The Good Times Are Better Forgotten

Source - a facebook friend

In two months and 8 days, I will be forced into the 3 year anniversary. I have been treading lightly, trying to come to terms with the 3 year, and well.. I haven’t accepted these terms.

I never signed on a dotted line. I never accepted “You are widowed, sign here”, some crappy contract I got stuck with. I didn't sign up for some service, that would throw me into the widowed club, yet, I’m stuck with it.

There are times (like today) that I think “Holy shit, I am widowed!” Then comes the “I didn't sign up for this shit, it was Seth’s decision to leave this world, not mine, he should have to live in this hell, NOT ME!!”

Yes, I’m a tad angry. Every year before the anniversary, I start falling into the anger stage... And it’s here, sitting next to me, slowly swirling my hair, and saying oh so softly “Let’s be angry, it will be fun!”

What the anger stage doesn't realize is I hate it. The anger stage scares the crap out of me every time. There is nothing worse than being stuck in this hell, and pissed off at the whole world around you.

I can finally see that every year I fall into the anger stage shortly before the anniversary.

Stupid anger and stupid widowhood.

Did I mention I’m a tad angry?

Yes, just a tad. My really angry posts don’t get posted here, because let’s just say, that are above and beyond R rated.

Lately I have been flooded with good memories of my life with Seth. Up until this point, I had very little good memories with Seth.. at least, I couldn't remember them because of my pain and widow brain. The memories are slowly starting to leak in.. and I’ll find myself smiling at myself at the most unacceptable times. Some days it’s almost easier to not remember the good times. Remembering the good times makes it hurt worse. Makes me miss him more. Slaps me with “look what you lost, ha!” And gives me a case of the “I wish.” I wish this wasn't my life. I wish this wasn't my husband’s life. I wish that tomorrow I will wake up and this will all be gone. I wish there was a magic pill to wipe away the pain and anguish.

So it’s almost easier to remember the bad times then it is to remember the good times.

The good times hurt.. hurt really bad. Looking back at the times gone by, leave me confused, hurt and feeling alone. I have been tip toeing into the past, for very short time spans, but trying to allow the good memories back into this poor brain of mine. (I’m starting to wonder when this brain of mine will have enough of my crap and leave me.)

I've been thinking about the upcoming 3 year anniversary and I am honestly really scared. I have realized with each anniversary, birthday and holiday, I step into the events in sheer fear..

Fear because I don’t know how I’m going to handle it.. and fear that there will be one last grief breakdown that I won’t be able to get up from. What if this is the one that makes me snap and I never recover?

I think because I have fallen into the deep hole of hell and depression before, I am afraid of going there again.. if I go there again, I doubt I will reemerge. I doubt I will recover.   

But I realized the fear of upcoming events, is actually a good thing.

That means I am fully aware how bad this is going to hurt. I am fully aware that I might need 4 days in bed, or a bottle of wine. I am fully aware that I am walking into a trap. And I am fully aware that the lining between life and that black hole of hell is really thin. One miss step and I could be in the hole.

It means, that I finally have self awareness. Awareness of what I’m walking into, and caring enough about myself to fear what this anniversary could bring.

I’m sure come the 3 year anniversary,  I will be able to give you a whole list of what I've learned.

But for now I have learned the good times hurt and it’s okay to care enough about myself to know (and be prepared) for what is coming up.