Launching into Something Great?

The last few months have been tough.  I've kept my head down and plodded on, all the while, keeping my sights set on my holiday in America.  I told myself if I could just get to February, this journey and adventure will surely answer so many of the questions that have been buzzing about my mind for the past 6 months.  Like 'what do I want to do with my life?' 'where do I want to live?' 'what really matters to me now?'  

As the clock struck midnight on New Years Eve, and I started another year without P, I felt like I was at a turning point.  I actually found myself making so many New Years resolutions, and I vowed this would be the year I got back to London, and back to my life.

Fast forward a few weeks and I was buying a very expensive new boiler for the flat, fixing my car, paying countless bills, and realising that moving on from this home and this place won't be as easy as I expected.

I had secured a solicitor to transfer the property into my name; however, he did not inform me of the difficulties I would face with the mortgage provider.  I walked into the branch one day, simply assuming I needed to fill out some paperwork.  I had been told by the bank manager that all that needed to be done was a name change; that I wouldn't need to file for a mortgage myself.  A year later and I was practically laughed out the door, and bluntly told, my only options were to keep paying the mortgage into P's estate, or to sell.

I'm ready to move.  I'm ready to leave.  But to relinquish P's home to highest bidder?  Well that's a step too far.

Then I learned my lodger is moving out.  While I'm away.  Causing further financial distress.

I thought to myself 'Really life?  Really?!  Can ya stop kicking me while I'm down please?!  I'm trying to grieve! I don't have time for these practical, frustrating setbacks!'

But then I woke up today.  I'm alive.  I still have money in the bank and a roof over my head.  Food in my belly and friends who give good hugs.  Life never plays out the way you think it will.  Sometimes it's devastating, hard, and seemingly unbearable.  But it can always change.  Just as the tragedies of life are completely unpredictable, so too can the simply wonderful moments catch you totally off guard.
A smile from a stranger.  A kind word.  A nice night out (or in) with friends.  A great film.  Love.  A career opportunity.  A beautiful sunset.

Anything can happen.  And hopefully, after nearly 16 months of being 'dragged back by life', I'm about to be 'launched towards greatness' sometime soon.

Photos Worth 1000 Words

Photos worth a thousand words

Captured moments of intangible vivacity

Bring the dead to life

Confusing the living

For if we could only

dive into the photo

Reach out and touch the faces

emblazoned on the page

Live still in that one moment

of pure bliss

Then everything might feel right again

Photos worth a thousand thoughts

If those faces could pop out

like a child's 3D book

Just long enough to quickly stroke

the cheek of the face beneath the image

That might just be....enough

But to look at these photos

still as they are

Breaks the heart

For if time travel was real

possible, conceivable

I'd journey back to the moment

in the photo

In a land far away

Just you and I

Laughing together

as we discovered the world

side by side

As I prepare for my seven week journey across the USA, I have been going through things, trying to de-clutter the flat and downsize my belongings.  In doing so, I have come across P's camera.  I decided to use his on my travels because on our last holiday together, my camera had started to emit a puff of smoke like an old fashioned one every time I used the flash.  Somehow...that doesn't seem right to me....So of course, I needed to back up the photos and clear the memory to make room for a record of my next adventure.  But how could I not browse through the photos as they uploaded?  

I had seen them anyways as I had uploaded our Cambodia photos upon our return nearly 2 years ago but somehow it struck me again......I would do anything to travel back in time to that holiday with P.  

I can't say that every moment was bliss.  But it was just him and I.  In a foreign land, as a team.  And I had never been anywhere like it before.  It's a beautiful country and P and I fell in love with it.  The food, the people, the sights, the weather, the cheap alcohol!  It was fantastic.  Of course, we both tired of the begging, the  obvious socio-economic inequality, the loud croaks of the lizards late at night, the bugs, and the prostitutes.  However,  on the whole, it was a complete adventure, from start to finish, our kind of holiday.  

