Protectors and Assailants

When I go out, I start sorting guys into two groups: protectors and assailants. I quickly label everyone in my head in order to navigate my way through the night. Although this strategy keeps me present for a while, it always ends the same way. Slowly and then all at once, I shut off completely. And when I get to this point nothing anyone says can bring me back.

The assailants in a bar are easy to spot. They look at me, my skin crawls, and I know. When they talk to me I feel nothing and everything all at the same time. I've tried to describe this panicked feeling before, but the exact words to explain it are still elusive. I fight to hold conversations with assailants as long as I possibly can, but eventually their every word, every movement pushes my heart to a cliff. As I near the edge, the alarms sound in my head and I have to excuse myself to find my nearest protector.

Protectors are guys I know well and have a level of trust in. Their close proximity to me is never a threat, but not always a comfort either. As they see me start to unravel, they hold me like a fragile piece of porcelain. Cradling me too cautiously, encasing me so I don't shatter. They create a barrier between us and the rest of the world so that no one can touch me. Although I'm grateful for this at first, inevitably I panic again. Not in the heart stopping way that the assailants incite, but instead this panic squeezes my lungs. I lose my ability to breathe, suffocating under the weight of their fierce protection.

And then I'm alone.

Not physically, as my protector won't leave my side, but mentally I've rowed myself to an island of my own making. I sit there as the ocean laps at my oars, trying to coax me back in. But I can't. I won't. I refuse. I've made my choice to disconnect and now I'm lost to the world.

As I shut myself off from this confusing crowd of protectors and assailants, I search inside myself for you. You reassure me that things won't always be like this; I need to be patient. That someday, I'll be ready to stop labeling guys as either protectors or assailants. Little by little, I'll start viewing them as they actually are. Not just there to attack or defend me, but as real people who are searching for connections in the same way I am.

So even though it feels like there's you and then there's everyone else, I'll wait. I'll keep attempting to find my way through the safety and the set backs, the challenges and the comfort, the help and the hurt. Because I know on the other side of it is a world full of love. A world that I'll belong to again if I take my time.

The New Normal

Feeling like I'm almost a normal person again is so strange.

I've spent the past five months floundering between disconnecting from the world and struggling desperately to reintegrate, bouts of apathy towards fitting back in and concern for my lack of interest, and anything and everything in between. In the beginning, how I felt about my relationship with the world changed from minute to minute. But as time passed, these waves of emotions started to even out. First to an hourly basis and finally to a more optimistic day/difficult day pattern.

Feeling like I'm almost a normal person again comes from the smoothing out of these extreme fluctuations. Getting to this point is strange because I'm not sure if I like it.

Part of me knows that although I may almost be a "normal" person now, I will never be the same person. This is the part of me that's fighting back. This part doesn't like that things are starting to go back to how they were, because it's scared this means that I'll forget what I've been through.

It would be too easy to embrace this budding sense of normalcy with open arms. For so long, functioning normally seemed like a far off goal only seen from a distance. Now that it's actually within my reach, I want to grab it and wrap myself in it. I want to drench myself in normalcy so that I won't have to remember what it felt like to deny it's possibility.

But I've seen too much that I can't un-see. I've felt too much that I can't un-feel. I know too much that I can't unlearn. If being a normal person again means suppressing all of these things, then I want nothing to do with normal.

Words can't explain how grateful I am to finally feel like I can become a functioning part of the world again. But in my heart I know that reaching that point won't feel genuine if I achieve it by leaving what I've been through behind me. I need to somehow find a way to take all of what I've seen, felt, and learned with me back to the real world. Figure out how to be who I've always been, but a more understanding, compassionate, and spiritual version of myself. And maybe by doing this I can start to create a new normal, for myself and for those around me.

New Beginnings (A Poem)

There's something about a sunrise
like staring deep into your eyes
remembering them open wide
telling me "Baby, look! The Sun!"

Holding me is pale pink,
orange, yellow, all I think
is the colors make my heart sink
back to the hammock, in your arms.

The sky becomes a light blue
recalling sunrises with you
Are you here for this one too?
The warmth tells me "Yes."

After all the painting is done
many colors fade to just one
highlighting the beauty of the Sun:
a symbol of the new.

Separating (A Poem)

Enough space to keep me sane

Close enough to heed my heart

Straddling this fine line 

Crossing over, ripped apart 

The strength is in the balance

Of knowing how to choose

At what distance to hold you

The amount of separation to use 

If away is where I place you
I'm lost, disconnected, alone
Wandering, restless, broken
A soul without a home

If I pull you in too tightly

It's like embracing the sun

Engulfed in blissful light 

But scorched and overdone

Where's the happy medium?

The perfect in between?

Fully accepting my reality

While still honoring the unseen

So goes my daily struggle

Learning to navigate this mismatch

Loving you thoroughly and truly 

While beginning to detach 

It's Ok to Move Forward

Today I feel lighter.
There is a lightness in my body and mind that I haven't felt since before Blake passed away.

The medium called me again this morning to check up on me after our intense conversation the other night. He told me immediately that I sounded different. When he brought that to my attention I realized he was right. I did feel really different.

He said he was blown away by my connection with Blake. Initially he had some idea of the depth of it, but after talking with both of us he came to understand that our bond was greater than he realized. Probably greater than we even realized. It felt amazing to hear him validate what I already knew somewhere imbedded in the fibers of my being: what we had was special, what we still have is special.

