I Found Love Again...and Myself

Losing Mike was hands down the most painful experience of my life. I'd been his partner for so long that my very identity was intertwined with his. At that point you could not decipher where he stopped and I began. When he disappeared I was left in a knotted heap. No longer woven into him just a contorted unrecognizable tangle of a person. I lost myself that night. The self I'd come to know as his wife. I didn't feel any less married when I woke up the next day. I felt hollow, emptied of all emotion, numb and abandoned. I was not angry. I was scared to death. Over the 20 years we knew each other we created this safety net of enabling behavior. We learned to be independently codependent.

We were used to being apart. After 20 years in the military we were first apart in miles and then apart in emotional connection. We were comfortably disconnected. It was part of his PTSD. I knew I had to do things alone. Sure, he was there in body but his spirt left years before he died. I grew to see this as our normal. Even if there was nothing behind his eyes I was comforted by his presence. The man I knew him to be, before he got sick. I resented him. I cussed him in my head for behaving the way he did. I was infuriated with his paranoia, his temper with me and the kids but at the end of the day I needed him. It was such a sick and twisted existance, I know that now.

When he died I had become so accustomed to the sickness that I was sure I would not make it through a day. I hated the way he treated us but when he was no longer there I wished I could hear him yelling at me. I didn't care. I was lost with out it. Our chaos was life. It got quiet. Still. The tension in the air was gone. I was so uncomfortable in that silence. I found the peace unbareable. I didn't know what to do with myself so most of the time I slept. For days. But then the nightmares would creep in and I'd wake up in a cold sweat, crying. I couldn't handle being awake or being asleep. I was miserable. It reminded me of a heroin user detoxing. I didn't recognize who I'd become. I was not a wife, nor did I have a husband. I could so clearly recall the security of our dysfunctional lifestyle and I longed for it. I needed that chaos again. What nourished me also made me sick.

So I went on a self loathing mission of self destruction creating my own chaos. I made really poor choices. I began taking whatever pill anyone handed me. I slept with married men. They wouldn't get attached and I didn't have to pretend to love them because I would and could never love another. I couldn't even pretend to like myself. I justified my actions. Who could blame me? I had just lost my husband. The man I'd loved since age 14. I was a victim.  Oh man, of all the lies I could tell...lying to myself came easiest.

A few months this game commenced. I was finally diagnosed with PTSD myself. I was pretty shocked when the doctor told me I wasn't crazy. I was grieving and had ptsd. I hadn't seen war. I didn't even physically see him pull the trigger. I was on the other side of the door. Ten feet away. No? Really? Yes. He assure me it was traumatic regardless. You don't need to see blood and gore to suffer. Fearing for my life and my family was enough. I felt uncertain and then relieved. It was a medical condition. The very condition I'd begged Mike to get help for.  The one I resented so many years.

I decided then I would not let this take me as it did him. I was all the kids had now. I had to fight this. I would beat it. I would fake it until I made it. I found a strength in knowing. It was not a huge force but at least a starting point.

I began talking about my experience, blogging about my struggles to gain self control and my path to recovery. The craziest thing happened. People read it. They identified with my story. Some began to recognize themselves in me and Mike. They started writing me letters. From all over the country. We were not as isolated and different as I thought.  I was the first or only person they had ever told about their ptsd, depression, anger, resentment frustration at themself of their spouse. At first I was comforted but then became sad and alarmed that so many were suffering silently. I felt this was my calling. Helping prevent suicide helping others stay alive...thrive after the trauma experienced while serving. It wasn't just the vets but the entire family who suffered. I learned so much in so little time.

I was contacted by different organizations non profits support groups I had no idea existed before he died. I now had this collection of resources to share with the families. I listened to their stories and shared mine. I was able to connect them with people who could help. I encouraged them to keep on the VA. Don't accept no for an answer. I showed them in my own actions that nothing was impossible by battle the VA to rule my husband's death 100% service connected despite all odds. Two years of falling apart and then picking the pieces up to start again the next day.

