Grief journy

Today, my spirit is un-rested. Why do I sit here and have such an obsessive personality, why must I make sure everyone is happy, and brush myself aside as I am a friend that didn’t matter. I matter. I am a good friend, one of the best, I will worry about if you are happy, and if you need food, and if I can make you laugh when you are down. I will do this at the risk of my own happiness and health.

Once when I was an in therapy, the therapist asked me, if I would be my own friend. I immediately answered and said “of course”. Thinking to myself, I would put your needs above my own, I would worry about your happiness. But when I reflect back on my life, why am I so ready to brush my own needs aside and rush in to fill yours. Why? I honestly say that I felt that I have a bias against selfish people. I never wanted to be “that one” who was always thinking of herself. I always deep down felt of myself as a public servant, here on earth to serve others. Where did I get this idea? I guess growing up I learned with my mom as a police officer  in public service and my dad the neighborhood pleaser, “to do good”. I watched my family drop everything to help other neighbors, to put the extended families needs above his family. I watched this over and over as if it now is blueprinted on my soul.

But what I never realized, until I was older was that nobody recognizes the suffering you do because of it. What is my reward for carrying your burden and pain? For putting your needs above my own? There is none and yet I do it anyway thinking this time it will be different. I have come to learn over the years, that no one really wants to hear about your trips, your favorite foods, your desires, your passions, your current pottery class failures, your grief, your struggles and most of all your love life. The universe tho has a way of making us all struggle, because the things most of want, to wait, till the other person shuts up so we can talk about ourselves. So knowing this, I always make a point to ask how someone’s grandchildren are, how they are feeling, how is the new job? Which leaves the giving person feeling as if the relationship is one sided.
I know this to be true and often struggle with it. To me it is so hard to talk about yourself, when you know the other person is waiting and waiting and waiting for you to shut up, so they can share about themselves. I struggle with this narasstic side of myself, waiting for “me time”.

The number one cause of stress is someone’s life is the death of a spouse or partner, the second cause of stress in someone’s life is divorce. I think something never talks about is the stress in someone’s life with the death of an ex spouse. No one teaches you how to cope with this grief. It is as if you have to heal yourself by saying “I am truly alone”. Now let me say that I never wanted to go back to my ex husband, but I still considered him a good friend. We were still civil to each other. He had moved on and I had moved on. However, if I needed a phone number or if I had mistakenly taken an ornament from his from his childhood, we were able to do that without lawyers. I was able to text him and we were able to chat. It was formal and good boundaries were still there. It is hard to know that option in life is gone. When you go through the death of an ex you examine your marriage, your divorce, and you grieve a person you once chose to bare your soul to. That person is no longer living. When you are the ex, no one talks about the time in that person’s life when you were together, so it is as if that time when you were with him vanished. I feel like Mary Magadaonline reading the bible and saying, so Jesus went from a young boy to age 30 and the chapter on “us” was left out.
 I am not looking for sympathy here I am just looking to be acknowledged. I am just looking for some validation that we were married and things did not work out. I am not saying that I was the greatest wife, but please acknowledge me as the ex wife. I left my dog behind with the divorce. I knew, my husband at the time could not emotionally handle me leaving, the dog leaving, the cat leaving without feeling like udder abandonment.
Anyone who knows me, knows that hurting those I care about, places scars on my soul so deep, I wonder if they will ever heal. So to not be able to see my dog now, after the death of the ex, seems a bit odd. When you leave someone, and they are upset, but you do it because you know that person will grow and become a better person, everyone around them see’s you as a bad person. I know we are not suppose to worry about what others think, but when what they think affects you, how cannot we not care.

This past week two of my friends have had to put their dogs to sleep, and I know Otto’s day is coming. I know that the person who is taking care of Otto has to make that decision. The decision no animal lover or care taker wants to make, saying goodbye for the last time. Otto is on borrowed time with two hip replacements and hip problems and around 10 years old. However, in the divorce it’s interesting that nobody asked me if I wanted to take care of the dog. Nobody understood Tom and my relationship, so why am I expecting people who were his friends and family to now understand after divorce our relationship. I think it’s easier to erase 10 years of “me” than contact me and ask me “how I am doing” or give me an update on “my dog”. I am the one that gave Otto drops in his eyes when the cat had scratched it, every morning. I am the one that took him through agility classes. I am the one that took him to puppy school. I am the one that walked him every night when we lived in a small house and had no yard. I am the one that named him. I am the one that has no rights to a dog because my ex husband has died unexpectedly. When I asked individuals where the dog was, I was told he was adopted by a friend who wanted to do this for Tom. I think it’s odd that they placed this dog with a stranger, rather than me, the one in his life for 8 years because “it was for Tom”. It reminds me of the courts when the child has no voice in where they want to live and then the courts pick for them “in the best interest of the child” of course.