What the medium acknowledged is something that I have had a hard time getting other people to understand. Moving on for me doesn't mean belittling my relationship with Blake, making it seem like we had less of a connection than we did, or making him out to be an unworthy person. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I recognize what a true love and soul mate he was to me, but the circumstances of where he was in life cut our time together short. Because he was unable to learn the lessons he needed to in this lifetime, a life together became impossible.

So my lightness comes not from a diminishing belief in the love that we share, but more of a comfortable detachment from Blake. This means that for the first time I can separate myself from him and our love to see the bigger picture. Although I believe Blake is one of my soul mates, because of his choices he is no longer meant for me in this lifetime. Desperately holding onto him will only end up holding me back from enjoying the rest of my time here without him.

The medium told me that as a gift, Blake said it is going to be his mission to connect me with a soul mate who can be all of the things he wasn't able to be for me. At first this scared me. Does admitting there is someone better for me conflict with saying Blake is a soul mate to me? Will moving on mean that I love Blake less? I can finally answer both of these questions with a firm "No." When that time eventually comes (which, admittedly, probably still won't be for a while) and I can see this new person as a gift from Blake, I know that it will be ok accept it and that I deserve it. Moving on won't mean loving Blake less, it will mean finally loving myself more.

Not Ready to Move On

Back in April, Blake and I attended the wedding of one of my best friends from high school. Last night, as she and her husband were watching the reception video, she noticed that the videographer caught some moments of Blake and me dancing together. She recorded these shots with her phone and sent them to me in a text.

Today, I uploaded the clips to my computer so I could watch them again. The first moment I paused at was when Blake and I locked eyes. The way I looked at him can't be described as anything other than pure love. I know in that moment I was looking into his eyes thinking about how incredibly lucky I was to be dancing with him.

The second time I paused was at the point when I nestled into his shoulder and his hand came up to hold the back of my head. I started thinking about how good it must have felt to be held so lovingly like that. I wished with my whole heart that I could remember exactly what that felt like. As I replayed these clips, I began to wonder if I'd ever feel that in love, safe, and comfortable with anyone else ever again.

I closed my laptop and started wailing. My eyes filled so completely with tears that I couldn't see anymore. My mouth audibly struggled to take in air while it released moans of discomfort. Each hand grasped the opposite shoulder trying to hold onto myself as tight as possible. I ended up rocking back and forth, shaking and squeezing harder. I tucked my head into the crevice of my crossed arms as I continued to cry. At least all balled up like that my shrieks were muffled. I hoped that my neighbors were out like normal people enjoying their Saturday night. I hoped no one had to suffer through hearing such a soul shattering sound.

As this response subsided and I started to regain my composure, I was caught off guard by the intensity of my reaction. I had watched those clips earlier today and smiled with a quick, happy well of tears in my eyes. Why did re-watching them this time lead to a breakdown?

I tried to answer this question by thinking about the moments I chose to pause for and figuring out how they made me feel. In the first one I looked at Blake in a way that I can't imagine looking at anyone else. In the second, I was held in a way that makes me nauseous just thinking about anyone besides Blake holding me. After analyzing that, I think the reason I started freaking out was because I am realizing that I may not want to be with anyone else for a really long time.

I know that no one means to put pressure on me, but every once in a while people say insensitive things that make me feel awful about my "progress." It may be as harmless as saying, "When you're in your next relationship..." or as overt as, "I know a guy that I want you to meet. I think you'd really like him." I understand these people are only trying to help, but is it that awful that I'm still in love with Blake? That the thought of another man's interest or touch feels akin to a brutal attack? That I'd rather be alone than even entertain the idea of letting another man into my life?

Today marks four months since Blake passed away. For me, four months might as well be yesterday. In my heart Blake is still my boyfriend. I wish that wasn't considered weird or sad or pathetic by people who have no way of understanding what this feels like. I guess I just have to let them judge me. All I can do is have confidence that I'm doing what I need to be doing at a pace that feels right to me.

Why is Love Not Enough?

I just had a breakdown.

When this happens, something inside my stomach starts to tighten. Although I can't put my finger on exactly what's going on inside of me, I just don't feel "right." I could pretty easily brush it off at this beginning stage by telling myself it's nothing, I'm fine. But if I give these internal signals any thought, I know I'm not ok. I need time. I need to retreat from whatever normal people activity I'm doing.

I've been in Tahoe with some of my friends since Friday night. It's been really nice to be somewhere beautiful, try things I've never done before, and dress up to go out at night. A month ago I would've never been able to do a weekend trip like this. At that point it was even difficult for me to go out to a bar. Now I'm here, meeting new people, and actually enjoying myself.

But this morning I woke up and my body felt heavy in a way that isn't typical of a normal hangover. I felt completely weighed down. My affect was flat. Nothing about our plans for today sounded remotely compelling enough to get me out of bed. There was an anxious knot in my stomach that I attributed to the massive amount of homework I have due. I told the girls I needed to stay in to read, they understood, and left for the day's adventure without me.

I began to read, but ended up starting the same sentence about four times. My eyes were looking at the words, but there was a disconnect between the letters and my brain. I tried reading aloud, hoping that in verbal form they might sink in better. Nope. I squinted my eyes to fixate harder on the book. I furrowed my brow for increased concentration. My whole body got tense. Every fiber of my being wanted to read so badly to the point that I'd been forgetting to breathe. 

I finally filled my lungs with a much needed gasp of oxygen. As I exhaled, a flood of tears bursted from my eyes. I started breathing shallow and painful breaths as the tears kept streaming down my face. Why Blake? Why me? Why can't I be normal?