My new identity emerged. I wasn't a victim at all. I was a survivor. I was capable of caring for my kids on my own. I was stronger than I ever gave myself credit. I became less scared more proud. This is me. I'm doing this. I don't need to be rescued. I wasn't just staying afloat I was going full speed ahead. I began carving out a new life for us.

I started getting letters from people I spoke with telling me I was the reason they were there writing the letter this day. I helped them. I saved them. I support and encouraged them. I had gotten many letters after Mike died. These were different. Although I'm not good with praise I felt so amazing that just speaking the truth, sharing our story made a difference. Every note, Facebook message or tweet was like a beam of sunlight shining down on me. It's so healing and such a blessing to me to give someone a shoulder to cry on, or a hand to hold, an ear to listen. I don't have a magic wand. I can't fix all their problems but I genuinely care. I know exactly how they feel a day can relate to every single life who comes into my journey. That somehow, all by itself helps them. They aren't alone. I share my fears, my struggles, my pain and my milestones for the world to see and they know they aren't the only one.

One of the people I came in contact with in this path was Sean. At first it was just a Facebook message to send condolences. He told me he went to school with Mike when they were young Marines. It was a tiny connection to him. Someone he knew that I didnt. I didn't know people existed in his life. I thought I'd known everything. I was intrigued by him because he knew him through out their careers and I didn't have a clue. I came to learn there were many others too. Everyone was a tiny gift from God. Another piece of him.

But Sean was different. I could sense a pain there. I could literally feel he was holding something back. He had contacted me originally console me but I saw there was so much more needed. Gradually he began opening up to me. He told me he had very similar if not parallel feelings and thoughts that Mike had prior to his death and he was scared. He was in a very bad place in life and he couldn't figure out how he got there. I encouraged him the same as the others. I told him he MUST face it. He had to talk to the VA doctor. He didn't have to label it, or define his suspicions to the doctor just explain the way he's feeling, his behavior and despair.  Eventually he did.

I think that's when I started falling in love with him. He had the strength and courage to stare it down. Although he was a Marine just like Mike, he had similar demons but he was so strong in admitting it and seeking treatment. He was a mess. I was a mess. We had our own battles to fight. I told him I could offer him nothing more than a sincere desire for him to keep working on himself. I still had so much to do on me. We continued to talk long distance.  Soon, I was looking forward to his Skype calls and messages. I become personally invested in every single person in my life but this was different. There were butterflies. Fuck, I was falling in love? I told myself I was just lonely. It'll pass. This is infatuation. Nothing more. I pushed the feelings down because I still absolutely 100% loved Mike as if he were still here. I didn't understand the feelings. I was confused. I have always thought you can truly only love one person so there was no way I could have those feelings for both him and Mike.

We had a full disclosure friendship. We shared everything. Even the ugliest most hated and dark parts of ourself. So, I told him how I felt. He told me he was the trying to replace Mike. He had no disillusion that I'd ever stop loving him. He didn't care. That acceptance was intoxicating. The candor between us was so exhilarating. Our bond became stronger and we became so connected emotionally. It was the sort of communication I longed for. Bottom line...it was the sexiest thing I'd ever experienced. Enough said.

I admired him so much too, for despite all his personal struggles...he dedicated his life to helping others just as I do. He's a drug and alcohol counselor.  He understands the joy and fulfillment of public service. We don't do it for the money. No one gets rich this way but our lives together were truly enriched. I fell deeper.

Last month we bough a house together. We live in harmony. There is a peace in our home and it no longer scares me. The life were creating is one of truth, laughter, sincerity love and acceptance. It really is a beautiful life. He treats my children like his own and they love him the same. We talk often about their father. Share stories of him and his photo hangs on our wall. Sean is not threatened by the life we one lived but is eager to be part of it now. What a blessing...for us all.

In my great loss I found myself for the very first time. I found love. A sort of love that grows daily. I love myself, I love him. I love who we are together.

Mike asked me to give our kids a beautiful life a d I think he ultimately had a hand in my meeting Sean. I think we're on the right road to that beautiful life now.