I MISS MY HUSBAND; Fortuna-AZ

I don't feel guilty missing Bob.

Holland has abdicated his role as Husband, in my Life.

To Holland, being "a Husband" is "being a pussified pet."

Anyone who knew Bob … knew he could never be considered "pussified" - nor was he "a domesticated pet" simply because he loved me, and showed that love to the world by favoring me over everyone else.

Holland "will never do that!", because he "refuses to be a domesticated pet!"

Holland should not have married me: he is not ready to be a Husband. And sticking strictly to the Redmill men motto and life habits … he may never be ready to be a husband. That is going to be sad for both of us.

And maybe that is why I am feeling at lose ends again - maybe that is why old memories are resurfacing and that imp Grief is poking hard at me again.

I miss my Husband - BOTH of them.

Holland & Me (Left = present Life)/Bob & Me (Right = past Life)

Holland's past history with his family, and friends, stole his love from me; and given the way he sounds when he puts them above me … I never really had it. It always belonged to them.

I don't mind sharing his table with them - but I do mind being regulated to last place at his table: if I'm invited to sit in, at all.

Physical death stole Bob's love from me. I had it for 44 years; completely.

December is my heart's cold and lonely month.

Darryl Worley - 'I Miss My Friend' lyrics: 

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_k8tY-v-y4)

Say their Name.

Honor the place they held in your Life.

Remember - not morosely, but with tender, passing grief.

12-13-2020 Blog Post: 'I PROMISED …':  (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/12/i-promised.html)

12-13-2019 Blog Post: 'COMFORT CARE DECISION - When I'm Gone':  (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/12/comfort-care-decision-when-im-gone.html)

Last year, December was not a hard month to get through - there were newlywed adjustments to be made, and Holland was trying to meet me halfway in those adjustments.

This year, for many reasons … those halfway adjustments have been halted, and he's no longer trying to make this marriage work. December has become very difficult for me to navigate - either awake, or trying to get a full night's rest.

I need space to adjust. Death is not a part of this December's cut-off, but love's gone, just the same.

Grief is grief, no matter what form ushers it in.

Tonight, I will fellowship and be part of a lively house setting: that will be tremendously refreshing, and help offset the dawning of December 14th - and the sorrowful nighttime memory flashbacks should ebb, too, as the 14th moves into the 15th and forward in time.

I'm praying this constant and unrepentant emotional chaos with Holland will not cause my heart to get stuck in 2018-2021 sorrow's grip, again.

Holland (not sure what slot he fits into at the moment = not a Husband; not really a Friend either at the moment, yet more than a companion: it's weird for me, 'normal' for Redmill 'family' mentality) has planned a day-long-exploratory adventure for Monday - seeing "what's left in AZ we haven't seen"; with hopes of visiting his Aunt Gaye in Kingman-AZ, before heading back to Fortuna-AZ

I don't know what will happen come January 2025; I just do the best I can 1 day at a time.

HARD PROMISES; Woodland-WA

It is HARD rebuilding a fractured life.

Marriage; Male role.

Marriage; Female role.

Both of us came into this marriage with shattered trusts, and broken hearts; Holland feels his a little deeper because even though he has been on his own since he was 14 years old … he has never actually been on his own; no matter what he was doing or going through, he always had the cushion of Family to fall back on. He lived with & worked with his uncles, his brothers, his BIL's; occasionally shared rent with sisters and BIL's; rented homes and apartments owned by aunts. Even when he did have jobs, homes and apartments away from the family hub - they were only a few miles, or a phone call away. He has never truly been on his own.

I never had any of that: I was literally on my own from Day #1. Yes, I lived in my mother's house until I married at 17 … but my mother was an absent mother - if she wasn't working out-of-house, she was mentally checking out while in-house. Again, while married to Bob, I was essentially alone most of the time: when he wasn't working, he spent most of his weekend and holiday time connecting in person, with his family & friends (in this regard, Holland is a lot like Bob). The church I attended accepted my tithe - but ignored me the rest of the time because I had married a divorced man. I had a lot of time alone; there was never, at any time, a hot house environment for me to relax in. I was always left to fend for myself in any, and all, situations. I learned to become a wild-flower survivor. When Bob's physical body died in the winter of 2018, I was 100% on my own - totally dependent on Elohim's benevolence in every single area of my New Life: without Him being the one stabilizing factor in my life since I turned my life over to Him at age 8, I'm certain I would not have had the desire to carry myself forward.

In both marriages, my men have tried to mold me into something I am not. I was up front with both of them that I am damaged goods, with a serious case of PTSD - I need peace and stability in my life. It sometimes seems like an ironic Devine joke I don't {get}, that Elohim has paired me up twice with men who are apparently damaged goods too, that cannot cut the apron strings. Their mother's coddled them (they were raised as little lord's & not prepared for life's harsh realities), and their first wives shattered them (reality bit hard); immature people on all sides trying to breathe life into immature relationships. The men raised as little lords could not - or stubbornly would not - give their wives what they wanted. Their mothers, siblings, and friends already held claim to that.