Although it's too late, and nothing will change the fact that Blake is gone, I still wish with all of my heart that my love for him was enough. Why is love not enough? I know we were meant to re-meet each other and fall deeply in love. He came back into my life when he did because I was meant for him and he was meant for me. I feel in a lot of ways that his love saved me and will continue to save me. But why couldn't my love save him? Why couldn't I make the same impact on him as he did on me?

These are the thoughts weighing me down right now. Although my breathing has returned to normal and the tears are now just streaks on my blotchy cheeks, I'm not ok. But that's ok. 

I clearly need a break from the world today and this breakdown is just my body's way of reminding me of that. I have been trying so hard to live my life and I know I'm doing a great job. But moving forward doesn't mean I have to deny myself a daily pause to check in with how I'm feeling. When I go days without writing or talking about Blake, my heart gets backed up, weighed down, and eventually screams at me to pay attention to it. 

A Sign From Blake

I thought about Blake a lot today. These thoughts weren't particularly sad or focused on anything specific, he was just on my mind in a general way. I think it's because it was my first day of school and I wanted to talk to him about it. But for whatever reason, he just seemed too far away. I tried to feel connected to him, but it wasn't working. Maybe that's why I was having a particularly hard time falling asleep tonight.

To make myself sleepy, I started going through a syllabus from one of the classes I had today. I honestly don't know how it happened, but while I was scrolling through, an old email I sent to Blake and saved as a word document months ago popped up on my screen. It was the weirdest thing. How did it get there? I decided to read through it:

"Blake,

I thought I was going to bed early tonight, but after our talk I’m wide awake. Usually when this happens I like to write down my thoughts to clear my head. So to help me fall asleep I decided to write you a letter to let you know what’s on my mind.

November 21^st, 2012 1:54 AM (Yes, I scrolled all the way back to the beginning of our text messages, it took like 15 minutes haha): “Maybe I was a wuss because I did not say it to your face, but I didn’t want to be a creep! But you are extremely beautiful! Thank u for the ride! I really do appreciate it!”

I was so pleasantly surprised when I got that text message from you. I spent the night hanging out with you and your friends, but I didn’t think for a second you were interested in me. After that text message, we spent the next couple days talking, flirting, and getting to know each other. It was really refreshing. I had gone through a pretty upsetting break up several months earlier and ever since, I hadn’t found a single guy I even enjoyed talking to. Every time I saw that I had a message from you I smiled. It felt good to be excited about someone.

I was so nervous when you picked me up for the Suns game. I didn’t really realize until after you were on your way that I asked you out on a date. As someone who is pretty traditional when it comes to that stuff, that was clearly something I’ve never done before. I tried to get Chris to tag along to make myself feel less lame about it, but looking back I couldn’t be happier that it ended up being just the two of us.

That first date really opened my eyes to the type of person you are. Less than ten minutes into the game I felt like I already knew your life story- the good and the bad. You had nothing to hide and felt completely comfortable with who you are. I liked that. But the night I came over and we failed at watching a movie was when I knew I liked you. You told me all about your geeky side, made me feel so relaxed around you, and gave me the most amazing first kiss I’ve ever had with anyone.

Since then everything has moved quickly, but felt so right. We missed each other so much after that first weekend that you were crazy enough to buy me a last minute flight to come see you and I was crazy enough to take off of work and come. That weekend we had the talk about what was happening between us and what we wanted. I knew it was a huge commitment to start a long distance relationship, but I also knew I wouldn’t be happy unless we gave us a chance. Kissing you on your couch after we made things official was the happiest I’ve been in a long time.

I know we both have our flaws. I know long distance relationships are far from ideal. But I also know how incredibly blessed I feel for having you come into my life and how every time I see you (whether in person or on the computer) my heart melts. Anytime I feel too far away or you’re frustrated with me, I want you to remember how it felt the first time we kissed. I want you to remember the nights we stay up really late telling each other things we’ve never shared with anyone else. Think of where we started and how far we can go together.

You have made me so unbelievably happy. Thank you for making me the luckiest girl in the whole world.

Love,

Briana"

Our first date :)

I haven't gotten any "signs" from Blake in a while. In the beginning, I felt like he was always trying to communicate with me. Things kept happening that couldn't be just a coincidence, they felt like direct messages from him to me. But for the past month or so, I haven't experienced anything remotely close to what I did at first. I was beginning to feel like he sensed I didn't need him anymore, that he was trying to distance himself from me so I could move on. 

Although there is probably a logical explanation as to how this particular document popped up on my computer screen tonight, I choose to believe it was Blake. I sent him that email after we had been dating for a couple months and long distance was starting to wear on us. We ended our video call that night feeling far away from each other and frustrated. I couldn't sleep because I needed to figure out a way to lift his spirits. It killed me to see him so lonely, so I wrote that message to remind him how special our connection was and why we were committed to being together even under these less than ideal circumstances. 

And tonight, in reading that message again Blake lifted my spirits in the same way I intended to lift his. Although the distance is even greater now, I was reminded that he is still close to me. As long as I remember the special connection we share, I will never be lonely.  

It Comes in Waves

There was a moment on Friday night.

I had two of my best friends in the whole world next to me. We were holding hands, we had our arms around each other. A band that we used to go see when we were in college was playing a reunion show. I knew all of the words to the songs. I sang. I danced. I smiled. It was incredible.

