A Fall Saturday in Maine

This past weekend was probably an unremarkable weekend for most.  I know here in the Northeast, many people went apple picking or visited a pumpkin patch.

I love fall activities but I know I was not going to enjoy last weekend because last Saturday would have been Bryon and my 6th wedding anniversary.

The truth is, as more anniversaries pass, the more alienated I feel.  Not just from other, happily married, living people (i.e. NORMS, a term created by fellow widow Michelle Miller) but also from myself.  As time goes back, I feel detached even from myself.  Because I am no longer a happily married, living person.

So what does a formerly happily married, living person do on their wedding anniversary, particularly when the other half of their former happy union is a dead person?

Well last year, our anniversary fell on a Friday.  So I took Kimmy Gibbler out for a steak lunch at Black and Blue Steak and Crab.  The food was amazing.

This year our anniversary was on a Saturday.  Taking Kimmy Gibbler out for steak wouldn’t have worked because our kids would be home from school.

I am kidding, of course.

The truth was, I didn’t want to be in town that day.  I didn’t feel like sitting around my house or staying in the town where every place has some memory of Bryon.

So I drove home to Maine for the weekend.

That day my father, my daughter and I went on a day trip.

Our first stop was the scenic lookout at  Caterpillar Hill in Sedgwick, Maine.


I don’t know what my hair was doing in that picture.  We were near the ocean so it was windy.

Then we crossed over the Deer Isle-Sedgwick Bridge.

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We passed the Little Deer Isle, Maine post office.  This was the post office that my father worked at when he first became postmaster.   This also was the promotion that brought my family to Maine from the Boston area.

We drove down to Pumpkin Island Light.

It felt so good to feel the fresh air of the ocean.  The ocean has always been my happy place.  There is something about it that re-centers my soul and reminds me just how insignificant we really are.

We drove around Deer Isle but I didn’t get any pictures.

On the way home, we stopped at The Fish Net in Blue Hill to get fried clams for lunch and a chicken fingers lunch for my daughter.  I went to the takeout window while my father stayed in the car with my daughter, who was napping.

Being home and being around the ocean always makes me reflective.

Lately I have been taking a step back socially to focus on my daughter, to reflect on my life, to take care of myself and to prepare for the next chapter in my life.  I admit, it makes me a little uneasy to look towards the future and not know what to expect.  I have always been a person who liked to have a two year, five year and ten year plan.

Currently, I don’t even have a two month plan.

At times, I feel lost.

A little over two and a half years ago, I still had a husband.  We had just returned from a Caribbean cruise and we had our whole lives ahead of us.

And then that was taken away.

I may have gotten over the basic shock and I have accepted that this happened.  But now I am working on letting go and redefining myself and my dreams.

Please trust me when I say that it’s a lot harder than it sounds.

I was thinking about this as I stood at that clam shack on the Maine Coast when I looked up and saw this:

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Bryon with a “yo”.

At that moment, I realized that no matter where I go or how my dreams change, Bryon will be there with me.

I mean, seriously, if he can find a way to be with me while waiting for my lunch at a clam shack on the Maine Coast, then he will find a way to be with me anywhere.

And that was the best anniversary present I could have gotten.

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The cruel quandaries of widowhood

Alternate title: Slowly erasing my husbands presence on Earth.

Like when I had his name removed from our bank account.

I thought about the irony.  I had opened that bank account when I first moved to New York.  I was a single gal but when we got married, I added Bryon to the account.  We were a “one pot” kind of couple when it came to our finances.  We argued about money a lot less that way.  That account was our everyday account.

And now I am back to having the account to myself.  With a different last name though.

There is a good chance I will hang onto this account forever.

Because I am oddly sentimental like that.

Like the fact that I have lived in the 518 area code for almost a decade and I still have my Maine 207 number.  I have had my number since 2001.  I graduated from college that year and had a large Nokia phone that I used to play snake on.  It’s how we wasted time before Facebook.

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Those were the days.

