On Traveling Solo

I just returned from a trip overseas. This was really the first time I've ever gone on a trip of more than a long weekend by myself, and it took some adjusting. But it really wasn't as bad as I was anticipating. And by "bad", I mean I was kind of expecting to feel crushing loneliness and overwhelming anxiety. Granted a couple of old friends met me at the destination (the trip was actually their idea) and we spent a lot of time together over the course of the week. But I was genuinely solo for a couple of days, and once I got used to it, I actually enjoyed the sense of freedom I felt. Baby steps...

Waking Up Crying

I've had  a few instances recently of waking up crying. I don't specifically remember whatever it was I was dreaming, but wake up extremely sad and anxious, to the point I am bawling my eyes out. 

Whenever this happens, it takes a few minutes to calm down and bring me back to myself. It's rather disturbing - I get anxious just writing about it, I'm afraid the feelings of sadness and hopelessness that I experience when it happens will return.

I have a feeling this will be happening to me for a while yet...maybe it's symptoms of PTSD setting in. Maybe I need to start seeing my therapist again - I really really don't want to do that, because therapy seems like such a chore to me.

On being alone

I find myself thinking a lot about being alone. It's a state in which I'm not yet entirely comfortable. I've been in a relationship pretty much my entire adult life so this is very new to me. I don't know how this is supposed to work. My mind tells me that I need to take time to learn who I am, get to know myself. But every part of my heart screams out that it doesn't want to be alone, and is afraid of waiting for fear that I'll miss out on someone special or that it will just plain be too late for me.

At the same time, if I try to imagine getting involved with someone new, being in a relationship right now would just feel wrong. There is someone I've been spending time with; I really, really enjoy his company and he's told me the feeling is mutual. We have great conversations; I always hate saying goodbye when we part ways. But he's made it clear he isn't looking for a relationship either.

The problem is that the more time we spend together, the more I want from him. I'm afraid to ask for more; I don't want to lose what we have. But at the same time, it doesn't feel like enough. I'm just so lonely and confused.

Lifting of burdens and spirits

I'm in a much better place than I was when I wrote the previous entry. I had a very nice holiday weekend with my in-laws. I gave notice at my job, which I wasn't enjoying. I'll be taking a break from working, to give me a chance to regroup and figure out what I want to be doing. I heard from my friend who had disappeared; he's ok, and while I'm sad that he has left Santa Fe, probably for good, I'm happy that he's alright and that he's gotten out of the very bad situation he was in.

I'm feeling gratitude and even contentment. I'm learning to live my life for myself, and not just to try and please others. I'm excited about what I have ahead of me, though a little scared at the same time. But that's not such a bad place to be.

Heavy burdens

As I've said before, 2017 seems to have it in for me. I found out earlier this week that a friend (not an extremely close friend, but rather a "close acquaintance") was found dead in his apartment over the weekend, an apparent suicide. Sadly, I was not really shocked nor surprised at the news, and I knew right away that it was likely that it was suicide, knowing how troubled he was.

This person was devastated when I told him the news about my husband a few months ago...and overly dramatic to the point that he was making my husband's death all about him. But that's just how he was. He could also be very charming when he wanted to be; he could be a pain in the ass too. But he was overall a good person, who did not deserve the pain and turmoil he was in which ultimately led to him taking his own life.

Additionally, I have another friend who just vanished a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, I don't even know where he lives, so I can't go look for him. He's in the US illegally, so it's possible that either someone turned him in or he got picked up for something and has been deported back to Honduras. As awful as that scenario is, there are others I can imagine that are much, much worse, so I hope that's what happened. I'll probably never know for sure. But it's been weighing heavily on my mind this week.

I honestly don't know where the strength I have right now is coming from. I think it's a product of the gratitude I feel every day when I remind myself of all that is good in my life. I'm surrounded by people who love me, I have (relatively) good health, I have the dogs, I don't want for anything (speaking materially), I have a roof over my head, I have a steady income...I could go on and on. I think making a list of things I'm grateful for is essential; otherwise I would probably be wallowing in self-pity most of the time. And that's a road I don't want to go down.

On anniversaries (and birthdays, etc.)

