Doug's last good day

Exactly two months ago today, I sat and watched as Doug's nurse spent the day weaning him off all the vasopressors he'd been on for two days. It was a day in which Doug was awake and responsive and able to communicate. It was the last day I was able to tell him that I loved him and know that he heard me.

There was no way for me to know, at the time, that this wasn't a sign that things were moving in the right direction, but was instead the rally before dying that often happens. It was Doug's last good day. It was MY last good day. It was the last full day when I was a wife - a newlywed, looking forward to Doug getting off the ventilator and out of the hospital to recover so we could go to the beach house for two weeks this summer and start our world travels next year. It was the last day I was a whole person. It was the last day I was happy. It was the last day that I had the luxury of thinking my  life was worth living. Hell, it was the last day I HAD a life.

I'm trying SO HARD, y'all. I really am. I'm trying to do the work I'm supposed to do to "heal" or "recover" or "live with" this. I'm journaling, I'm meditating, I'm exercising (when I can get myself off my ass to do it), I'm doing chores around the house (when I can get myself off my ass to do them), I'm forcing myself to eat one meal a day, I'm reaching out to people so I don't stay completely isolated, I'm even trying - every few days - to revisit Codecademy so I can see if any of my computer geek skills are coming back (spoiler alert: they aren't).

But none of this "trying" has translated into healing, or even brief periods of relief. It's just activity that uses time; all I'm doing is passing time, and doing it in complete and total misery.

In Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz says, "I am UTTERLY alone." I can relate. All the zoom calls... they're just pity socializing, and I know it. Because I AM pitiful. I am, rightfully, an object of pity. The various communities of widows and widowers love to tell each other "you're not alone," but that's complete and total bullshit. I am alone. I'm alone physically pretty much all the time. I'm alone emotionally every minute, even when I'm sleeping (not only am I not dreaming about Doug; I'm not dreaming at all).

I know that people die of Broken Heart Syndrome, and statistically, I'm in the sweet spot (I'm a woman, over 50, with a history of seizures - febrile only, when I was a child - and with a history of anxiety). And yet, I'm still here. My heart is as broken as can be, but it won't stop beating. WHY won't it stop beating already? What is the possible reason why I have to keep suffering like this? It's not right. It's not fair. I don't want to do this anymore. I may not write it out every day, but make no mistake about it: I want to go and be with Doug. I want it every minute of every day. It is the ONLY thing I want.

I'm so tired, y'all. Tired of crying. Tired of the soul-deep loneliness. Tired of being a wife without a husband. Tired of TRYING to make myself believe that this will get better, when I know it won't. Tired of being here without my love. Tired of feeling bad because so many people are invested in me getting better and I'm letting them down because I'm not and I won't. Tired of not being able to see, and touch, and talk to Doug. Tired of not being hugged by the person who loved me most. Tired of sleeping alone. Tired of worrying about Prowler alone. Tired of being who I am now, which is to say tired of being no one and nothing but a meat bag of despair.

But I'm trapped in this life I don't want, without the man I do want. There's no escaping it. There's no making it better. There's no finding new meaning in life. There's no lesson. There's no silver fucking lining. There's no rising like a phoenix from the ashes. There's only pain.

Tomorrow, I'll be starting the Writing Your Grief course. Like everything else, I'll go through the motions. I'll do what I'm supposed to do. I'll TRY. And at the end of those 30 days, I'm going to be exactly where I am now: pitiful, lonely, and wishing I could just go already and be with Doug.

I'm just so tired, y'all.