In that moment, I felt like myself. I felt so grateful to be exactly where I was. I didn't think about anything besides the lyrics to the song, how happy I was to be with people I loved so much, dancing and smiling like I was a freshman in college without a care in the world.

I fell asleep around 4am after not only a great show, but a lengthy catch up session with two more friends back at my best friend's apartment. After we finally exhausted all people and topics we could possibly gossip about, I passed out on the couch in my clothes from the night. I didn't even notice I forgot to get Blake Bear out of my suitcase. When I woke up in the morning and realized this, I was afraid I was going to panic. I had wondered what the first night sleeping without him would feel like. Almost three months have passed and this was my first night falling asleep without the bear nestled in my chest and gripped tightly in my arms. Surprisingly, I felt ok. I survived.

But now the weekend is finished. My best friends are at their houses and I'm in mine. The concert is over, we're no longer dancing, and the songs are just a faint buzz in the back of my mind. Just as I've experienced before after an exciting day, the pendulum has swung the other way. Now I'm on the opposite side of joy.

The debilitating sadness comes in waves now. Instead of being in a perpetual state of shittiness like I was initially, I'm able to experience truly happy moments like I did on Friday night. In those moments I feel like I'm really me again. My heart is light and my mind is clear. I feel part of the world and connected to other people in real and meaningful ways. But then, the tide sucks me back in. I detach from the beautiful world I was starting to feel a part of. Suddenly my brain gets clouded with a million different memories, questions, thoughts, and fears. My heart starts weighing a ton, my chest throbs from the strain. And then I'm lost again. The idea that I thought "I'm really me again" seems strange and artificial. Who am I anyway?

As I'm writing this, clutching Blake Bear, I'm missing Blake so much it hurts. I'm thinking of the fun I had this weekend and how much he would've enjoyed singing, dancing, and gossiping with my friends right alongside me. It just seems so unfair that I get to have these happy moments and he doesn't. You could try to convince me that he was there with me the whole time and got to feel the happiness through me, but right now I'm not in the mood to listen to that stuff with a hopeful heart. When it comes down to it, he's not here and that's not fair. He was only 25 with so much living left to do. So many moments left to experience.

So as I'm riding this wave of sadness, the only thing that comforts me is knowing that just like my moment of happiness, this too shall pass. I will find myself back on the joy side of the pendulum again and the depressive feelings I'm experiencing now will seem far away. I've realized that you can't remain sad forever, just as it's equally as impossible to live in a consistent state of happiness. Moments like Friday night feel as good as they do because I know what it feels like to be devoid of all pleasure and consumed by pain. It takes plummeting to new lows to truly appreciate times when I feel good again.

Vows to Blake (A Letter)

This morning I woke up from a dream that I can't remember. As my dream was becoming lucid, I can recall telling myself that I needed to write my vows to Blake. Wedding vows? Was this my mind playing a cruel joke on me? Clearly I am never going to marry Blake, so why would I need to write him vows?

I told this to one of my friends, and she had a different interpretation. She suggested:

I thought this was a positive way to see the dream and a great idea. My mom has always pushed me to look for lessons in every life experience. I have been meaning to write down all of the things being in love with Blake has taught me, so I thought this could be my perfect opportunity to do so:

To My Love Blake,
I vow to honor you and your memory for the rest of my life. This doesn't mean saving myself for you, or making my life about you, but rather to embody all of the principles you stood for and strive to grow in the way you were helping me grow.

The most important thing I can do is to work every day to suspend judgement. You always taught me to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. In your life, you were a true friend to everyone, regardless of whether it was outwardly aparent what you could "gain" from their friendship. I watched in awe as you developed rapport with the children at the hotel pool, the old couple next to us at dinner, our taxi driver, my students, the merchants for your company, and so on. You were fascinated by people and knew that everyone had a unique and important story. Your curiosity made you a magnet. Just as I was so attracted to you, the world was pulled in by your openness and genuine interest.

But this suspension of judgement goes further than just the first impression of a person. Sometimes after you get to know someone, they disappoint you.There are times when people do and say things that cut you deeply and make you question whether they have anything good to contribute to your life or society in general. This is when you taught me to be even more forgiving. You taught me that it is ok to argue, fine to disagree. But at the end of the day what really mattered is that you didn't let these conflicts color what you thought of that person. You had an amazing ability to relase the people from your life who weren't adding any goodness, but never think of them as bad people. And for the people you loved, you were always willing to accept an apology and move forward, knowing that some people are too important to lose.

I took from you these lessons of suspending judgement of others, but the most vital lesson you were teaching me was to stop the harsh judgment of myself. This is a lesson I am still working on. I vow to remember every day that I am not perfect, but I'm perfectly flawed. My flaws are there as obstacles to remind me to never stop learning, to never be complacent about how I look at the world and myself. I will make mistakes. I will say and do the wrong things. But that's ok. I need to be patient and kind with myself. I will strive to always look critically at my choices and judgments, apologize often and sincerely, and know that I am still a good person, despite the mistakes I make. The important thing isn't to be perfect, but to be perfectly myself.

I vow to honor you and cherish you for the rest of my life. I vow to keep an open mind and an open heart, both of which hold no maximum capacity. I vow to apologize and forgive frequently and genuinely, knowing that is the recipe for enduring and healthy relationships with the people I love. I vow to release people from my life who no longer benefit me, but never let that give me permission to think ill of their character. I vow to continue to be the girl you fell in love with and grow to love myself just as much.

Forever and always,
Briana

Misery Loves Company

About a month ago I was frustrated that many of Blake's friends seemed to be moving on. I wrote in the post, "What Happens When Others Move On," that initially this made me angry. At the time, it seemed like it was so easy for everyone else to go back to their lives like nothing had happened. Why was this so much harder for me? I watched the profile pictures change back and the flood of stories start to trickle out until they stopped entirely. All the while I was frozen in time. Having nightly hour-long conversations with Blake's mom, reliving every moment, and crying our hearts out. 

But who was I to judge his friends? Maybe they were going about things the right way and I was the one not allowing myself to heal. I stopped being mad at them and instead chose to focus on myself and my own grieving process. They were doing whatever they needed to do to feel better and I needed to do the same.

The only thing that made me feel better, however, was to surround myself with thoughts of Blake. Whether it was researching addiction, seeking guidance about grief, or reminiscing about memories of us happy and in love, it was all about him. Was this bordering on obsession? I decided that what I was doing was ok and clearly what I needed, but I still felt weird about how it might look to other people.

So I monitored myself. I tried to pull back on sharing the entirety of what I was thinking and only truly confided in my blog. I figured by putting it all here, I could confine my thoughts to one space. My thoughts here could either be explored or ignored by others, depending on whether or not they wanted to see it.

It felt incredible to have an outlet to get all of my feelings out, but it started to feel like I was talking at people instead of creating a dialogue with them. At a certain point, I thought that through this blog I was writing the things that people were secretly feeling too, but didn't know how or were afraid to express. That in a way, this was for all of us, not just me. But as weeks passed by and people seemed completely reintegrated back into their lives, I figured I might be alone in all of these thoughts. I had to remind myself that this was ok, because this blog was supposed to be just for me. 

But seemingly out of no where, about a week ago some of Blake's closest friends started writing on his wall again. It started out with one, then a couple days later another, and then another, and another. Although every message was heartfelt and sweet, one of his very best friends wrote something that made me take a step back and think. He wrote:                          

I immediately felt a strange rush of comfort reading that he was clearly still upset. I had to stop myself. Was I that awful of a person to actually be excited that someone else seemed just as miserable as me? How could knowing that someone else is suffering possibly make me feel better?

I realize I'm not a horrible person for having these thoughts. The saying "misery loves company" is a saying for a reason. When you're feeling so alone in your pain and desperation, it is nice to know that someone else is down there at rock bottom with you. But do I actually want someone to sit and mull over the same hurt that I carry with me all the time? Of course not. Do I even want that for myself? No.

I'm taking away three main things from this:

1. People show grief in all different ways. Just because someone isn't posting memories on Facebook or putting up pictures, doesn't mean they aren't still hurting. 
2. It feels good to know you aren't alone in your feelings of grief, but it's important not to use this as an opportunity to compound the hurt and feed off of each other in a negative way. Instead, you can use these shared thoughts as a way to support each other and move forward. Maybe misery loves company because only company can truly empathize and help pull her up. 
3. Although I have to chosen to surround myself with Blake and others have chosen to try to suppress the pain, both options have positives and consequences. While my way leaves me frozen in time, the other way bottles up feelings that eventually will burst out. Maybe all of us could benefit from trying to come a little more towards the middle- I know I could. 

Religion in the Time of Death

I am Jewish, but haven't been very "religious" in years. When I was young, I remember loving going to services on Friday nights because my mom let me wear my faux fur coat, frilly socks, and even some lipstick. I went to Hebrew school up through high school, attended a Jewish sleep away camp every summer, was very involved in youth group, and even got a generous scholarship from USC called the Jewish Leadership Scholarship. I have always loved my religion, have never been ashamed of it, but up until recently I haven't put much thought into the role it plays in my life now that I'm a young adult.

When my parents were visiting me two days ago, my mom mentioned that Judaism has very specific rituals for people to follow throughout the first year of mourning. The first year? Although I didn't ask her to elaborate at the time, this stuck in my brain. Everyone respects that this is going to take time, but after less than three months I already feel pressure to start moving on. Knowing my religion acknowledges that I need specific guidance and support for a whole year after a death provided some relief. 

Last night I started researching the guidelines Judaism lays out for people in mourning. The thing I latched onto the most is that people in mourning are instructed to display various outward signs of their grief to reflect how different they feel inside. Wow.

I was talking to a friend the other day about how hard it is to feel so torn to pieces on the inside, but look so normal on the outside. I almost wish I had an illness, broken bone, scar, something so it was more obvious that I am not ok. If this were something physical, people could actually watch as I heal and know by looking at me that I'm still recovering. It's not like I want any of these physical maladies to elicit sympathy from others, I just want them to know that I'm not the same. I'm not normal. I'm not entirely myself. 

The excerpt from the website that I pasted at the top of this post was my favorite ritual I read about. This part: "This ripping is a concrete expression of heartbreak. It allows mourners to physically express what words cannot," was exactly what I needed to hear. It spoke directly to the struggle I was explaining to my friend. How can my body be so intact when my heart feels completely broken? The ripped clothing above the heart is a level of symbolism that is both beautiful and profound. Something tangible that represents how the invisible internal pain feels. 

Blake and I discussed religion a lot. Although he was Catholic and I am Jewish, after several long discussions Blake and I came to the conclusion that we both believed in the same thing. We both believed religion shouldn't be about who your savior is or what happens to you after you die.  It should be about shaping you into a moral person and providing comfort when you feel lost. We both agreed that even though our religions were different, we both wanted the same things from our faith: guidance, comfort, forgiveness, compassion, and understanding.