Wife is to BE 'top dog'.

Women eventually reach the numb zone.

PTSD is always in action; with everyone.

This marriage, due to the nature and the addictive co-dependency tendencies of his family and friend nucleus, requires Holland to be on his own: I don't want alcoholism and narcotics in my life, I don't want pushy interferences and dominating people in our life, together. It seems like every day has an argument in it which stems from the addictive co-dependency tendencies of his family and friend nucleus; he needs to break loose from these damaging relationships to enjoy our relationship as it should be enjoyed.

A stable marriage depends on a stable Team work.

And he is doing that. In small steps. He hasn't swallowed a drop or alcohol, or a Vicodin tablet in weeks. Visits to family members, and friends in Kelso had drastically slowed down; and he is grudgingly allowing the winnowing of bad company from his life: "Don't you have any decent people in your life - people that are not focused on destroying their lives with drugs … or people who are always trying to run your life, and run me out if it? Seriously? These people are not your friends if they don't want a good life for you; if they aren't in your corner, cheering for your success, why are you hanging onto them?"

Hard promises on the long road of marital life.

Love, to Holland's mindset, is a battlefield.

I was thrown to the wolves early on: there was no parental coddling, and reality's hard bite was a childhood staple. I was born in the coldest month of the year … and I've felt the chill, all of my life.

But even with December's frosty fingers chasing me, August which is the warmest month of the year, is a hard month for me to get through: there are so many memories connected to every day of August that derail me. I try to avoid people interactions until the tempests if August pass.

Derailment for Holland happens all year long; and it doesn't matter what State we are in when it happens: because he has lived with mother and siblings in every state we've been to since we married, the memory-jarring heart-felt derailments come screaming around the blind corner of life at unexpected and unforeseen moments – it slams into his life (and our Life) before he even recognizes he's been torpedoed by memories that still live there.

Memories find both of us catapulted backward in time - the memories are bittersweet, and getting through the days are hard.

Love, to my frame of mind, is a long road filled with hard promises.

But living on borrowed time as I am, I really do not want to be stumbling down a shaded rock strewn goat trail.

To keep love alive, one has to be in love with their life - every second of it: it's the only way wildflower love grows, and thrives ;-)

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers - 'Love Is A long Road': (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qOpuB5aSVF4)

LIVING WITH GRIEF TRIGGERS

November 14th: I'm sick of the specter of Death.

Holland and I are both living with death triggers - his are longer than mine, but they are still there; he's been grieving death losses for at least two decades … could be longer, as his nephew is in his mid-20's now. My death triggers started the Fall of 2018 - and for a while, after Holland came into my life, they subsided while I basked in newfound happiness.

But that happiness has been shattered; my life is a  mess again … and the triggers have started firing fresh rounds.

Holland has shared his grief losses with me: Steve (brother, dead), one of his pastors, Ruth (mother, dead), Tammy (sister, dead), his father (dead), Rick (brother, dead) - as well as people that are slowly dying, which is a whole other level of grief: Lana dying (SIL), Mark dying (brother), and one of his pals, Cal dying (supposedly). There have been several relative deaths too, but these are the ones closest to his heart that he misses the most.

I've only felt three serious grief losses: Tim, my cousin; we were close, more like siblings: Doug, an old boyfriend; who was also a lifelong friend … and Bob, my first husband; the love of my life until Holland came into my life 2 years ago.

I don't know what season(s) Holland's grief losses happened, but I do know that he still grieves. Deeply.

I have mentioned before that Holland has worked, and lived, in pretty much every State across the USA; and as I've learned - so have the people mentioned above. Every State we travel through has a life story connected to it … and Holland is right back in that moment in time, reliving the story; and the loss.

All of my grief losses happened in the Fall and Winter months.

These months are always hard ones for me to get through. Tim died 49 years ago. Doug died 27 years ago … and Bob passed into Glory almost 5 years ago (December 14th, will be the 5 year mark).

It took me y.e.a.r.s. to get past the pain of losing Bob.

By the time Holland became a permanent fixture in my life (10 months ago), I was settling into my Solo Lobo life - the tears weren't choking me anymore and I could breathe without my chest squeezing at the thought of life without Bob; I was still grieving the loss … but  on a different level: I was healing. I was moving forward without my knees buckling. I was allowing old and new friends into my small inner circle. I was making it a point to eat in a sit-down restaurant one day, every week - forcing myself to feel comfortable with the vacant seat across from me. I was Daytripping far and wide, broadening my comfort zone. I was building a Solo Lobo life.

I grieved hard for the first three years of widowhood.

Then, in the Fall of 2022, I surprised myself by enjoying newfound happiness and love, with Holland. We'd know each other for about 18 months at this point, so a quick dating cycle and subsequent remarriage for both of us (Holland had been divorced for decades) seemed the natural course of action - it didn't seem that quick. We both felt we had known each other all our lives. We were happy. We were in love. We were building a Life together.

