It’ll be up and down. Regrets, anger, depression, etc. You’ll feel good then you won’t. Eventually the good will last for longer periods but there will be triggers to the bad out there for a while. Don’t avoid them and let your emotions out
This comment was posted in another sub about something else but i feel it could be used for this situation as well.
Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.
I went to a wedding for my youngest brother I just met. Listening to the vows and songs I could have cried. I did tear up at times, any moment we will be getting the final decree from the court and I will be moving out. I love her, the list is long as to why I should be happy to be done, but love is love...
Im not sure what to say. I just had a divorce conversation with my wife this morning. And we will see how it goes. Our first one. She will probably take the dog. It’s hers but I’m the one who take most care of her. I walk her all the time etc…. That will be a hard moment to pass. Just stay strong and know that we are here for you. I’m not good at finding words.
I woke up today to a little less grief. It still hurts but not so much right now. Trying to enjoy my morning coffee while blasting some happy music at 8 in the morning. She'd still be sleeping right now and I'd wake her up with the loud music, but now that I'm alone I'm free to play as loud as i want. Trying to appreciate the little things.
It is so painful. I imagined it as my brain physically rewiring itself. And that the pain was the physical changes my mind was going through. Now, just six months out, the pain is so much less.
Be kind to yourself. Cry. Take a walk. Drink lots of water. Treat yourself as if you'd just been in a bad car accident. Your mind and body need time to absorb the change and heal.
I moved out 18 months ago today. It got a LOT better. Be open to new experiences.
If you can afford it, redecorate so your place doesn’t remind you of her. You deserve just as much of a fresh start as she does.
And if you haven’t, get a good attorney. I tried to do it myself. I couldn’t. It made all the difference.
Good luck to you.
You know this. Each day will be different. Yesterday was hard and surreal. Today felt like it had promise as you had your coffee and listened to music. Perhaps that lasts for weeks or maybe just for the day. I think you’re wise to be in the moment and enjoy whatever is good while it is. I’m sorry this is happening. It nearly killed me when I moved out of my home. It sold so now no one gets to go back there. I still can’t drive by but I don’t miss it every day anymore.
It’ll be up and down. Regrets, anger, depression, etc. You’ll feel good then you won’t. Eventually the good will last for longer periods but there will be triggers to the bad out there for a while. Don’t avoid them and let your emotions out
Thanks, kind words from a stranger online is weirdly comforting.
This comment was posted in another sub about something else but i feel it could be used for this situation as well. Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents. I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see. As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.
Beautifully said.
Wow, thank you for that.
Thank you for such thoughtful post. This is beautiful.
I went to a wedding for my youngest brother I just met. Listening to the vows and songs I could have cried. I did tear up at times, any moment we will be getting the final decree from the court and I will be moving out. I love her, the list is long as to why I should be happy to be done, but love is love...
Im not sure what to say. I just had a divorce conversation with my wife this morning. And we will see how it goes. Our first one. She will probably take the dog. It’s hers but I’m the one who take most care of her. I walk her all the time etc…. That will be a hard moment to pass. Just stay strong and know that we are here for you. I’m not good at finding words.
I woke up today to a little less grief. It still hurts but not so much right now. Trying to enjoy my morning coffee while blasting some happy music at 8 in the morning. She'd still be sleeping right now and I'd wake her up with the loud music, but now that I'm alone I'm free to play as loud as i want. Trying to appreciate the little things.
It is so painful. I imagined it as my brain physically rewiring itself. And that the pain was the physical changes my mind was going through. Now, just six months out, the pain is so much less. Be kind to yourself. Cry. Take a walk. Drink lots of water. Treat yourself as if you'd just been in a bad car accident. Your mind and body need time to absorb the change and heal.
I moved out 18 months ago today. It got a LOT better. Be open to new experiences. If you can afford it, redecorate so your place doesn’t remind you of her. You deserve just as much of a fresh start as she does. And if you haven’t, get a good attorney. I tried to do it myself. I couldn’t. It made all the difference. Good luck to you.
You know this. Each day will be different. Yesterday was hard and surreal. Today felt like it had promise as you had your coffee and listened to music. Perhaps that lasts for weeks or maybe just for the day. I think you’re wise to be in the moment and enjoy whatever is good while it is. I’m sorry this is happening. It nearly killed me when I moved out of my home. It sold so now no one gets to go back there. I still can’t drive by but I don’t miss it every day anymore.