all of the things still waiting to be done. The list just keeps growing and growing. I had no idea that there was so much involved. I have appointments made, I already have time scheduled from work to take care of it.

 I'm tired of worrying about what they think at work. I'm trying to do my job, but sometimes, when I'm distracted, the darkness descends and its all I can do to take the next step. I'm trying to do my job, I'm trying to not upset any of management, but sometimes, I believe that they are thinking its time I shaped up. That maybe I'm slacking or not doing everything as quickly or efficiently as I should be.

 The reason I can't shake the sadness today could be because its only a couple days away when you would have been gone two months. It seems like forever and yet it seems like just yesterday I was nearly screaming "NO!" into the phone. I dread four o'clock now. That was when I got the call. That is when I know that I will be leaving work and going home to an empty house. I know, I did it all the times when you were on the road, but ... its different now.

 It could be because of the old medicine boxes that I threw away today. I know better, I think, but it felt almost as if I were throwing a part of you away. And I look at all of your things, your clothing and stuff from the truck. I have your stuff, but I don't have you.

 It could be because its raining and supposed to turn off cool again. Its good sleeping weather I know but it doesn't do much for the heart. Its almost as if the clouds are crying the tears that I can't.

 It could be because I want so badly to show you that you didn't kill mom's roses, that not only are they still living, they're blooming.

 I don't know, it could be any of those things, it could be all of those things, it could be none of them. It could be, because I miss you so badly. You spoke often that something could happen while you were out there. You told me repeatedly that you would go before me. I just had no idea it would be so soon. I miss you, I love you,

Busy........ I..... must..... stay...... busy

There have been many times when I have wished that I could quit work and just enjoy life. Times thinking that I would love to travel, get to see places I've only heard about, or see people that I've only spoken with on social media sites. I wanted to spend time with friends, doing friend things. I wanted more time for church related things. I wanted to be able to go to bed when I wanted or stay up to greet the dawn if I so chose. I wanted to sleep late or spend the day in my pajamas.

 I can't do that... I wouldn't do that.. and, I'm glad.

Since my husband passed away on March 7th, I've been a busy person. I have to stay busy. I have to keep moving, only calling the day done when I'm too exhausted to keep going any longer. When holding my eyes open is a losing battle, that is when I start to slow down. At least my body does, my mind keeps going. Busy is the only way I know how to be right now, it is one of the  things keeping me somewhat sane and in control.

 When the alarm goes off in the morning, a full 3 hours before I have to be at work, I start. I'm up, I'm getting ready for work. I get dressed, I pack my lunch and snacks for the day, then I have my breakfast while I scroll through online stuff. I try, really try, to keep my mind on anything but my husband. I don't want to ever forget him, I won't ever forget him, but the pain is deep. So I send my attention off onto other things. Only that doesn't always work, there are too many things that remind me of him. I see too many things about trucking, I still get too many emails, that I just can't bring myself to unsubscribe from. I see the videos, I see the things shared by other drivers I know. I bite my lip, I take a deep breath, I move on. Its no wonder my attention span has gotten so short.

 I get to work around 7:30 and try to distract my thoughts. I sit in the break room as we wait for time to start and either talk with others or blatantly eaves drop on nearby conversations. When it is time to begin, I start moving and I do my best as long as my energy holds out to keep moving. I try to laugh, I try to joke, I try to do what I once did and get operators to laugh. I feel like a phony, but I keep trying. It keeps my mind on other things.

Four o'clock is my nightmare time. Four o'clock, is when I got the call. Four o'clock is when I found out. Four o'clock, was once the time I looked forward to every day. Now, as the hands on the clock inch toward that time, my dread begins. My heart beats faster, my breathing becomes difficult, my mind goes back, no matter how hard I try, no matter what I try doing to distract myself, I know the time.

 As soon as I walk into the house, I look for things to do. Since the weather has been nice, I have been working on creating a flower bed and filling it with good fertile woods dirt. That means hauling it a wheel barrel load at a time from where I dig it up, to where I want it. Trip after trip, I have hauled dirt. Trip after trip I have dumped that dirt into the flower bed and smoothed it out. I grow weary, I start shaking, the sweat running down my face and back, soaking my hair and clothing. Sweat running into my eyes and burning as if I had just rubbed them after having cut a pepper. I work, until I can't any longer. I sit for a while in my husband's chair, resting and watching nothing and everything. I watch the sun setting, the butterflies, listen to the birds as they carry on. Once my breathing has eased, I water all of the plants on the porch, hanging  from the porch, growing any where close to the porch. If it doesn't rain again soon, I'll be watering everything else I've planted. I keep an eye on the birdbath making sure it remains full of water.