I find myself yearning to go back there, but struggling with the concept that P would not be by my side.  And yet, I can not stop thinking about their strength and resolve.  The Cambodian people are survivors.  True, STRONG survivors.  Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge destroyed their country not that long ago.  In Siem Reap, the city nearest the famous Angkor Wat temples, the first bar was built in 2001.  Ten years later and they had erected a whole strip of bars and restaurants, catering to tourists of all ages.  Cambodia is steadily working towards becoming a popular tourist destination, much like Thailand.  I find it hard to put into words the admiration I felt towards its people.  What I can say, though, is that I find it laughable when people tell me I am 'a strong woman'.  No.  I am a woman who has been faced with a difficult loss, who is simply trying to pick up the pieces and carry on as best I can.  But I have heat, hot water, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my stomach, friends and family.  I have one big obstacle to overcome.  The women of Cambodia?  They have too many obstacles to count.  I will go back one day.  I have a lot to learn from them.

What to Say?

This is just to say
I want to write
but am stumped for words
I have countless posts
started, in progress
so much to say
Where do I start?

I toured as an actor
on a pantomime tour
for care homes.
There are stories of the residents
homes that brought tears to my eyes
and others I thought
'now this isn't so bad'
There were homes I wondered about
hygienically.
There were staff members I thought
should be praised to high heavens
and who surely were angels on earth.
And there are tales from the road
of cars breaking down, and all manner of problems
And then there were times, when it all
seemed worth it
A kind word from a resident, visitor, or staff member
a smile, a laugh, a group of elderly singing along to song
And the acting and singing itself?
Well it always feels good to perform

And then there was Christmas
It wasn't the same
The first I celebrated since losing P
The first time I wasn't with family
But it was nice, relaxed, and full of food and wine
and good company
And I was grateful
that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be

And now
as we approach 2013
I am not as scared as I was to welcome 2012
I know I can live a year without P
It's still not easy
It still doesn't feel right
The night itself will still hold a hole
just big enough for him to fill
But looking back on 2012
I can say I survived
I skydived
Learned to drive
Hiked up Snowdon
Traveled to Spain
Ran a half marathon
and started to act again

So much to say
where do I start?
When you're busy learning to live again
it's hard to find the time to write
And sometimes words
just can't do justice
to all that I'm experiencing
But I wanted to say
I want to write
To keep you abreast on my life
So I hope this helps
bridge the gap
until I can find my voice again.

Nothingness

Sometimes I feel so low
I'm unable to cry
No energy
to shed a tear
to change the channel
take out the rubbish
or go to bed
I sit still
Where I've landed
and itch with an urge
to escape this feeling.
Thinking of all the things I could eat
to fill the void
but the thought of eating bores me
just like everything else
Put on my favourite tv show
a nostalgic activity
but my mind wanders
Sitting in silence
I find myself wishing
I could crawl out of my skin
My body, this existence
is too much
I'm so anxious, so bored I can taste it
it consumes me
This life is so tedious without him
Each day feels like an eternity
Each moment alone, endless
What am I meant to do
My to do list grows day by day
but motivation escapes me
I sit in my dressing gown
as the dishes pile high in the sink
And I watch my life pass me by
Just out of reach
I can see what I need to do
I can almost touch all my hopes and desires
but the grief monster has a hold on me
and I can't shake it
I'm weakening day by day
This winter is sapping my strength
What can I do?
What should I do?

'Could you be pregnant?'

The number one question doctors, nurses, and pharmacists have to ask when diagnosing a female patient is....

'Could you be pregnant?'

Ugh.

Now I can not even begin to imagine how much this question cuts those who have been actively trying for years to no avail.  But I can say for me, the question hits me like a blow to the stomach every single time.  I was never the girl who dreamed of being a mother. I feared motherhood and how it would impede my independence and effect my career.  But with P, suddenly my biology began to yearn for a baby, his baby.  Still, I wasn't ready.  On our honeymoon P told me frankly that he wanted to be a dad before he turned forty or not at all.  He 'didn't want to be an old dad'.  Having a deadline (before thirty for me) was scary, and I dug my heels in further, stating adamantly that I got 'to decide when we started trying because it was my body and I would have to do the 2am feedings, be a stay at home mom for the first few years, and do most of the rearing during that time!'  (sorry guys, I know it's not this way for ALL couples but this was the argument for us then)

