Heal Over

Doesn't take a genius to realize that life is sometimes hard. It's gonna take time, but you'll just have to wait.

I recently began an online series by David Kessler for those grieving a loss by suicide. A family member sent it to me, and since it’s free, I signed up immediately. For whatever reason, I felt ready to do it, even though I had no clue how it worked or what it entailed. And I’m so glad that I did. The introduction alone was chock-full of sentences I’ve probably heard before, but never really GOT. There was one line in particular that caught me in such a profound way that I’ve gone back to listen to it several times.

What he said was simple:
“Healing does not mean forgetting; it means eventually, in time, remembering them with more love than pain.”

It struck me that, for me, that’s not currently the case. I really think that I’m doing okay, but the truth is that I don’t remember Mark with much love. I don’t even really want to, if I’m totally honest. And while I’m not nearly as outwardly angry as I was, remembering him is still primarily a painful experience. It’s been almost twenty-seven months since his suicide, and I can barely look at pictures of him. I see his face, and then I see flashes of how I imagine it must’ve looked after he shot himself in the forehead. I see his smile and get pissed because I think that he was a lying jackass who hid the truth behind his grin. I hear his name, which is everywhere, and I feel like I can’t get away. It’s like he’s somehow always taunting me by keeping other people named “Mark” in my presence, or simply has the audacity to have a name that is also one of the most common words in the English language. And then I get mad about the fact that his name was “Mark”, as if he even chose it.

Grief really does shift as time goes on, and it’s not all bursts of sadness. In fact, it’s mostly NOT sad. Something about getting rid of Mark’s car (a blog of another day) this week must’ve opened up some space for me to start dealing with his suicide on a new level. Hell, I’m voluntarily doing an online grief workshop of sorts in my spare time purely because I feel I have more to work through.

If that’s not growth, I don’t know what is!

I think what’s at the source of this is that I’ve begun to create a lot of things that I want in my life, and I’m very clear that, if not resolved, my grief over Mark’s suicide will get in the way. I’m not saying that I want to work through it all until it’s “done” and then move on; that’s not how it works. But I do want to be in a relationship with somebody and to create a life and a family together. I can’t see that working out very well if I’m still holding on to my feelings about shit Mark did before he died and then taking it out on this currently unassigned future husband/partner of mine. That wouldn’t be fair to him at all. I want to sort my way through all of this responsibly such that I can actually be the person I want to be for somebody else. I’m not waiting until then; I’m on the court and in the game, having recently started seeing someone in a not-super-serious, mostly-fun, casual-but-with-potential-for-more, but-still-casual-and-fun kind of way in which we both are just doing our own thing and then hang out once a week-ish. It’s really great. We both have so much of our own stuff to work out to want to commit to more right now, and I can see that it’s giving me the space to confront things as they do come up, whether my insecurities as a partner or even the joy of being happy to spend time with someone. I’m noticing ALL the feels, and it’s nice.

Whatever comes of it, it’s gotten me thinking about what I bring to the table. And though I’m pretty comfortable with who I am, I definitely still have a lot to work through regarding my dead husband’s suicide and the complete shitstorm that followed. Listing off all the areas/feelings/items that aren’t yet resolved for me, the ones that are painful, is not something I care to do publicly. I barely want to do it privately, but I am proud that I’ve begun a list. It’s not nearly as sad as I’d ever imagined grief might be. Truly, I rarely sit around and cry over Mark or how much I miss him. If he’s around somewhere, I think he knows I miss him. But given he was dealing with a gambling addiction, he was sort of already gone long before he died. I’ve been missing that friend since before his suicide, and even since before we got married. But I do not miss my husband, at least not very much. And I’m sure there are some aspects to that feeling that deserve some attention and reflection.

Mostly, I’ve been noticing how there’s so much more for me to do and understand about his suicide so that I can make a difference for others. I want so badly to impact the suicide rate and see it decrease, and for me to do that, I need to confront the details of Mark’s suicide that confuse and frustrate me. I will likely never get answers to so many of my questions, but I’ve barely begun to ask some of them. On the contrary, because I know that even if I knew WHY he killed himself that it wouldn’t change the circumstances, I’ve hardly even scratched the surface in terms of learning more about my late husband’s suicide.

So, I don’t quite know where this is all going or what I’ll discover, but I am clear I’m ready to dive in. It’s as if the fog has lifted and I’m ready to explore. I’m sure there will be lots of feels, but it seems that enough time has passed for the overwhelm to dissipate.

HA! Just ONE confronting point from the healing exercise I did an hour ago had me so anxious I felt nauseous and thought I might throw up. My legs also went numb for a minute, and I had to replay the video in the online course multiple times because I was so zoned out in my panic that I didn’t hear a word that David Kessler was saying.

But then I was inspired to blog, and that’s a good sign! Something opened up for me, and I was willing to share. I haven’t the slightest idea what else I will be sharing in the weeks and months to come. This is uncharted territory, seeing as I never dreamed about, and therefore never prepared for, life as a suicide widow. I mean, who does that? I’d like to think that my blog, along with several others as well as books on the subject, might serve as guidance for others who have the unfortunate experience of losing a spouse to suicide. But even if reading this helps another person widowed by suicide, or someone grieving ANY suicide, there’s simply nothing that could ever prepare you for such an experience. It’s a fucking shitstorm.

Even so, it’s an adventurous one. Stay tuned for updates!

*Disclaimer: If you’re experiencing numbness in any part of your body, you should probably talk to your doctor. Like, immediately. I work my doctor and therapist to address my PTSD, anxiety and depression symptoms.