Getting comfortable with the reality of "Onward"

Yesterday I think I had a flirtatious exchange with a man. It's all very strange, mostly because it didn't feel all together very strange. It felt....fun. Nice. Kind of exciting, even. The story goes, my good friend works at a nice bar downtown and knows one of the bartenders there pretty well. He's a bit older than me and just got out of a very long term relationship because the girl he was with doesn't want what he wants, being marriage and children. (this is all second hand intel on him from said friend of mine). Just as I was trying to work through the fact that in order to have those things, marriage and children, of my own, I would have to date again: my girl tells me "I want you to meet this dude I work with." Holy jesus, shit just got REAL. A few weeks ago I went into her bar and met this dude, he was our server. He was pleasant and I was awkward and  I was fairly sure that I had made no impression on him whatsoever, but I did notice something. I was attracted to him. Hella weird, because though for the last year i pretty much had blinders on, I could still recognize an attractive person, I just didn't care about it one way or the other. This time, and I still don't know how, but I kinda cared. I cared about  what he thought of me. I attributed this mostly to the fact that my girl had talked to him about me and I knew that, so I wanted to be sure I was maing a good impression, even though I felt quite certain I had made no impression at all. Well, I guess I was wrong about that.
I went into that restaurant yesterday to meet some friends and I was the first to arrive. I was mildly embarrassed to show up to a bar (where i won't drink) alone, in front of the first man I thought was cute. He came to my table and showed me the happy hour menu, gave me a minute to look it over. He came back around and I asked him to make me a "mocktail" (non-alcoholic cocktail) and he said, "oh sure thing, just like last time," smiled, and walked back behind the bar. In my head? Holy shit, he remembers me. Weird. He came back with my drink and introduced himself, and we chatted for a moment about our time spent for the holidays. We agreed we were glad they were over with. Stressful. My friends came in and he went back behind the bar. After a while, my friends and I moved from the table to the bar so we could better see monday night football, and I chatted with him off and on throughout the night. The whole time it felt like I should feel weird about it but I just really didn't. It was oddly comfortable and I was really having fun. He is super nice and likes the niners, so we got along well. I have been thinking about it a lot because when I got home last night and looked at the picture of myself and KC on my nightstand i got an overwhelming sense of guilt. Like a cheating feeling though I know that isn't the case here. One of my girlfriends had made a very good point to me: I have spent the last year fine tuning my ability to feel my feelings and own them, happy sad good or bad. So why should this be different? Why should I question or deny these feelings now? Why can't new feelings coexist with grief, they will have to if I ever plan to date because the grief doesn't go away. And isn't this part of the plan? It's scary because it's a first for a lot of feelings but it is exciting too. If I am going to live true to the mantra "Onward" that I have adopted, I have to let myself be open to these feelings, including the fear. It's time to quit speaking of Onward, and live it. So here we go, Happy New Year!

One whole year later

I went to Hawaii for a week two days after KC's funeral. His cousin, my good friend, lives out there and she took me back to get away for a little bit. I don't remember very much of that trip, it was a bit of a haze. What I remember most clearly is sitting on her front yard looking out at the ocean on the day before I came home. I was overwhelmed with how beautiful it was, but still so angry that this beautiful ocean would take away it's biggest fan. I was staring out at it for at least two hours, just crying and looking at it. I looked down, then looked up and out to my left and spoke my first words out loud to KC, "Baby, I'm so sorry, and-" just as I started to talk to KC I saw a humpback whale in the water, blew out a big breath and its beautiful fluke on display for what seemed like just me. I was breathless. I don't know that I believe in "signs," but if they are out there, I know that was one of them.

Christmas last year is barely a memory. I kind of remember being at my Aunt and Uncle's house in San Francisco, but don't remember coming or going or even what happened while we were there. It was just another day, sans True Love.

I dreaded Valentine's Day. I thought that would be the day that would ruin me. Until being with KC, I never thought much of the day because I had never been in love. My Valentine's Days with KC were pure magic. The first one, I was working at outback and KC made a HUGE banner with a road sign in yellow; "Baby, Be on Board with me: I Love You!" He brought it into my work with roses and he was all dressed up. He even "hired" our friend Trevor to help him hold up the banner. It was unbelievably darling, and his face was so cute, a perfect amalgamation of love, pride, and a little bit of embarrassment. I still have the banner. Last year i expected to have a horrible day, the kind of day that you can't escape the pain and you think you will never come out of it, but somehow I felt hopeful. I don't know how, or why. But it just didn't sting the way I thought it would. Just another day.

KC's birthday was tough. Mid- April was tough. I went to a bar and ordered a shot of tequila and a Sam Adams. It's what KC would have ordered up for his birthday if he had been there. I stared at the drinks for a long time, tears in my eyes. The man sitting next to me said something like "man, musta been a rough day!" I lost it. just started crying like crazy. He must have been mortified but I didn't care. I apologized, for whatever reason, and told him what I was doing alone in a bar crying and looking at beverages. He was kind and sympathetic. I took a few sips of the tequila, paid for the drinks. I left the waitress a big tip, touched the Sam's bottle and whispered, "Happy birthday, True," and left.

May 3rd was our Anniversary. I invited a few close friends, my sister and brother-in-law to come to Outback to have dinner with me. It was a joyous event, good food and some of my closest people. Lots of memories shared and laughter. It was much better than staying home alone and crying. It was just right.