Moments after P was diagnosed I began secretly hoping that I might be pregnant.  Knowing it wasn't really possible, I started planning when we could proceed with IVF (our only remaining option after chemo began).  I even thought that between treatments I might want to broach the topic with him.  I was desperate for P to be a father, and equally, to be the mother of his child.  I didn't want him to leave this earth without having experienced that joy.  He didn't let others know how badly he yearned to be a dad.  But I knew.  I could read between the lines, and I could see it in his eyes.

So every time someone asks me that question I want to scream 'I should be!'  I should be a mother!  Last week I turned 28.  If P had got his way we would have started trying this year or next if it all hadn't gone so wrong.  And that's when I realised, each year will mark a time in our plans when we should've been doing this or that.  Each holiday I take that I know he'd enjoy or we'd planned on doing together, will hurt.  I was asked by a new friend during my rehearsals last week if I missed him every day.

Yes.  Every. Single. Day.

I could choose to bore you with all the tiny little things that remind me of him, but I'll just give you a few examples.  Driving his car.  Every time I sit in the seat I think, 'this was your seat.  You should be driving.'  Sometimes I lean on the hand brake like he used to and today as I moved to take off, I heard my coat make the noise his used to.  Poached eggs.  I can't make them half as well as he could and every time I attempt I wish he was here to make it for me.  Tea.  He made the best cup of tea.  The list could go on and on.  But right now, it's that question that makes me ache.   It makes me angry and sad, and leaves me feeling hollow.  It makes me want to reply 'don't you know my husband's dead? don't you know what I've been through this past year?'  But of course they don't know.  How could they?  Sometimes I wish I could wear a sign, or sport a tattoo just so I wouldn't have to explain.  

It Really Is 'A Wonderful Life' Afterall

The other day a few of my friends and I celebrated a belated Thanksgiving meal.  I hosted, and they acted as sous chefs, eagerly helping every step of the way.  It was a day of cooking, eating, drinking wine, and chatting.  And it was good.

Oddly, despite the somewhat chaotic nature of the day, I felt extremely relaxed.  I enjoyed having something to focus on.  The lead up to the day instilled motivation in me as I spent the preceding days shopping and prepping, joyfully playing my mum's role for a just little while.  I felt so grown up.  So organised.  By the end I felt tired and wired, to be sure, but it was such a huge accomplishment for me that the meal tasted a hundred times better than any Thanksgiving meal I've ever ate previously.

I'd cooked Thanksgiving meals in the past for friends.  It always tasted good but it was always very stressful, last minute, rushed, and on a thin budget.  This time, it was on my terms, in my kitchen, and I did it.  Despite my widow brain.  The thing is, people forget, that my brain is still scrambled.  I feel like it completely shut down when P died and it's been reprogramming and rebooting slowly ever since.  I know I'm a lot better now.  I no longer look, talk, and walk like a zombie, but I still struggle to remember things, whole conversations are often lost in my memory.  People take it personally, but seriously?  I can't even remember when I've taken something out of my bag and moved it to the next room sometimes.  It's like there are gaps in my mind, and I am constantly having mini blackouts.  So the fact that I was able to plan a whole Thanksgiving, complete with a stuffed turkey breast, homemade, from scratch cornbread stuffing, cranberry relish, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, green beans, and a pumpkin pie, feels like a small miracle.  Oh and we had nibbles to start as well.

And then we sat down to watch It's a Wonderful Life.  Another family tradition of mine I was happy to share with friends.  They had to leave before the film finished, so I had the chance to sit alone and really focus on the message of the film.  And it surprised me to find that I identify with George Bailey.  I, too, have always dreamt of seeing the world, of doing big things, and making something of myself....