But Grief is a tricky imp: he doesn't always show himself to play tormenting games with our limping emotions … but all those feelings are still there; they may not be as intense as there used to be (thank The Lord!), but they lie just a hair's breath beneath the surface - waiting to spring with a stinging vengeance when triggered.

They blossom anew, and are felt just as intensely as the day they came into our lives to stay as reminders of a face and a love we'll never enjoy seeing or feeling again.

This week has been a very hard one.

I don't know what Holland is going through because he doesn't talk with me - he will talk at me, but he doesn't talk with me: he doesn't share anything with me unless it's grief related. He will talk with Mark, Lana, and Cal for hours about anything and everything … but he doesn't talk with me about anything and everything - unless it's to mention to me some bitching he's done with Lana, and by then he's been so hyped up by the shared bitching, that he's in fight mode: snappiness between us is the usual fallout. He doesn't realize that, doesn't want to hear that; and I've given up hoping the situation will change. Before and after his conversations with Mark, he's feeling guilty for being here with me - instead of back in WA; he's afraid Mark will die before he gets to spend face-time with him, again. Cal is a different story altogether, and any mention of that small-minded little man is sure fire way to verbal warfare. Cal is domineering, and intrusive, and I really do not understand why Holland considers him a "friend": since Day One of our marriage, Cal has been in our business, blowing Holland's phone up with calls, texts, and missed messages … and now he's started to harass my phone with texts and missed calls: I do not like him. At all.

These three people are what the arguments are mainly about; and they are destroying US.

Presently, Holland has separated himself from me: we occupy the same living space … but we are world's apart.

Holland is caught up in the grief surrounding afore mentioned people.

I am trying to come to terms with the loss of Holland - he's still my husband, but he has removed himself from my small inner circle: this is a grief I am not familiar with, and I'm not quite sure what to do with it. The constant uncertainty keeps me on a constant emotional roller coaster - constantly feeling overwhelmed.

When I am stressed, I withdraw.

I basically shut down: and a Wall goes up.

 However, Life continues marching forward, and I have to engage in life again, at some point. Engaging means letting the Wall down … when the Wall come down, even the barest fraction, pent up tears are released; and the tears trigger dormant grief.

It is the middle of November.

The middle of November harbors painful memories for me.

For a brief time last November, there were no tears.

This November, there are tears aplenty. The unexpected grief loss shock of being told by Holland that he "needs a break" from our 10-month marriage (to his way of thinking, his "obligations" to the Past, trump any presence I thought I had in his Present, and the Future he promised me), has triggered painful memories of doctors in 2018, telling me Bob was dying. The circumstances and situations are vastly different of course, but the gut wrench is the same intensity.

I have lost … and am losing … each husband to things that have gotten out of control.

Death is death, and grief is grief - no matter the circumstances and situation.

The raw grief of losing two husbands in the same month, in such a short period of time; is how I found myself lying in bed, alone, feeling a huge knot form in my stomach and crying my heart and soul out at 2 A.M. this morning … and drinking coffee at the dining table, at 4 A.M.; eventually getting my hands busy with designing and crafting another Angel Baby Blanket.

Alvin Lee - 'Blues Has Got A Hold On Me' song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUa-Ro4e0Ts)

 

Beautiful sunrise, this morning.

So pretty …

Pink clouds means a a pleasant start to the Day; that's an encouraging thought.

Breakfast; half grapefruit & half orange … very sweet, less acidic than pure grapefruits.

MOD Angel Baby Blanket; started A.M.

I understand that working on Angel Baby Blankets is a grief-related activity, but it is an activity that has a productive purpose: it is busy activity that will relax me and calm my thoughts - and it is an activity that will give some solace to hurting parents.

I'm trying to be positive.

I'm trying to be hopeful.

I'm trying like hell to understand the grief cycle he's caught up, in.

But I don't think I can be supportive with his destructive behavior: it's hurtful to him, and it's definitely hurtful to me.

My heart hurts.

My head aches.

 My eyes burn.

And I'm finding it hard to breathe easy.

What is happening here in Yuma, between Holland and I, is not a peace generating thing; he has stirred up chaos and heartache. He has tripped grief triggers for me, that will be hard to tame, again.

I don't know how long Holland will allow Death and Grief to rule his life: I don't know how he can justify willingly hurting me to satisfy his need to please himself. I don't know how he can continue deluding himself that he is a "good Christian man" when he is acting like a worldly heel - he is not standing by me, treating me well, or loving me as "Christ loves His Own".

But, for myself, I want to LIVE a full Life while I am still breathing; I am not going to entertain (or whip into an emotional firestorm) Grief.

I'm going to watch sunrises and sunsets. I'm going to continue exploring, and having fun adventures. I'm going to savor tasty delights. I'm going to enjoy friendships, and have conversations that are not one-sided. I'm going to paint my nails in bold and bright colors.

I'm going to consciously tamp down the grief triggers so they are once again manageable memories instead of searing inferno's that suck the oxygen out of the room.

ABB finished 9 P.M. 15 in x 15 in.

And I'm going to continue trusting Elohim for the love He promised me.

I'm sick of the specter of Death.