E.T. phone home…

Losing a spouse is BIG. So big, I can’t even wrap my head around it yet. There are defined “stages of grief”, and most people do experience these. But they also say that everyone’s process through grief is unique. Here’s one version of my experience:

I call it “Alien Abduction”. You’re going along…about your day…living your life, some things are good, some things suck…then suddenly the rug is torn out from under you, and you are left flailing. It’s like you get yanked up into a maelstrom by your hair, and flung around like a rag doll. THEN! The aliens that grabbed you start probing in places you never knew you had, and drop you back down in fucking Kansas – naked – with no Starbucks (or husband) in sight. Internal wires are all tangled, things just don’t feel quite right. Somehow you walk home…(this, after having been partially lobotomized), you get dressed…and you go to work…day after day…never quite sure when the next emotional abduction will take place, trying to figure out what parts of “you” you still have, but all too aware of what you’ve lost.

4 thoughts on “E.T. phone home…

  1. I must say that I laughed when reading this post. Its quite funny. Its quite sad also as you described the exact same thing I’ve experienced. I don’t think people in general can relate unless they’ve been through it themselves.

    But I certainly can. You’ve given it a label for me, alien abduction!

    The one thing I kept asking over and over, never expecting an answer was WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE? 3 months diagnosis to death? Really?! Can it be that simple? I don’t get it. Can I have a do over please?

    “…what parts of “you” you still have…” Indeed, one of the hardest things for me was, “who am I now? What do I like to do? (we did what my husband wanted to do). Where do I go from here? What do I do now with my life?

    It gets easier…not easy…just easier.

  2. My husband only had 4 months from diagnosis as well. My singular focus during that time was on him…so the shock of what was really happening didn’t even have room to register until after he had died. Then it hits you like a ton of bricks. He is gone. AND you are alone, trying to pick up the pieces. It’s hard to think about what’s next. I am still trying to register what happened. I guess one thing I don’t question is “why” it happened; and I consider that a small blessing…as everything else is such a big-ass question mark of confusion.

  3. I was just trying to explain this feeling to my therapist today. It’s been 19 months since he died and I still feel like this. Lobotomized is a good way to describe it too. And as rosechimera said I have been asking myself the exact question “What just happened here?” I STILL ask it, every day. I had 7 days from diagnosis to death, so the shock was UNREAL. Not that anyone else’s isn’t. It’s all unreal.

    • I’m so sorry. 7 days…what a shock. When I think of everything that we have to absorb when coming to terms with such a loss, it’s no wonder that we can’t function. That the brain kind does it’s own thing, taking over like auto pilot, in an attempt to keep the plane from going down in flames. I really hope you begin to find some relief, or ease in your grief. But I know what you are saying. Disbelief is still very much a part of my current state of existence…

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