Fighting Tears

You can’t stuff grief.

You can’t put it away in a pretty little box and expect that when you bring it out to play it will be docile.

Grief doesn’t work that way.

Grief is the wildcat you managed to shove in a bag.  Hissing and spitting and ready to claw your eyes out should you be stupid enough to stick your head in the bag.

If you don’t tame it, domesticate it, take the time to get to KNOW it, feel it, and learn to accept each other’s company, it will always destroy you.

You may “appear” to be doing well.

You may “seem” to be fine.

But behind closed doors…. away from other eyes…  the wildcat comes back when you least expect it.

Right now, I’m fighting the tears.

I’m trying to keep it bottled up. I’m trying to push it aside. I want to have a pleasant evening.  I don’t want it to be dramatic and emotional.  I want to snuggle up to my sweetie and just revel in the joy I’ve found.

But something triggered me and dammit… I’m fighting tears.

Grief sucks.

It really really really sucks.

Oh on a funny note – while I was at the roller derby boot camp – I was talking to someone about my skating history, and mentioned my 2012 had sucked.. he’s like, oh, the big D?  Divorce?

I’m like no.  the other one.  Death.

Yeah. Not really funny.  But it is in a twisted sort of way.


Way To Trigger Myself

Facebook time while watching Walking Dead.

I’m catching up with my Questies.

I’m perusing my friends’ walls.

My friend Roxanne posts this link about Arthur.

That was an amazing transformation.

It was inspiring.

I first saw it when Mark was in the step-down unit.  I showed it to him.  Showed him what he could do.  Showed him that the world was his for the taking – that he was not going to be beaten down by this last setback.

Fuck why can’t my brain shut up when I remember something?  One memory leads to another which leads to another, which leads to… fuck.  Triggered.

Did it to myself.


Twisty.  Sucker punched.  Can’t catch my breath triggered.




All because a post (and I didn’t even watch it) bumped a memory to the top.

Arthur’s transformation IS amazing.  I wish it had been Mark’s.

Arthur's Transformation

I Keep Leaking

I mean.  WTF?

In the middle of work.  No major trigger.  No minor trigger that I can see. Yet there I am, sitting in my co-worker’s office, leaking.

We’re talking.  Laughing.  Comparing my grief attack to her hot flashes.

And I’m leaking.

After 20 mins – I’m like… this is ridiculous.

I don’t WANT to be leaking.  I want to be working.

So the boss comes into her office – and suggests I go for a walk.

I do, I grab chocolate.  It doesn’t help, but I ate it anyhow (and shared with the co-worker)

The walk helped, somewhat.  I was able to go to work, finish out the day and go home.

And then…. derby.

Derby rocks my world.  It makes everything right.

But I seriously need to stop the leaking.


Ok, I know it’s not going to happen….. but it could at least happen at less inopportune times…


The Things You Took

I’m not talking about your love, your companionship, your presence…  but the other things.

I can’t read the last Robert Jordan book.

I can’t read the Game of Thrones series or watch the show.

Big Bang Theory is funny, yet painful.

I don’t remember the last time I read before bed.

A lot of TV holds no interest for me anymore.

Quilting and cross stitch leads to triggers.

I remember when we first got together, we were in Terrace and we were sleeping on the blue sheets – do you remember?

You wanted to get rid of them – because they were the sheets you used with “her” before me.

I wanted to keep them – they were the first sheets we slept together on.

We made better, happier memories and overwrote the unpleasant memories for you.   We wore those sheets out.

I want to find some happyness in the things I used to love.  I can’t find the joy I used to have – it’s all taken by the memories of you and what is gone.

There’s a lot of my new life that I love.  But I’m missing some essential parts of me and I don’t know how to overwrite, or at least colour the memories with something happy so that I enjoy those things again.

You took a big part of me with you.    I want some of that back.


Unexpected Grief Attack

This was on a friend’s facebook page:

Her hair was up in a pony tail,
Her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy’s Day at school,
And she couldn’t wait to go.

But her mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn’t there today.

But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees
A dad who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seats

One by one the teacher called
A student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
A man who wasn’t there.

‘Where’s her daddy at?’
She heard a boy call out.
‘She probably doesn’t have one,’
Another student dared to shout.

And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
‘Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day.’

The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.

And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.

‘My Daddy couldn’t be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.

And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.

He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.

We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him.
I’m not standing here alone.

‘Cause my daddy’s always with me,
Even though we are apart
I know because he told me,
He’ll forever be in my heart’
With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favorite dress.
And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years

For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.

‘I love my daddy very much,
he’s my shining star.
And if he could, he’d be here,
But heaven’s just too far.

You see he is a Canadian soldier
And died just this past year
When a roadside bomb hit his convoy
And taught Canadians to fear.

But sometimes when I close my eyes,
it’s like he never went away.’
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.

And to her mothers amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.

‘I know you’re with me Daddy,’
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.

Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed rose.

And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining star.
And given the gift of believing,
That heaven is never too far.

and I made the mistake of reading it at work.

