Why I Changed
My husband died in March of this year. At first I sat numb, wanting my old life back and when I realized I couldn't have it back, I decided to create a new one. I literally threw out the old one, keeping only small momentos of our life together. Now, it's been two weeks since I've moved to what I call the new normal.
The new normal is not a comfortable place to be. Sometimes it's strangeness takes my breath away. Still, it's better than the life I lead after DH died. I no longer live with the constant memories of what I could no longer have. Now, I sit on my new furniture, watching my new TV in my new home. I've tossed out all my clothes, and adapted a new way of dressing. I've changed my hairstyle, the way I do my work. I'm a different person and my husband would not recognize me.
How does it feel?
Like I was dropped into a parallel universe where most things look the same, but nothing is. I know that there will be some who would say that they want to retain the old life. That they enjoy living in the same house, driving down the same streets, eating in the same restaurants. But for me, it was sheer torture. It was like my old life was locked in a glass case that I couldn't break through to get it back. I decided if I couldn't have it back, then I would create a new one.
Still, there are times when everything is so different, it unnerves me. Today I was shopping with my father, and it struck me how strange it was. Here I was in a store, stacking my groceries in a cart along with my father, but at the checkout counter we would decide who would pay for what. I wanted my old life back so badly that I could scream. But I didn't. Instead, I did what the new Tru had to do. I continued breathing. I continued to smile as if everything was okay. It isn't, but what choice did I have.
It comes down to this: I can't go back. I can't feel my husbands arms around me anymore. I can't sit and snuggle next to him watching Doctor Who anymore. I can't talk to him about my day anymore. These thing are all dead to me. And in the next life none of it will matter. Right now, all I can do is move forward. I think each of us must look within ourselves to see how best to do this.
Charles Dickens introduced me to the character of Miss Havasham, a woman stood up at the alter. The character remained in the wedding dress for the rest of her life, never eating the wedding cake, never enjoying life. She set the clocks in her house to the exact moment in which she discovered that she'd been jilted.
For me, this was my greatest fear. It represented a possibility that neither I nor my husband would want for me.
The new normal is not a comfortable place to be. Sometimes it's strangeness takes my breath away. Still, it's better than the life I lead after DH died. I no longer live with the constant memories of what I could no longer have. Now, I sit on my new furniture, watching my new TV in my new home. I've tossed out all my clothes, and adapted a new way of dressing. I've changed my hairstyle, the way I do my work. I'm a different person and my husband would not recognize me.
How does it feel?
Like I was dropped into a parallel universe where most things look the same, but nothing is. I know that there will be some who would say that they want to retain the old life. That they enjoy living in the same house, driving down the same streets, eating in the same restaurants. But for me, it was sheer torture. It was like my old life was locked in a glass case that I couldn't break through to get it back. I decided if I couldn't have it back, then I would create a new one.
Still, there are times when everything is so different, it unnerves me. Today I was shopping with my father, and it struck me how strange it was. Here I was in a store, stacking my groceries in a cart along with my father, but at the checkout counter we would decide who would pay for what. I wanted my old life back so badly that I could scream. But I didn't. Instead, I did what the new Tru had to do. I continued breathing. I continued to smile as if everything was okay. It isn't, but what choice did I have.
It comes down to this: I can't go back. I can't feel my husbands arms around me anymore. I can't sit and snuggle next to him watching Doctor Who anymore. I can't talk to him about my day anymore. These thing are all dead to me. And in the next life none of it will matter. Right now, all I can do is move forward. I think each of us must look within ourselves to see how best to do this.
Charles Dickens introduced me to the character of Miss Havasham, a woman stood up at the alter. The character remained in the wedding dress for the rest of her life, never eating the wedding cake, never enjoying life. She set the clocks in her house to the exact moment in which she discovered that she'd been jilted.
For me, this was my greatest fear. It represented a possibility that neither I nor my husband would want for me.
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