Two days ago was our wedding anniversary. I had been dreading that day, as if one arbitrary moment in time we humans feel necessary to mark is more significant than another. I'm an emotional wreck. I have been unable to think clearly or get through a day without crying this week. Yesterday I couldn't even get out of bed until later in the day than I care to admit. Today I've wanted to go home early from work several times just because I can't stop myself from bursting into tears at some random thought, and I'm embarrassed to be seen crying.

But in the midst of all the anger and pain, there have been a few bright moments of delight and contentment. For example, two nights ago two friends and I carried out a clandestine late-night operation to plant a very special rose - one that had been given to us as a wedding gift three years ago - in the park across the street where it will receive care in perpetuity. My husband would have approved of this with whole-hearted glee, something which brought me simultaneous tears and laughter.

Then last night, the simple act of watching TV brought me great comfort - it was me and both dogs all curled up on the sofa; the most perfect scenario with my family, all together. I don't have the words to describe the sense of contentment that visited me, when just for a moment my family felt almost complete even without him there.

I know there's plenty more Grief - with its brethren emotions Denial, Bargaining, Anger, Depression, and Acceptance - yet to come. And I don't know how I'll handle them, but as long as there are at least glimmers of Hope, Joy, Contentment, and Comfort mixed in, I know I'll be able to.

And then there were three...

This has been the year from hell, to put it mildly. I won't go into politics or other things not directly involved in my life, but 2017 has been one of the worst years of my life.

In case you haven't read the rest of this blog, my husband died suddenly in April 2017. This week I had to euthanize my cat, who I've had since she was a kitten. She was 17 years old (that's 85 in human terms), and it was just her time; her body was shutting down. When it got to the point where I thought she was beginning to suffer, I decided it was time to take her to the vet. I held her in my lap, stroking her gently as the vet administered the anesthesia, and she simply fell asleep for the last time.

I was pretty well prepared for this because she had been showing some signs of decline for about the last 6 months. She had lost a lot of weight, and just didn't seem to have the energy and strength she used to have. What I wasn't prepared for came a few days later. I had just woken up, with my two dogs nearby (one at my feet as always, one on the floor next to the bed), and I had the sudden realization that my family had gone from 5 members to 3 in the space of just a few months. For some reason that knowledge hit me hard and I sobbed for a good 20 minutes before I could get hold of myself.

Why did this thought bring so much pain with it? Part of it is that I can be fairly certain that my family will go from 3 members to 2 members to just me in a few years - the dogs are 8 and 7 years old; they aren't going to live forever. And they are so precious to me, both as "man's best friends" and as a direct connection to my husband. How will I deal with it when it's their times? I can get another dog, but not one that knew and loved him.

I know I'm not living in the present with this line of thinking, but I just can't help it sometimes. And of course there's my own mortality, which surprisingly I'm not too concerned about. If I were to die before the dogs, they would be well taken care of by a close friend who loves them and whom they absolutely adore.

Lost and scared

I don't have any answers about my future. I think that's the part that scares me the most, and the pain I experience every day is driven by fear, I'm sure of that.

My future really is wide open...I can do anything I want, be anyone I want...and I have no idea who I am or what it is I want. I have spent my entire life being what everyone else needs, and I don't know what *I* need. I'm clueless and it scares the shit out of me because I'm afraid I won't figure it out before my time on this plane is finished. I'm so lost and scared...

Wedding thoughts

This evening, I went to the wedding reception of a friend and coworker. I had prepared myself to be pretty miserable (see my previous post on jealousy & bitterness). After all, it was supposed to remind me of one of the happiest times of my life, and how I had lost it all when Kevin died.

But I actually kind of enjoyed myself. I chatted with some people I knew from work, and just had a nice relaxed time. On top of that, in spite of my expectations (and to my astonishment), I actually felt genuinely happy for the bride and groom.

Of course there were a couple of moments, as I was talking to someone about travel and describing some of the travel Kevin and I had done, that I felt sad, but it was more of a wistful kind of sad than the soul-crushing sorrow I have felt.

I'll take progress any way I can get it. 

On traveling alone

I traveled to Los Angeles this past weekend for my every-6-month checkup appointment with my cardiologist (it's a long story as to why I see a cardiologist so far from home. By the way, the appointment went well, everything is fine). The weekend was MUCH more difficult than I anticipated because, other than when I went to LA for his funeral (numb the entire trip), this was the first time I've gone to LA (out of countless trips) without Kevin.

