I never knew what panic attacks, severe anxiety, or PTSD felt like before last March. My world was luckily pretty perfect, and I knew it. I've said often in the past year, what you saw was what you got from my little family. Lots of smiles, laughs, and true happiness. We were content, at peace, and looking forward to an awesome spring and summer.
I'll forever cherish those years together (almost half my life!), the way I learned to love, be happy, and function in a healthy relationship. That last fateful day, we were exploring Enchanted Rock in Fredericksburg, TX, and it was rainy, chilly, and kind of foggy. I'll never forget that as we wrapped up our little hike, I felt compelled to run to Andy. Lexie was with me, and she joined me in the run. We ran right up to him, and I grabbed the three of us in a big hug. We stood there for several seconds (although now I imagine it as hours), and just took in the moment. That was our last hug. We had no regrets.
Looking back, there's not much I'd change about how I handled the last year. I feel like, in some way, Andy prepared me for it. So many times over the last few years, he liked to remind me of his mortality. I'd brush it off, and say, no you don't know that. I could go first, you just don't know. But we both knew the odds, and that really sucked for me. Because I knew that meant I'd be left here on earth without him. So I'd say, well I'll just go right after you do, because I can't live without you. And most recently, he told me that made him really sad, that he hated to think I wouldn't continue on and accomplish my many goals (travel, climb Machu Picchu, run Boston!), or that I'd be so lonely without him. So I compromised. I said, well ok, if and when I move on, I'll re-marry for money only! He didn't like that either. I agree now; money isn't everything.
We call those first few days and weeks my "dark days." I was utterly lost. I had to learn how to function by myself, and it really sucked. I have a chair in the living room, and it became my crying chair. For a while, I think people worried that I wouldn't make it. I honestly didn't think I'd make it either.
The best advice I immediately received? See a therapist, get drugs. I knew I needed to do something or I'd run my car off the road (that was a legit thought because it had been so rainy for weeks).
People would tell me that I was strong. I started to hate that word. I was not strong, I told my therapist. Inside I was broken. I just did a good job of hiding the pieces.
I kept up with the therapist. She was a lucky find all the way in Baytown, and now she's like the angel who sits on my shoulder (what would Kristina say?). She cheers me on and preps me for tough times. She listens to my worries and fears, and offers coping strategies. Coping! I was not strong, I was coping!
Then I found a psychiatrist. Oh wow, did that make a difference. Because if you've seen me in the last year looking depressed, you should remember that I was a depressed person on anti-depressants. Yeah. Now try to picture me without those drugs. Yikes. Not strong, medicated!
And then I remembered my kiddo. Just kidding, I was doing all of this for my kiddo. She has been through more than I care to think about in her short life. She is the definition of resilience. Many times, she could have chosen very different paths for her behavior and I'm pleased to report that she never once acted out on all the wrong that people had done by her. We gave her love, encouragement, ambition, and structure. She has thrived. And she also has her own therapist.
There's so much more I can say about this past year, but I'll keep the rest of the good, the bad, and the ugly to myself and the few who already know.
Last week in therapy I was prepping for the upcoming one year, and discussed my plans with Kristina. We strategized what to do if X,Y, or Z happened on that day, and I was ready. And in true expect the best and prepare for the worst fashion, the days passed and I was ok.
There is so much that has helped me through this last year. People, family, experts, internets, and books to name a few. I am forever grateful and indebted to everyone who took the time to care about me. (And I swear I have these thank you cards to send you but haven't written one. Yet.).
I developed my own theory, and I told that to my therapist last week. When people told me I was strong (and the only thing I wanted to do was show them my strength by force to the face), I ignored it. And now I humbly acknowledge my error. I was wrong. I was not only strong, but I had superhuman strength. I could have chosen a very easy, very bad path- sadness, hate, solitude. Instead, I chose the more difficult road- happiness, love, and family. I focused on making Lexie and myself happy, and less on our plight in life. I put the broken pieces of myself back together, and I think I might have even improved myself a little in the process!
Kristina calls this post-traumatic growth. It's like the depressed person's version of seeing the light. And it's shining so much on me right now. I'm never going to be the happy I was before, and that makes my heart hurt a lot. But I'm happy now too, and it allows my heart to grow bigger and better. I'm here, and I'm ok. Yes, I still think about Andy pretty much every hour, every day, and I miss him every.single.day. I just cope better now with those thoughts and feelings.
If you want to do something for me, give me a hug. It reminds me of the last best moment of my life with Andy, and I never want to forget that connection. Forever in my heart, mind, and soul.
xoxo,
Monica