In June, I visited Santa Barbara for the first time since moving back from there. I drove down there alone, it was not an easy drive. Coming into the city was incredibly tough. Seeing that ocean, I hadn't seen the ocean since Hawaii and it was no easier then. I cried so hard I had to pull over until I could see again. Driving up to KC's dad's house was awful: I had driven up to that house millions of times, seeing KC's truck in the driveway, but seeing it this time was just another reminder that he wasn't there. I walked up and hugged Dave and we cried together. There is so much sadness in that house, where there was once so much love. It continues to break my heart. KC's father has now lost his wife and his son. It just isn't fair.

In July I returned to Santa Barbara with the intentions to spread KC's ashes at the Channel Islands, knowing that is what KC would have wanted. It was a tremendous stress, but something I wanted to do. The ocean, on the other hand, had it's own intentions and we were unable to get out to the Islands due to rough seas. None of us were willing to risk our safety, now more than ever. I know it was the right call, but still have the task of the ashes looming in my mind.

In August, I went to "Camp Widow," in San Diego. It was a conference for widowed folks to meet, network, and find strength in a community of peers who get it. I met some incredible people and the experience let me know that though grief is a lifelong process, there is the possibility to keep moving onward in the journey, and find peace, happiness, and maybe even love, again. It was a beautiful display of empathy and love, something I will never forget.

Thanksgiving this year was one of the hardest days in quite some time. It was the anniversary of KC proposing to me. I barely made it out of my room and into the celebration that was going on. If it weren't for my sister, I don't think i would have come out of my room at all. "Do I have to?" I asked her. She just looked me right in the eye and said, "yes." I hope she knows how badly I needed to hear her say that.

And this past weekend, it has been one year since the day he died. I have now encountered all of the "firsts." And guess what? I am still here. So what, i ran away for the weekend, I don't feel cowardly, I feel strong. I am still desperately sad, but I fucking made it through one year and one day without the man I thought I literally couldn't live without. I feel proud. I feel that KC is proud. I feel like I can tackle tomorrow, my birthday, with joy and love in my heart because I was good enough to be loved by a man like KC. I can celebrate Christmas with my family because I know I can live through it, I have, after all, done it before. I have things to look forward to, the birth of my niece in February especially. I have taken steps to improve my overall physical health and start dedicating myself to mental and physical well-being. I will start taking classes again in January. I will keep working with children on the Autism Spectrum and make a difference in their lives. I will dance again. I WILL love again. That is the most important thing I have learned about myself in the last 366 days: I will love again. Because even in this pain I know that it was worth it. It was worth this pain to have had the love I shared with KC, to be loved the way I was loved. I don't know how or when, but I know it will happen and that will be a gift from KC, for I only know love because of him, and every bit of love I share for the rest of my life, is through and because of him. For that, I am eternally grateful.

fucking bullshit

stupid fucking bullshit. no matter what good thing happens there is always bullshit to follow. Pointless stupid fucking retarded ass bullshit that doesn't mean anything, doesn't contribute anything, doesn't teach anything. things in life just happen around you all the time and you can't plan for it. you can't change it. shit just happens and you have to deal with it. accept it as an inevitability and let it wash over you while you say, "hmm, that sucks, oh well."

There isn't anything particular that has happened to spark this post. I dropped my phone. That is IT. I dropped my fucking phone and it went under my bed and i am recovering from surgery and it was a giant fucking pain in my ass and i am pissed. It just is so stupid how things get fucked up so easily. Whatever. Over it.

Touche, life.

My friend just told me that she is pregnant. She has never wanted to have kids and the guy she is with, well, he is not my favorite. I am trying to have the mindset of "if you're happy, I'm happy," but it is really hard for me. I don't think she is in a good position to be having a kid and the dude is wack and this shit just falls into people's laps every fucking day and it's all I have ever wanted. I mean, not like that, not the way she is having it but the man and the kid and all that...fuck me. How is this ok? Life is crazy, and i am not super stoked on it right now. I guess it's like the "Always a bridesmaid" type thing...."always an Auntie, never a Mom."

too much stuff!!!!!!!

So many things...I haven't been writing much lately even with all of these things happening and I think it is because for the last two weeks things have been so heavy and intense that if i let myself feel anything about it I wouldn't have been able to cope. In the last couple weeks I have been dealing with a student who has been in crisis every day, screaming and begging to be normal, it's absolutely heart-wrenching. I have found out that my Aunt, who is actively battling a very terrible form of aggressive lung cancer was hospitalized for pneumonia, not cool. I took a good friend to the ER when she was is a psychological crisis of her own, thank "God" she is safe. I am approaching (rapidly) a pretty major surgery, the anniversary of KC proposing, the anniversary of his death, my birthday *who cares* and the major holidays. How would anyone cope with this? Mental breakdown of my own seems too time consuming. So instead? Nothing. Numbness. Disconnection. How else does someone cope when shit just keeps piling higher and higher on top of you? If you don't have time for the back to break, then you just keep trudging forward as if you are fucking twinkle-toes McGee, light on your feet without a care in the world, right? At least that's how I am dealing, for now anyway. There has to be a breaking point, though, right? Like how long is it sustainable to just ignore sad and traumatic and difficult life shit?