So many aspects of the visit triggered loneliness, sadness, and even fear. Waiting at the doctor's office, where Kevin, with the clinical demeanor he normally reserved for his patients (he was a nurse), would always make sure we understood everything the doctor was saying. Visiting our friend who lives in Santa Monica, as we did so many times before. She lives just down the street from Palisades Park, the site of our wedding almost three years ago. Memories, that while very happy, are very painful to relive. That's quite a paradox, which I'm still trying to pick apart and understand.

Spending time with his sister was really hard - not because I don't like spending time with her, she's wonderful and I love her, but again, so many memories. Same thing with his dad.

Hell, for that matter just arriving at LAX...pulling up to the departures terminal...going through security...waiting for my flight. All those things that we did together, so many times, became almost unbearable to face alone.

But face them I did, and while I nearly dissolved into a puddle of tears and sobbing a few times over the course of the weekend, I made it.

Bittersweet weekend

I sing with the New Mexico Gay Men's Chorus. This weekend we had our Pride performances, which were the final performances of the season. All three performances went well, and I really enjoyed the whole season!

I have come to really depend on the sense of family I feel with the guys in the chorus; after all, they've been there for me when I needed their love and support these past couple of months. Now there will be no weekly trips to Albuquerque (about an hour from where I live) for rehearsal, not until September. I don't know what I'm gonna do without them this summer.

Sure, I'll probably see a few of the guys at some point during the summer, but it won't be like being in the same space with the whole group at once, singing in harmony. I'm afraid it's going to be a rough summer.

Jealousy & bitterness

I've caught myself several times in the past couple of weeks feeling extreme jealousy and bitterness towards people I see experiencing a very specific form of happiness. It's not like I'm jealous of or bitter towards everyone who's happy, but I am very much so towards "the happy couple".

For example, when I see a wedding on a TV show, while everyone else is shedding tears of joy, I'm shedding hot, angry tears of jealousy and sadness. When I see a couple holding hands, walking down the street, smiling and having an intimate conversation, I feel an almost uncontrollable sense of loneliness as well as bitterness towards them.

It isn't their fault, and I feel ashamed for feeling this way. But I can't help it. I want what they have; I want back what I had before it was taken away from me. It's so unfair!

While our relationship and our marriage wasn't perfect, it was mostly good and mostly happy; and Kevin and I did a lot of work to keep it that way. We worked on communication, we saw our therapists (both our individual therapists and our couples therapist) regularly; in short, we did everything in our power to keep our wedding vows. So to have all that so unceremoniously yanked away feels like a huge cosmic insult on top of injury.

I'm repulsed by these feelings I have; they stain my conscience and defile my sense of well-being. How do I get rid of the jealousy and bitterness and replace them with positive feelings towards these unsuspecting happy couples?

Making a difference

My husband Kevin was a big supporter of Youth Heartline (www.youthheartline.org), a nonprofit based in Taos, NM, which has as its mission "to make life safer and better for vulnerable children and families in the community", which it carries out through outreach & advocacy programs, supervised visitation monitoring, an afterschool enrichment program, and more. 

Yesterday, I was told that their board of directors voted unanimously to name their endowment fund the "Kevin Wolff Endowment for Youth Heartline" (name subject to slight change, to make it "flow" better).

I am overwhelmed with emotion at this announcement - it is such an honor to Kevin's memory, and the endowment (which he helped start) will help secure the future of the vital programs and services that Youth Heartline provides. In an uncertain political climate where absolutely nothing is safe from funding cuts on the whims of our current leadership, private funding for these programs and services is needed now more than ever.

Please read more about the essential work that Youth Heartline does at www.youthheartline.org. Then make a donation. You can make a one-time contribution, set up a monthly contribution, or even have Amazon donate each time you make a purchase through their Amazon Smile program! Every donation helps, no matter how large or small.

Anger

I'm angry.

This has been building over the last few days, and I finally identified it on my way to work this morning. It's funny how we can recognize some emotions as soon as we feel them, and others take a while to sink in.

But anyway, I'm angry. I'm angry at Kevin for leaving me. We were supposed to grow old together. Now I face the possibility -- perhaps the likelihood -- of growing old and dying alone. I'm angry at the disease that took him from me. It's so unfair and fucked-up and his death was so pointless.