Anyway, after I left the bank the day I removed him from our bank account, I sat in my car and cried.  Because it felt like his presence on Earth was being erased little by little.  Sure, his name is still on the checks.  The man at the bank told me it was okay to use them.  But those will run out.  It may take awhile because I pay most things electronically but it will eventually happen.

It is a cruel quandary of widowhood.

After a certain amount of time- time frame custom tailored for each widow- a widow realizes that she can’t keep living in the past.

She must move forward.

She knows she must do it.

But even thought she knows that she full-filled her wedding vows and that she deserves a chance to be happy again, it doesn’t make letting go of her deceased spouse any easier.

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Yes, you might be groaning but I was a freshman in college when Titanic was in the theaters.  It’s one of the few movies my broke self saw in the theater that year. (I already dated myself when I said I graduated from college in 2001 and played snake on a Nokia phone.)

And I am emotional right now, so we are just okay to go with it, okay?

Obviously I will never completely let go of Bryon.  I couldn’t even if I tried.  He is in my heart.  But there comes a time that you realize you can’t hold on to every item he owned.  Especially since he was a pack-rat.

Sure some items I will save for sentimental and utilitarian purposes and some will go live with friends for sentimental and utilitarian purposes.

But some items need to go because they serve no use.

Like Bryon’s clothes.

Shortly after Bryon died, I did clear out his side of the closet.  Our Master closet is small and I needed the precious real estate.  I bagged up about seven trash bags of clothes and put them in the garage where they sat for about a year before I brought them to Goodwill.

Apparently I put a bunch of his clothes in an upstairs closet and forgot about them.

So I got to relive the whole experience.

I saw the shirt he was wearing when he proposed to me.

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I cried.

Because as I held the shirt, for a brief couple of seconds, I felt like he was right there.

For a brief couple of seconds, I felt like I was still married.

And then…it was gone.

Back to reality.

And then for a brief couple of seconds, it was like the initial denial of his death came over me.

How did this happen?  How is this my life?  Why did he have to die?

I did put his button down shirts into a box to be saved to make a quilt for my daughter someday.

I do have Bryon’s hoodie sweatshirts.  Yes, they are rather large on me but I live in a cold climate.

And some days I wear them because I know it’s the closest thing I am going to get to getting a hug from him.

And I still managed to fill nine trash bags.

Granted, some of it was old suits and gala dresses of mine from my political days.

I decided that was ten years ago and if I were to be that size again, I deserve new suits and dresses.

I mean, we are constantly evolving, right?  New self, new dress.

(Though I hardly go to any events these days that require suits or gala dresses.)

I also bagged up some maternity clothes.

Widowed and 40…yeah…I am pretty sure that ship has sailed.

I saw his white suit jacket that he wore at the Young Republican National Convention Gala at the Indy Speedway in 2009.  I remember him telling me that he liked it because he was dressed up but still looked different and made a statement.

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Young Republican National Convention Gala at the Indy Speedway in 2009.

I looked at his suit jackets and thought about the times I wore them as a coat when I got cold.

Now I better remember to bring a shawl in case I get cold.

There are couple of pieces I couldn’t part with.

The first was his seer sucker.  He loved that.

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New York State Young Republicans Day at the Races- Saratoga, NY, 2010

The second item I couldn’t part with was his Albany Law School Rugby windbreaker.

The funny thing was, he rarely wore a winter coat.  He either wore his ALS Rugby windbreaker or his green fleece.  (He wore the green fleece to the hospital the last time so I donated it in the first round because I immediately associated it with the hospital).

For a man who rarely wore a winter coat, he sure had a lot of them.  Even a few I didn’t recognize.

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Continental Divide, 2010

The third item I couldn’t part with was his navy 1950’s Dad cardigan.

He almost didn’t buy it.  We were at DestinationXL and he saw it and liked it.  I told him to get it but he was concerned that people would mistake him for being a hipster.  I told him there was no way he could be mistaken for a hipster.  Then he expressed hesitation because he didn’t know what to wear with it.  So I ask the salesman on the floor and he and I have a 5 minute detailed discussion about options while Bryon looked a little dazed.

He loved the sweater.  I wish I had a better picture but the only one I could find was from Thanksgiving.

And he is wearing a dirty apron. (Though the things is permanently stained.  It’s hanging up.  I need to toss it.)

And a turkey hat (which my daughter now loves and calls “Hey-Hey Chicken”).

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Thanksgiving, 2015

And the fourth item I couldn’t part with was his Red Sox shirt.

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Tri-City Valley Cats Game, 2012

As I put the clothes on the bed in the spare room, this little guy laid on them.  I believe that animals are intelligent creatures and I think he sensed that they were his clothes.  I don’t think there would be any scent but I have no idea about a cat’s sense of smell.

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And then the final step to erasing my husbands presence on Earth…or my house at least was dropping the bags off.

I dropped them off at some drop boxes at a local church in my town.  I prefer to drop them at a local church as opposed to Goodwill because the CEO at Goodwill makes a sh*it ton of money.  I also prefer to drop off where there are bins because I am an introvert and prefer not to talk to people.

Especially when I might cry.

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I have heard that clutter is stagnant energy.  I have also heard that clutter is a form of depression.  I just know that as difficult as this task was, it had to be done.  I don’t think Bryon would want me to stay stuck in the past.

I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.

Happy third birthday in Heaven

Today’s post will be a quick post.  I just wanted to share a few photos on how we celebrated Bryon’s birthday.

His birthday is exactly one week after his deathaversary but I try not to dwell too much on his deathaversary.  I prefer to celebrate the fact that he had lived.

My daughter and some friends released balloons at the cemetery.

“Table Top” in the grass.  Nice to see gymnastics class pay off.

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Balloon-Release!

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UP…

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…UP…

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…And AWAY!!!!

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I am sure he enjoyed them. Especially when I got in the car and one of his favorite songs came on.  He saves this one for birthdays and happy occasions.

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After the cemetery, we had dinner at one of Bryon’s favorite restaurants, Swifty’s.

I enjoyed my first Sam oktoberfest.

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I don’t care if it’s still August.  It’s been a hot summer and the humidity has been wicked.  I am so over it.

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I love these people.  They have stayed with me through thick and thin.  Of course, a few were unable to attend and we missed them.

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I feel like I should write something more profound but between the fact that last week was Bryon’s deathaversary and this week is his birthday and my birthday tomorrow, my head kind of feels like it is going to explode.  I have been emotional and cried a lot but I am okay.

The good news is that I am leaving on a birthday girls trip tomorrow but I have a lot of things to do between now and then.

So this post is going to have to be enough.

Thanks for reading along.

Two years of widowhood- an honest assessment. And what now?

Six months into widowhood, I wrote a blog post about what to expect in widowhood.

I decided to do a blog post summing up my thoughts.

Kind of a sampler of random thoughts.

Before I delve into my experiences, I want to mention that everyone’s experience with grief is different.  This post is based on my experience.  Your mileage may vary.

Secondly, I use the term widow and “she” because I am writing from my perspective.  But this also applies to widowers as well.  I just thought my writing flowed better saying “widow” instead of “widow or widower”.

And third, this is no way a complete list of things I could say about widowhood.  But this is a blog and it will be ready for those words when I write them.

Widowhood is hard to reconcile.  And accept.

I thought I was going to grow old with Bryon.

Then he died and I had no say in the matter.

Survivors guilt is a real thing.  I tormented myself for months, wondering what I could have done for a different outcome.  It took me many months to come to the realization that there was nothing I couldn’t have done.

I don’t know why this had to happen.  I probably never will.

But it did happen.  Whether it is for a specific reason or as the result of the butterfly effect or a combination of the two, I don’t know.

Sometimes shitty things happen to good people.

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Our society doesn’t know how to handle grief.

After Bryon died, I was barraged with cliches.