The one good thing is that I had a therapy appointment the other night that allowed me to do some real work regarding the trauma side of KC's death. Although I didn't discuss anything that has been happening lately, or any of the upcoming tough days (holidays, anniversaries, etc), I was *forced* to revisit and do some real work around the day that I found out KC was missing, and the following day where I learned he was gone. The therapy I am practicing is called EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. The theory is, basically, that when someone has endured a trauma, of any kind, that there is an integration problem left in the brain. Kind of like the two sides of the brain fail to communicate properly and whatever the trauma was doesn't integrate or process like any other information would. So, for example, when I think about my ex *boyfriend* who died in a motorcycle accident about 5 years ago, I understand that he is dead. I get it, I can wrap my head around it. (He and I had not spoken for about 6 months before the accident and had not been dating for years, and though it was and remains very sad, it was nothing compared to KC's passing). Conversely, even now, almost a year later, I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that KC is gone. dead. deceased, whatthefuckever but I just don't fucking get it. So with EMDR treatment, each side of the body is stimulated by either tapping the left leg, then right leg over and over, or in the case of my treatment, I hold little buzzers in each hand that buzz right, left, right, left, and I talk about the trauma. This is really intense and emotional and pretty scary because I am *forced* to relive the worst period of time in my life, and frankly when that day pops into my head, inevitably, on a daily basis, I do my best to literally shake the thought OUT of my head. I avoid it because it gives me such anxiety. So, of course, delving into every detail that I can remember of that 36 hour period of horror and and utter devastation and crippling despair wasn't exactly easy. I don't think I have cried as hard as I did in that session since December of last year. I held onto these buzzers and spoke about the phone call fro KC's father. I spoke about falling to my knees, unable to breathe desperate for what I had just learned to have been a bad dream, even though I knew I was awake. I spoke about Ashlee, the dear sweet life saver of a friend who picked me up off the ground, called my parents, and drove me to KC's father's house. I talked about looking into Dave's (KC's dad) eyes and begging for an ounce of hope that KC was OK and seeing nothing but sorrow and angst. I talked about knowing that KC was gone while simultaneously wishing that I would be proved wrong. I talked about seeing my parents walk through the door at 1:30 AM and seeing my father cry for the first time since he told me his mother died when I was about 8, or maybe 10. How people kept telling me to eat, or sleep, and I couldn't. I talked about how KC's sister walked in the door the following day at about noon and told me "They found KC, and he wasn't alive," and after that I just wailed and then I don't remember anything until I was in the urgent care getting a shot of Ativan in my ass. I remember vaguely people standing over me and talking but I felt like I was in a fishbowl and couldn't really see or hear anything clearly. I talked about all of these things and more while the buzzers were in my hand, and when I was done talking about it I closed my eyes and imagined being back there in those places, in that state of mind and I repeated this i think about 3 or 4 times as per the instruction of my therapist. I relived the worst period of time I have ever endured with these buzzers in my hands. It was daunting and miserable and seemed repetitive and difficult but somehow, each time, it became a little bit easier to deal with. 

When I left the session, we scheduled another one for shortly before the anniversary of KC's passing and my therapist told me that her patient's have told her that generally the day after this treatment is pretty tough, but the next day after that people tend to feel more energetic and significantly better. I found that to be very true. Today is that second day and it has been much better than yesterday. Also, as I have been writing this I have noticed a bit of a difference in the "integration" thing. It feels a little more acceptable to me now. I guess that is good, although a little scary at the same time. Like acceptance is the last step *bullshit i know* to the grieving process and maybe I am not as willing and ready to be "done." Not that I am, but it's just kind of strange that I would be reluctant to feel acceptance. Like it is comforting to be uncomfortable or something. hmmm....gonna have to keep thinking about that one.

The point here is, that if you have experienced trauma, seek help and look into EMDR as a possible treatment for you. Also, that you never really know what you can handle until you're tested. I didn't even get a chance to mention to my therapist all of the things happening around me or to me or whatever, and I am a little frustrated by that but I am happy with and proud of the work I have done with my therapist so far, so there's that. I guess I am still going to be medicating for a bit, but that's fine. I am good with that. On that note..........

Gloomy Gus

I am approaching the one year mark, Dec 4 will be a year that KC has been gone. I am finding myself less and less able to cope with this. My emotions are so unstable; one minute I am perfectly fine and able to enjoy the company I am in or whatever and the next minute I am fucking devastated. This morning I woke up and was feeling fine, had a cup of coffee, chat with my parents. Ate some breakfast and watched a couple episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philidelphia (hilarious, btw). I made some plans with two of the most fun, inspiring, beautiful girls I know to go on a hike. I came into my room to get ready for the hike and I just became overwhelmed with sadness. There is no reason for this. No trigger. No warning. I am still going to go on the hike because I know the girls I will be with are going to be helpful to me in feeling this way. Also I just really don't want to waste another Sunday feeling like shit curled up in bed. It isn't fair that because KC is gone I lose days of my life. I am angry about that. So I am fighting the urge to let the grief hold me and going out into nature and i'll cry out there
 instead. Happy Halloween, I guess.

El Dia De Los Fuck You.

