I am posting twice tonight - my first daily double. This second entry is happier than the first. It is a funny memory I had forgotten that just came back to me, and I am enjoying it so much I decided to share. It might be too graphic for some of you, but I think you'll decide it's worth it.
Kirk and I pretty much went to bed at the same time as each other every night. I say "pretty much" because we always meant to go at the same time, but in reality what often happened was that he would go to bed, and ask me if I was coming. I would tell him I'd be right in. He (because he knew me and my version of time) would say "what does "right in" mean?" I would give him a variety of answers - anywhere between two and twenty minutes. However, I often didn't get there quite as fast as I committed. If it really took me a long time, he would come out and give me a look of humorous exasperation, and I would jump up from whatever I was doing and go to bed.
I don't know why I delayed - we both loved that time together. Cuddling, watching TV and laughing together, talking quietly - whatever. Then falling asleep all wrapped up in each other. It was one of the best times of the day, which is why he was always anxious for me to come in and join him.
At any rate, about a year ago, there was a night when I took a lot longer than I said I would to come in. In reality, it was probably about 20 minutes. When I got there, he said it had taken me forever. I said it hadn't - that it was only a few minutes. We bantered back and forth about it. Finally, he said he could prove that I had kept him waiting a really long time, and that I would agree he was right. I asked how, and this is what he said:
"If you went to the doctor, and he stuck his finger in your butt for that long, would it be a REALLY long time, or not?"
After laughing so hard I thought I would wet my pants, I acknowledged that the amount of time it took me to come to bed that night would indeed have been a VERY long time to have the doctor's finger in my butt. From that day on, I came to bed much faster, and if I was even a few minutes later than I said I would be, he would come and and wiggle his finger at me or pretend to be putting rubber gloves on. It worked every time.
A very funny thought - one of many, courtesy of Kirk.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Worst Day of My Lfe
When I was in college, I took a stress management class. Not because I thought I needed it, but because I needed an elective and it fit my schedule. It turned out to be pretty interesting though, and I learned a thing or two that I have used ever since.
The biggest one is something I learned to say to myself whenever something frustrating or upsetting was going on. It is also something I taught the kids. Well, mostly Erika. She has been prone to getting upset over small things her whole life (understatement of the year), and for much of her life, she had downright drama queen tendencies. As such, she heard this from me a LOT. (Side note – to her credit, she has matured out of the drama queen mindset the past few years.)
So what is this technique? It’s a very simple statement that you say to yourself to put things in perspective when something goes wrong. Here it is:
“If this is the worst thing that happens in your entire life, think how lucky you will have been.”
Think about it. Long line at the DMV? Not so bad if it’s the worst thing that ever happens to you. Late for an important appointment? Not so bad either. Stuck in traffic? Also minor in the scheme of life. Until recently, this really helped me keep the frustrations of day to day life in perspective. Even Erika, in adulthood, acknowledged to me a few years ago that it was a good way to look at things.
Then came the day Kirk died. Suddenly the statement didn’t help anymore. Erika and I actually talked about the fact that we now knew exactly what day was the worst day of our lives. At one point, I even remember thinking that if anything, this was going to make life’s little glitches even less frustrating because they would seem even more inconsequential.
Turns out I was wrong. Instead of making the small things less important, they suddenly have become unbearable at times. Because they are just too much to deal with on top of the rest of the awfulness. At this point, I am within a few days of the five month anniversary of his death. So far, here are the candidates I have for “the worst day of my life”:
1. The obvious choice – the day he died.
2. The day after he died. This might have been worse than the day he died, because it was the first FULL day without him – at least on the day he died I – and he - had a good day for most of the day. I will never forget that second day – it was incredibly painful, raw with emotion, exhausting. I could not process even the smallest piece of information. My sister Jennifer arrived that day – it was the only good thing about the day, and was the beginning of her taking such good care of me.
3. Two days after he died. Erika arrived that day, and again, it was a huge relief. But it was also the first day I saw him after he died. I had been so anxious to see him, but it was like a punch to the gut in real life. Thank God Erika and Jenny were there.
4. The day Erika and I flew home to bury him. I will never ever forget walking through the airport at home and seeing Matt for the first time. I had been so anxious to see him – it had been 5 days since the accident and it was far too long to go without seeing him. I remember seeing him down the hall in the airport and feeling what was perhaps the biggest rush of emotion (relief, happiness, grief, all mixed up together) I have ever felt, and then getting to him and holding each other so tight and crying and crying in the middle of baggage claim. Then Erika caught up with us and we were three holding and crying. I was so relieved to be with them both at the same time, to be touching both of them together. But there was one person – such an important person – missing. We clung to each other, me in the middle, walking to the rental car counter, pressed together so tight there was no air between us. I remember Matt saying “There are supposed to be four of us.”
5. The day we buried him.
6. The day after we buried him – the first day without him that was not a blur of activity and decisions. The first day that I saw what felt like the dark, open mouth of the rest of my life without him. I remember feeling like I was going to have a panic attack at the thought of it – it was too much to bear to think of never ever seeing him again.
