Ramblings – From Traumatic Endings

I am not a big fan of keeping a diary. Throughout my life I have sporadically started diaries and then grew bored with it.

Now in my deepest darkest stage of grief that is all I want to do. I have all these thoughts swirling in my head that I need to get out. Better out than in, right?

Chaotic mind

Never mind the images that flashes in my mind and the useless thoughts of what if… What if I had been there that morning, with him in the garage. What if we decided to have an office day? Its all useless. What happened happened and I need to get this warble of thoughts out of my head.

I am not a big talker and I am at a loss of words. To quieten the storm I need to write this down.

The chaos of thoughts forces me to sit down and type this out. I am neither a professional writer and I do not even see myself as a good writer. I just feel an urgent need to get my thoughts out.

My life was ripped apart….. I didn’t have a perfect life, but my life was a comfortable. I had a home, a husband, three dogs and a purpose. It took not even an hour for everything to change, And three months for what was left to also be ripped away.

As you read this I hope that you bear with me. I am neither a health care professional or a registered counselor. There is no expectation of being magically healed and on my way to a brilliant happy life after a prescribed amount of posts.

I am a widow, still struggling to come to terms with what happened, And still trying to figure out where to start rebuilding my life,

In a way I guess I am writing this to help myself through the chaos, heart ache and darkness that ensued after the traumatic loss of my husband. As a far outlying possibility maybe by writing about what happened to me I can help somebody else out there.

My grief is overwhelming. On my best days it swallows me whole, on my worst days it forces me into a blubbering ball.

So hopefully you will stick with me through my ramblings and stumbling.

My life: The before and the after

I have PTSD as well as complex major Depression.

My story is as follows in case you missed the first post: My husband was shot. I had to find new homes for my dogs, because I couldn’t afford a place big enough to keep them. I got rid of most of the furniture from our house, that which is left is in a storage unit. Within three months of my husbands death, everything that was our life was ripped apart.

There was nothing familiar. I started out house sitting for family and later moved into a small flat of a family member.

Please feel free to add comments, but please be kind, maybe by sharing we can help each other just a small step forward.

Trying to move forward

One thing I realised after months of trying to conform to others’ ideas of grief, is that it is not a matter of getting over it, but rather a matter of finding a way to carry it with you as you try to recreate your life.

I will never be able to go back to the old me, the before me. That me doesn’t exist anymore. to move forward I need to reinvent myself and the new me will always carry this grief. It is almost as if I have grown an extra limb and have to start all over learning the most basic of functions.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert and neither am I trying to give advice. I am not a health care or medical professional; I am just an ordinary person trying to deal with extraordinary things. Please always seek medical help and professional advice when you feel you can’t go on or have any thoughts of hurting yourself.