Music is Life

Music is awesome.  I've always had music around - it's rare that I'm in the house, car, or office without a radio on around me.  I've tried talk radio, sports talk radio and NPR, and while some of that is interesting, it can't take the place of music for me.

I found that when Jacque died, I was often sitting alone in a silent house.  Music wasn't comforting for me.  Every song seemed depressing because it was about something sad, or I just interpreted it as sad.  Up  until recently, I was never really one who thought that a song spoke to me.  I really didn't even listen to the lyrics.  I liked a song if it had a good beat, which makes me sound like I'm on Dance Fever (kids, you'll have to YouTube that).  Sitting in silence didn't help my mood, and I really don't think it helped me grieve, either.  I don't think I was doing it consciously, I was just in such a fog.

But now, I'm starting to feel like I'm getting back to a normal level of functioning.  I can't stand any silence, and I'm back to singing around the house #tonedeaf.  And it feels good!  Even songs that aren't the happiest of topics feel good to hear.  I mean, if you're rocking out to The Cure, you've got to be doing something right!  Maybe on the days when I'm sick of writing about grief, I'll write about music.  I like that, Jacque would have liked that, and I think it fits with the mission with which we started this blog.

Until then, here's that upbeat song with downbeat lyrics that I was singing in the car this afternoon.

Eye-Opening Support

I went to my first support group meeting tonight.  If you would have told me five years ago that I'd be going to a support group for anything, I would have said you were crazy.  But, here we are, and there I was. 

I don't know what I was expecting.  This was a "Young Widow/Widower" group, and the age range was a couple of us in our mid (ok, late) 30's up to people in their 60's.  It was nice to talk about all these challenges with some like-minded people, but other than one other recently-widowed person, all of them were at least a year ahead of me.  The scariest part?  Some of them are struggling.  Badly.  It's hard to be six weeks in and hear that "the second year is really hard." I don't know when I thought rock bottom would be, but I surely wasn't thinking it wouldn't be for a couple years. 

I don't know what I was hoping to get out of this group.  Whatever it was, I'm not sure if I found it.  I certainly didn't feel better afterwards.  It was comforting to hear that they were all impressed that a couple of us were there so close to our loss.  If the goal is to know it's ok to grieve, that it will take time, and that there will be a "new normal," great.  I already know all those things.  I suppose I'll go back, but I'm not sure this is for me.  The conversations I've had with widows in my circle of friends, colleagues and acquaintances have been much more comforting to me.  Perhaps it's because they're my age, are in my circle, or just have more in common with me. 

Overall, I'm feeling pretty good.  There have been some highs and lows this week, but I'm continuing to learn those triggers and work to manage them.  Grief management is a lot of damn work, but that's ok, I'm a good worker.

Dammit Keanu

I was sitting at Duke's Cub Scout meeting tonight, poking around on Facebook while Charlie played basketball with another kid who was there with his brother, wishing he was old enough for Scouts.  I came across this article about Keanu Reeves (short version - Keanu has made a ton of money, experienced some tragedy, & is cool).  Nothing earth-shattering, but this quote struck me: “Grief changes shape, but it never ends.”  Crap.

I've talked about this with friends that have experienced loss, and I've talked to other widows.  They've all said some version of this - you're never the same person you were.  Well that sucks.  I really liked the person I was.  This new me, not so great.  I'm sure I'll adjust, but right now, I'm kind of annoying.  I'm not happy, I can't get anything done in my house, and I just feel lost.  I'm ramping up the number of people I'm talking to about this (hello, therapy!).  The problem is, there is a lot I want to talk about - how great my friends have been, how well my job is going, how shitty the Brewers look, and how I'm feeling, but there's only one person I really want to talk to.  Side note, I found a young widow/widower support group, they have a waitlist...WTF, I'm not really in the mood to wait.

So here I am, getting into somewhat of a new routine.  I can do the routine (I'm good with structure and a checklist), but the loneliness, that's another story.  I hate being alone, but I can't fathom finding someone else.  First, because I'm nowhere near ready, but second, because I can't imagine finding anyone as perfect as Jacque.

This is going to be one long road.  Oh wait, it's a road that never ends.  Thanks, Keanu.