The Story

All of my friends who think that I’m blessed, they don’t know my head is a mess. No, they don’t know who I really am, and they don’t know what I’ve been through like you do. I was made for you.

Disclaimer: If you are not one of my widdas, and especially if you are not also widowed by suicide, this post is in no way meant to exclude you or diminish who you are for me. Also, if you have at least one on occasion thought how I make everything all about me, my grief and my suicide-widow status, you should probably just stop reading. This is a blog about my adventures as a suicide widow, so what the fuck else would I write about?

I’ve been in a bit of a funk. I know this because I haven’t been wanting to blog. I’ve not been wanting to share myself because I’m not really sure what to share. I’m undoubtedly judging myself and my feelings, despite knowing that doesn’t serve me. I’ve also been feeling extremely sensitive to the views and opinions of others. This likely stems from my own opinions of myself more than anything, but I’m starting to notice my own insecurities arising in conversations with others. In short, I don’t want to write about Mark or being a suicide widow anymore because I want to avoid what is said in response, whether by other people or myself.

That said, whenever I feel down about this or hesitant to post yet again about this whole suicide-widow thing, I think about my widdas, and in particular those who lost their spouse to suicide. I share my experiences so publicly for THEM, which in turn supports me. I know my posts annoy people. I know they’re frustrating. I know that sometimes it seems like I’m not moving on or that I’m torturing myself by reliving the trauma. I know that sometimes I seem irresponsible and as if I’m not respecting Mark with the things I say. I know that some of you blame me for his suicide. I know that people unfollow or block me on social media because they just can’t stand to see it. Some of you avoid me entirely, and you’ve been doing so ever since Mark died. People I called “friends” turned out not to have my back at all. That’s okay. There are plenty of people in my life that I’ve not been able to support in their times of need, and it turns out that I really wasn’t their friend, despite my good intentions. Thus is life.

Fortunately, I have the most AMAZING friends a girl could ask for. Truly, they are my family. I’m currently back on the tinder on a mission to confront all of my issues with men and relationships, as well as meet people, and the primary answer I give when asked what I like to do is that I spend time with my best friends. There are four of them: Shaela, my two roomies and our one honorary roomy. I trust them with my heart and on my worst of days, and I also trust that not one of them would be offended by my saying that there are things that I just can’t say to them because they won’t get it. In fact, I KNOW there are things about their lives that they don’t say to me because I haven’t had similar experiences and couldn’t possibly understand. We respect our differences and support each other in all the ways that we can.

But that’s not the norm, and most of my widdas feel isolated. So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I’m sending an extra heaping of love and gratitude to all my widdas, especially those who are widowed by suicide. I know you feel out of place almost everywhere, and I know the relief you feel when you read this or see a post or spend time with any of us who is unfortunate enough to understand your experience because we’ve gone through it as well. I know you just want to yell at people for not understanding, and you’re pissed about having been handed this shit sandwich. I, too, want to yell at people for not understanding or for saying the wrong thing.

Here’s the thing, though. Just about nobody is ever going to say the right thing because, let’s face it, we widows are often in terrible moods. People don’t stand a chance against our grouchiness. And we can’t blame them, so you may as well stop and just start venting all your feels to the rest of us widdas who DO understand. And when one widow doesn’t get it, find another that does. There are things I say to my suicide widows that I don’t say to those who lost their spouse to other causes. There are things I talk about with any of my widows that are complete conversation stoppers when surrounded by friends who aren’t widowed. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I can bring a room to awkward silence in an instant just by saying one thing about my experience in the right tone. Mind you, I would only do that for entertainment purposes because I’m an ass like that, but some of you widows are so concerned about rocking the boat that you’re not speaking about your feelings AT ALL. The truth is that not everybody is going to understand, and that’s okay!

And, let’s be serious. We are so wrapped up in our widowed madness that we have basically missed and/or forgotten what most of our non-widowed friends have been dealing with.

This is also okay! You’ll sort it out with your true friends, but really, we’ve become such terrible friends to some people in the midst of our grief. Personally, the way my PTSD is set up, sometimes I can’t even leave my room. How can I possibly be of much support to almost anybody else while worrying about being shot at any given moment? This doesn’t make me a bad person. The people in your lives, as well as mine, who suck at dealing with grief and who like to offer unsolicited advice aren’t bad people either. They’re human, and so are we. You’ve got to rely on the people who lift you up and not worry about those who don’t.

So it is with a massive dose of thanks that I toast (type) to you, my widdas, for all the times you’ve let me say what I’m feeling and for every time you’ve done the same in return. This widowed shit is HARD. It doesn’t have to be the central focus of your life, and over time it won’t be. Life will move forward, and that’s a beautiful thing. However, much like I imagine it is for someone to have children, it will always play a role in how you view things.

Disclaimer: I am aware that I don’t have children and can’t actually understand what it’s like to bring a child into this world. But see how this works? I can IMAGINE how life-altering the experience of parenting is and how things will never look the same without pretending like I actually know how parents feel, thus granting myself an undeserved authority to judge parents for their every move. See how that works?

Okay, snarky disclaimer over.

My point is that we’ve got to rely on each other, my lovely widdas. The messages and texts I receive from you bring so much joy to my life, even when they bring up so much of the sadness of my own experience losing my beautiful husband Mark to suicide. I never would’ve asked for this experience, and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody else EVER. It makes me sick to know that people everywhere every day are going through this same nightmare. And while I have personally made a choice to play a serious role in educating others on the subjects of mental health, suicide and grief, as well as advocating for prevention methods and awareness, YOU do NOT have to do that if you don’t want to. Just because something happens to you that completely rocks your world, it doesn’t mean that you have to go spend the rest of your life trying to prevent that same situation happening to others. Being widowed might not be the central role you play in the world.

In fact, I don’t recommend that you take that on. Your life isn’t over now that you’re widowed. You can be someone’s widow and also be a million other things.

But being widowed will undoubtedly contribute massively to HOW you play those roles, so you may as well make the most of it! Let’s keep leaning on each other and stop being mad at people who don’t know how to support us. It’s the holiday season, for goodness sake. It took me working through some serious frustration to come up with even one positive, forward-moving thought to blog about today. And it was YOU, my widsters, widbros and fellow widhoes who inspired me to be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving!