Friday, December 13, 2013

Toolbox


I don't do drugs of any kind. 
I rarely drink. Wine gives me headaches and makes me fall asleep, I think beer tastes like gasoline (not that I've ever consumed gasoline, but if I did, I know it would taste like beer), and I'm way too wimpy for hard liquor type-stuff. 

So, two and a half years ago, when life pushed me at 100 mph onto this freight train called grief, it was never even a thought in my brain to use alcohol or drugs as part of my coping mechanisms. This is not a judgement on anyone who has - it is just a statement of fact. 

I did, however, find other ways to cope. I latched on to other addictions, and used them as my crutches to hold me up when I couldn't walk. And in the beginning of this nightmare, walking felt like something I had never done before. My legs were jello and they felt shaky and foreign, like they belonged to someone else. 

In the beginning, and today, there were 3 things that became and remain my ways of coping. Three things, more or less, that I hold onto and use as the tools inside my toolbox, to help me get through each day:

1. WRITING - Two nights after my husband's sudden death, late, somewhere around 4am, I was furiously typing away at the computer at my parent's house. I was staying with them for the night in Massachusetts, and we had to be up in 3 hours to drive back from there to New Jersey, where my husband and I had lived for 7 years, for his funeral services. I remember my dad coming into the room saying: "Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to, you know." I was writing his Eulogy, which I would deliver the next morning to that huge crowd of family, friends, and loved ones. And yes, I did have to. 

And from that day on, writing was never a choice. It was never something that I logically decided to do. It just came to me. It fell out of me. It let my soul free itself, and I could say whatever the hell I wanted. It felt awful and wonderful and scary and intoxicating. I started writing down everything. First on Facebook, then in my personal blog (www.ripthelifeiknew.com), then in the form of a one-woman play about his death, then in Widow's Voice, then in Modern Widow's Club, then - and now - in the form of my book, which has a tentative goal release date for late spring 2014. It started out as being a way to cope, to get things out of me that needed to come out. It became so much more, when other people starting reading my words and responding to them, and thanking me for simply writing the brutal truths about death and grief. Writing gave me a reason to breathe again, and everytime some new person tells me that something I wrote helped them or moved them in some way, it makes me want to take just a few more breaths, and then maybe a couple more. 



2. HUMOR - Whenever someone implies or asks the question of: "How can you laugh at something so serious and sad and horrible like death?", my response is usually: "How can you not?" I have always had a pretty twisted sense of humor. My husband had a very sick sense of humor. He was hilarious. He found humor in both silly things and dark things. He served in the Air Force, in Desert Storm. He was also a paramedic the entire time I knew him. He witnessed and experienced a lot of trauma in his short 46 years of life. Him and his EMS partners would cope with things like pulling little kids out of a car wreck,or watching a person die right in front of them - with humor. Everyone he worked with had that same sense of humor. Honest. Brutal. Funny. Him and I used to laugh probably more than we did just about anything else. So when he died so abruptly and unfairly, my humor kicked in right away, and I could literally hear him laughing his huge laugh, at how ridiculous this all is. Taking my pain and making it funny became a way of life. First I brought it to the stage, with my stand-up comedy. Then I brought that stand-up comedy to Camp Widow, where I presented my comedy workshop, and will again in 2014. I am always finding ways to make the pain funny, and when I do, I can feel him laughing with me. If I didn't laugh, I would probably die. 

3. SUPPORT - Before losing my husband, I didnt really have much experience with death. Sure, like most people, I had lost grandparents and a few other significant people  in my life. But nothing that was even in the same universe as the magnitude of this. So I didn't know much about grief. Even so, some sort of weird inner-instinct kicked in when it happened, and I immediately knew that I was going to need help. A lot of help. I knew that I would need to reach out, and find support in any way that I could. Family. Friends. Grief-counseling. Widowed Support Groups. Social Groups. Facebook Widowed Online Groups. Connecting with widowed people from all over the world. Attending Camp Widow. Saying yes to everything that was offered to me. Searching for more, and taking it all in. Because even with all that support, you can and you DO still feel alone. So alone. But sometimes if you are feeling very, very alone - and you can go to a place like Facebook and say it out loud and then have other people tell you: "Yes. I get it. I feel that way too" - sometimes, that can save your life. At least for today. 