El Dia de los Muertos.
Fuck me.
I walked into this one with blind eyes, big time. Let me back up a bit. I went on a field trip with my students today for their Spanish class to a museum that was featuring an exhibit for El Dia de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead. I thought the whole way about how cool the art would be and how I love museums and art is cool! YAY! Then I get there. I walk in. I see alters, alters honoring people who have died. I was fucking blindsided. I am standing there in front of 10 autistic teenagers fighting tears and feigning interest in this incredibly devastating display of pain, bereavement, grief, and loss. The idea was so beautiful, though. Honoring loved ones with art and pictures and butterflies and marigolds and sunlight and rich purples and love. It makes sense. It was nice to be able to leave a little note on the community alter for KC but it was a little awkward to do so in front of my students and coworkers.
The next couple months are going to kick my ass, I get that. I just thought I would know when these things were going to happen, I wasn't anticipating sneak-ups on me after almost 11 months of mourning. I thought I would have this figured out by now. But maybe you never get to figure things out all the way, maybe what I never get back is a feeling of security over my own emotions. Or maybe I just need more time. More than the year. This regression is tough enough by itself but this is my life now. I get up. I feel sad. I go to work. I feel distracted and sad. I get in my car to drive home from work and feel REALLY sad. I get home. I feel sad. I check facebook, I watch TV, I chat with my parents, I go to bed and feel sad. Rinse. Repeat. Just hoping someday it will get good again. It really has to get good again, this is not sustainable.

Onward.

So I don't really get inspired to write when I am happy. This makes my blog posts a big ole bummer all of the time. However, I feel like I just need to say that for this moment, I'm feelin pretty good. I have a good weekend lined up and my brother is coming to town tomorrow and I never get to see him. I am so happy to be able to spend time lately with people who are so important to me. There are some tough things coming up but during the rough times I will be surrounded by loving friends and family, how lucky is that? I know that is pretty rare and I am happy to acknowledge the great company I keep.
I am determined to try my best, every day, to focus my energy on the good, on life, on my life because I am still here. And, even though I am here without KC, I have a life to lead. However long or short my life may be, this is all I get. I make choices. Yes, there are things that happen that I can't control, and not everything that I choose directly impacts my life circumstances. I know, and accept that my acceptance of KC's proposal did not kill him. I chose to accept his proposal and some shitty accident took him away. Now, I can choose to dedicate my life to a man that is gone and therefore lose my life as well, or....I can choose to honor him,  hold him in my heart, remember all that I have learned from him, and live my life alongside of the shitty circumstances. I can move forward. I can travel ONWARD. Onward. I love that word. "In a direction or toward a position that is ahead in space or time; forward." Onward seems reasonable. Logical. I can understand onward. There is hope in that word; hope for what I should have had with KC and the possibility of a time in space where I will be able to release the constant pain in my chest and knot in my stomach and feel truly happy again. Just accepting that this is possible eases the tension ever so slightly.
So for today, I will curl my hair, put on make up, be with my pregnant sister and amazing brother in law. Tonight I will share with the company of a few of my closest friends. Tomorrow I will see my brother and baby sister and spend a beautiful day with them. Monday I will go back to work where the struggles are great and the rewards are small but the impact is big. ONWARD, I say. Onward because you never know what may happen, and though bad things will inevitably occur, good will happen too. I will be prepared to handle/enjoy/breathe in/accept/survive whatever it may be.

10

Weird. Ten months to the day have passed and it seems such a strange occasion. Somehow weirder and harder to understand. Has it really been this long since I spoke to him? Heard his voice whispering "I love you, true, I'll see you tonight," if only that were the case. I still miss him so much. Nothing is really better. Nothing has really changed. The world continues to be worse than it once was. My life is still lonely and bitter and sad. I still have this rage inside me with nowhere to put it.

I was watching old episodes of Dexter the other night and there was a girl who was brutally tortured and Dexter was helping her get revenge on the men that did that to her. In a very weird way I felt jealous of this character. Like, she got to take revenge on these men and she felt satisfied afterward, a specific turning point for her work through trauma. There isn't any way I can equate that to the anger and rage I feel at the....what? At Tom and Dave, because they were there? No. I know they did everything in their power to be safe and find KC. At the Coast Guard? The Police and Sherrif's department? No. They also did everything they could. Am I angry at the Ocean? Yes. but this proves silly as the ocean has no intent one way or another, KC was in it by choice. Should I be mad at KC? How could I be? He always told me the way he lived his life ("to the fullest," as everyone would use this cliche like it means anything to me at all or somehow makes it "ok" that he is fucking dead and I am here without him) would result in his early departure from this world, and as much as I hated to hear him say that I can look back and know that he was right, and maybe part of me knew that then.

So with whom do I get to take out my anger and vengeful feelings? The only logical response would be myself. I can't do anything to the ocean, save maybe litter. But what would that do but harm the ecosystem. I would never take it out on the men who fought and searched and cried and begged to help KC, how could I? Everything they could have done was done. I am the only one. You could say I knew what I was in for, KC was an "extremest." He practically told me this would happen and I loved him enough to stick with him and just kindly ask him to not speak those truths aloud.

So what greater punishment should I incur? Any physical retribution is out of the question, I would never put my family through another tragedy if I can help it. I have already suffered the deepest pain I can imagine. Maybe I am already taking this out on me....the dreams, the fear, the anxiety, the inability to catch my breath just once for the last ten months, the unrelenting knot in my stomach, the constant double thinking, the notion that I will live the rest of my days without True Love, the lack of motivation, never feeling well rested, the constant wonder if I will live another day or if my time has run out, too. Well, Touche, Meg O, touche. I guess I am taking revenge, I just wonder when the feeling of satisfaction will ever be realized. Maybe never, and maybe that is me betraying myself, somehow, even further.