Everything happens for a reason…

You just need to find your new normal…

It was all part of God’s plan…

He will always be with you in spirit…

God doesn’t give you more than you can handle…

He will be watching over you and your daughter…

He’s not hurting anymore…

People mean well.  They feel like they need to say something to make you feel better but they don’t know what to say.  So they revert back to these cliches.

The problem is that these cliches rarely make people feel better.  They usually make people feel worse.  The best case scenario is that the grieving person just ignores it or rolls their eyes.

This is usually the opposite effect than was intended.

If you know someone grieving, ask how the grieving person is doing.  Take them to lunch. Share a story about the deceased.  But please, please, please, try not to use a cliche.

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People will disappear

It doesn’t matter how popular your deceased spouse was.  People disappear.

It starts with the funeral.   You won’t hear from 70% of those people again.

And as time goes by, the amount of people who check up on you continues to goes down.

People move on and forget about your deceased .

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If you make it to two years out, the people that are still here are your nearest and dearest.  Hold on to them.

People will kick you when you are down.

My late husband was a popular person.  In fact, he is way more popular posthumously than I am alive.

I have had people use me and my situation to latch onto my husband’s popularity.  You know, offer to help on social media where everyone can see but they never call after a snow storm.  Or people who try to take pictures with my daughter treating her like a photo op instead of a real person.

It’s sick.

A couple of times it has surprised me because this behavior came from people who I thought were my true friends.

I am going to clear something up.

Widowhood is lonely, even with amazing friends and family.

But just because a widow is lonely does not mean that she must accept all friendship, even if she is being used and treated poorly.

It is insulting.

For me, the opposite is true.  Life is short and I need to spend my time with those who care about my daughter and me.

I’ve also learned there are a lot of narcissists and toxic people around and it is important to set boundaries.

If I cut someone out of my life, there is a very good reason for it.

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At first these realizations upset me but now I am appreciative of them because they taught me important lessons.  And I can make room for true friends.

Your tolerance for bullsh*t goes way down.

When Bryon and I got married, I thought my tolerance for bullshit went down.

And it did.

When Bryon and I became parents, I thought my tolerance for bullshit went down.

And it did.

But it was when Bryon died that my tolerance for bullshit plummeted.  When you watch one of the two people you love most slowly die, you quickly learn what is important and you lose any tolerance for people who try to make your life miserable.

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It does get better.

It take time but eventually the pain lessens.

Though I haven’t figured out if it is actually getting easier or if you just get used to their absence.

But the pain never goes away entirely.  You will still have bad days.  There will still be things that trigger you.

But there is hope.

Where does this leave me now?

As I said in my blog post on Tuesday, I feel like am  stuck between two worlds.  I am looking forward to the next chapter but I am struggling to let go of the past.

The first year of widowhood was about survival for me.  Getting out of bed was enough of a challenge.

The second year was about getting used to Bryon being gone and getting used to envisioning a future without him.

The second year was also the year I learned to love myself.

And now I am about to embark on the third year.

What does that even mean?  What does that mean for this blog?

While I miss Bryon every single day and I will still have sad days and moments where I cry.  But I can’t stay in deep sadness forever.  Grief is exhausting and I have been grieving for two years.

Do you know how exhausting it is to work full time, write a blog, raise a daughter by yourself and experience and process deep and profound grief at the same time?

I know Bryon doesn’t want me to be this sad forever.

Bryon gave me so much in our years together and the best way to honor him is to start living again. He made the most of his 30 years.  He accomplished more in those years than most people do in 80.

But it is hard for me to listen to people complain about becoming older.  Bryon didn’t even make it to middle age.  I need to make the most of the years I have left.

So the third year is going to be the year I start to live again.

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Two years

Two years.

I am trying to let that sink in.

Two years ago I was sitting next to you during the last hours of your life.

We were both clinging on in a way.

It was what I imagine Purgatory to be like.

As much as I wanted the agony to be over, I had no choice to but to cling and wait out our last hours and minutes together.  Because once Purgatory was over, you were going to be dead.

(There was no way, at that time, to foresee the agony that would follow during the months after).

