The Boxer
This past year has been one of the most difficult that I have experienced in all of my short, 31 years here on earth. I say one of the most, because last year was extraordinarily difficult as well, but in different ways. For those of you who do not know my story from the past year, you may find it in detail at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/roberteckhart. This blog is not about our journey through cancer. This blog is about my journey, after cancer had ripped my one true love from me.
I begin writing now, almost, but not quite a year after Rob has left this earth. January 7th marks one year. Why am I beginning now, and not before? There are many hypothesis in my analytically inclined brain. Perhaps before it was too painful to put into words, and easier to keep buried in my soul than to let others see. I am not one that likes people to know "the real me". She is buried deep and only few are privileged enough to really know her. It's my personality, it's who I am, it's a coping mechanism. I have always built walls, have always been the strong one, have always been told I'm inspirational to others. I don't want to be any of these things, but I have no choice but to be them. A good friend told me the other day, "Ernest Hemingway said, 'The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.' " I believe this is true. However, I have found that in my journey to becoming strong at the broken places, I have somehow lost my way, and have become someone I don't really like anymore. You don't realize the enormity of the positive impact that someone has on you until they are gone. That was what Rob was for me. He always encouraged me to be better, to be kinder, to love harder. Without him, I forget. I am mean, hateful, selfish and uncaring. Back to what I used to be before he came into my life. I don't know how to get back to who I was during the time that I was with him. Maybe all it requires is for me to be happy again. To feel loved unconditionally again. Time for another quote. "And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness." - Christopher Poindexter. This describes my journey thus far in the past year. Searching for something. Whether is be love, or something else, to heal my brokenness.
I will fully admit that I'm angry. Really pissed off at God. I grew up in a Christian household and asked Jesus into my heart at a very young age. I don't and will probably never understand why my husband was taken from me and my two boys. He was only 37. I was only 30. My boys were only 5 and 7. We had just begun our lives together. He and I had worked tirelessly for me to graduate from college. I did and it was a joyous occasion. We had done it. All of the years of struggle through addiction and poverty that you can't even begin to fathom, to where we were that happy day. It was blissful. Then, two days later he was diagnosed. He didn't even have time to get life insurance, it was on his list of things to do after I graduated. It's a story right out of a Hallmark movie. Except it doesn't have a happy ending.
So here I am. Almost a year later. I decided to quit my teaching job and go back to school for a Masters degree. Trying to stay as strong as everyone thinks I am. But really, I'm dying inside, slowly withering away. I've gone through two "relationships", I put them in quotes because neither were really anything resembling a relationship at all. I subconsciously chose those two men (not at the same time by the way, I'm not that horrible) that I could never really have for my own, or a true relationship with, for various reasons not to be disclosed here. I am still friends with both as they are both good souls. Analyze that.
That pretty much sums up what I have been doing the last year. A whole lot of nothing for myself, but a lot for my boys. We've traveled a lot and have gone many fun places. Their joy and love is what keeps me going. I honestly don't know if I'd be here if it wasn't for them. I think I would have long ago died of a broken heart if I didn't have my boys to help mend it. I did find joy this year, don't let me fool you. There were times that I laughed and was happy, and took some huge steps towards healing, finding myself, and moving on. However, this last month has been extraordinarily painful going through some big "firsts" without him, all in a short period of time. It blindsided me. My birthday, my son's birthday, Thanksgiving. And there are two more to go, Christmas and the day he died. I almost feel as if I have regressed, like I have no time to recuperate before the next one hits.
I feel that I should point out that I am not writing this blog for sympathy of any kind, for advice, or comments from the peanut gallery (I hate it, am tired of it,and in fact I wrote a song about things people say to you after your husband dies, maybe I'll post it sometime). I only hope to help myself put one foot in front of the other and perhaps help someone else along the way.
I am leaving, I am leaving but the fighter still remains.
Danelle
I begin writing now, almost, but not quite a year after Rob has left this earth. January 7th marks one year. Why am I beginning now, and not before? There are many hypothesis in my analytically inclined brain. Perhaps before it was too painful to put into words, and easier to keep buried in my soul than to let others see. I am not one that likes people to know "the real me". She is buried deep and only few are privileged enough to really know her. It's my personality, it's who I am, it's a coping mechanism. I have always built walls, have always been the strong one, have always been told I'm inspirational to others. I don't want to be any of these things, but I have no choice but to be them. A good friend told me the other day, "Ernest Hemingway said, 'The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.' " I believe this is true. However, I have found that in my journey to becoming strong at the broken places, I have somehow lost my way, and have become someone I don't really like anymore. You don't realize the enormity of the positive impact that someone has on you until they are gone. That was what Rob was for me. He always encouraged me to be better, to be kinder, to love harder. Without him, I forget. I am mean, hateful, selfish and uncaring. Back to what I used to be before he came into my life. I don't know how to get back to who I was during the time that I was with him. Maybe all it requires is for me to be happy again. To feel loved unconditionally again. Time for another quote. "And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness." - Christopher Poindexter. This describes my journey thus far in the past year. Searching for something. Whether is be love, or something else, to heal my brokenness.
I will fully admit that I'm angry. Really pissed off at God. I grew up in a Christian household and asked Jesus into my heart at a very young age. I don't and will probably never understand why my husband was taken from me and my two boys. He was only 37. I was only 30. My boys were only 5 and 7. We had just begun our lives together. He and I had worked tirelessly for me to graduate from college. I did and it was a joyous occasion. We had done it. All of the years of struggle through addiction and poverty that you can't even begin to fathom, to where we were that happy day. It was blissful. Then, two days later he was diagnosed. He didn't even have time to get life insurance, it was on his list of things to do after I graduated. It's a story right out of a Hallmark movie. Except it doesn't have a happy ending.
So here I am. Almost a year later. I decided to quit my teaching job and go back to school for a Masters degree. Trying to stay as strong as everyone thinks I am. But really, I'm dying inside, slowly withering away. I've gone through two "relationships", I put them in quotes because neither were really anything resembling a relationship at all. I subconsciously chose those two men (not at the same time by the way, I'm not that horrible) that I could never really have for my own, or a true relationship with, for various reasons not to be disclosed here. I am still friends with both as they are both good souls. Analyze that.
That pretty much sums up what I have been doing the last year. A whole lot of nothing for myself, but a lot for my boys. We've traveled a lot and have gone many fun places. Their joy and love is what keeps me going. I honestly don't know if I'd be here if it wasn't for them. I think I would have long ago died of a broken heart if I didn't have my boys to help mend it. I did find joy this year, don't let me fool you. There were times that I laughed and was happy, and took some huge steps towards healing, finding myself, and moving on. However, this last month has been extraordinarily painful going through some big "firsts" without him, all in a short period of time. It blindsided me. My birthday, my son's birthday, Thanksgiving. And there are two more to go, Christmas and the day he died. I almost feel as if I have regressed, like I have no time to recuperate before the next one hits.
I feel that I should point out that I am not writing this blog for sympathy of any kind, for advice, or comments from the peanut gallery (I hate it, am tired of it,and in fact I wrote a song about things people say to you after your husband dies, maybe I'll post it sometime). I only hope to help myself put one foot in front of the other and perhaps help someone else along the way.
I am leaving, I am leaving but the fighter still remains.
Danelle
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