Hard, Simple Questions

One thing hit me this evening as I was leaving work. A question popped into my mind and wouldn't let me alone. It was one I thought I had kicked around before, but the way that it insistently kept coming up suggested I hadn't. Whatever it was that brought it to mind wouldn't let me hedge...or consider other factors....or bring up other perspectives. It was a simple question and wouldn't let me go until I would give it a yes or no answer.

"Do I regret having married Ariel?"

I reacted at first by bringing up all kinds of stuff. Yeah, it still hurts that it ended the way it did. Well, I don't know if I regret it as I didn't know how things were going to end. How do you know if something was good or not, pushing you to regret it? And so on and so on and so on. Whatever it was in my head wouldn't let me avoid the question like that. It kept coming up. I probably could've distracted myself with other stuff if I'd really put my mind to it. Loud, angry music's worked well for that in the past. Somehow, though, it seemed important enough that I should see it through.

So I thought about it. Putting aside how much it hurt that it ended with her deceiving me and then ending her own life. Putting aside how much I hate having my life turned upside down. Putting aside how much I sometimes hate being alone. Putting aside what we both did that I wish we hadn't. Putting aside how desperately I sometimes miss the life we'd had together. All of that stuff had to get stripped away, so I could answer that simple question. It had to get pared down to just that one piece: Do I regret having married Ariel?

Then the answer came: No. No, I don't regret it.

Suddenly that voice asking the question over and over was silent. Something inside clicked and locked into place. It doesn't change that I still hurt. It doesn't change that I didn't want it to end that way. Hell, it doesn't change that at the moment I'm still feeling sick and sore. But it does change that I can deal with tomorrow being our anniversary. Even if it ended badly, it's not a decision I regret. And it also came clear to me that it's not fair to ask if I'd do it over again. See, the point is I didn't know how it was going to end. I just knew that I loved and respected her, I enjoyed her company, and I wanted to have the chance to spend the rest of my life with her. If I'd have known differently, how it was going to end, then, yeah, I might have decided differently. The point is, I didn't know and I did decide to marry her.

And, no, I don't regret it.

Those simple questions are often worth looking at.  They can bring us to a depth that more complex questions might not.  Sometimes looking at too many things at the same time can allow for confusion and avoidance.  The simple question doesn't.  That's one of the things that makes them scary, that makes them hard to face at times.  I can't think of a time, though, that I've looked at one of those questions and regretted doing so.

So tomorrow I can deal with our anniversary. I can honor what we did have, what we shared, what we brought into each other's lives. And I'm feeling like I can move on with closing up the life we had together so I can move on.

The Energy Game

One of the hardest things for me to wrap my head around has been just how long this kind of stuff can mess with me.  See, with just about everything else I've had to deal with, I've been able to get it back together again a lot sooner than this.  For example, getting my back sprained when I was 19 laid me up for a few weeks and then had me working to get strength and flexibility back for a few months.  The ugliest relationsihp breakup I went through messed with me for about a year, but that was about it.  It's been a little over 18 months, and I still don't feel like I'm even close to being back to "normal."

The first parallel that I'd come up with came from talking with my aunt who's a doctor.  The effect of Ariel's death on me got compared to what it's like to have a stroke.  You're fine and then the next moment....BLAM!!  Some things still work, others only kind of work, and the rest are just....gone.  And there's no way to know when they'll come back on-line.  The best you can do is just try to keep working on it and trust that, in time, functioning will come back.

Lately, though, I've come to see it a little differently.  It's seeming more like an energy game to me.  The parallel that I've been kicking around is that of being a general manager of a mid-sized company.  The company has been working pretty well.  Like most companies it's always got its trials and tribulations, but for the most part it's doing pretty well.  All of a sudden, one day there's a catastrophe and about half of the employees are just...gone.  They get replaced by completely new people.  Fresh-faced, motivated people with decent work ethics....but no experience.  And it's not just the newer or more unskilled folks.  It's not evenly distributed, either.  Some departments are fairly intact.  Others are just about cleared out.  Sometimes it's the folks who used to supervise, and in other cases its those who just did the work for the company itself.

Imagine what it would be like.  The general manager usually can just rely on supervisors and other subordinates making sure that things get done.  He doesn't have to go down and watch the custodial staff to make sure everythings getting cleaned up well.  He doesn't have to go down to the warehouse and make sure that things are organized well and that supplies and products are inventoried and tracked well.  He doesn't have to make sure that the accounting is taking place consistently, credits and debits all accounted for.

Instead, the general manager's now got to go through and check in with each of those different areas.  He's got to go train the different supervisors.  He's got to help train some of the front-line workers with how to do their jobs.  And this is all on top of trying to keep the company moving along as it was.  How exhausting would that be?  How distracting?  How hard would it be at first trying to keep everything going and train up so many different people for so many different functions?  It's not like just training up one person to supervise everyone else.  The warehouse can't just stop while that happens.  Customer service can't just come to a screeching halt to allow for getting other areas up and running, not if business is supposed to continue at least fairly well.  How long does it take to just train one employee?  How about five?  How about half of the company?