Although I'm no longer that little girl in faux fur and red lipstick in temple every Friday night (...which would probably not be the best look for me now, unfortunately), through my religion I can still seek and find all of those things. For me, it's not about going through all of my clothes and ripping them above my heart, but the idea that I could. My religion understands that I'm not ok even though I may look fine and that this is incredibly frustrating. By having specific rituals to address this discrepancy, it helps me understand this is a normal struggle.

Whether it's religion I need or just the reminder that what I'm feeling is normal, it doesn't make a difference. I hope people understand that although I look the same, I'm still healing. A broken heart might not be visible, but it's a pain just the same as any other. 

**I really don't know the rules about citation on blogs, so just in case I'm going to put a link to the website I got the quote from: http://www.mishpacha.org/deathintro.shtml **

Triggers

There is such an overwhelming sadness that has settled into my heart. It's there, lurking, hidden delicately under a seemingly normal facade. I can try my hardest to ignore it, put it out of my mind, pretend it doesn't exist, but the sadness always resurfaces. Without fail. At any given moment I am a slight nudge away from tears. Anything can set me off:

• I wake up in the morning and my first thought is you.
• I see the picture from our first date framed on my nightstand. I check my phone and the background is us at the aquarium.
• I see soda. I see ice cream. I see basically any form of junk food that I know you would've wanted.
• It's 11:11, I make a wish like we always did. I remember begging you to tell me yours, but knowing it was always about us and our future together. I was wishing for that too.
• I pass a dog that I know we would've talked about for the next 10 minutes. I realize we'll never buy our Moose or Milo puppies.
• I mention your name because I like how it sounds and I need to hear it. I watch as people grow uncomfortable and don't know how to react.
• I see a young couple in love. I see an old couple in love. I wonder how I can ever feel that kind of love with someone who isn't you.
• I see the ocean and remember that San Diego was our dream. 
• Someone asks me how I am. I lie and say I'm ok. I realize I'm not ok.
• I hear a song we loved to sing to on the radio. I hear a song I hate but would've listened to because you would've loved it. 
• The sunset is beautiful.
• I get frustrated and seek your guidance. You always knew what to say to make me feel better.
• I actually start to have fun with my friends. A wave of guilt swallows me. I'm not having fun.
• I purposely start thinking about you. Memories of us happy, deeply in love, and smiling replay in my mind.
• You aren't here to kiss me goodnight.
• I squeeze Blake Bear.
• I beg you to please come to me in my dreams so maybe we can be together for a little while tonight. It's been too long. I need you with me.

Every minute is a battle, every day is a war. 

Although I may appear fine, my heart is wrestling with constant triggers of sadness. Can I acknowledge these thoughts, but let them pass silently? Do I give in to them and let the tears flow freely? Should I try my hardest to avoid the things that I know set me off? Do I even want to stop being set off?

Right now, the thought of not thinking about you is scarier than letting my thoughts be consumed by you. So I allow myself to live with the triggers and even seek them out at times. At least if I'm thinking about you, you're alive in my mind. If I can cry about you, at least I know my heart is still capable of feeling something.

Sadness has embedded itself so deeply into my heart that I actually find comfort in it now. It's a strange sense of familiarity, of safety. In a time when so much has been taken away from me, at least I know my sadness will always be there. At a point where I'm constantly having to put on a front, least I know that my sadness in genuine. I need the triggers. I welcome the sadness.

Tiny, Happy Things

I knew this time would come. The time when I start writing blog posts equally as much for others as I am for myself.

It was easy to get wrapped up in the idea that my words resonated with people, that I wrote things that people wanted to read. They liked what I had to say, they liked me. This served as validation for the hours I've spent in bed on my laptop. I didn't feel like I was wasting time because maybe I was actually helping others.

I haven't been able to write for the past couple of days because I kept thinking to myself, "What do I have to say that's interesting? What can I talk about that I haven't already said?" I realized this morning that I was in desperate need of a release, but trying to write by asking myself those questions completely blocked me from it. I've felt trapped in my head for days. I wasn't giving myself permission to display the redundant and mundane side of grief that is so typical. Thoughts about my grief aren't always beautiful, insightful, scary, or even interesting to read. But they are my thoughts. And this is my space to work through them.

I thought about making my blog private or switching to writing in a journal instead. Maybe this would eliminate the pressure I was putting on myself? But I decided against that. I still love the idea of displaying my journey publicly, without shame or excuses for my behavior, and allowing anyone who wants insight into this struggle to have access. I also feel that putting my thoughts online forces me to focus more and pushes me to make what I want to say into something comprehensible.

So instead of cutting myself off from a coping mechanism that has proven to be incredibly helpful for me thus far, I am going to just reclaim it as the original release I intended it to be. This will probably mean less eloquent and powerful posts, but it will mean more freedom. Maybe a post will ring true to someone who reads it, maybe they'll think I'm a whiny baby, or maybe they won't read it at all. I can't care about that. This is MY "x amount of time."

I wanted to thank the friend who indirectly helped me realize this today. Although she was giving me advice about how to get through a tough time by doing "tiny, happy things" that are just for me, she actually made me realize that this blog used to be one of them. The only problem was that it wasn't just for me anymore. I don't need other people reading what I write to serve as validation for spending hours writing. Although it's an added bonus to help others, it's not wasted time if it only ends up helping me.

Being Alone

The beach is literally a five minute walk from my new apartment, but until today I hadn't gone. This was because I was waiting for someone to go with, but all of my friends here have jobs to go to during the day. The thought of going by myself seemed weird, lonely, and sad. But since today was such a sunny and beautiful day, I decided to finally go even though I felt strange about it.