 I'm working more with Bella now. Letting her go back and forth with me as I get that dirt. I'll start taking her with me when I walk, once I know she is really going to listen well, I hope to be able to go to the parks with her. Maybe climb Crowder's Mountain. But I want her to be easy to walk with and not pulling me or dragging too far behind.

 Once it is too dark to do anything else outside, I find things to do in here. Laundry stays done, the dishes done, my bed is always made as soon as I get out of it, but there is always something that needs to be tidied or moved, reorganized. I do obviously spend time online, but its different. Everything is different now.

 It is difficult to do the things that I once loved doing. The hikes in the woods, the photography, the time online, it doesn't feel anywhere near the same as it once did. Even as difficult as it is, I'm starting to make myself to them. I'm trying to keep at it, until I find what I'm missing. I don't know if that is possible, or if I have to find a way to reset my way of thinking and find the enjoyment that was there, the challenge and the love through a different mindset.

 As I do this, I stay busy, I have to stay busy to try and keep the thoughts at bay. If they come, they will overwhelm me and threaten to drown me. I find myself missing my husband to the point of it being nearly unbearable. So I stay busy. Even when something pops up that makes me think of him, even when a thought, a memory, a place makes me think of him. Even when I go somewhere that we have been together. Even when I walk through the garden centers of local stores and walk out without anything. I fight to think of something else. I fight to stay sane, to remain strong, to know that even as I walk, I'm not alone and somehow, some way, at some time, this staying too busy to think, won't be needed anymore. I'll be able to sleep the entire night, not waking every few hours thinking of and missing him. At some point in time my heart will begin to heal, my mind ease from its internal torment, and I won't need to stay so insanely busy.

But not yet.

Decisions- decisions

I've been struggling with this decision making process. I'm just not accustomed to doing this alone. I was always able to say, "let me talk it over with my husband". Only now, I can't. I'm sitting here knowing that I have decisions upcoming that I am going to need to decide, but I keep putting it off.

 On the afternoon that I found out that my husband had passed away, I sat there in the lab at work for nearly twenty minutes with my manager asking if she needed to drive me home or in the very least follow me. I made the decision that no, I was fine. I didn't need for her to go out of her way, I didn't have far to go, I'd be fine. I drove home in a state of shock, my mind going ninety, and not going at all. I was trying to decide how I was going to tell my family, when my family already knew. That decision was taken out of my hands.

 There was a lot coming at me from any and every direction. A lot of concerned people asking questions, trying to find out how to get my husband's earthly body home, all of the things that was necessary but confusing. A friend told me about a group that handled situations such as mine, I had talked with the company my husband worked for, but not fully understood what they were telling me. My not comprehending had me making a decision that I probably would not have made, not have needed to make, but did. As it was, my making the decision that I did, left more money to put toward the funeral.

 Once I knew that his earthly body was finally here (after a week and a half) we had to decide how he would be dressed, and his casket. I asked his daughter and my sister-in-law to go with me and help me. I wanted to make sure there was no misunderstandings. Together, we decided on his clothing, dress slacks and a pull over shirt, the clothing that we were so used to seeing him in. The casket was a gentle shade of blue. It turned out to be the best choices.

 I had to decide on his services, who to ask to be pall bearers, what songs, who to ask to speak. The choices were not difficult in who, everyone I asked was more than willing to speak, most more than willing to help with the pall bearing responsibility. Physical limitations stopped some, one had to work, another just couldn't. I understood. The songs were more difficult, he loved the old gospels and there are so many good ones. I finally decided and between me, the pastor of our church and the funeral director we had everything set in motion. I had decided that out of all of our options, that he would be buried in our church cemetery.

 One by one, these decisions were made, either me, or me with help making the choices. How I have prayed over these things. How I have prayed since his passing.

 But, I still have so many different things to make choices on. How am I going to take care of this? How am I going to handle that? Should I do this, or go there, or wait?

 It was amazing that this morning, on the radio station that I've been listening to, there was a message shared by Dr. Charles Stanley on being positive in decisions and how to go about making Godly decisions. There I was, trying to get ready for work and taking notes as quickly as I could. He only gave half the message this morning, the rest will be tomorrow morning. It took my breath away, that here I was, trying to find out if God was hearing me in my prayers on this question, and then this is on the radio. So, He is listening and He is letting me know the best way, the only way to go about knowing the decision I'm seeking and deciding on, will be the right one.

 I will be so glad, when all of this is taken care of, when there will be no more decisions of this sort that have to be made. When my biggest concern will be whether I need to wear a sweater or not, or what to prepare for supper.  The power of prayer, is mighty indeed, and I know, that as long as I follow the will of God, then all of the decisions will be the right ones.