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Casey, I have been on this island since June 23rd and I am still very lethargic and scattered in my thoughts and actions. Just like you, I have always been a moover and shaker, but since I lost Arn I also lost my desire to 'keep things up' or function by any schedule. Now that I am unemployed, I have really fallen deeper into the 'oh well' attitude. I see it as letting go of the constant stress of micro-managing the life I have. I am trying to relax more and get my mind set on just getting through today, the tomorrow. I find if I try to do too much in one day, I get stressed and feel like I am failing every one concerned. I try to make a short list before bed of the few things, just a few. Nothing much, just like buy bread, sweep the porch...gives me a good feeling to complete it and it goes along with the concept of 'baby steps'. Hugs to you today and be easier on yourself. Janelle
As I recall those first couple of years, and I recall them somewhat hazily because of the widow fog, lethargy is normal. You are stunned. Your life has been zapped out of what it used to be, and of course it's going to take some time to recover.
Schedules, appearances, obligations suddenly don't mean a damn thing anymore, and that's perfectly normal and healthy. It is essential to take care of yourself, take stock of what is, in the end, important to you, and to find peace. You are no longer the person you knew; you are in the process of finding a new you, a new normal and a new life. It takes time, a lot of time.
So what if your porch needs sweeping or your web site needs tending, or your whatever needs whatever? Those obligations will still be there when you can get back to them. I like the notion of giving yourself structure, but if it means the "musts" overwhelm the "want to's," then don't do it. You are the most important person in this process, and you must treat yourself as a tender new shoot that needs care.
Some of us have always been handy around the house, and some of us depended on our men for everything involving a tool. Speak up and someone will almost always come with encouraging words. Me, I have funky caulk in the shower. I know how to remove it and replace it, but can't get motivated to do it. If someone has magic words that will get me off my butt to strip it out, clean it up and lay down new caulk, lumpy and ugly as it may be, please jump in here.
Ahhhh repairs etc.
The summer before Phil died
the storm door stopped latching properly
and would bang in a good wind.
I had asked Phil to fix it and like all good
husbands he put it on his Honey Do list
of things they'll do when they have nothing better
to do. LOL
Anyway I remember March 2006 (3 months after Phil died)
we had high winds. That darn door started banging
at 3AM. I opened it and tried to latch it but no luck.
It had started coming off the hinges.
I tried to ignore the banging and sleep but no such luck.
So I threw on some clothes and bundled up.
It was still 25-30 degrees plus wind chill.
So at 3 AM here I was a new widow lady out there
with my trusty screwdriver a butter knife
Yup I am using a butter knife to remove the now
mangled door from the frame. All the while
I am cursing my husband for not fixing it
and the fact I was sitting there in my jammies
doing what he should be doing.
About 45 minutes later the job was done and I started
carrying the door to the garage. It was light aluminum
and almost got carried away by the wind.
I looked like I felt in those early days
Dorothy caught in the tornado on her way to OZ.
I have called repair people to fix the big stuff
but taking care of that silly door empowered
me. It taught me that I was indeed capable of doing
whatever I needed to do as I travel this road.
Narice
As I recall those first couple of years, and I recall them somewhat hazily because of the widow fog, lethargy is normal. You are stunned. Your life has been zapped out of what it used to be, and of course it's going to take some time to recover.
Schedules, appearances, obligations suddenly don't mean a damn thing anymore, and that's perfectly normal and healthy. It is essential to take care of yourself, take stock of what is, in the end, important to you, and to find peace. You are no longer the person you knew; you are in the process of finding a new you, a new normal and a new life. It takes time, a lot of time.
So what if your porch needs sweeping or your web site needs tending, or your whatever needs whatever? Those obligations will still be there when you can get back to them. I like the notion of giving yourself structure, but if it means the "musts" overwhelm the "want to's," then don't do it. You are the most important person in this process, and you must treat yourself as a tender new shoot that needs care.
Some of us have always been handy around the house, and some of us depended on our men for everything involving a tool. Speak up and someone will almost always come with encouraging words. Me, I have funky caulk in the shower. I know how to remove it and replace it, but can't get motivated to do it. If someone has magic words that will get me off my butt to strip it out, clean it up and lay down new caulk, lumpy and ugly as it may be, please jump in here.
Ahhhh repairs etc.
The summer before Phil died
the storm door stopped latching properly
and would bang in a good wind.
I had asked Phil to fix it and like all good
husbands he put it on his Honey Do list
of things they'll do when they have nothing better
to do. LOL
Anyway I remember March 2006 (3 months after Phil died)
we had high winds. That darn door started banging
at 3AM. I opened it and tried to latch it but no luck.
It had started coming off the hinges.
I tried to ignore the banging and sleep but no such luck.
So I threw on some clothes and bundled up.
It was still 25-30 degrees plus wind chill.
So at 3 AM here I was a new widow lady out there
with my trusty screwdriver a butter knife
Yup I am using a butter knife to remove the now
mangled door from the frame. All the while
I am cursing my husband for not fixing it
and the fact I was sitting there in my jammies
doing what he should be doing.
About 45 minutes later the job was done and I started
carrying the door to the garage. It was light aluminum
and almost got carried away by the wind.
I looked like I felt in those early days
Dorothy caught in the tornado on her way to OZ.
I have called repair people to fix the big stuff
but taking care of that silly door empowered
me. It taught me that I was indeed capable of doing
whatever I needed to do as I travel this road.
Narice
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