Category Archives: grief

#singlegirllife

Over the past four years, I’ve learned to adapt to the #singlegirllife . . . but since I didn’t really have a choice or a say in the matter I jumped in with both feet and hoped for the best.

I discovered the joy of not having a routine for household chores.  If I want to change up the grocery day, it didn’t upset anyone . . . except when I ran out of dog treats for Rocky and Millie.  If I want to do laundry at 7 am on a Sunday (yea, it’s happened), then I can without fear of waking anyone up.

If I want to go to The Big City on a Saturday morning and visit the local needlework shop, I can do that . . . as long as I don’t stay gone too long and make it home in time to give supper to the puppies.

I discovered the joy of choosing whatever I wanted for supper.  If I wanted to eat Cap’n Crunch over the sink with a glass of chocolate milk for supper . . . that’s what I had.  If I wanted to grab tacos from Taco Bell on the way home from work because it’s cheaper than cooking them myself . . . I headed to the drive-thru.  If I wanted to eat spaghetti four days in a row . . . I ate spaghetti four days in a row.

I learned that I can do the yard work myself . . . even though I don’t really enjoy it.

I learned that I can handle making decisions about home improvement or home repairs relatively intelligently . . . even though the entire process brings out massive amounts of anxiety and triggers a horrible panic attack.

I bought a car.  I bought a washer.  I bought a computer.  I bought furniture.  All things I’ve never done before and had no idea the amount of detail and research involved in such purchases.

I’ve learned that I can stand on my own two feet.  I haven’t lost the house.  The utilities haven’t been turned off.  I haven’t killed the dogs.  I’m not broke.  All things XH predicted would happen within six months after the divorce . . . and it’s been 7 years . . .

But there is one thing that I am struggling with.  Something so small and insignificant that it makes me laugh that I’m having a problem with it.  The #singlegirllife means that you are the one that takes care of you when you’re sick.  I have the flu.  I very mild case with some general muscle and joint aches, some severe tiredness, and a stupid headache that won’t go away.  I’m feel like poop . . . and I’m cranky . . . and I want someone to bring me soup, bring me tea, snuggle on the couch with me while I nap . . . and there isn’t anyone here to do that.  Sure, Rocky and Millie do their best but without opposable thumbs, they pretty much suck in the food prep department . . .

Yea, there are some other really bad drawbacks to this #singlegirllife . . . but today this is the one that’s really pissing me off . . .

And, yes, I’ve said more than once to no one in particular but directed at Prince Charming . . . I really hate your ass right now . . .

 

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So Much For Flying Under The Radar

January 20 is a sucky day for me . . . it’s the anniversary of the day that Prince Charming left this Earth.  I probably shouldn’t focus/obsess over the date but I can’t help it.  It’s the day my life changed forever . . . through no fault of my own and not necessarily in a good way . . .

Last year about Christmas time I realized that January 20 was also Inauguration Day.  The day we got a new president.  A day full of all the pomp and circumstance and ceremony . . . stuff that I normally love.  Yes, I’m a patriotic geek.  I live for this kind of stuff . . . and suddenly I realized that one of my favorite events was going to be happening on my most un-favorite day.

Shitdamnhellfuck . . .

So I put on my big girl panties and dealt with it.  I was able, somehow, to separate the two events and keep them separate . . . as long as I forgot that the date was January 20 . . . it wasn’t easy but I did it.

I got through that day . . . like I’ve gotten through a bunch of other terrible, awful, horrible, very bad days (bonus points if you get the reference in that sentence).  By putting one foot in front of the other.

I was home today because the school I work for is closed for the Martin Luther King holiday (another day that kinda sucks for me because the day Prince Charming left was also Martin Luther King Day) . . . and I heard something that took my breath away . . . something I was totally not expecting or prepared for . . .

“January 20 is the one year anniversary of President Donald Trump’s inauguration.”  Said by one of the hosts of CBS This Morning . . .

Shitdamnhellfuck . . .

