"widow brain"

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.

grief is a thief

Grief has totally stolen my ability to make decisions.

Elliott and I had been planning to get a new pup for the last couple of years. We really wanted a large breed dog and we had done all kinds of research to figure out what breed would be right for us. Since El was killed I knew I would eventually get another dog , but I just didn’t know when the timing would be right. 

To make a long story short my sister convinced me to go take a look at a litter of pups and thats when things got complicated...

After visiting with the pups, when I got home the anxiety kicked in and my brain began to spin... 

“I really want one of these dogs, but can I handle it ?” 

“Elliott would love this dog.”

“I can totally handle it, wait no I can’t handle it.” 

“Yes I can , no I can’t, yes I can, no I can’t...” 

The thoughts run ramped I can’t make a logical decision on what to do. My brain keeps spinning... 

“ I can take good care of this dog, no I can’t I’m a mess I have nothing to offer.” 

“I can give this puppy a good home, who am I kidding my home is broken.”

“This puppy will bring a tiny bit of joy, but what if I screw the dog up?”

“What if I’m too sad? “

“I’m getting the dog, I’m not getting the dog.”

“It’s a good decision, no it’s a bad decision, wait who cares if it’s a bad decision I’m a crazy widow I’m expected to make bad decisions.” 

“I’m getting the dog, I’m not getting the dog.”

Grief has taken all my confidence not just in my physical appearance, but the confidence I had in myself— in my judgement, my reasoning and my capabilities. I used to be self assured, independent and assertive. I now question everything. I am good with animals, I already have dogs, El and I were going to get a dog anyway, Yet I feel like I’ll fail at raising a puppy. It not just the decision on whether to get a dog or not. I struggle with the most minute choices. I could stand in the isle at the store and just stare at the shelves for hours trying to decide between two totally insignificant items. I tried picking out a stupid curtain rod and and left empty handed because it was too overwhelming to make a choice. I could literally leave a store with tears welling up in my eyes because I get so much anxiety over the dumbest decisions.

The world isn’t safe anymore. Nothing is the same, nothing is how I thought it was. I can’t trust the world, I can’t trust Life... So why the fuck would I be able to trust myself.

I could trust El. He was my safety, he was my rock. I could count on him. Everything is different now.

... After all the mental anguish I got the puppy. I brought him home to my parents house and  the first night I really felt numb. It scared me because here is this adorable bundle of pure puppy love, and I wasn't completely enamored. I went to sleep hopeful anyway. The next morning I woke up and thought I made a terrible decision. I freaked out and thought “I need to take him back, he deserves better than me.” I spent a few more hours in mental anguish over what I had gotten myself into. But, by the afternoon, a calmness washed over me. I stopped beating myself up and I made a commitment to give this dog the best I could along with my other pups. Elliott would love him— and I’m totally in love with him too...

I lost me too

Wow today has been rough, for no other reason except that grief makes no sense and it’s another day living without Elliott by-my-side. Nothing in particular set me off, nothing in particular has happened today to make it any worse than any other day existing on this earth without him here. It’s just “one of those days.” 

I went to the craft store earlier with my sister, she had to pick up some yarn. I walked up and down the isles like a zombie. I stared at all the things I would have bought before, in my old life. I thought of all my projects that are left unfinished. I saw a skein of the same yarn I was using to crochet a pillow with just minutes before Elliott was killed. 

As I meandered around waiting for her to figure out what she needed, anxiety set in. My chest became tight, my knees went weak, I felt the nausea brewing. Why, why does that happen? The anxiety makes me feel so nervous and hopeless, it makes me feel fearful and timid... Like something terrible is about to go down. The funny thing is IT ALREADY HAS, the WORST has already happened. What more do I have to fear? Still even though I reassure myself mentally that I’ve already walked through my worst nightmare, the physically affects still linger. I have no control and I can’t shake it.

I also have been realizing that I’m not passionate about anything anymore. I used to love so many things. I especially loved sewing. I loved cooking and baking, adorable cupcakes were my specialty. I loved decorating and all things crafty and vintage. Anyone who knows me would describe me as creative. I even supported Elliott and I for a few months while he was going through the rigorous hiring process for the fire department by selling my hand painted glassware. 

a pincushion I made from my favorite scraps

baby shower gifts for my good friend and neighbor

El and I at one of my first craft fair booths

I loved simple things too. I’m a sucker for a beautiful view. I loved a yummy cup of coffee and a good interior design magazine or a beautiful sewing book with delectable patterns. I loved the sun rays that splashed across the kitchen floor at 4 in the afternoon. I loved seeing the first hint of green in my flower bed after a long Alaskan winter and watching the wild flowers pop up in the ditch in our front yard. I loved staring at the birds outside my kitchen window.The list goes on and on... 

our backyard woodpecker

wild flowers in our ditch

The point is that none of the things I loved do it for me anymore. I’m dull and uninterested. I can’t savor the small stuff, I can’t savor anything. I’m just going through the motions, nothing excites me. The world used to be so beautiful and amazing. Everything looks different now. I can’t see the beauty without him here. I want to I really really do, but it just doesn’t look the same.

My life is so fundamentally different that it was just five short months ago. How do you prepare for this? How are you one person and seconds later you become some one completely unrecognizable not only from the outside (see my previous post), but on the inside too. Not only did I loose the absolute love of my life, my world, my reason for living and breathing— I lost me too.

It’s going to be a long road and tough fight back. Sometimes it feels like too much and I don’t know whats left to fight for. I’m not at the point where I can fight for myself. But, I can try to fight for the girl Elliott loved, I’m willing to do it for him. 

I'm nowhere near perfect, I had my issues, but I was happy, truly happy to be loved be him

I love you babe, more than any words could even begin to describe. You probably wouldn’t recognize the broken girl I’ve become, but I’ll keep working to get back to the girl you loved so that when we’re reunited we can pick up just where we left off.