Nope

I take back that last post. I am not ready. I know that now. Oh well. Doomed to this lonely ass life. I miss KC.

to date, or not to date. That is the fucked up question!

if I am ready for a big ass step. I want to start dating but I am terrified! if any widows have advice for me let me know. I am so tired of being alone, I need that support, that comfort, that affection. I got so used to it and I know it is soon and I am constantly going back and forth in my head about it but I really just love being in a relationship....I want to be married.....I want kids.....how does that happen if i don't start dating someday!? Why keep waiting, life is for the living, right? Why wait? (ok I know there are hella reasons why, but i really want to know the legit ones). HELP ME.

oldie but a goodie

if you didn't know KC, here is a little bit of the man that he was.
http://www.noozhawk.com/local_news/article/120610_santa_barbara_mourns_death_of_k.c._carlsen

How did I get myself into this?

So, today I am going to a wedding for my friend. Tough stuff, to be sure. I cried at her bridal shower in the bathroom while we were supposed to be laughing and playing silly games and laughing a bunch. I cried in my hotel room bed when we got back from the casino at the bachelorette party and everyone else had fallen asleep, and i couldn't because I was just so sad that i didn't get to be that bachelorette. Not only did I agree to attend the wedding, but I have signed on to do a bridesmaids hair, the maid of honor's make up, and the bride's make up before the big moment. This week I was thinking about it and feeling pretty proud of myself for not falling apart or really having too much anxiety at all. This morning it feels different. Like, really apparent that I have bit off more than i can chew. Now I am feeling a fuck ton of anxiety that I am going to mess this up for the bride, not because of some dark side of me that wants to sabotage anything, but because what if I can't keep it together and I leave the bride with one eye full of shadow and I pass out or something? I realize this is probably not going to happen and I am being overly dramatic but this is widow brain at it's finest, I suppose.
The funny thing? I have a date to the wedding. It is super casual and just a friend of mine, an old friend who I have known since grade school. He is a great friend to me, very sweet, likes to dance and party so he is a perfect wedding date. But it still feels really weird. Almost like a real date, I guess. yea, I guess this is what a date might feel like, only more weird. So maybe I should look at this as like a practice date. It's safe, because it's my friend. This could be a valuable experiment I suppose. It still kinda wigs me out a bit though. This is an event where KC should be by my side and I should be 100% happy, and not feeling anything remotely resembling things like dread, anxiety, jealousy, bitterness or anger. But here I am, Saturday morning healthy and ready to go to a wedding for two beautiful people who love each other and all i can muster is gentle sadness and a stomach ache.
Congrats to the bride and groom, I would like to go climb in a hole now.

The weight of it.

It is so crazy how after I met KC, I couldn't picture my life without him. For a long time after he passed away I felt like I was going through life without really living it, because how could I be living without KC here? It's kind of scary now that I am removed so far from my life with KC that it's hard to know what my life would be if he were still here. I guess we would just be coming home from Alaska, I would be trying on wedding dresses. We would be looking at houses to buy, somewhere in a good school district with a big enough yard to house a boat and still have room for a garden and a place for our kids to play. Instead of that, I am in my parents house, laying in bed without any motivation to get up and do anything. I justify this, "It's Sunday, there's football on, My neck hurts, I'm still getting over being sick." Truth? I am fucking sad. I miss KC. KC wouldn't have let me stay in bed til 11:30, we would be biking to Goleta pier, walking on the SB bluffs, fishing, "dippin through the hood," (what KC used to call taking a drive though town). I would have a life. Right now, in this moment, I don't feel like I have a life. I know I do, like, I'm breathing and shit like that, but what kind of life is this? I guess I do good things, my job and whatever. It feels good, sometimes. But I miss loving someone. I miss being loved. I feel like even though I have people who love me and know that I am still hurting, I have to hide what I am feeling. Understand, no one in my life wants me to feel this way, this is self-imposed. I don't want people that I love to know what I am feeling all the time. Like, literally, my mom just knocked on my door while I am writing this blog and I pretended I was crying. I know she could tell, but I am happy that she didn't ask me about it. I know that when I am sad, it makes the people who love me sad. I don't like to be responsible for the people that I love feeling sad. I hate that I have that affect on people. I used to make the people around me happy. I wish I could get back to that. Making people happy instead of sad.
Shoulds:
Get out of bed
Go to the gym
Call a friend to do something
Go outside
Walk my dog
Stop trying to hide things
Cook a healthy meal and enjoy it
Stop feeling sorry for myself
Meditate

Probably none of that is going to happen.
Is this what my life is going to be from now on? I am terrified of this. I am always ---fuck! Mom just came in again and she saw me crying. This time she talked to me and I know she knows I am sad, and now I know she is sad and that is my fault. fuck fuck fuck I hate that this is my life right now. fuck this

I am constantly reminded of what I almost had. Sometimes i just get mad about it when I probably shouldn't, but I just can't help it. I see my students getting so pissed and bent out of shape and I know they have disabilities and they can't help or regulate their emotions, but i still just wanna shake them sometimes and tell them to get the fuck over themselves, and that they have no idea what real shit is, and to quit being a baby because you don't get to go to recess today, I fucking lost my fiance!!! but alas, I can't. I don't get to shake students....oh well. "I'm in a fight about facebook and boys, my life isn't worth living!" Really, kid? Seriously? Fuck you. Talk to me when you have real problems...ya know...besides the autism and whatnot.

