Ramblings of a Reluctant Widow

 My counsellor is on holiday this week and I'm away next week, so I'll be missing 3 sessions. She advised me to take some time to check in with myself and see how I am doing, as I usually would with her.  Because I find that if i just think it, the thoughts stay in my head, I'll write them down here.  That approach forces me to be honest with the people who care enough to read this, as if you ask me directly I am likely to say "I'm OK".  It has been an up and down couple of weeks. Well, when isn't it? Life has been ticking along as it does, we are mostly into our groove now, Oliver and I.  It's the school holidays and we are enjoying spending time together.   Considering in the early weeks the weekends felt long and daunting, this is great news.  We have had a couple of events that hilighted Mark's absence. Our 15th wedding anniversary passed by quietly, because I made sure it did. I took Oliver out for the day and kept busy. I braced myself for a...

 I've been feeling a little unsettled. Adrift. Unanchored? A planner without a plan....well, I have a loose one.  This week I left work in the NHS after 15 years, 14 of them at the same trust.  The same amount of time I was married.  As I removed my name plate from my clinic room door for the last time, I sat and looked at it for a while thinking about the fact that I don't identify as Mrs Townend any more.  I will never again say the words "Hello I'm Sarah Townend, one of the lead optometrists here"....and I feel relief about that, because that isn't who I am.  But who am I then? I don't feel I belong with the Townends. I don't feel a part of that family now. When we visit them I don't feel relaxed like I'm with family, I feel reserved and closed off,  I'm wearing a mask for them.  I don't feel like a Mrs, because I'm not a wife.   That may surprise some, I know a lot of widows still consider themselves married to their late spouse...

I'm still at a low ebb. Heading into week five of this current dip. It started with the inquest advanced disclosure arriving in my inbox and just hasn't lifted yet. I thought it would have by now. I'm not even sure it's just the inquest any more.  I've done enough depression score questionnaires over the years to recognise that if I did one now I would probably score in the range of moderate depression and slight anxiety. I'm functioning, but not really enjoying life too much.  I'm wanting to avoid people for the most part;  Today I considered eating my lunch in the heat of my car because I wasn't sure I could deal with a staff room full of colleagues.  I'm struggling to concentrate on anything at work. It took me much longer than usual to work through a list of reviews this morning (fortunately just reviewing diagnostics so nobody was kept waiting). This afternoon I sent a child home after I'd finished with her forgetting she was supposed to see...

'It is my conclusion that he wanted to end his life' That's what she said, the coroner. A kind way of putting it, avoiding the word- suicide.  But also a brutal way of putting it. I nodded. Yes, he did, didn't he? Afterwards I barely saw or heard the volunteer offering a room to sit in.... No thanks.  I just needed air before I passed out. It was only half an hour. 30minutes to read out the evidence that indicated and summarised my husband's intention to die. I knew what the documents said, I knew what the conclusion would be. The evidence was unequivocal. And yet. Somehow it was still shocking. This is case closed, but there is no closure. What happened to him? Why? Why? Why? 

The water running down his gravestone matches the tears running down my face as i wonder, did he think about me at all? Did he imagine me kneeling at his grave as he had watched me do countless times for Bertie? Did he not think of what his choice would do to me, to his son? Ive had the evidence pack through for the inquest. This includes the post mortem in all its gory glory.  Guess what? Turns out he was perfectly healthy, apart from being dead. What a waste. Of his life, of our future. Someone once asked me if I thought suicide was ever forgivable. No, i dont think i can forgive him. Tell me he was mentally ill, he died of mental illness, however you want to phrase it. No. He chose not to get help. He chose to hide his demons. He chose to leave us. I can't forgive him. 

So I knew this wasn't going to be a linear process, that there would forward steps, backward steps and loop the loops in-between.   I'm troubled by the unpredictability of the roller coaster, it's like I've lost control of myself. As a self confessed control-freak that is not good.  Tuesday I went to work as normal, and was fine, did clinics all day and coped.  Yesterday, I woke with a sense of foreboding and the anxiety was rising even as I stepped in the shower.  By the time I was setting up my clinic room my heart was racing and I was having to do breathing exercises. Looking at my first patient's records I could barely concentrate on what I was reading, which made the panic worse as now I was worried about making a mistake.   I managed to see two patients and had the rest sent home, where I quickly headed also at 10.30am.  90 minutes I managed, out of an eight hour day.  Walking back to my car in tears I told Mark how much I hated what he...

