In 2021, around the 10th anniversary of my husband’s passing, I realized what a huge milestone it was to have made it through a decade. There wasn’t a trophy, medal, or knighthood (though I feel I should’ve received all of those), but I had survived the unimaginable. I wanted to share my journey in the hopes of offering a sense of possibility. I know what it’s like to be in that horrible, beginning place where many of you reading this may be right now. Hold on to hope. We can—and do—move beyond just surviving.
I recently passed the ten-year anniversary of my husband’s passing. This time, a little over ten years ago, I was a redheaded, feisty, forty-something-year-old woman in the best shape of my life. Then along came June 2011. Kaboom!! Everything changed. I was suddenly catapulted into a different universe. One where Hell exists and makes you walk on coals.
My husband killed himself. He ended his life. Gone. Permanently gone. Never to return, gone. What the Hell?? I had to tell our children that their beloved father had taken his own life. WHAT. THE. HELL??
This all happened three days before Father’s Day. How I hate that “holiday”.
The next few months were surreal and excruciating. I lost 15 pounds in three weeks. I became a walking skeleton. Couldn’t eat or sleep. Could barely speak. The PTSD symptoms were debilitating at times. I cried constantly. I was terrified for my children. How would they cope? Would they kill themselves too? How could I possibly survive this? HOW?????
Well, fast forward ten years, and I have survived. It’s been an epic battle, with many challenges and pitfalls. There is a Japanese proverb: “Nana korobi ya oki,” which means: “Fall down seven times. Stand up eight”. It’s about hope, resilience, determination, transformation, and acceptance.
The first year or two were mostly about endurance and getting through one day at a time. A good friend’s minister said to her, “You are being watched. You are, by your actions, making a statement to these young people that it is possible to survive the unimaginable. Never underestimate your actions.” This became my mantra. I had to lead the way. I had to find ways to keep getting up and showing up. I had to learn how to become a solo pilot and navigate turbulent skies with no co-pilot. It was all on me now.
NEVER underestimate your actions.
I was overwhelmed with all that needed to be done and struggled to complete tasks. I began making “to do” lists with a goal of completing one to two tasks per day. All became more doable that way. I took myself off for long walks by the river. The sights and sounds of nature are balm for the soul. I carried a lot of anger towards my husband. I yelled and cursed at him often. Mostly in the car. So cathartic! I gave myself pep talks in the bathroom mirror. Became my own cheerleader. Some days I had much momentum and determination. Other days I dragged myself along kicking and screaming. I often had to fake it to make it.
Then one day, I realized I was no longer faking.
Towards the end of year three, I felt a significant shift happening. I was no longer obsessing over the why and how. It turned to, What now? I realized I was now willing to accept that this was the hand I had been dealt, and I had to play with the cards I had been given. I couldn`t change anything. It was all a done deal. I had spent so much time processing and railing against the injustice of it all. I just didn`t want to do it anymore. It was time to open the doors and curtains and allow more light to come in. It was time to rebuild and reinvent.
I just passed the ten-year anniversary of my husband`s suicide. I have grey hair and am carrying a few extra pounds. I lost my feisty, cocky self for quite some time. Walking through Hell sucks the life and soul out of you and tries to keep you there, stuck in a corner. Well, guess what? NOBODY puts this baby in a corner!
It`s been an arduous journey. One that has required sheer hard work, determination, and a big old toolbox. I am back and feistier than ever. I will always be a work in progress, but don`t ever tell me I can`t do something. For I have survived the unimaginable. I have raised two amazing, wonderful children. They are now very accomplished, young adults of whom I am so proud.
WE survived the unimaginable. You can too.