Maybe I am just feeling a little cranky. I am still not over being sick and that does nothing to help my grief. I was starting to feel hopeful there for a while and now i am on the downswing again, I guess. I'm starting to question a lot, like whether or not I am in the right job. Whether or not I am any good at it to begin with. Whether or not I should bother going back to school. Whether or not I should start looking for someone to date. Whether dating again would hurt or help. Whether or not I will be a good Aunty to my sister and brother-in-law's baby (how i will handle that in general, being that I am so incredibly jealous of my sister I can't even stand it). I wonder whether or not I am allowed to be happy for any sustainable period of time or i i have some crazy fucked up karma that is keeping me steadily spiraling into loneliness and despair. I wonder daily what the fuck I did to deserve this crippling pain and why some people seem to get everything they have ever wanted out of life, or even everything I have ever wanted. I know I sound like such a fucking baby right now but the fact is, I know nothing. I just wonder about everything and I want some mother fucking answers where there are none. All of these things, except for the dating stuff, are questions that KC would help me with. He always could put my mind at ease by either assuring me I was doing the right thing or pointing me in the right direction. Just another thing I miss about that man.



OK, enough down on yourself shit, meg O. Let's list some things you are super stoked about in your life:
Speaking about yourself in third person.
Family
Friends
Ponies
music
babies
puppies
I have a job
I got to learn what love is, how to love and how to receive love
I have a pretty accurate gauge of life shit
I know I can survive some "real shit"
My health
Mario Kart
Marijuana
Pizza
Candy
Comedy
Mazie poo poo girl


That's what I got for now...Time to watch some my little pony. Serious.

sick=sad

I am sick, maybe a flu? cold? not sure but it makes the sadness that much worse....pretty frustrating. I guess when you are sick and you feel gross it isn't conducive to feeling hopeful about life. oh well...gotta get better because I have a football game to attend tomorrow. Go niners, no matter what. Not thinking clearly enough at the moment to write a good blog post but just felt like checking in. Gotta get better, a bath, some yoga, a face mask and painting my nails. that will help. yea. and tea. and sleep. hope it works in the next 16 hours so i can go to the game, now i'm talkin in circles...get it together meg O
Here's to the healthy.

So, this fuckin sucks. I am a lot of things to a lot of different people. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, a teacher, a cousin, an acquaintance. How does one really identify oneself? I feel like I am so many different things sometimes that I no longer really know how to relate to myself. It's kinda weird. I used to be a lot of things: a dancer, an artist, a student, a kid, a girlfriend and then a fiancee. I loved being the last two that I listed, I think I was really good at it. But what if i was only good at it because of KC? What if, because of how much KC loved me I just fell into this roll of "Meagan, the thoughtful, killer gf/fiancee who loves sitting and watching TV while my man snoozes and I fold his boxer-breifs." I like, loved that shit, legitimately. Who the fuck loves doing laundry, let alone for someone else? This me, that's who. I loved being out shopping for myself and finding more things that I wanted to get for him than for me...knowing how happy he would be to receive some silly little Led Zeppelin T Shirt or a 6 pack of Sam Adams. He was so easy to please because all he really wanted was me and he had me, fully. 
It makes me sad when I see people who are in relationships and they get jealous. I had little jealousies with KC at the beginning, but when I moved to Santa Barbara, I never worried about a thing with him. It's an interesting distinction between thinking something and knowing it. When you really KNOW something you don't have to question it. I KNEW that KC loved me and me alone. He would flirt with girls. I watched it. He flirted with my friends, my regulars at work, my bosses wife. But it was so genuinely sweet and funny that it never hurt me or made me question the relationship I was in, if anything it endeared him to me further because I knew what he was doing. He was making people feel good. Making them feel proud and happy about who they are and I just loved him for that. If you are reading this blog because you know me or you knew KC, you know this to be true because you have likely felt this from him before. He just had a way of making people feel so good about who they are and making people feel appreciated. Me, especially.
So here's the rub, the fucked up shit: what the fucking fuck am i supposed to do now? How can I ever, in a million years, expect to find someone that I love and loves me like this again??

I think I have asked this question before, but I haven't gotten an answer yet so I am still fuckin writing about it. The worst part? I want it so fucking badly it hurts. I see relationships everywhere and I am so deeply jealous sometimes I can't stand it. It hurts like daggers in my joints, keeping me from moving. I absolutely CRAVE the feelings KC gave me. The pride he felt for me. He used to tell me all the time how proud he was to be with me, that he was proud and it made him feel so good about himself that I would be with him. I never understood his feelings because I felt like i was the one who struck it big on the dumb luck that KC would want to be with me for a day, let alone his whole life. Maybe it is super selfish of me to feel like this, to think that I am deserving of this goodness not once in a lifetime, but twice, when some people don't get to have it at all. Maybe it is selfish, but I can't help it. He was like a drug to me. Now that I have had it, I need it again. I can't go back to Coors Light after the finest wine, I won't accept it. I won't settle. But when the finest wine is dried out, one is left only with the longing, a thirst that can't be quenched, a hunger that can't be satiated, a desire that cannot be fulfilled.
But......