And I get angry sometimes when I see a couple happy together. I know that's wrong, I should be happy for them. But I just get envious and bitter because that's something that has been taken away from me. Then I feel ashamed for feeling such envy.

I hate feeling this way - I know it's normal in this situation to have these emotions, but it's difficult to reconcile all the conflicting feelings, and I hate most of all feeling powerless over them. Sadness, relief, despair, hope, anger, you name it - they churn and bubble up and I don't know what I'm going to feel at any given time.

Hope

I ran across this exquisite poem on Medium.com. I really needed to hear this today. I hope the author doesn't mind me sharing it.

On the Rocks by Mike Essig

Grief is love’s final act.
A scent. A shirt. A house.
Memory in a bottle
brimming with loss
your soul wants to imbibe.
The bottle belongs on a shelf,
but won’t stay closed.
It wants to pop open
and spill all over you.
Love your losses but beware.
Do not make a habit of despair.
The world overflows
with broken hearts.
No one can live every day
drenched in sorrow.
We live today or not at all.
Drink only when you must,
and take each swallow
with a chaser of Joy.

This gives me so much hope, reminding me that I will get through this.

Wandering aimlessly

I'm so lost without him. I don't know what I should do next. It's really difficult to explain - it's like my sense of direction for my life has vanished. It's not as if I don't have a purpose, it's more like I no longer know how to aim it, what to focus it on. I can't say I have nothing to look forward to, because I do, and I am. I have so much to accomplish, yet I'm just spinning my wheels most of the time.

I don't possess the words to describe adequately how I feel.... These are the best I can come up with:

Wandering aimlessly through the forest;
Set adrift on the sea;
Floating in the vastness of space;
Abandoned in the desert;
Drifting on the wind;
Lost in the eerie quiet of the fog;
Alone in an unfamiliar place, in the dark;
Locked out in the cold.

Will I ever feel normal again? What's "normal"? I don't know anymore. But I'm not going to give up, can't give up. People are counting on me. I have so much love to give and receive. I still have hopes and dreams, believe it or not. I just need time to clear my head, to ponder what it all means.

Legacy

I was thinking about things that Kevin will be remembered for. Besides his nursing work in hospice, and just being a good, down-to-earth person with a kind heart, he left quite a legacy through his generosity to charity; I hope to be able to continue that legacy in his memory.

One thing I can do towards that goal is to encourage anyone reading this to donate to charity - whatever you can do. If you would like some suggestions for charity(ies) to donate to, here are some of his favorites:

• Youth Heartline (www.youthheartline.org) - Based in Taos, NM, this organization's mission is to make life safer and better for vulnerable children and families in the community. It does this through outreach & advocacy programs, supervised visitation monitoring, an afterschool enrichment program, and more.

• New Mexico Gay Men's Chorus (www.nmgmc.org) - NMGMC's mission is to reduce homophobia and intolerance and create a positive image of the GLBT community through high-quality, public musical performances. (Disclaimer: I am a member of the chorus.)

• Gay Men's Health Crisis (www.gmhc.org) - GMHC is the world’s first and leading provider of HIV/AIDS prevention, care and advocacy. Their mission is to fight to end the AIDS epidemic and uplift the lives of all affected.

• Nothing But Nets (www.nothingbutnets.net) - Nothing But Nets is a United Nations Foundation organization that distributes insecticide-treated bed nets to countries in Africa in order to prevent malaria deaths.

• Doctors Without Borders (www.doctorswithoutborders.org) - Doctors Without Borders (Médecins Sans Frontières) provides medical humanitarian aid to people in the acute phase of a crisis.

• AIDS/LifeCycle (www.aidslifecycle.org) - AIDS/LifeCycle is co-produced by the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the Los Angeles LGBT Center and is designed to advance their shared interests to end the pandemic and human suffering caused by AIDS. Kevin sponsored his cousin Amy Wolff (tofighthiv.org/goto/amywolff) and our friend Michael Cox (tofighthiv.org/goto/michaelcox).

All of these organizations are non-profits with IRS 501(c)(3) tax-exempt designation, so your contributions are tax-deductible to the full extent of the law (however, please consult with your tax professional).