Just when I thought that I was going to be able to have that day fly under the radar . . . I got Gibbs slapped (bonus points if you get THAT reference) up side my head . . .

The next few days are gonna suck . . .

On a positive note . . . I’ve also learned that Saturday, January 20 the Cincinnati Zoo is having a first birthday party for media darling Fiona . . . for my favorite hippo . . .

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November 26

I had some work done to The Little House over the last month or so.  Nothing terribly serious . . . just a repair to a drain pipe and replacing the basement shower.

Just enough to trigger my homeowner anxiety . . . am I doing the right thing?  Oh shit, how expensive is this going to be?  Is this ever going to get finished?  Will it be what I wanted?

Everything turned out fine . . . project wasn’t horribly over budget but a rainy streak did put a bit of a damper on getting the outside stuff done quickly.  Shower is done and working fine . . . except I needed a light for the shower.

Did some research.  Did some shopping.  Found a workable alternative to installing a light in the shower.  I bought a “project light” to put on the floor outside of the shower to shine light into the shower.  Works just fine.  Light was on sale at the Big Box Hardware Store.  Pretty pleased with the solution if I do say so myself.

Brought the light home and took it out of the box.  There’s a space on the instruction/warranty booklet for the purchase date and the serial number.  And it suggested stapling the receipt to the booklet for easy reference.  I did not hesitate to do those items.  Because it’s what my Dad did every time he bought an appliance, a tool, or just about anything.  There’s a drawer in my parent’s house with all sorts of booklets – some of them for things they no longer own.  Dad’s advice was “You never know when you might need that” and so I also have a “information” drawer with all sorts of instruction/warranty booklets . . .

Yes, I heard Dad’s voice tell me “you better fill that out, Pamela” . . . when I saw the booklet in the bottom of the box . . . and I couldn’t rest until I had it safely in the drawer.

Yes, Dad . . . I did listen . . .

 

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November 6

Today is Monday . . . I hate Mondays . . .

Especially the Monday after the Fall Time Change . . . the kids at school seem to have more energy and are a little more irritating . . .

It gets dark early . . . the security lights on the garage came on tonight at 5:30 . . . it’s dark enough for security lights at 5:30 pm . . . makes for a very long night . . .

I went to dinner like I always do on Monday night.  Tonight’s dinner choice was a restaurant that is offering me free bagels every day this month.  I feel guilty if I go in just for the free bagel so I bought dinner there tonight.  The soup and salad combo I usually get is very yummy . . . and since it’s on the chilly side here the warm soup was comforting.

All in all, it was an irritating Monday but not a Bad Monday . . .

Then the server behind the counter called the name for the next customer to pick up their order.  The name they called out was the same name as Prince Charming’s name.  My heart skipped a beat and I did a double take to see who would answer to that name.  The guy didn’t look anything like Prince Charming . . . but I did give him a warm smile because he caught me staring at him.

Big Sigh . . . back to my yummy soup and sandwich . . .

I must be making progress because instead of focusing on unexpectedly hearing Prince Charming’s name tugging on my heart strings, I’m excited about the 99 cent cookie and the free bagel

Any Monday with a free bagel can’t be all bad . . .

 

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Let’s Put On Big Girl Panties

I have a sensitivity to pictures of car crashes.  I think that it’s horrible that news websites post these kinds of pictures on their websites and their social media sites.  I’m very vocal about how difficult these pictures are for family members and loved ones of the victims to see.  I’m forever asking some news site or another to consider the feelings of those near and dear to the victims and to take down the picture.  Sadly they never do.

My comments often start interesting discussions with others about how they agree that the pictures are hurtful and serve no purpose.  There are discussions with others who think that I’m too sensitive and should just “not look” at the pictures.

Today was one of those days.  There was a fatal accident in the little town where Prince Charming and I grew up.  The local newspaper posted a picture of the car involved but said they wouldn’t identify the victims pending “notification of the next of kin.”

