Today I had an “Ah-Ha” moment.
I have been putting a great deal of pressure on myself to get moving and living a life for myself and all I’ve been able to do is sit on the couch and watch TV, go to work, take care of the absolute basics, and attempt to sleep. I can’t focus on anything. I can’t remember anything. I can’t figure out what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. For God’s sake – I used to be a highly functioning, responsible adult and now I feel like I am an idiot. And instead of any of this getting better, it seems to be getting worse.
Everyone keeps telling me to relax, to take my time, and to give myself a chance to rest and recover from the ordeal I’ve been through. That’s been good advice. Now I understand why so many organizations advise us to not make any major decisions until at least 6 months to a year after an ordeal such as this. I’m almost 8 months into this widow-thing and I still can’t seem to figure out how to live a life for myself. WTF? My thoughts and ideas have bounced around like a rubber ball. Nothing has seemed to make much sense.
Two weeks ago I finally broke down and saw a Psychiatrist to get some help with the fact that I have not been sleeping. The idea was that if I could get some sleep then maybe some of these other issues might start taking care of themselves. I got some meds. I’ve remembered to take them. And I am now sleeping at least 6 hours a night, uninterrupted (the uninterrupted part is key).
For the past week or so I’ve been waking up in the morning and feeling cheerful. Of course, that doesn’t last very long … until I start getting tired again … around lunch … or even within ten minutes of waking up … depends on what demon thought runs through my mind. But despite my mood, I am beginning to feel rested when I wake up. What a relief!
So today I was, yet again, puzzling over my inability to get a grip on myself and my life and wondering why I just can’t seem to figure out what to do with, and for, myself.
And then it hit me! DUH!
I have spent the past TWO years focused on caretaking my dying husband and taking care of everything and everyone BUT MYSELF. I was married for 7 yrs and 7 months during which time I had to focus on meeting the high-maintenance, demanding needs of a selfish husband, his train-wreck older daughters, and his sociopath of a son. No wonder I don’t know what the hell to do with myself – I haven’t been able to really focus on MYSELF for 9+ yrs.
Well, shit.
I started dating my husband when I was 32. I was an independent and whole person when I met him. I used to have a life. Then I got married. I used to know what to do with myself. Now I just need to figure out how to kick-start it back into gear again.
So, today, I figured I would start small with a “daily schedule”. It’s been over 2 years since I had a “routine”. Up to this point everything revolved around whatever my husband, the cancer, and my step-son needed. Now all I need to worry about is myself and my doggies. And we need a routine.
I need time to sleep, time to work on “projects”, time to do chores, time to pay bills, time to eat, time to meditate/read/pray/write, etc. I don’t need to train for a marathon. But I can fit one hour into my routine to walk the doggies. I don’t need to write a novel, but I can fit an hour into my life to write in my blog(s). And here’s the crazy part – I need to write this shit down and make myself a schedule or I’ll never remember what I am attempting to do or be able to figure out how to make it happen. Used to be, I could keep all this shit in my head and just do it. That’s just a pisser. But it takes what it takes.
So this evening I am starting my “new routine” and I created a schedule of what a good, rewarding day may be for me. And starting tomorrow, I’m going to do my best to follow it. Progress – not perfection. It will probably need some tweaking. But if I’m going to re-gain a routine, I need to start practicing.
Wow.
Instant Widow 