"I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then, I'm comin' back here to go to college and see what they know. And then I'm gonna build things. I'm gonna build airfields, I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I'm gonna build bridges a mile long... "

Sure I've seen more of the world than George Bailey ever did, but instead of thinking 'Why'd we have to have all these kids anyway?'  I find myself thinking the usual thought why'd I have to lose the love of my life at age 26?  Why was my life stolen from me?  P's from him?  

As cliche as it sounds, this past year has been a blur and often I've felt like it's been a wasted year.  Nearly 28 years old and I still don't know what I want to do with my life, or where I want to live.  In a very different way, I too feel stuck like George Bailey.  Stuck in a life I didn't choose.  But I guess the challenge now is to see that no matter where life has landed you, or the cards you've been dealt, It's a Wonderful Life if you choose to see it.  If P hadn't died, I never would have gone sky diving, ran a half marathon, or learnt to scuba dive.  I never would have met some of the most wonderful people that I am blessed to know now.  Certain friendships would never have blossomed or rekindled.  Out of the ashes comes new life, if you let it.  So as strange as it may sound, as hard as it may be to say aloud, there are so many things to be thankful for this holiday season, if you choose to see it.

Depression? What's that?

Depression.
It's a taboo topic.
And I can kind of understand why.  It's hard to understand what it is and how it feels until you've experienced it.  And no, it's not just like 'being really sad'.
I honestly didn't get it.  I would say all the right things to friends who admitted they had dealt with or were currently battling with depression.  I'd advocate taking anti-depressants when needed.  I'd tell them not to be ashamed, that they weren't alone, that it was a chemical imbalance, and it wasn't them.  But I did not get it.  I had been REALLY sad in the past and thought it was like that.  I remember spending countless days sobbing with P told me he couldn't move to London as planned because he had to take care of his sick mother.  I struggled to eat, focusing on tasks was near impossible, and dragging myself up out of bed was difficult.  But once I was around people I was able to put it to one side and carry on.
This depression I'm experiencing now?  It's hard to hide.
I sit in the rehearsal room, barely able to crack a smile, fighting to make small talk as required, and resting my head and body every chance I get.  I want to crawl out of my skin.  I want to scream.  Time seems to drag and this aching sensation feels like it will never end.  Food is so boring.  Talking is boring.  TV is dull.  Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, makes the minutes tick over faster.  It's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel and I feel like everything is an uphill battle.
I let the rubbish pile up this week until it was full to the rim.  The dishes mounted in the sink until I could fit no more.  Bits of dried cereal lay on the floor for days.  Changing the channel required too much energy so the TV stayed on one channel throughout the night.  I am late to most engagements because the only time I can get up and go is when I'm running late.  Some days that sense of urgency is the only motivation I can find.
This show has been one of the hardest challenges of this year.  It is so hard to act in a comedy when inside you're being consumed by a pit of darkness.
I was prescribed anti-depressants.  And even after good friends gently encouraged me to start taking them despite my fear, they are still sitting in my bedside table drawer, the box unopened.  Why?  It's not the taboo.  It's not a sense of 'pride'.  It's a fear of an outside force dictating my mood, controlling my emotions.  And yet, this depression feels just like that.  Like someone has taken over my mind and body.  This is not me.
This year I have been SAD.  I have been DISTRAUGHT.  I have been ripped up and torn apart.  But it was always ME.  Even when I felt out of control I knew where the emotions were coming from.  Now.... I feel like I'm only just in control.  It's a thin line and frankly its disturbing.

So next time someone talks about being depressed, please try to understand....it's not just that they're a bit sad and they need to 'buck up'.  Help them, practically.  Go round and eat with them.  Try to get them out of the house for a walk or a meal.  Realise that they might not want to talk.  Silent company is still helpful.  Encourage them to exercise by offering to do it with them.  Exercise really does help but it's so hard to find the motivation.  Send encouraging texts.  And most of all, remember that your help might not be appreciated or accepted now, but when the fog clears they will be grateful.
As for me?  Well I'm the resilient, stubborn type.  I'll see my doctor again, go back to my counsellor, and generally make the most of the good days and try to go easy on myself on the bad days.  I will get through this, I know that.  But until then, please put with my moaning about how much this sucks, and how badly I miss him.