Time has no meaning

I can't believe it's been two weeks already. It seems like it was just yesterday. Everything since 11:15pm MDT on Monday, April 24, 2017, seems like a single moment in time. It's all one monochromatic blur.

Will it always be like this? Without you there doesn't seem to be anything to differentiate one day from the last. My only point of reference is the sorrow and pain my grief causes. My only solace right now is knowing (from the experience I gained when my mom died - you remember that) that it will get easier someday...

The everyday things...

I keep thinking about the places we traveled and the places we had planned to visit together.

I still say "we", "us", and "our" instead of what is the reality now, "I", "me", and "my".

I'm always hearing some news story, something ridiculous or outrageous a politician has done, a new song on the radio, a joke -- and I can't wait to tell you about it.

I don't enjoy watching our favorite shows on TV anymore - there just doesn't seem to be any point without you to share it with.

Completing some of the projects we planned to do around the house doesn't bring me the sense of satisfaction and accomplishment it once did.

I don't like cooking for one. Dinner out? I can't go back to our favorite restaurants yet.

I haven't wanted to/can't sleep in our bed. The sound of your gentle snoring, the warmth emanating from your body, the way you stole the sheets, the comfort of your embrace...no longer there.

These are the everyday things that I miss; things that we did together. Without you to share them with, they ring empty and hollow.

Grocery shopping

I did the bulk of the grocery shopping for Kevin and me (and the animals). Yesterday I went to the grocery store for the first time since he died. I had a near panic attack at the store, when I realized I was only shopping for myself and not for us.


I know that some people truly relish the freedom of being single. Of course I haven't had time yet to get used to the idea, but if yesterday was any indication, I don't like it. I'd rather be thinking about how I can make someone else just a little happier and healthier.

I suppose that as time goes by I'll begin to feel differently. But for now, I hate being alone. I hate it so much.

Does it matter?

I cannot fathom why so many people ask me, "What happened?" (i.e. "How did Kevin die?").

Does it really matter that much to you? He died, that's what happened. And fuck you for asking - it's none of your business, and besides, what difference does it make? A beautiful, generous, kind soul has left this sorry world, and all you're concerned about is how he died.

My standard answer is, "I don't want to talk about it right now." That usually takes the wind out of their sails and they drop it. But a few have been more persistent, and I've had to either change the subject or be very firm on my stance that it really is none of your fucking business. I don't care that your curiosity is getting the best of you. His family knows what happened; the medical examiner knows what happened. And you just need to mind your own business - asking me "What happened?" isn't being empathetic or supportive, it's insensitive and rude.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Those are the words that everyone says. I know they mean well, and I’m not going to criticize anyone for using those words because I don’t know of anything better to say myself when I’m on the other side of the fence and I’m saying those words to someone else. They’re pre-programmed, the default.

But those words and many others (“If there’s anything at all I can do…”, “What can I do to help…”, etc.) that are said at these times are woefully inadequate and they really don’t help. I’m not being ungrateful or surly or ungracious — it’s just that there are no words that can help at this time.

I must grieve. I must feel my feelings — I must get angry at my beloved for leaving me; I must be unforgiving of myself for not doing more, for not spending more time, for not noticing something important that I “should have” noticed; I must cry and sob and beg and plead; most of all I must allow myself to be sad.

All this before I can accept what has happened, before I can understand why, before I can begin to move forward — please don’t tell me I’ll “move on with my life”, what does that even mean?

Grief has to be taken in slowly, in small doses. It has to be woven into the fabric of our lives little by little, only as much as we can stand at once — some days more than others. When we integrate our grief this way, it has a better chance of making us stronger people, rather than washing us away.

So please don’t say those words to me, “I’m sorry for your loss.” I know you feel sorry for me, you don’t have to tell me. Instead, hold a space for my grief. Tell me you feel sad too. Tell me you care about me and that you won’t abandon me. That’s what I need to hear so that my grief has a place to live while I absorb it.

No, I will never be the same, never again, without him physically by my side. That really, really sucks and I can’t see past the emptiness I feel. But as I begin to work through the grief, I’ll begin to realize that my husband is always with me; he lives on in my memories, dreams, hopes, and most of all, the love I still and will always have for him.

Note: This essay was originally published on medium.com on 5/2/2017.