I pretty much blog in my head all day long. I think of all sorts of random things I want to write about and share. I have all kinds of emotions and epiphanies. I figure out the sentences I’ll form when I start typing my posts. I think about the love and the pain, memories, grief, stories and sorrow I want to share. However when I actually sit down to write I draw a blank.
The “widow brain” kicks on in full force and I go dumb. I have so much that I want to express and I just struggle with getting it out in the way I want to. By the time I’m able to actually sit down and write I’ve literally forgotten all of the subject matter I mentally gathered up during the day.
It’s so damn frustrating! I feel as though my memory just betrays me. Its not only with writing but with everyday living. My brain just doesn’t function as sharply as it used to.I can’t form logical thoughts. I don’t really have much of an opinion to offer on anything. I just walk around in a foggy haze.
Is this a symptom of witnessing and living every wife's absolute worst nightmare?
At times I think maybe it’s just a coping mechanism, maybe if my mind was crisp and clear the pain would be too consuming. At the same time there are moments when I just want to be consumed by the darkness of this grief— times when all I hope for is the pain to overwhelm me so intensely that I’ll meet my love at home on the other side.
A few days ago I had an extra aggravating day over a seemingly small incident. I went to drive my moms car to go help my dad at work. I got in the car and the alarm started going off all crazy and I couldn’t get it to stop. I struggled for five minutes trying to put the key in the ignition, and it just wouldn’t fit. I became so annoyed and aggravated I marched back in the house and yelled for my mom. I proceeded to tell her that her car was all messed up and something was wrong with the key. Thats when she said “ you have the wrong keys Lacey.” I had gotten myself all worked up and anxious. I marched back to the car with tears welling up in my eyes. Of course I had the wrong keys anyone would have been able to figure that out. Nevertheless I stayed in the car trying my hardest to make the wrong key fit because my brain is just mush.
My parents live on a busy street, with lots of cars rushing by... when I stepped around to the drivers side door I envisioned myself just stepping out into oncoming traffic. I would never actually do that. but for some reason imagining doing it feels like a tiny relief sometimes.
I wonder how long this “widow brain” is going to last. I have a feeling it’s going to be longer than I’m comfortable with. I hope that my mind isn’t as permanently damaged as my heart and soul are.