Today I read a post on my widowed group from a guy who's wife died by suicide a couple of months ago.  He was saying that he's going to stop the arguing in his head, she is gone and it's a waste of energy. Today is a new day and he's going to live it!  2 months in. Now I'm not suggesting that he is wrong, or its too soon, or that I in any way know him better than he knows himself. We all grieve differently and we all process differently, of course.   What struck me was the comments on the post. Every single one congratulated him on the "big step forward" or the "positive post" or "sounds like you're healing and moving forwards" ie, the same mix of comments he could expect from wider society.  And it makes me wonder, why do we as a society so highly value the "moving on" and "moving forward" and "carving a new life" and "being positive" ....the sooner the better?  What about the value in lament...

  In her memoir about he husband's suicide,  Chase the Rainbow, Poorna Bell writes: "When someone you love dies.......you aren't just saying goodbye to them, you are saying goodbye to yourself. .....You slowly turn into something stronger. You realise what you have a choice over, and what you don't. You turn what you know into strength, you help others find theirs, and you are gifted a compassion that is so deep and limitless, at times it is the only thing that gives you peace. ......And although for a while it feels like this is all there will ever be, you look down and see you are different...." I am different. I'm trying to figure out who I am, who Sarah is after 22 years of being half of "Sarah and Mark" The couple so solid everyone thought we'd be the ones to make it til "death do us part" well we did....just a lot sooner than anyone expected.   So who am I now?  What I won't be, for very much longer, is a hospital optometrist....

"Just because I carry it well doesn't mean it isn't heavy"  A meme that frequently pops up on my social media feeds due to the groups I'm a member of.  It's true though.  Oliver told me the other day he had dreamt I was running a race carrying an elephant....and that is pretty much how it feels.  I'm carrying so much and I'm exhausted. I'm back at work and it is as I expected it would be.  ie "Oh great you're back...here's all the responsibility you had before you left and all the things that haven't happened since you've been gone and I'll be in my office if you need me....." My boss has been super supportive and understanding whilst I've been off, and has acquiesced every request I've made to help me return (change of days, term time only) but at the end of the day it's the NHS and if you're in, you're in and it's busy.  My colleagues would all say I'm doing great.  The truth is I am runni...

I'm sat on a bench in dappled shade in the church yard of the church Mark and I were married in.  The breeze is blowing gently, it is unseasonably warm for April. The only sound is birdsong. In front of me I can see Mark's grave, to my right is Bertie's; God's house is behind me. As the tears fall I'm thanking God for sunglasses. How apt to be here on Easter Saturday, the day between death and resurrection. The day of dispair, grief, confusion, anxiety. The day of 'what just happened?' and of 'where do we go from here?' the day the world lives in now as we wait for Christ's return. The day my life is in now. As I sat here just now, weeping and crying out to God to help me I was imagining Bertie and Mark sat either side of me in a family hug. I became aware of The Lord telling me that He has felt everything I feel. He has experienced betrayal, grief, fear, loss and righteous anger. He has been broken in body and spirit.  He knows. His heart breaks...

Today I went into work again, third afternoon of my phased return, and the first time I didn't cry!  I enjoyed using my brain and felt that I coped well. But, I'm aware that it was only three hours and quire removed from a 'normal' day in clinic in terms of the stress level and pressure.  So whilst I'm pleased with how this afternoon went, I'm still worried about how I'm going to cope when I'm no longer in the 'phased' stage of my return.. And I got home and really wanted to tell Mark all about it, how I'm glad it went well and how I'm still worried.  He would respond  'that's becuase you're awesome' to me telling him it went well, then give me a hug as I confided my fears. He would make me feel better, reassured and confident. I miss that, oh so much. Raeding to Oliver tonight he pointed to a picture of a rainbow, and a snail. He said they reminded him  of daddy and was sad we couldn't go pond dipping with him again.....

Twice in my life I've contemplated suicide. Both times I've thought of all the people who love me and realised I couldn't do it to them. In his book Reasons to Stay Alive, Matt Haig describes a similar experience. On the brink of jumping, he lists in his mind the people who love him. He wished in that moment that he didn't have anyone, because then he could jump and stop the pain. So why didn't Mark think that way? I know he thought about Oliver and I at the end, becuase he text me to tell me loved us.  So what then? Did he die thinking I didn't love him? I'd respond to a friend asking this that no, he didn't, he knew how much you loved him but his mind was sick and he died as a result of that sickness.  But I'm not my own friend, I'm in my own head over thinking and exhausted and greiving hard. So hard. 

 How was your day? Today I've dropped Oliver to school, had a plumber in (so granted not physical work for me)cleaned out the fish tank, fed the cat, done and dried 2 loads of washing, planned meals for the week, done the weekly shop involving two supermarkets to get everything we need at the best possible price, used u switch to try and find a better broadband deal as ours is really expensive, collected Oliver from school, rushed him home to brush teeth then straight out to dentist. (his teeth are fine, I need a filling 🙄) dealt with his sadness (sulk) at getting a spiderman sticker (his favourite superhero) because apparently he wanted a batman one and sadly the dentist wasn't a mind reader. Provided endless snacks becuase 'mummy I'm still hungry'. Cooked from scratch, loaded the dishwasher, fed the cat again and mowed the lawn. Now I'm sat trying to engage with him playing a mindless game on his tablet becuase we haven't actually connected today on a mea...

