Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Wanting to Fix the Unfixable
In my old life, before my husband's depression returned and grabbed hold, I was a "Fixer". If a problem came up I would find the work around a quickly and adeptly as possible. I wanted things to be better, and stamp small fires out before they became big ones. I was good at it. At work, at home, I could make it happen. In my marriage and with friendships it was harder since we all have our own way of dealing with things and handling them. But I always wanted to talk through things and find the solution.
For the last 5 days I have been a a VERY dark place. My grief has been raw, harsh, and unrelenting. I cried ALL THE TIME. At the gym, in yoga, at home, in bed, in the car, with friends, alone. Desperate cries, wailing, screaming and there was so much pain. Pain that doubled me over and made me want to vomit. Pain that went through my entire body and stayed there. Just pounding away at me.
I know I worried some people, but I could not just get past this part. I was stuck. Missing him desperately, missing our connection, our relationship, his touch. The guilt over the last 2 weeks of his life sat on me like an elephant, I ran over and over in my head, how did I not see it? How did I miss it? How could I not have been kinder, more understanding, more patient, made it easier for him somehow? How did I miss all the signs? How did I miss this?? But, that wasn't the real issue.
I dragged myself into my therapist's office yesterday, a hot mess. I had just come from the gym after killing myself there to sweat it out. Find some answers as I pushed myself to the limit, just trying to feel anything but the emotional ravaging that was happening inside. (Lord, I know that sounds so dramatic, but any widow will tell you... That is just how it feels) I sat down and he took one look at me and said.. "Spill it."
I started to tell him about the last 5 days, What I had been feeling, doing, going through. After he listened he simply asked. You know what the real issue is don't you? I was quiet for a moment and nodded my head. It was so simple..... I can't fix this. The fixer can't fix any of it.
I couldn't fix his depression, I couldn't fix pushing him to try and get better in those last 2 weeks. I can't fix that this hurts, I can't fix how much I miss him, I can't fix how my daughter is grieving, how my friends are grieving. I can't fix how others treat me, judge me, hurt me during this time that I often feel like I'm losing my mind. I can't fix this ache in my heart that consumes me, I can't bring him back, I can't fix my paralyzing fear of the future. I can't fix that in the end I wasn't the perfect wife, that I pushed him, yelled at him, wanted him to fight through this... I can't fix any of it! It just is what it is, and it sucks, it hurts, it is so sad, and is so painful.
After more discussion we came to the conclusion that the only things that will "fix" it, heal things, are my letting myself to feel it all, go through the grief, experience it. That I could go to another doc and be medicated through the pain, but I know that will only prolong the rough stuff. I have to keep doing the things that keep me plugged into life. Reach out to those who love me, want to support me. Lean on my faith, my friends, my family. Keep doing the things that help me feel connected to him. Remember him, talk to him, talk about him, share his story, but not hold on to the guilt. The depression was eating him alive, much like a cancer, he could not fight it anymore. It breaks my heart because, I wanted to fix it. Needed to fix it. After all. It is what I do.
So I'm left with the intense grief of losing an intense love. The passionate pain of losing a passionate, loving and amazing connection. I'm left with the fear of what life will be like without him next to me. He is no longer here to physically hold my hand, talk to me, hold me close, comfort me, give me advice, love me through the bad times. And that hurts so badly.
I just have to go through it, and it is going to suck for a while.
And what adds to the pain is knowing how this is changing me.
I can't fix that either.