I posted my usual comment requesting that the picture be taken down.  I explained about Prince Charming’s accident and explained how thankful that the local news agencies where he died did not publish any pictures of his accident.  I asked that these grieving families be given the same consideration.

Let’s just say a discussion ensued . . . some people agreed with me . . . some people did not.  One young lady commented suggested that I “put on big girl panties” . . .

Oh honey you do not want to go down that path with me.  Not after I’ve suffered through the third Christmas without Prince Charming by my side.  Not when the anniversary of Prince Charming’s death is a mere two weeks away.  Oh hell to the no . . .

I wanted to say all of the things that you will read next but I remembered something I read about not arguing with idiots because they bring you down to their level and beat you with experience. This is what I wanted to say but didn’t because the person in question is very young, has no life experience, and has no idea what she’s talking about . . .

Dear Young Lady . . .

I put on big girl panties . . . when two troopers came to where I work and told me that the man I loved more than anything else in this world (and had loved for almost 40 years) was dead.

I put on big girl panties . . . when I had to tell his son, his brother, and his mother that he had been killed.

I put on big girl panties . . . when I had to try to explain to our two dogs why Daddy wasn’t ever coming home again.

I put on big girl panties . . . when I had to make arrangements for his funeral . . . and I had no idea what type of service he wanted.

I put on big girl panties . . . when I dealt with the vile, evil, hurtful things that his ex-wife and her daughter thought I “needed to know” about the “perfect man” that had been dead less than 24 hours.

I put on big girl panties . . . when I stood next to his closed casket for three hours while the seemingly never ending line of mourners told me how sorry they were for my loss, how wonderful he had been to them, how sad they were that they would never hear his laugh or see his smile again

I put on big girl panties . . . when I stood at the side of his grave and realized I had to let them put his body in the cold ground.  And I had to walk away and start a new life without him.

I put on big girl panties . . . when I dealt with OSHA, a wrongful death claim, a criminal case against the man that killed him, and settling his estate . . . all at the same time.

I put on big girl panties . . . every day single day that I have to live without him.

In the big scheme of things, a picture on a website probably isn’t that big of a deal.  But to a grieving person it is a huge deal.  It’s a reminder of what you’ve lost.  It’s a reminder of how much your life changed, through no fault of your own, in the blink of an eye.

And, sadly, there are more than a few people who don’t understand that.  They won’t understand that until they go through it themselves.  And we, the grieving, pray daily that nobody ever has to join this club that no one wants to be a part of.

 

 

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January 20, 2017

Is the third anniversary of the day Prince Charming left this Earth.

I’m doing better than I was a year ago looking at the second anniversary . . . certainly better than I was two years ago looking at the first anniversary.

This year the date has another meaning . . .

It’s the day Donald Trump is sworn in as President of the United States.

At some point I knew that this would happen . . . that the country will be celebrating a new beginning while I’m remembering the ending of something beautiful.

Now that the election is over, everyone is talking about Inauguration Day.

I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the date said aloud or ready to read the date in print.

I know that I’ve got this . . . but dang I’m not ready for this . . .

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Fall Back

I love fall.  I love the cooler temperatures.  I love watching the leaves change color.  I love Halloween.  I love Thanksgiving.

I don’t like the time change.  I don’t like that it’s dark when I go to work and when I get off work at night (okay, not now that I work at a school but every other job I ever had it was dark when I went home).  I don’t like that the dogs can’t comprehend the concept and their schedules (and mine) are off until they adjust.

The part about it getting dark earlier is what makes being alone so hard.  During the spring and the summer, I’m outside doing things a lot later and I don’t notice it as much.  During the fall and the winter, I’m inside earlier and it seems like the evenings drag on forever.  Yes, I have more time to work on my stitching or catching up on my reading or the TV shows I like . . . but it’s times like that when Prince Charming’s absence is (for lack of a better word) painful . . . We snuggled on the couch and watched TV.  He asked me questions about the cross stitch project I was working on.  We cooked dinner together and did the dishes together . . . now all stuff I do by myself now . . .

How many days until spring?

 

 

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