I don’t know why you were clinging on but you did.  I am sure it was because of some deep spiritual meaning that I can’t understand in this human form.

Or maybe you were waiting for Chelsea to score even though we weren’t watching a game.  Besides, your heart stopped beating at 6:47 am which is probably still too early, even for English Premier League Soccer.

I am in a much better place now than I was last year.

Your first deathaversary really kicked me on my ass.  It put me in a funk that I couldn’t seem to shake off until Christmas.

Last year I would have said that your death made a big impact in my life.

Which it did.

But now I realize that your life had an even bigger impact than your death.

I will probably never understand why our years together were so short but I am grateful that I had you for as long as I did.

I am grateful for the memories and all I learned from you.

You loved me at my worst.

Sadly, you never got to experience me at my best.

I’d like to think that you would be proud of me.

I am better person because of your love.

You always believed in me.

You were right.  I am a lot smarter than I ever gave myself credit for.  Though I am sure you roll your eyes a lot every time I mess something up or forget to do something.

I remember how appalled you were when we were in our dating days when I half-joked that whenever I hear a noise in my car, I would turn the music up and hope that the noise went away.  You told me that you were going to take care of the car and I happily obliged.

Well, I’ve actually kept up on car maintenance.  I even checked with my Dad to make sure there wasn’t anything I might have forgotten and he said I was all set.

Though, truth be told, I am too scared to let car maintenance slide since I drive with our daughter in the car.  If it were just me…then…eh…

But I have been trying hard to learn these new skills.  Because you aren’t hear to take care of the things you used to take care off.

Last year I was still grasping the concept that you died.

This year I am grasping the concept of how much time has passed since you were gone.

I used to marvel at how much has changed since you were here but now I can’t help but notice how much has changed since those early months after you died.

It might seem silly but it started when I noticed that the heels on my boots were wearing out.  And then I remembered that I bought those boots after you died.  How can it be possible that you have been dead long enough where I can wear out a pair of boots?

Friendships have run their course.

(Do you remember when I used to let people walk all over me and use me?  I would get so upset and those offenders and the situations always angered you.  At the time, I didn’t realize that it hurt you to see me hurt.  You encouraged me to stand up for myself more.  Well it is safe to say that I don’t out up with being treated poorly anymore.)

You died a month before our daughter turned two.  Now she is almost 4 and she is going to be starting pre-K.  And your best friends son who was born after you died is almost 2.  I am not going to lie but your absence hurts the most during their milestones, first and achievements.  You not here to see them grow up.

At this time last year, I was still struggling with adjusting to life without you.

Now, I feel like I am used to you being gone.  Or maybe I am just used to your absence always being present.  But I know that nothing is going to bring you back.

I have to accept that this is our story even if it’s not the ending I would have written for us.

I keep hearing that you are supposed to live in the Present.  But my Present feels like I am living in limbo between two different worlds.

One of the worlds I live in consists of the past.  While I am not in denial about your death, part of me is having a hard time letting go of the past.  It just feels like every time I complete a task, your existence on Earth is erased just a little each time.

I took your name off of the bank account.  It was time.  The process only took about ten minutes and the guy working at the bank was really nice but when I got back to the car, I cried.

People talk about you less. When you first died, everyone was willing to talk to you and share memories.  Now it feels like I can only talk about you with a small group of people. I guess most people have moved on. I am not quite ready to move on.

It feels like you have been forgotten.

I don’t want you to be forgotten.

I also live the other life that consists of the future.  I hope it’s a happy time.

I live in a world where I am so ready for that next chapter.  Whatever it might have in store for me.

Though I get overwhelmed when I think of all I need to do physically and emotionally to get to the next chapter.

I have been in a deep sadness for two years but I know I can’t stay this sad forever.

I am tired of feeling sad.

This type of sadness takes so much energy out of me.

And I know you don’t want me too.   You want me to live my life to the fullest.

But you are one hard Mo-Fo to get over, Bryon McKim.

You changed my life and I will never meet anyone like you.  But maybe from here I am supposed to be the one changing people’s lives?  I am still trying to figure this out.