As I was walking up to the beach, an older couple was holding hands, carrying their fold-up chairs, and searching for the perfect spot. I ended up laying my towel a few feet from them.

They were both reading silently for a while, occasionally looking up from their books to smile at each other. At one point, the woman seemed to get bored of her book and started talking to the man. He attempted to keep reading while responding to her, but when this proved too difficult, he put his book in his lap so he could talk. After a few minutes, they both went back to reading. A few more minutes passed and I looked back over at the couple. I noticed that the man's book was back in his lap and he had reached over to grab the woman's hand. She held his hand as she struggled to turn the page with the other, until she decided she'd rather just hold his hand and put the book down. They leaned back in their chairs, held hands, and smiled at each other while enjoying the sun's warmth.

I got teary-eyed while watching them and thinking about how much I wish I could be there with Blake doing the same thing. But the weird thing was that even though the couple had what I wanted, I was not upset by them. Instead, I was so filled with happiness because of how obvious and true their love was, even after all of these years.

I've experienced similar things to this a lot since Blake's death. Usually after a break up, the sight of anyone in love makes me sick. I think it's a mix between jealousy and repulsion. But obviously what happened to Blake and my relationship wasn't a break up, so I think that's why I feel completely different. Now, I cherish love even more. When I see two people in love and happy, all I want to do is root for them and wish them the very best. Thanks to Blake, I know true love is the greatest feeling in the world. Everyone deserves to experience it.

This started me thinking about what I need now. If being in love is the best feeling, wouldn't feeling that way again help me feel better? Maybe losing my boyfriend left me with a hole in my heart that can only be filled by another boyfriend? Almost immediately as those thoughts crossed my mind, I dismissed them. No, that can't possibly be the right way to go about healing my broken heart. First of all, you can't successfully try to fall in love, and second, how unfair would it be to attempt to start a relationship with someone else when I am clearly still in love with Blake?

This whole discussion in my head made me reflect upon the fact that I initially stopped myself from going to the beach because I thought it would be pathetic to do it alone. Why did I think that? What's so bad about being alone?

Nothing.

I think I've subconsciously held the belief that to be truly happy, I need to be in a relationship. Somehow, having someone claim me as their girlfriend was validation of my self-worth. See? I am lovable, the fact that I have a boyfriend proves it. Someone out there thinks I'm good enough to be with me and only me. Being in a relationship made me feel like I was a person worthy of love.

But that's not what true love is about. Some of the loneliest people I know are in "serious" relationships. When I see couples like that, I am the opposite of envious. I feel bad for them because by continuing to be together, they are actually holding each other back from finding true love. No one should be in a relationship just because they are afraid to be alone. Because they're scared about what being alone might say about their worth. Because they are worried that if no one is in love with them, they aren't lovable.

By stopping myself from doing things, experiencing things, enjoying things because I am alone, I am reinforcing my flawed thinking that a person needs to be in a relationship to be truly happy. Like I've always believed, your soul mate isn't meant to "complete" you. A functional and lasting relationship isn't based on two people "needing" each other.  True love develops when two individuals, whole in their own right, share a similar vision for their future, see how they can grow together, and become best friends who happen to also be attracted to each other.

In order to get to a place where I can be that for someone else again, I need to be that for myself first. Now that I have been forever changed by this experience, what do I see in my future? What things do I need in my life to help me continue to grow? How can I be my own best friend now?

I see myself as an old woman, reading at the beach, smiling, and holding hands with my husband. I know that will be my life one day. For now, I am going to enjoy being alone. Even writing "enjoy being alone" feels forced and fake right now, but someday soon it won't.

Although I can't control when I find true love again, I can control how truly I love myself. 

Who Am I Now?

A girl who also recently lost her boyfriend and I have been messaging back and forth since Blake died. Although she is very much still going through a lot of the same emotions as me, she is a couple months further down the road. Talking with her has given me insight into typical challenges during the grieving process that I will encounter, before I encounter them.

A few days ago I wrote her this:
"The hardest thing for me right now is realizing that I'm never going to be myself again. I think I'll become more like myself as time goes on, but I'll never be exactly the same as I was before. Everyone says that's a good thing and I'll come out of this a different, but stronger person, but it just sucks. When I do things I used to do with people I used to do them with I want so badly to just be myself and I can't."

After affirming that that was normal and she was experiencing it too, she shared this:
"I started an internship a month ago and am meeting a bunch of new people and they think of me as a single girl with short hair, when I see myself as a girlfriend with long hair and a nose piercing haha. I am scared to add any one on Facebook because I just know they won't be able to comprehend how much I have been through in the last three months and how much I have changed, to them I am just another college student. Have you started experiencing that at all yet?"

At that point I hadn't, but today I move to San Diego and I know that time has come for me. 

Who am I Now?

Am I Blake's girlfriend? 
Am I single?'

Should I let new people friend me on Facebook?

Will it scare them to find out what I am going through?

Can I get close with anyone who doesn't know this important part of me?

Is it necessary for everyone to know?

I honestly don't have answers to these questions and even three months out, neither does she. Although this kind of seems contradictory, I want to be able to answer "yes" to all six of those questions.

Blake will always be my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean I can't eventually be completely happy and in love with someone else. I know that sounds ridiculous and maybe to some people it is. However, widows get remarried all the time, does that mean they love their first husband any less? Absolutely not. Does that mean they'll never be able to fully give themselves to their new husband? I don't think so either. At age 24 it would be silly to think I will never love again, and Blake wouldn't want that for me either. 