Somehow, I have a little bit of hope. Only really because of my widows (the people I met at Camp Widow last month with whom I have somewhat kept  in contact). My widows have taught me that just as I never in a million years would have imagined I would find someone to love me as KC has loved me, there is the possibility to find love again as long as I am open to it. Life tends to be weird and fucked up and beautiful and scary and awesome. So maybe I will get another chance to fold up some chonies while a beautiful wonderful  dude snoozes to the left of me. Maybe I will get a chance to have a family of my own. It's the open mind thing that I have to stay focused on. Somehow, to reconcile mind and body and the differences they seem to share, I will have to open up and let myself love and be loved in a different way than it was with KC and make no comparisons where they are harmful instead of helpful. I know what values they (my future dude, should he be so kind as to exist and make his ass bloody well known, and KC) will have to share: liberal views on politics, the basic manners (be nice to people, goddamnit), loving the gays, loving all colors of peoples and respecting cultural differences, a zero tolerance for cheating, and the deep seeded desire to have a family. But these values can come in many forms, not in a KC-clone form....that would be too fuckin weird and I am totally opposed to the very thought of it. I don't want another KC, I just want to find someone who I can have a good relationship with who can make me laugh. But until I can consider this thought without crying or panicking or passing the fuck out, how do i deal with the overwhelming lack of affection in this life? I guess spooning my dog against her will will have to suffice. 

The Social Fake

I just got home from a bachelorette party for my friend. She is a great girl and her fiance is amazing, I love them both and am so happy for the two of them. We had such a great time out in South Lake Tahoe, Some of my closest friends were there. We got all dressed up and went out for a great dinner and dancing, it really was a blast. I really felt like it was so fun while I was in it, except for maybe a few moments where it was pretty tough on me. When we were out I was so grossed out by all the dudes that were around.... I just kept picturing like, National Geographic type footage where some jungle cat is stalking prey only their drunk and stupid, and not cunning and beautiful. It made me so deeply sad to know that people like this are taking over the world, it seems, and KC is gone. How is that fair, or just? Well, it isn't. It isn't fair and I am the one who is the worst off as a result.
KC used to make stupid ass dudes like that his friend, too. He could be friends with anyone, he found good in even those douchey guys in night clubs. He would make them laugh or impress them by knowing a stat about Kobe Bryant and the Lakers. He would talk shit to these fools and they would just love him for it, they became a little better for the interaction with KC. I just got reminded so profoundly of how much worse off the whole world is because of a stupid fucking accident that fucked up all of these lives and it makes me so god damned angry. Angry and sad.
But, in that moment, what am i supposed to do? I am in a dance club with a friend of mine who is having a once-in-a-lifetime experience dancing and drinking and laughing with her friends because she is about to married to a great human being. I don't wanna fuck it up for her, no debbie-downer for me. so I fake it. I dance more. I smile bigger. I hoot and I holler at the Bachelorette and I hope my make up isn't running and that no one can tell that I am crying because I am so desperately lonely. I know that the girls I was out with would be nothing but compassionate and concerned and sweet and accepting, but this night is not about me. This night is for her. So i faked it. I really did have fun, for most of the time. Like, a great time! But I just think that the rest of my life is going to be peppered with these moments of "Social Fake" to get me through, quietly, without being noticed. Without anyone having to care for me or even feel bad that I am feeling bad. I hate that I do that to people anyway...but I know it's an inevitability. Mostly because I have awesome friends who genuinely give a shit about me and my fucked up life circumstance, so for that I am grateful. It's a bit of a burden, though, to know that you can bring down other people's moods because of your mood, when you have no control over your mood. I guess that's why I fake it. gotta get a little better at it, though, if i am gonna be able to keep this up.

Things are happening

It's interesting to take note of the things that have happened somewhat serendipitously since KC passed away. Things that wouldn't and couldn't have happened if I were still in Santa Barbara with KC. I have a job that makes me totally crazy and obsessive but I love it. Even though it is a huge step down in the pay department from bar tending, it is so fulfilling and I have met some of the best people working where I am. I work for a special education high school for kids with behavior issues, like autism or adhd. It's pretty challenging and patience-testing, but somehow i really love it. If i were still in Santa Barbara, I wouldn't be doing the work I am doing now.

I also have made some new friends and reconnected with old friends since i have been back in town. I feel strongly that these people were brought into my life to help me through this difficult time, because I have really taken a lot of strength from them. Old friends and new.

Perhaps most importantly, my sister and brother in law are pregnant! I am so happy to be up here and be a real part of everything that is happening with the new baby. They're due in February and I just really can't wait. They are even looking to buy a house, and if it all works out I might move in with them to help with the baby for a while. I get to be an Auntie. How cool is that? I guess no matter what, if I don't get to have kids of my own I will always be an Auntie. That's a pretty big deal. Being an Auntie from Santa Barbara would be a lot different. The kid would barely know me until they were like 5. fuck that! I want this kid to know their cool ass Auntie from the get-go!

These are just a few examples of positive things that have come about due to my relocation. I would honestly give it all up (ok not the Auntie stuff so easily) to have KC back and for us to continue our plan together.. but that isn't my reality any more. The reality is that he is gone, not by any one's choice. He's gone and he can't come back. My reality is that I am alone now, alone with amazing friends and amazing family and a great job and a beautiful roof over my head. Everything in my life is roses and daisies except for this one GIANT fucking hiccup where the true love in my life is gone forever. I just want to stress that...I am not a woe is me type. I am someone who looks for light and positivity and reconciliation and resolution and bright sides and none of it fucking matters when you are alone, even if you aren't alone.

I have no idea if any of that makes sense.

I am happy to be a part of my sister's exciting new life. I am happy to have such a tight bond with my awesome parents and in-laws. In many many ways, I am a happy human being, but something very integral is missing to make me complete, and his name is KC.

It's been a while now....