I've started my phased return to work. I've done two afternoons last week and will be doing two this week also.  I'm regretting it already.  On Wednesday I hid in my boss' office as she was offsite, did some mandatory training and cleared the emails. Had a big cry on a colleague and came home.  OK, day one, nobody expected much else.  Friday I attempted a clinic. Just virtual reviews so no actual patients in front of me, just records from when they had their diagnostics done and I needed to make decisions on whether to treat or not.  I managed 7 out of a clinic of 16. 7 reviews in three hours.   I've left them for my colleague to double check today because my confidence is shot and I am convinced I'm going to miss something.  I just don't know how I'm going to cope with my full hours. The expectations and pressures on me in my role are big and it feels totally overwhelming right now.  Already I've had one consultant say "thank goodness y...

I've honestly just come here for a moan, so, fair warning don't read if you don't want to hear it. Do you know what I miss? Having someone to moan to... I've got loads of friends who care but feel I can't keep on burdening them. So I will say it here. This is So. Effing. Hard.  Lone parenting is relentless and I'm lonely. The hard bits are harder with nobody to tag team, the good bits are hard because there's nobody to share them.  People are lovely and kind and supportive but at the end of the day behind the closed door I'm alone in this. Nobody is as invested in my child as I am. It's all on me.   I've lost my life partner and I can't even grieve for him properly because I'm so angry at him. I'll be back to work again in a few days and I just don't know how I'm going to cope. It's exhausting and I'm still swinging like a pendulum between angry and sad.  Yesterday at the zoo I lost Oliver for a few minutes. The adrena...

Big week this week,  A lot has happened that I need to process. So hello! The police came on Tuesday to take my statement for the coroner. Fortunately it was the DC I already know so that made it easier on me, and he was in plain clothes and an unmarked car, which I was also grateful for.  Lesson one:  I'm still apparently bothered what the neighbours think despite my work on  self esteem and letting go of other people's opinions.  It was tough, as I expected, telling him about Mark as a person, how we met, the state of our marriage through the years, Bertie's birth and death, the years of waiting for Oliver, how he fared through the pandemic and the lead up to his death.  I felt a heavy weight of responsibility to do us all justice.   The picture the coroner forms of him as a man will be mostly shaped by my statement.  Mark is not here to speak for himself, and whilst I knew him better than anyone, I now wonder if I really knew him at all....

 So, yesterday. You couldn't make it up! It was one thing after another: 7am email from the coroner's officer to say the inquest has to be postponed as not all the evidence is back.   Not a good start to the day this triggered all sorts of feelings of frustration, disappointment. Trauma going on and on, what about work? I'd been thinking return after the inquest but now that's delayed....... 9am: Roofer arrives to see what the cause of my leak is.  Turns out the join between mine and the neighbours' roof is a bad job.......however, neighbours' roof is in a terrible state and in his words 'I can improve the join, but it'd be like making a silk purse out of a pigs ear, I couldn't guarantee it". Marvellous now I have to ask the neighbours to get a new roof in order to stop my bedroom ceiling falling in?  10am decide to stick to our plan of train to Liverpool to go to the world museum. Scrape side of car on a low wall in the station car park. Say ...

This morning's reading. Colossians 3 v12. Forgive as the Lord forgave you . It's a big challenge for me this one.  I have a lot to fogive.  A lot of stuff and a lot of people. I'm not sure I can. Not in my own strength anyway.  Forgiving means letting go of the anger, and that means letting in the grief. And that is terrifying. Help me Lord. 

Today I took a walk with a Christian friend, also once widowed, further along and wiser than me.  I confided my desire to retrain as a counsellor, and that I feel strongly convicted that it is the right path but was concerned about the logistics as a lot of courses appear to be run in the evening, which I can't now do.   But, if its right God will make a way I told her, more confidently than I felt. She told me that she thinks it's a brilliant idea, that I'd be awesome, and God will indeed make a way.   Such a faith enhancing response after a few raised eyebrows, suprised faces and even one wince when I've confided this plan before.   Tonight's devotional gave me this quote which I felt compelled to write in my self esteem journal, followed below by the lyrics of one of my favourite worship songs.  He will carve a path for me. 

Watching This is Going to Hurt for some light releif.  25week baby delievered by emergency c section. Scenes of the Dr talking to the baby in the incubator. Saying he's sorry, he did his best.  Shit. This was supposed to make me laugh not cry. I was pregnant, then I wasn't. I was a wife, then I wasn't. How many more 18 wheeler trucks are going to run over my life?  Sick of this shit..so sick of it .