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.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
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.
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.
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