So I guess I started a blog about grief in February....who knew? Somehow I blocked it out I guess. I just read over it and it made me cry like a bitch. Oh well. I cry all the time anyways now, so I might as well embrace it. It's kind of interesting, being that it has been 6 months since I posted last, to look at where I was then and where I am now.  I still hold true that time makes everything A-OK is a bullshit thing to tell someone who has lost anyone, let alone someone they love infinitely more than they love them self. What i have found, after looking at February that way, is that time hasn't made anything better, but it has changed some fundamental shit about my circumstance. The fact remains, however, that I just fucking miss him. I miss KC with every ounce of me and it hurts so bad to miss someone that much. Like I never understood why people would cut or self-mutilate but I kind of get it now. (Chill the fuck out, peeps, I am not cutting) I can see how emotional pain can cause such physical pain. It feels like restless leg syndrome in your whole body. It feels like no matter how deep of a breath you take that you can't get enough oxygen in your lungs. It feels like desperation, like a primal urge for something like food or water but the only thing to satiate your need is untouchable. Unreachable. Dead and gone. Fuck that. Not fucking fair.

So what do I do? I'm fully medicated and that gets me through the days. I sleep a lot, I see friends and family. I am going back to school. If you just met me at a coffee shop or something you would think everything was great and have no idea that I am a complete crazy mess inside my own head all the time. You wouldn't have any idea that the words "SCUBA" or "Fishing" or "fish" or "construction" or "wedding" might throw me into a goddamned whirlwind of anxiety and sadness. But what do I do? what the fuck am I supposed to DO??!!



If this were a book or some sitcom or some shit I would have the answer neat and clean and some fucking weak ass song by The Fray would come on while I stare into the setting sun with an expression on my face that reads "now I am done with my grief, and I shall go forth living life happily ever after." Well for fucks sake, you gotta know that's not happening. Every day I wake up and think, what can I do today to make it better than yesterday? Some days do seem better. Other days are spent in my room, "watching" TV and thinking about how I was THIS FUCKING CLOSE to having everything I have ever wanted.

Just to give some perspective here, I have days where I feel hopeful. I have days when I think I could fall in love again and just as I didn't expect to meet and lose KC, and I don't necessarily expect to love like that again, I can see how it is in the realm of possibility. The most important thing I have learned in the last 8 months is that life is messy. People get sick, people disappoint you, people break promises and make you angry and let you down. Simultaneously, people surprise you, show up for you when you need them, people fall in love and create life out of their love, people stick up for you and act as your champion, people make you laugh till you pee a little and cry til you can barely breathe. People think about you as often as you think about them and people dream of you, and teach you, and go to bat for you, so to speak. So this blog will no longer be just about grief, but it will be the grieving process, the awesome stories of super bad ass mother fuckers I get to call my friends and family. It will be a chronicalization of my ridiculous mind and what I have done, what I'm doing, and what is yet to come. So read it, it won't be all bullshit sad stuff. It might be something to make you say, "huh," or even laugh a little. And pardon the language, but when uncensored is in the title, you know what you're in for. And if you don't, you're fucking dumb and probably won't read this anyways, so suck it.

Where the hell is he?

Tomorrow, it is two months exactly that I lost my fiancee KC in a SCUBA diving accident off the central California coast. KC lost his life just 8 days after proposing marriage to me. That day, I was talking to my friend and George, right about the time the sun was going down and I told him that was my scary time, when the boys were out fishing and I hadn't heard from them saying that they were safely back to the harbor. Dave, KC's dad asked me whether or not I was driving, if i was at home or if I was alone. I told him I was with Ashlee at home and asked him if everything was OK. He said no. He fucking said no and I knew KC was gone. KC was missing for a whole day before his body was found. I don't remember much except being taken to the Urgent Care facility with my mom, and I kept asking to go with him, I just wanted to go with KC where ever he was. Sometimes I still feel that way.
I didn't eat for a week, eating felt like a privilege for the living, why should I eat when KC can't? The weight of what it means to lose the absolute love of your life is immeasurable. I waited for someone like KC my whole life, I never loved anyone before, I had never said it to anyone because I never felt it. But I knew I loved KC right away. I knew it was different than any feeling I had ever had, any crush, it was profound and real. KC was no perfect person, by any means, but we were perfect for each other. Everyone around us knew that, too, anyone could see it. He loved me deeply, like what poets write about. I am lucky to have ever known that sort of love, and I knew it while I was in it too, this wasn't something I didn't realize until it was too late. We lived in our love like a vacation.
Now he is gone. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Be strong, move on, live my life. Time will heal my wounds, fucking bullshit. All I am left with is fear and anxiety. I am constantly worried about the loss of someone else. I am scared that something is going to happen to my family, or KC's family or one of our friends. I can't help but think KC would be so much better at this than I am. I bet if the tables were turned and I was the one who passed, KC would be a model of strength and helping everyone around him. He would care for my family and his better than I can, than I am doing. He was so good. All i am doing is sitting here writing this blog for no one in particular to read and I am helping no one. It fucking should have been me, it would have been a hell of a lot easier, anyway, on everyone but especially me. I know it is a super selfish way to think but all I can do now is look out for myself.
Grief is pretty fucked up, and I thought I had seen it before in my life but previous losses have never left such a lasting mark on who I am, or was or whatever.
I am going to write what I feel, I am going to write my dreams and fears and hope that by getting it out might help, catharsis you know. My own personal private public documentation of what it really means to grieve. No censor, no filter, just real and fucked up feelings. No pretty picture, no happy ending, this is real life shit. My life, anew without KC, whether I like it or not.