Thursday, July 18, 2013

Why I am Mad...

 


First things first...go and get a box of tissues. I am not going to guarantee that you will need them, but if you read this post with as much passion and compassion that I have while writing it; you will need them!

Now I owe all of you an apology...I am so sorry about my hiatus.  I have gone through many, many things since I ran my half marathon. I will share some of those with you tonight..oh wait..clock check..3:00 am...I will share some of those things with you this very early morning, and as I have done in the past, some I will hold close to me. This blog means so much to me. I love how it has helped others and my goal, is for this to reach as many people as possible.  Because maybe, just maybe, the hell that I and my children have lived through can help to touch or even change, a life.

I have said this before and I will say it  many many more times but I really do try and stay positive for each of you. Tonight (this morning) however, I am taking my mask off, setting it to the side, and letting each of you see the rawness that is me..Heather Hopkins.  This is no easy task. I risk much in doing this. Judgement is first and foremost. I've received A LOT  of that over the past year. Losing your respect is another. And perhaps, by the time you read the last line, you may just realize I am not as strong perhaps as you may have perceived me to be when you read the first line.  So, without further ado, yet much hesitation, I bring you "Heather Uncensored!"

I am mad.  I am so angry and hurt and mad, I feel like I want to punch something, or even someone.  I feel like I may lose my mind.  I hear people tell me that God has a plan for me and my children. I hear them say "Just give it to God." I hear them say, "You are so strong!" I hear them say "Buddy and God both want you to be happy."  My response to each of these is "I know. It's just hard!" At least that is what comes out of my mouth. What my mind says? "You don't have a clue! If God wanted me happy, my husband would still be here! God took something! My husband! So no! I'm not giving him anything! And no! I'm not strong! I am merely putting on an act to fool each of you, and my children, into thinking I can handle this life that was thrown at me!" Sometimes, while in the shower, I crumble. I fall to the floor and just cry, scream, and yell.  I yell at God and I plead with Buddy to please come back.  I ask "Why?" over and over and over again. I swear at God. I've said very un-Christian-like things to Him.  I'm so numb that I don't care anymore.  I hurt so bad that I just give up sometimes, even for 2 minutes.  Then, I stand up, turn the water off and go about my day. 

 


As I see people, or talk on the phone, I force my smile.  I laugh sometimes at how people comment on how happy my smile is.  I want to cry because a part of me wants people to remember that behind that smile is a very sad and broken woman.  People tend to think that once a widow, or widower get through the first year, they are miraculously healed.  Even more so if you happen to meet someone during that first year. It's like everyone holds their breath until one of those two things happen. I could almost hear the collective sighs of relief when I posted I had a boyfriend.  Let me be the first to tell ya'll...I wish it were that simple.  Instead, it almost makes the pain worse. Because now, you are dealing with guilt and fear. I don't want to hear that Buddy would want me to "move on" because I could never "move on" from the love of my life. I will find someone to spend the rest of my life here on this earth with but I will never "move on."  Because of the overwhelming guilt that encompasses me, I no longer have a boyfriend. I stepped back to figure myself out as I am this entirely new person who I don't even know. I look in the mirror and see a stranger staring back at me. Her eyes look so sad. They look tired and worn out.  Her shoulders sag as they carry the weight of the world on them.  Her mouth seems to turn down more than it used to, a product of the hours and hours and hours she has spent crying.  She looks so much older and so broken.  I see that girl and then realize that is indeed me. And I hurt...

I AM MAD! I am mad this is my life. I am mad that Buddy was ripped from our lives. I am mad that I had to come into my home and tell my beautiful children that their daddy was dead. That someone ran him over and left him on the sided of the road. I am mad as hell that as I laid in my warm bed sound asleep, the absolute love of my life was laying on the side of the road; for hours. I am mad that when I got the news, I didn't run to the scene and lay next to him so his body wasn't alone.  I am mad that he didn't decide to sleep in instead of running on June 21.  I am mad that I have 4 amazing children who cry every day because they hurt so much.

I am mad that people compare their losses to ours. I am mad that I am going to get remarried one day. I don't want to find someone else. I don't want to have to go through all of those awkward "getting to know you" stages.  I worked my ass of for 16 years and had such an amazing marriage. I am mad that was ripped away from me.  I am mad that people are awkward around me and "Don't know what to say" so they just ignore me. I am mad that many have just forgotten about us.  I am mad that people don't speak to me anymore because they don't agree with some of my decisions. I am mad that this is my life.  Don't tell me I agreed to this. Please don't tell me that. Why would I agree to have something so horrific happen to not just me, but to so many that I love so much.  I am mad that people think this will not hurt me to the core the rest of my life.  I am mad that people have taken advantage of me and my situation in the past year.  I am so mad. I am mad that I don't get to be in his arms again on this earth. I am mad that I don't get to hear his beautiful voice singing in church.  I am mad that he is not here to rock me in the recliner that my dad gave us.  I am mad that he is not here to hold me in bed and love me.


I am mad that my 14 year old son came back from our month long "vacation" only to be found sobbing in my room because he was just sure daddy was here waiting for us. I am mad that I cant get into his head to help him understand.  I am mad that I am a single mom. I am mad that people tell me "let me know if you need anything" yet when I do....crickets.  Turns out, for many people, that means only if I needed them the first week.

I am mad that Buddy is dead.  I am so mad. But mostly, readers, I am sad. I am so sad that he is not here to text me "come to bed and let's get it on!" (I swear he used to text me from the other room all of the time. :) )
I miss him every single moment of every single day. Every single aspect of my life changed on June 21, 2012.  Not just a few things...EVERYTHING.


Here is what I know....

That saying "You really find out who your friends are" is 100% true.  If you talk to other widows (and widowers) you hear them say that the second year is worse than the first..also very true.  The first year, you are in a fog.  You are constantly focused on trying to keep going and "not giving up" and trying to figure out "what the hell just happened."  By the time the first year mark comes around, it has finally sunk in and you realize "this is really my life now." And that hurts far worse than you can imagine.  Amongst it all, I do know I have been blessed. There is no denying that. I am blessed with family and friends who love me. Most have been very very good about not judging me but instead, applauding my good days, holding me or calling me through my bad, loving me through my mistakes, and being there to pick me up each time I have fallen.  I've never done this before. There is an awful lot of material to read and that has helped. But, everyone is different and we each mourn different. Nobody else was married to Buddy. Nobody else shared our bond and connection.  Nobody knew us, or knows us the way we knew and loved each other.  Therefore, nobody knows how I feel.  I know that prayers help.  I will admit I don't pray as much as I should, and when I do, it is for my kids or those that I love who I know are hurting so much.  So when I ask you to pray for me, please do.  I have felt the power of prayer carry myself and my children through some very dark hours.  I know that Buddy is near when we need him.  As I have laid in bed and held our crying children, as they cried out for their dad to come back, I have felt his arms embrace us. I have felt him hold me as I have begged for help going to sleep. He has accompanied me on runs more than once.   He has sat next to me as I have typed blogs.


Please don't judge me or leave this post disappointed in me. Please don't look at me as weak. Please just have patience and understanding.  And PLEASE pray for me.

I know that I will be ok.  But in the meantime, I just need to be mad..and very very sad.  I miss him and that's ok.  I got this...I guess.