I can't be afraid to let new people into my life because of my reality right now. Yes, it will probably scare them. It might even scare a few people away from wanting to be my friend altogether (why would I want to be friends with those people anyway?). But after they get over the initial shock, I think they'll come to realize that everyone has a story. Everyone has a battle they are fighting that makes them who they are, but doesn't define them. 

Which brings me to the last two questions. Yes, I can get close with someone who doesn't know about my boyfriend's death, but eventually I'll need to tell them if I want more than just a surface level friendship. Going through a loss like this is going to change me. It's going to make me into someone a little different and hopefully a little stronger, wiser, and more beautiful too. Because of that, how could I hide this life altering experience from a person I love? That being said, it won't define me. 

So who am I now?

I'm still figuring that out. But I know once I do, I'll be everything I used to be and so much more.

Anger is Not a Primary Emotion

I tried so hard to stay mad at you because I know that will make it easier to move on, but I just can't. Yes, you put my life in danger. Yes, you hid things from me. Yes, you were engaged in activities that I would've screamed over if I ever knew. Yes, yes, yes. I know all of these things. There is no denying these things happened.

Maybe if I had been exposed to your addiction at all it would be easier to hate you. I would have seen you make bad choices, heard you lie, watched you go down this path. I would be able to point to a place in our relationship where you changed, where you weren't my Blake anymore, when I knew that things would never be the same again.

But I didn't know this side of you. At all.

In a twisted way, I feel like you protected me from this side of you because you never wanted me to have to experience all of that hurt (the way I am experiencing it now). But how is it protecting me to lie? To not open up completely? To not allow me the opportunity to help you? In your mission to "protect" me, you've actually made it much harder on me to process now.

It felt so good to finally be angry with you yesterday. I was finally able to look objectively at our relationship and see that a life with you using behind my back (or most likely with me knowing sooner than later) wouldn't be much of a life at all. Get married? Have a family with you? Spend our whole lives together completely in love? Doubt it. This new anger made me feel brave. The anger I felt towards you gave me the extra push I needed to stop watching our videos, get out of bed, and finally do things that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

But at one point I remembered something I heard in one of my psychology classes: anger is not a primary emotion.

Was I really angry or just confused/scared/hurt etc. etc.?

Anger is powerful. Anger is a defense mechanism that spurs action. Almost all of my grieving up until this point has been passive: sitting, moping, crying. Maybe my mind finally had enough of my inaction and decided to mix it up. For once I felt empowered to do something, anything, to move forward in a way that didn't involve Blake.

But at the end of the day a picture popped up on my newsfeed, I saw his handsome face, watched as his other friends commented sweet things, and I realized I can't be angry forever. I can't even be angry for a full day. Anger doesn't serve me, it only fills my heart with hate and blinds me from any goodness. That's not a way to live.

What Happens When Others Move On?

Blake's mom and I have been talking a lot about what happens when others start to move on.

At first, I was tempted to react to this with anger. Was the sorrow and heartbreak expressed immediately around the time of Blake's death phony? Everyone was devastated. People changed their Facebook profile pictures to pictures of them with Blake, poured their hearts out in emotional statuses, wrote notes all over his wall, and got together with close friends to reminisce and talk about what a great friend he was. It seemed like everyone felt the true weight of this loss. We were all in this together.

It was not even a week later that the pictures started changing back, friends stopped sharing stories about him, and gatherings became less and less frequent. Now, just a month later, I feel like I'm crazy because I think about him literally every minute of every day. What happened? Why is it so easy for everyone else to go back to their lives and I'm just stuck here feeling awkward for even bringing up his name?

People constantly give me the advice, "Move forward with your life. Blake would be so disappointed if you stopped living your life to be sad about him. Just think about the good times." I'm not saying that's bad advice (in fact, it's perfect advice), but what people fail to realize is how impossible that is to follow right now.

When a person is so much a part of every aspect of your life, losing them makes everything fall to pieces. Who do I text about something hilarious I just saw? Who do I laugh with? Who do I vent to? Who tells me when I'm being ridiculous and helps me improve my behavior? Who do I call when I need a thought partner on what to do in a confusing situation? Who do I sleep with at night? Who gives me a hug and tells me everything is going to be ok? Who do I plan a future with? Who loves me unconditionally and sees me for who I really am? I guess I can lean on all of my friends and family to fill those roles for the time being, but it's absolutely devastating when all those roles used to be filled by one person: the person I called my boyfriend, love, and best friend.

It's hard not to be angry at people for starting to move on. It's really difficult to come to terms with the fact that it's going to take me a longer time to bounce back than most people. Maybe part of this anger is just that I'm frustrated with myself that it's not as easy for me. I want to feel like myself again, but the real truth is I will never be the same. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it's going to take time to adjust.

Instead of being hurt that people are getting back to their lives, I am going to be proud of them. I know in my heart that just because people don't have Blake as their picture, or don't write him notes, or don't talk about him, definitely doesn't mean that they don't love him and appreciate him for the role he played in their lives.

Moving on is not the same as forgetting.

Moving on is healthy and necessary for everyone.

Although I am months away from being able to move on, I am comforted in the fact that I have his family and closest friends to talk to. I thank everyone for their advice about moving on and want them to know I hear it, respect it, and hopefully will be able to put it into practice soon. Thank you for your patience as I continue to take my time.