Then I made the further mistake of talking to a co-worker about it.

And then…

Grief attack.

Beat the hell out of me tears and twisty stomach type grief.

Vomiting up the pain and sadness that I keep locked up in a tight little box.

In the washroom at work.

Trying desperately to be quiet enough that my co-workers and any clients can’t hear me.

Unable to staunch the flow.

I’m not pretty when I cry.  I get red eyes, red nose, red cheeks and it’s obvious to EVERYONE that I’ve been crying.

And I’m at work.

I’m incredibly grateful that it’s a slow day at work.  I don’t think the crying’s done yet.


I Lost My Dog

We got our dog when he was 10 weeks old.    WE knew what kind of dog he would be – he was supposed to be my husband’s fishing companion.

A lab/husky cross, he was expected to grow up to be a good out door dog.

The problem is, he never grew out of being a lap dog.

So we had our dog – he’s 6 years old now – but for the last 3 years of Mark’s life – he and Bear were “buddies” and constant companions.

Bear was our puppy.  He was our dog.  He spent every. single. day with Mark.

When Mark worked – he went to work with him.

When Mark was home, they kept each other company.

When Bear killed a neighbourhood rabbit and we thought we might have to put him down, Mark cried.

When Mark went into the hospital, Bear sat at the bottom of the stairs and waited for him to come home.

And when Mark was able to talk, one of the first things he did was cry over his dog.

Bear was our family dog – but in reality, Bear was Mark’s dog.

Bear escaped from our yard.  Several times.  We blocked up what we thought was his method of escaping but he got out anyhow.

That was 6pm last night, and we haven’t seen him since.

My heart is breaking because I lost my dog.   I miss my dog.  I wish he was home.

He is the coolest dog – he can get his tail on command… and he DOES get it.

He’s loving and sweet and friendly and happy.

I miss him.

I want him home.

Mark and Bear


Filters and Work

My filter is gone.  I don’t know where it went to – I had gotten pretty good at managing it.

Oh don’t get me wrong – my filter broke after Mark died, but I have been very carefully putting it back together since going back to work.

Apparently it’s malfunctioning again.

I have been snappish at home.  I have been overly emotional, somewhat cranky and generally, not myself.

Stress?  Grief?

I’m not sure.   What I am sure of is that my filter is gone and unless I keep my mouth shut (thankfully that never broke!!) I am prone to saying  things that are not necessarily appropriate.

This is causing stress at home.   This could cause stress at work.

Today’s situation is that a co-worker is having massive computer issues.  She has IT working on it.

IT called.  Twice.  The second time, they just needed some information.

The  co-worker is in a webinar, with her door closed.   I tap gently on her door, not wanting to *disturb* but wanting to get the answer to the question IT had.

Two OTHER co-workers jump in “SHE’s in a WEBINAR”  Yes, I know, I replied.  IT is on the line and they need information. “THEY’VE already called and were told she’ll CALL BACK”


YOU deal with it.  One of YOU TWO can handle the situation.

And I walked back to my desk.

The first co-worker popped her head out – I told her what IT needed and she dealt with it.

But the reality is – my filter was gone at that moment and if she HADN’T popped her head out, I don’t know what else would have come out of my mouth.

I really need to get a handle on my filter…. *sigh*


Giving Myself Permission

I get too wrapped up in how everyone else feels.

I don’t want to post things on Facebook about how much I adore my boyfriend because I don’t want my husband’s family to be upset or to feel that I’m disrespecting his memory.

I don’t want to post things on my blog about how much I love and miss my husband because I don’t want my boyfriend (who reads this) to get upset and feel like I’m not happy with him.

So I don’t write.

I don’t want to talk about my stresses and worries because I don’t want my boyfriend to feel like he has to take it on.  I don’t show my kids how upset I am because I want them to feel safe with me.

The result?

I don’t let myself grieve. I don’t let myself feel the joy to it’s fullest extent.  I hold all the feelings in until I’m just seriously angry and unhappy and it becomes a huge drama fest.

So tonight… I’m upset.  I’m in the middle of a grief attack or something (I can’t friggen stop crying) so I simply absented myself from it all.

I am sitting on the deck off my bedroom, with my laptop and a coffee, bundled up against the cold and oh so grateful that it’s not yet cold enough to freeze the tears as they fall.

And I’m giving myself permission to feel.

To grieve.

To be sad.

To be mad.

To just cry.

Because I don’t, normally.  I put everyone else’s feelings ahead of mine, and I end up being a person I don’t like.

Tonight… I am putting myself first.

If I don’t… My night and my family’s night will be miserable.  And I don’t want that – I want to enjoy my family.

I am allowed to grieve.  I am allowed to be broken.  I am not going to try to put the pieces back together tonight… I’m going to let myself fall apart until the sadness runs it’s course.

And then I’ll put myself back together.

But for now… I miss my husband. It hurts that he’s not here.  It hurts that I have to handle the issues that come up with our boys on my own.  For now… I’m broken.