I want to be happy again.

I am ready for my next chapter.

No matter what happens, I will love you forever, BCM.

I promise I will never forget you.

 

You are free!

We all spent time worrying about things that we can not control.

You can’t control the weather.

You can’t control the temperature or the humidity.  You can’t control the rain or snow.

You can’t control the economy.

You can’t control the government.

You can’t control the housing market.

You can’t control the stock market.  Or the global market.

You can’t control the currency exchange rate.  Or the tax rate.

You can’t control politicians or, ultimately, who gets elected.  You can’t control the political climate.

You can’t control what laws get passed.

You can’t control television ratings or if your favorite show will get canceled.  You can’t control which movies Netflix will remove next month.

You can’t control your family of origin.  You can’t control how you were raised.  You can’t control your family history or your genetics.

You can’t control your past or where you were from.

You can’t control when someone you love dies or when you will feel grief.

You can’t control other people.

You can’t control other people’s intelligence.  People are free to see the world how they interpret it.

You can’t control if people take your advice.  That is up to them.

You can’t control other people’s decisions.  People are free to make good and bad decisions based on the knowledge that they have.  Even if you do not agree with these decisions.

You can’t control people’s loyalty or honesty. You can’t control other people’s values.

You can’t control if people lie or tell the truth.  You can’t control people who manipulate those around them or people who always play the victim.

You can’t control how other people treat you.  People are free to treat people how they see fit.  People are free to hurt you, exclude you and not take your feelings into consideration.  People are free to talk about you behind your back.  People are free to treat you sh*tty.

You can’t control if people forgive you.  That is up to them.

But you, my friend, are free.

You are free to cancel your Netflix because they took away How I Met Your Mother.

You are free to vote for whoever you think the best candidate is and you are free to get involved in whatever issues matter to you.

You are free to associate with those who love you and make you feel better about yourself.  And you are free to disassociate with people who have a negative impact on you.

You are free to hit “reply” or “add friend.”  You are also free to hit “unfollow” or “unfriend.”

You are free to give advice but the recipient can choose not to take it.  And you are free to choose what advice you take from others.

You are free to set your own boundaries and you are free to enforce those boundaries.  You are also free to let people disrespect those boundaries.  The choice is yours. People will only treat you poorly if you let them.

You are free to walk away.  From toxicity, manipulation, and negativity.  You can control just how much bullsh*t you are willing to deal with.

You are free to re-evaluate your life at any stage.  You are free to keep what is working for you and you are free to leave behind what isn’t.

You are free to authentic and real or shallow and phony.

You are free to not give a f*ck about what people think.  You are free to do you.

You are free to invest in your hobbies and interests.  You are free to follow your dreams.

You are free to sell everything you own.  You are free to blow your paycheck at IKEA.

You are free to travel the world or be a homebody.

You are free to cook a gourmet dinner.  You are free to grab dinner at McDonalds.

You are free to give and receive love.  You are free to choose who to give love to and who to receive love from.

You are free to smile and laugh.

You are free to let go of past hurts and anger.

You are free to forgive those who have wronged you when you are ready.  But be careful because you are also free to let past hurts consume your life.

You are free to remember those who have passed however you want to remember them.

You can’t control what goes on around you but, ultimately, you are free to choose how you react to it.

Good Vibrations Gratitude Friday #24

It’s Friday-

Time for some Good Vibrations Gratitude!

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I just want to note: It’s been a few weeks since I did a Gratitude post and I felt the need to start back up again. We all need some gratitude in our lives. Usually I focus on the previous week but honestly, this week hasn’t been the best. Nothing really bad has happened. No one died. No one has lost their limbs. (#perspective). There have been a few positives but there have been some negatives. Some drama that has taken up too much energy in my head space.

I hate even bringing up that it’s drama because I don’t want to even validate it. And while 90’s fashion has made a comeback (which I love) and I love reconnecting with old high school classmates, I have zero interest in actually reliving those years. I turn 40 this summer, FFS!

