The emotional roller coaster
For several days I felt great. I thought of Jon often. I
daydreamed about him while I was driving. I spoke to him in the car and even
laughed at things we would have laughed at about my day. I told people his
stories and felt happy about the memories instead of being filled with dread.
There was still a nagging pain of regret that I couldn’t see him or touch him,
but the lack of debilitating sorrow felt good, but a little bittersweet.
Then came the crash.
I woke up one morning, still feeling pretty good. I got
myself ready, got the kids ready and headed off to work. My drive that
particular day - it varies day by day –
was about an hour. About 45 minutes into the drive I just started crying.
Uncontrollably. I got to the story I was covering for the day with puffy eyes
and smeared makeup.
I pulled myself together and got through the press
conference. I drove back to the station with little incident. I wrote and
produced my story still without much of a problem. Then it was news time. I sat
down ready to go on air … live. With only seconds until my mic was on, tears
started streaming down my face. There was literally no reason for it. I don’t
know what I was thinking or why my emotions all of a sudden took over, but they
did. I was able to stop crying when I needed to and got through the 30-minute
broadcast with only those sitting in the room knowing that I was in the middle
of a meltdown.
My best friend later asked me what prompted it and I told
her I didn’t know. The past couple of days have been just like that – one
minute I’m fine and the next I feel like crumbling into a ball. And my
nightmares – which I hadn’t had in almost a week – came back.
I needed to get a bus route for my eldest daughter. I was
able to set up bus routes for my other two daughters over the phone in a matter
of minutes, but there was a glitch with the address on file for the other.
Somehow, the school’s database still had an address listed from seven years
ago. And we had moved 4 times since then! Something that should have been
simple turned complicated and suddenly I was shaking and tears were welling in
my eyes. Suddenly I found myself not quite shouting, but not really using an
inside voice either, exclaiming to the entire front office that my husband had
just died. Not that it was my intention, but I got some damn good service after
that. I was embarrassed at my outburst, but it was, in fact, completely out of
my control. I was in a situation and I felt it spiraling downward quickly. I
was being told that the one thing I needed to happen before the first day of
school, the only thing I needed to make sure I could continue to balance my
full time work with my kids’ school schedules, was perhaps not going to happen
until several days into the first week of school starting. I think in that
moment I realized that setting up a bus route for my children had never been
something I had ever even considered. Putting their precious lives in the hands
of an underpaid school bus driver and at the mercy of inevitable school bus
shenanigans was too much to even think about. Now I find myself in a situation
where I don’t have a choice and it’s all because I lost the love of my life and
my partner in dealing with all of these things. With him by my side we could
split all of the duties. I have so many people standing guard ready to help in
any way they can. But they can’t be there everyday. I don’t feel comfortable
calling them at a moment’s notice because I’m running late. Running late is
just no longer an option. I can’t necessarily ask someone to pick up milk on
their way “home.” And now I have to put my kids on a school bus. I feel
punished for losing the person – the adult person – I love most in the world.
And to add insult to injury, a “glitch” had made it that much more difficult
for me. This particular meltdown is pretty easily explained.
There are so many things I’ve lost above and beyond just
losing him. I mentioned losing a partner – someone to share responsibility
with. But I also lost my best friend. And I know I have a best friend, but that
relationship was different with Jon. I don’t get to come home and vent about my
day. I don’t have him to wrap his arms around me, insisting that we just hold
each other for a moment before saying a word. That was a tradition he started
pretty early on in our relationship and he did it almost every single day. I
don’t have someone to lie in bed with chatting well past our bedtimes. And I
lost a substantial part of our household income. Most of it, in fact. Now I’m
left with three children on a meager journalist’s salary. It doesn’t pay the
bills and won’t even if I cut some expenses. Jon and I never really spent much
anyway, so there’s not much to cut. So, compounding my grief is this new
financial stress bogging me down. It all feels like a punishment when I’ve
already been punished quite enough.
I’ve dealt with this frustration as best I can by trying to
refocus on what I do have. I have three amazing daughters who have really
stepped up through this journey to make our home run smoothly even though it’s
missing the one person who really held it together. I have amazing friends who
would do anything for me. I have a loving and supportive family. And even
though I feel like my salary is meager and doesn’t pay the bills, at least I
have one. I know there are single women out there far worse off than I am and
somehow they get by. So many people came together for our family to help us
when we needed them most. Even now that the dust has settled and casseroles
have stopped accumulating in my freezer, they are all still there ready to help
in any way they can. It’s hard to be sad for too long when you consider all
that you still have.
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