Tag: glioblastoma

Disclaimer: I’m having a shitty day. I’ve tried to shake it, but that’s just how today is. If you aren’t prepared to hear about that…probably complete with some swear words…you should just scroll on past today…I won’t hold it against you. If you read this and it hurts your feelings…I’m sorry.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m having such a bad day today. I am just so far down in the doldrums I can’t get myself out…and yes…I’ve tried. Went out to breakfast with the boys. Went to a craft fair with a friend. Took the dogs for a walk. Watched Levi play three tennis matches. All things that would normally help…not today.

When I look back this whole week has been difficult. Maybe it’s just all finally accumulated into one shit-tastic day. Work…which is normally my escape from stress…has been stressful AF this week…with no signs of that stopping any time soon. I feel lucky to work with such awesome people that are making it bearable…but we’re all feeling the strain.

I was filling out more insurance paperwork this week…this time for a disability policy we had forgotten about. It required contacting the doctor to get some paperwork filled out. Emailing with the nurse just made a whole range of emotions surface. On one hand, it was nice chatting with her because she is hands down one of my favorite people I have ever dealt with. She made an incredibly shitty situation as easy as she possibly could. On the other hand it was kind of PTSDish for me. Hard to be dredging up all those months of endless doctor’s appointments and treatments.

I met with my Insurance Guy…the one who lost his wife to brain cancer 5 years ago…so he can start helping me get all my finances in order. It is all really overwhelming, but Jae is an awesome guy and doesn’t rush me into making decisions about anything. He knows I need to feel secure and is helping me get there. He also knows which things should be higher on my priority list than others…super helpful. Right now I have a list of documents I am trying to compile before our next meeting. I felt like I had a pretty good handle on what we were all paying where….eh…maybe not so much. I’ll feel better when I feel more in control…and we have a good plan to get me there…so all good…but lots of stress.

On top of that was the 3 month anniversary of Jason’s death. The lives of most other friends and family have gone back to normal by now…and from some I am starting to feel the pressure…real or imagined…that mine should be as well. Here are answers to a few questions that I have gotten…directly and indirectly. Yes….I am still grieving. No…I am not better. Yes…I still cry. No…I am not ready to “move on”. Yes…I still miss Jason like crazy. No…I am not thinking that I will ever remarry. Yes…I believe in God. No…I don’t think that “keeping busy” will help. Yes…I have been back working full-time for 2.5 months now. No…I am not going to sell my house. Yes…our kids are doing great and I am so proud of them. No…I don’t want to hear about what you think you would feel and/or do in my situation…you have no fucking idea. Yes…I do go to counseling and have made really supportive friends there.

There seems to be some misconception about what grief really is. It’s not just one feeling. It’s a lot of feelings…sometimes conflicting feelings…all at once.

Grief Is…

Grief is sadness.
The kind way deep down that is always there
Even when there is a smile on my face
Or a laugh forced out.

Grief is loneliness.
No one to tell about my day
Cuddle with at night
Wake up with in the morning.

Grief is confusion.
How do I go from living the dream
To watching it slip away
Leaving me empty?


Grief is love.
With no one left
To give
It to.

Grief is jealousy.
Of those who still
Sleep beside their
Loves every night.

Grief is doubt.
Replaying every decision
Over and over
In my head until I’m crazy with it

Grief is anger.
Fuck this world
Where horrible people live and
My husband dies.

Grief is identity crisis.
Switching from reveling in my role as wife
To the new role of widow
“The one who just lost her husband”

Grief is loss.
Not just of my husband
But of friends and family
Who can’t or won’t support me

Grief is guilt.
Why do I get to live?
He was by far the better person
Why am I still here?

Grief is silence.
When I go for hours
Without talking
Because I am alone

Grief is sleeplessness.
When the bed is too big
My mind too busy
And sleep nowhere to be found

Grief is homelessness.
Our house doesn’t feel like home anymore.
Home was where Jason was.
Everywhere I look there he should be.


Grief is fear.
How am I ever going to manage everything-
Do the best for the kids and I?
What if I mess up?

Grief is vulnerability.
I trusted Jason with everything.
Now when I need someone
It’s hard to open up.

Grief is fragility.
Emotions so raw and powerful
I feel like I could shatter
Into a million pieces.

Grief is isolating.
When people don’t understand
And say things that make the hurt
So much worse.

Grief is lack of control.
Feeling like every decision
Has been taken away
And I am just stuck.

Grief is heavy.
A huge weight of
Responsibilty
On my shoulders.

Grief is unpredictable.
A roller coaster
Of emotion
Moment to moment.

Grief is stressful.
The muscles in back
Tightening more
And more.

Grief is exhausting.
So tired of the struggle.
Day after day after
Day after day.

I was texting with my SIL a little bit ago while getting some lines down for a new poem that’s been rolling around in my head. My left thumb reached over to fidget with my wedding rings (Mine and Jason’s) on my ring finger….and instant panic…overly pokey prongs…one bent way over…and no diamond in my ring.

I turned the flashlight on my phone and frantically started looking for it while trying to hold back hysterical sobs…pretty sure I would never find it. Did I mention that I had just gotten home from walking the dogs…in the dark? I retraced my steps in the house…no luck. I went out into the garage shining my flashlight on the step and garage floor. Opened the door to my car….and there it was…on the floor mat. I can’t even describe how relieved I was. I don’t think I’m overly attached to material possessions…but this one…yes. It borders on a “one ring to rule them all” obsession.

I’d really like to find a jeweler that can do some cool thing with our rings together and somehow rework mine so that the prongs don’t get caught so easily. This is the second time the diamond has come completely out…I don’t want to chance a third.

I am feeling all sorts of tapped out tonight. Levi had his first band concert in….awhile…since pre-covid. Can I just say how much I hate single parenting? Not because it is so much work…or I can’t handle it…or I don’t want to go to the kids’ events. It just really sucks that it is “just me”…I’m it…all they’ve got. The majority of their friends have Mom and Dad…even if their parents are divorced…not mine…not anymore…and that really sucks. I hate walking into places and seeing all the parents together enjoying their kids’ concerts, games, etc and being solo. I just hate it.

I did think about texting one of my friends tonight to see if I could sit next to her so I wouldn’t be by myself. I didn’t because I didn’t want to feel like some sort of odd third wheel with her and her husband. Ironically, she walked in without her husband…he was doing baseball with their son…and she sat down next to me. Five minutes later another friend was also in the same boat…so the three of us sat together. It did make me feel better not to be sitting alone.

One of the band directors at the high school passed away from esophageal cancer about a year ago. Anna had worked with him quite extensively during her four years of high school. He was an amazing man. The band did a really moving tribute to him…with his high school-aged daughter conducting. It was really hard for me not to ugly cry during that. The edge of my mask was soaking up some tears. It’s hard to see what the “big picture” could possibly be. What could possibly be the reason for taking these amazing people away from us…leaving their families…friends…communities…behind to grieve them? It doesn’t make sense.