7. The day I went to the Social Security Administration and had to sign something saying our marriage had ended. I do NOT consider our marriage over – not then and not now.
8. Matt’s birthday – the first important family day without Kirk, AND there was a tornado here; I remember sitting in the bathtub (the bathroom is my shelter room) in the pitch dark listening to the wind and praying nothing would happen to me, or Matt would have lost both parents, one of them on his birthday.
9. Father’s Day.
10. Fourth of July – one of my favorite holidays, and one that we have a lot of tradition around.
11. Kirk’s birthday.
12. The day before his birthday, when I should have been home with family but was stuck in Atlanta instead because weather made me miss my flight.
13. Every day on which anything crappy happened since he died.
I know a lot of those other days don’t seem like they could be as bad as the day he died, but sometimes I think they are worse in a way because they are ON TOP OF not having him.
So much for successful stress management. Just add it to the list of everything, big and small, that I have lost.
The biggest one is something I learned to say to myself whenever something frustrating or upsetting was going on. It is also something I taught the kids. Well, mostly Erika. She has been prone to getting upset over small things her whole life (understatement of the year), and for much of her life, she had downright drama queen tendencies. As such, she heard this from me a LOT. (Side note – to her credit, she has matured out of the drama queen mindset the past few years.)
So what is this technique? It’s a very simple statement that you say to yourself to put things in perspective when something goes wrong. Here it is:
“If this is the worst thing that happens in your entire life, think how lucky you will have been.”
Think about it. Long line at the DMV? Not so bad if it’s the worst thing that ever happens to you. Late for an important appointment? Not so bad either. Stuck in traffic? Also minor in the scheme of life. Until recently, this really helped me keep the frustrations of day to day life in perspective. Even Erika, in adulthood, acknowledged to me a few years ago that it was a good way to look at things.
Then came the day Kirk died. Suddenly the statement didn’t help anymore. Erika and I actually talked about the fact that we now knew exactly what day was the worst day of our lives. At one point, I even remember thinking that if anything, this was going to make life’s little glitches even less frustrating because they would seem even more inconsequential.
Turns out I was wrong. Instead of making the small things less important, they suddenly have become unbearable at times. Because they are just too much to deal with on top of the rest of the awfulness. At this point, I am within a few days of the five month anniversary of his death. So far, here are the candidates I have for “the worst day of my life”:
1. The obvious choice – the day he died.
2. The day after he died. This might have been worse than the day he died, because it was the first FULL day without him – at least on the day he died I – and he - had a good day for most of the day. I will never forget that second day – it was incredibly painful, raw with emotion, exhausting. I could not process even the smallest piece of information. My sister Jennifer arrived that day – it was the only good thing about the day, and was the beginning of her taking such good care of me.
3. Two days after he died. Erika arrived that day, and again, it was a huge relief. But it was also the first day I saw him after he died. I had been so anxious to see him, but it was like a punch to the gut in real life. Thank God Erika and Jenny were there.
4. The day Erika and I flew home to bury him. I will never ever forget walking through the airport at home and seeing Matt for the first time. I had been so anxious to see him – it had been 5 days since the accident and it was far too long to go without seeing him. I remember seeing him down the hall in the airport and feeling what was perhaps the biggest rush of emotion (relief, happiness, grief, all mixed up together) I have ever felt, and then getting to him and holding each other so tight and crying and crying in the middle of baggage claim. Then Erika caught up with us and we were three holding and crying. I was so relieved to be with them both at the same time, to be touching both of them together. But there was one person – such an important person – missing. We clung to each other, me in the middle, walking to the rental car counter, pressed together so tight there was no air between us. I remember Matt saying “There are supposed to be four of us.”
5. The day we buried him.
6. The day after we buried him – the first day without him that was not a blur of activity and decisions. The first day that I saw what felt like the dark, open mouth of the rest of my life without him. I remember feeling like I was going to have a panic attack at the thought of it – it was too much to bear to think of never ever seeing him again.
7. The day I went to the Social Security Administration and had to sign something saying our marriage had ended. I do NOT consider our marriage over – not then and not now.
8. Matt’s birthday – the first important family day without Kirk, AND there was a tornado here; I remember sitting in the bathtub (the bathroom is my shelter room) in the pitch dark listening to the wind and praying nothing would happen to me, or Matt would have lost both parents, one of them on his birthday.
9. Father’s Day.
10. Fourth of July – one of my favorite holidays, and one that we have a lot of tradition around.
11. Kirk’s birthday.
12. The day before his birthday, when I should have been home with family but was stuck in Atlanta instead because weather made me miss my flight.
13. Every day on which anything crappy happened since he died.
I know a lot of those other days don’t seem like they could be as bad as the day he died, but sometimes I think they are worse in a way because they are ON TOP OF not having him.
So much for successful stress management. Just add it to the list of everything, big and small, that I have lost.
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