Welcome to the Energy Game.  There's only so much time and energy our general manager's going to have to throw into trying to keep the company running and getting people trained up to do their jobs.  The same is true in dealing with the death of a spouse, or any other major loss.  There are so many habits that we build up over the years we spend living with someone else.  All of those habits are shortcuts for the Energy Game.  They take less time and effort...and energy...than having to stop and take care of everything intentionally.  Especially if it's sudden.  There's no time to prepare for the shift.  There's no advanced notice.  It just shakes almost everything to its foundation and leaves a long, LONG road to getting things back up and running even somewhat smoothly again.

Macho

Most of the guys I know grew up having, at one point or another, the idea that they were indestructible.  Sure, not all of them were athletic or strong or muscular.  However, across the board, there was the belief on some level that nothing bad could touch them.  It seems like that's a belief that stays with most guys for much of their lives.

Until something bad happens.

It can't be just any bad thing.  Those minor things that people recover from easily don't break through that.  Break a bone?  Eh, no big deal.  People heal up.  Crash a car?  As long as you can walk away, it's no big deal.  Besides, it's a chance to either fix or replace the car.  There are a lot of things where we guys can just "man up," pull ourselves up by our bootstraps (or jockstraps, in some cases) and soldier on.

Have your spouse commit suicide and die (yes, I know it's redundant)?  Unless you didn't give a damn about her, there's no way to macho through that.  Don't get me wrong.  Plenty try to do it.  Some can hold it together for awhile.  It never lasts, though.  Sooner or later, the shattered person falls apart.

Sooner or later, the emotions overwhelm both personality and defenses.  Sadness comes up.  Rage comes up.  Fear comes up.  Guilt and doubt come up.  Maybe they can be held off for awhile, especially during the day at work.  Or at night in pursuing the latest fling.  In time, though, the energy to hold it all together just isn't there.  Maybe in the middle of the night, maybe first thing on waking up, maybe while in the shower.  The shell fails.

At that point, the invulnerable, indestructible man is....just a person.  He's vulnerable.  Thoughts come up whether they're wanted or not.  Emotions come up, also whether wanted or not.  He'll hurt.  Things won't be in his control anymore.  Life is suddenly seen as something that can hit him, and hit him hard.  It's like the first time a dainty foot crashes into his testicles and reduces him to a heap of whimpering, whining, nearly inert biology.

And there's no more believing that he's somehow invulnerable and safe.

The only way through now is to come to accept that fact.  He's no longer ten feet tall and the earth doesn't shake to his footsteps.  He's no longer able to slip unnoticed by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.  He's just a....a....

Just like everyone else.

Through The Gates

I created this blog to give me someplace to write about loss and the process of working through grief.  A little over 18 months ago, me darlin' wife took her life.  It was the single most shattering experience of my life.  All of a sudden I went from having achieved pretty much everything I'd set out to do to feeling like the earth beneath my feet had split, cracked, and spun away in a hail of pieces and dust.

This isn't a blog that will be all happy and cheerful and upbeat.  I won't just be focusing on the tremendous growth I've done and how I've come to appreciate life and love and the people (and other beings) around me.  I'm creating this blog to be a place where I can be honest about this journey.  Sure, there will be some positive things in it.  There are also going to be posts that are bleak, posts that are angry, posts that are despairing, and posts that are downright sad.  Some of the posts here will deal with adult topics that, yes, include sex.  And before you start getting all worked up, no, this is not going to be material you can turn to for happy spankin' times.  If you want that, either go search somewhere else or, better yet, grow up!  So far, trying to create a bullshit, happy impression of how I'm doing or seeing things hasn't worked, and it's been one that I've rejected.  The only thing I reckon that will get me through all of this is, above all else, to be honest.

In the journey through Hell described by Dante, and later in two other books by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, the only way out is to go down and through all the layers of Hell.  Sometimes that means suffering.  Sometimes it means pain.  Sometimes it means questioning everything that's been believed before.  So far, it seems like that is true with this grief journey as well.  I have no way to know for sure what lies ahead.  There are no roadmaps that tell anyone what this journey will hold.  Everyone's walk will be unique to themselves.  I don't have Virgil to guide and protect me on the way through.  However, I also firmly believe that the only thing that will keep me from going through it is my choice to stop moving.

I'm putting this up in part for myself.  I've got a private journal that I keep offline where I record what I'm not willing to share with anyone else.  However, I'm also feeling that it's gotten to be time to put some things out there for others.  I wish I was the last person to have to deal with this kind of tragedy.  Sadly, I've gotten to see that I'm not.  If I can't spare anyone else that kind of agony, then I'll take it as the next best thing to be able to offer some of what I've learned and come to see to help them through, too.  And if it ends up being of benefit to someone who has a friend or family member or loved one dealing with a similar loss....I'm good with that.

Dante wrote, toward the beginning of The Inferno:

"Through me the way is to the city dolent;
  Through me the way is to eternal dole;
  Through me the way among the people lost.

Justice incited my sublime Creator;
  Created me divine Omnipotence,
  The highest Wisdom and the primal Love.

Before me there were no created things,
  Only eterne, and I eternal last.
  All hope abandon, ye who enter in!"

Well, it's time to walk through.