So what is in your survival toolbox?

(Pictured: me and my husband Don, acting incredibly silly together.)

9 comments:

  1. I am one who has benefited from your writing and humor. My husband also had a decidedly dark sense of humor and I seek out peoplebwho are funny now just to have the opportunity for belly laughs. I have been wavering whether or not to go to camp widow 2014 but if you are going to present there, then it makes me want to go! In addition to the three things you mentioned above, in my toolbox I also have walking and yoga. Couldnt survive this journey without all five tools: writing, humor, support, walking, and yoga. Thanks Kelley for starting my TGIFs off right!!

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    1. Carolyn, you should definitely go to Camp. Aside from seeing my presentation, it is just an amazing and lifechanging experience overall. I met so many new friends by going, and Im really excited to go back to all 3 next year (East, West and Canada!) an present my workshop again, and meet even MORE incredible new people, so we can all keep helping each other get through this. Im so glad that anything I have written or said has helped or touched you in any way. Thank you for that.

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  2. I do drink wine and enjoy an occasional single malt, but after my wife died I avoided it because I could see myself getting lost in the drink. At first my coping was to escape, I'd take trips to see different relatives. I couldn't stay very long in our home. I would also write and started a Google+ community. But probably the best coping mechanism for me was walking. I'd get out and walk the neighborhood and enjoy memories of Laura. We had only moved to this home less than a year before Laura's death and it was our practice to go out and walk during my lunch hour and again in the evenings.

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    1. Walking is great, Paul. I did the same thing in the beginning, when I was still living in the apartment Don and I shared in NJ. (I had to move out about a year after he died and now I live in NY with a roommate. I couldnt afford to stay there alone.) We lived in West New York NJ, which is right on the Hudson River and has the NYC skyline as its backdrop. Don and I used to walk down our street at night all the time, surrounded by the city lights. We would stop on the benches and sit down and hold hands and talk. After he died, I took that walk alone quite a few times and tried to feel him with me.

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    2. Thinking back on my reply the walking part didn't really come about until my thoughts about Laura had shifted from the "what will I do without her" to gratitude for the wonderful years we had together.

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  3. Hi Kelley Lynn, I agree with you and Carolyn that humor surpasses wine and drugs for me. My husband like yours also made light of dark stuff. My daughter used to warn me before I went to the cemetary for weekly visits that I wasn't allowed to dig him up. She would stop by and visit with her dad and tell me about his new neighbors at the cemetary. For most people, this would all seem like morbid talk but for us it was and still is survival. Our hearts are so heavy with grief that allowing laughter makes that load so much lighter!

    I have been reading and responding to WV for 3 years and don't know what I would do without the blogs. This is so much more helpful than any professional help that I used during the 1st year. And the price is right!!!!! Thank you Kelley Lynn. You are the best!

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  4. Humor was huge for me too. The dumbest, funniest movies with no thinking for feeling involved, stand up comedy, dark humor. I watched all the seasons of 30 Rock all the way through 2 times in a row. I still consider writing Tina Fey and telling her she helped me survive.
    Also, for some reason, really punishing exercise (usually not my thing at ALL) was really therapeutic. I think it was a way to exhaust myself and numb myself. Also, it helped some of the anger and helplessness to come out in a way that felt powerful. And then, more than anything else, I needed, NEEDED to lean into my friends. They were a safe harbor in a really unsafe new world.

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  5. Early days for me (10 weeks only) but writing in a journal and playing music. I play oboe - playing at home, and going back to play with my (amateur community) orchestra has been really helpful. I've also had great support from the people in my orchestra which has also been very helpful. Humour has also been important - John had a very dark sense of humour and found the absurdities of life and people incredibly funny. We both did. After his death I cancelled his mobile phone contract. I spoke to the bereavement team. Yet they still sent a text to HIS phone which read "Sorry you have decided to leave us. If you change your mind please give us a call." I think my friends were surprised that I found it incredibly funny rather than upsetting - but I think John would have laughed at the absurdness and how completely inappropriate it was in so many ways (unless of course they really do have a hot line to the after life and offer resurrection services on the side - in which case count me in!). I'm finding reading this blog really helpful too and finding support wherever I can. Love and thanks to you for writing x

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  6. I wish there was a Camp Widow in Australia!!

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