Irony

Time flies I guess! We are quickly coming upon the one year mark and that shocks me. Tonight I went out to a movie with someone I have been spending more and more time with lately. It's platonic at this point but the company is welcome and we have a lot of fun together. Anyway, as I was driving home I had to find a new radio station to pick up the signal from my iPod and what was playing on the radio but "Comfortably Numb." I haven't heard Pink Floyd since the funeral... I laughed and cried at the same time because it felt like he was letting me know he is still up there checking in on me. Of course he would let me know this tonight of all nights. God I really miss him sometimes.

Food for thought

In about an hour from now, it will be 9 months to the moment that I heard of my husband's death. Today, it feels like it was yesterday. I have been nervous and anxious all day, and there are other factors creating these feelings as well... but I know that my loneliness and feelings of loss are playing a huge role in my mental state.

Sometimes, I really am fine. I accept the idea that I must move on and am taking the steps to do so by making plans for the future. This is healthy and I'm feeling good about where I am with that. I'll get to the point where I can finally believe this idea that I'm really going to be okay, and then I'll have a day (or a few days) like this. It knocks me flat and I end up feeling like I've taken about 20 steps back.

I start doubting myself, finding fault, becoming self-conscious and needy... and that's just not me... or at least it wasn't before a few years ago.

I really hope that I can get beyond this fragility soon. Ever since he went back to El Salvador I feel like I've questioned and questioned and questioned. I know that I had trust issues before him, but they are ugly and I want to let them go. I remember a time when I would confront feelings like jealousy with a kind, "thanks and goodbye, this is not what I'm looking for," because I was just not looking for games and drama. Now, my insecurities make me brood and hold on, hoping that the feelings will go away instead of actually doing something about it... and I still find myself actually thinking about the ridiculous things that his landlord alluded to, which I fundamentally know were lies... but those insecurities come into play again and for a while, I will actually wonder......

I don't like it one bit.

There has to be a way to get back to myself. I know I'm not broken.

Smoothing things out

We started going to Ele's Place when we returned from El Salvador and it has been a good experience so far. My situation is very different from a lot of the other spouses, but it is good to have that time set aside to talk. La Hija seems to enjoy it, and that's the most important part.

I am already planning my next trip down south. I miss it there. I miss my family and I miss the gentleman I spoke of in my last post. We have been talking regularly since my departure and our friendship has only grown. La Hija asks for him every day and talks to him regularly as well. Our relationship is a breath of fresh air. We are silly and laugh so much, but we tell each other everything... we are in very different places in our lives, but that seems to be ok at this point.

My late husband's sister is not doing well psychologically. She had been having problems since her brother died and they have not gotten any better. She was put under hospital observation last weekend after having some sort of sevre breakdown. I hope that things begin to smooth out for her. I could certainly tell that something was wrong when I was visiting the family. She secluded herself and her daughter for most of the day and began to think that the family members who were helping her were really out to get her. A few times she sat me down to talk about what I knew about my late husband's death and would not let the subject go until I was sobbing. A few times I tried to talk to her about getting some help (talking to someone or taking to a doctor about depression medications) but she said she was fine, even though I could see it in her eyes that she wasn't. It's sad.

I have been making an effort to start referring to my husband as "my late husband," which is probably pretty obvious by the last paragraph. I was trying to figure out what to call him. I feel like it's unhealthy to keep referring to him as my husband, especially if I am thinking about moving on emotionally. Calling him my husband means that I have *not* and *cannot* move on, at least in my mind. The only other term I'd remembered was "ex" and that doesn't seem to fit either (I realized this during the conversation I had with the immigration officer upon my return lol), so I actually had to look up how people refer to their deceased spouses on the internet! I felt so silly and ridiculous doing it, especially after I saw the term "late" because I coudln't believe I didn't remember that! Anyway, it seems to be working, but I have to remind myself all the time.

I'm back!

The trip was amazing and I an opportunity for a lot of reflection, growth, and emotional progress. There were many surprises, not the least of which was my ability to open my heart to the possibility of another relationship. I don't think that this would be possible in a general sense, and by that I mean I have absolutely no interest in "dating" and the like, but I became very close with someone while I was there and very much enjoyed that connection.

There was a motif to the trip, seemingly echoed by everyone around me, and frequently repeated in my mind: The past is the past. Move on.

There were some dicey moments. The first time I went back to Sonsonate, for example, I broke down just from driving the same streets I used to drive with my husband. It was a vivid reminder of how close we came to making our life together work, and it was just all too much.

In the irony of all ironies, during another breakdown (actually two) I was comforted by my husband's ex. I imagine he was rolling over in his grave at that one! While it wasn't the most comfortable experience in the world for me, it was kind of her, and her presence meant that La Hija was getting to spend some time getting to know her brother, which was excellent.

I was not ready to leave, for so many reasons, and I know that Mi Vida Salvadoreña will continue. The plan is to return in July for 2 more weeks. I am saving my pennies already. I need more time there.

I have many stories and will write more soon.