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This post is going to cover some events that have happened over the past month.

I am sorry if the language in the memes offends you.

Actually I am not sorry. This is my blog and I made the decision that I will express myself how I wish on my platform. #unapollogeticallykerry

  1. Hard Lessons.

    I am going to choose to be grateful for the lessons that I have been learning this week. This week has been a trying week and it has caused me to do a lot of reevaluating, especially on the topic of boundaries. Just how much bullsh*t am I going to tolerate? My tolerance level for BS is pretty low, especially considering that two years ago, I was on a journey to Hell and Back. #perspective

    I don’t have the answers I need (yet!) but I am searching for clarity. I have been writing my feelings in my a journal and I have been sorting them out. Even though this has been a frustrating week, I am going to come out of this week with stronger character than when I started.

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    My mood this week
  2. Fenway Trip

    I am always grateful for a trip to Boston to see my Red Sox. I don’t care what people say-screw Disney because Fenway Park is the happiest place on Earth. And I am glad I got to share the trip with my daughter and my bestie.

  3. Def Leppard and Journey Concert with Kimmy Gibbler

    A month ago, Kimmy Gibbler and I got to see Def Leppard and Journey at the Times Union Center in Albany. The concert was awesome! I didn’t go to many concerts when I was younger. Partly because I lived in Maine and there weren’t as many but partly because 20 year old Kerry did not know how to live.

    I had so much fun. The music was so loud and my heart was pounding. Kimmy and I did observe some older people who don’t get out often and were having trouble handling their fun.

    At one point, Kimmy and I were in a line at the concession stand. Some drunk older woman gets behind us and starts to rub my back. I have personal space issues to begin with and I was way too sober to let a strange woman touching me go unnoticed. I finally say “Yeah…you can stop rubbing my back now.” Luckily she did.

    Best story of the stars aligning right. The only food line with a short line was the fried dough. I didn’t eat lunch or dinner and was so hungry I could eat my arm. So I got friend dough and some of the sugar spilled on me. Kimmy pointed it out and I smile and say “Pour some sugar on me.”

  4. Trip to Cedar Point in Ohio.

    Over Memorial Day weekend, my daughter and I drove 8 hour-ish to Ohio. We met up with my Michigan Bestie and my Chicago Bestie and rented an airbnb. Another old friend happened to be in Cleveland and came to stay on night. It was a great time and I will write more about this trip later.

    Funny anecdote. I went to the Def Leppard and Journey concert on a Wed and was driving out to Ohio on Fri. As I was driving through Cleveland and I heard a commercial on the radio for the Def Leppard and Journey concert coming up that Monday. I got excited. I hop everyone in Cleveland attended.

  5. Dance Recital.

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    I am grateful I got to see my daughter dance even if it was very sad for me because her father wasn’t sitting beside me.

    The reality is, I have pretty much gotten used Bryon being gone. At least day to day. Please don’t conclude that that means that I don’t feel a void. I feel a void every day. But I am used to feeling the void and the emptiness.

    But it’s moment like this that I truly miss Bryon because this was an event that we anticipated that we’d be sharing together. When our daughter was a baby, we talked about how we would enroll her in a dance class and she would have a dance recital. It’s the memories that we’d anticipated together where I feel the void the most. Because they weren’t just my dreams and plans. They were our dreams and plans.

    I has dawned on me that we didn’t anticipate too far into the future. Sure, we talked about doing dance classes. We talked about going to a Red Sox game and New York City at Christmastime. Then there are other milestones like graduations, college and Bryon looked forward to planning her wedding. (He liked to throw parties. I am probably the only bride who had her groom plan her wedding).

    We could only anticipate a few years into the future because our daughter was a baby. We did not know what her interests were going to be. That is another realization that makes me miss Bryon. Our daughter hasn’t yet grown into the person she is meant to be and he won’t see it when it happens.

    And that makes me sad. I guess I have to have hope that I won’t feel empty forever, right?

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    I am sorry that I ended this blog post on a heavy note.

    What are you grateful for this week?

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