Hey, buckos—it’s officially been nineteen weeks since Kellie died, and I’m still functioning. I would argue that I’m probably functioning a lot better than I was nineteen or even ten weeks ago. I continue to explore the boundaries and rules of this new way of life, and I think it’s going to take me many, many years to feel like I’ve got the hang of what living without Kellie looks like.
Today was an okay Wednesday. And that, my dears, is unbelievable.
Here are, in no particular order, some of the most important things I have learned since that horrible, excruciating, hellish day nineteen weeks ago:
I can survive on my own. I didn’t think I could, not all that long ago, but I continue to discover depths to my resilience that exist beneath what my conscious mind realizes. It’s possible. I know that, now.
My dogs are life-savers. Having them both with me during this season of my life has been such a gift. Even on days when it feels impossible, taking care of them and making sure they have food and treats and belly rubs and baths has given me something other than my own grief to think about when I’ve needed it.
My family love Kellie (almost) as much as I do. The way they have shown up for me since she died is unbelievable. From my dad and sister getting here within literally hours, to my parents staying with me for two months and helping me with everything under the sun, to so many folks getting here for her celebration of life and even to the incredible work on Kellie’s garden in a very short window of time—they have been present, and I’m so grateful.
Getting help—even (especially) paid help—has made the maintenance tasks within my life something I can bear. The cost has been worth it, and Jessie/Ashley/Amber have all been massive blessings to me. If you’ve considered seeking out someone to help clean/organize your house, to help watch your dogs, or to help manage your coping skills and stress and grief that you’re carrying within your body, PLEASE give it a shot. I don’t know what I would have done without any of those three, but I absolutely know I would be both far less happy and far less healthy.
My therapist has been so kind and caring and compassionate, and her support continues to keep me going. I will always, always, always advocate putting our money where our mouth is—if we suggest that our clients might benefit from counseling, we need to be brave enough to seek it out and be open about it as well. We only de-stigmatize the need for mental health support if we’re able to be less scared about talking about it not being something only a few people need.
Kellie was (and is) loved by a vast array of people, and she made a huge difference in the world. It’s one thing to know people love and care about us, but a different thing entirely to see that care in action. She would be astonished to see how that love has been displayed across these nineteen weeks, in particular by so many folks who were less-close to us over the last several years. It has been heartwarming and incredible to see the impacts she has made continue to reverberate in so many lives.
My friends have helped me way more than I could ever have predicted. It’s a big change for me to spend so much of my day communicating in a variety of ways with folks, but a good change. I’m still figuring out a good rhythm with this, and the best ways I can benefit from these friendships without overdoing it and wiping out my energy (and also without underdoing it and wiping out my joy). It’s a real tightrope most days, but I’m trying, and so are they. I appreciate them beyond my ability to articulate.
I’m still capable of love and joy and hope and wonder and connection. Many of them are a lot more challenging to access, most days. And being able to accept that difficulty has been part of the process. But they are not out of my reach, and that’s the important thing.
I can make it through my moments of loneliness, even if that feels impossible in the moment. I just need to hang in there until these moments pass (which they will, eventually).
I will not die if other people besides Kellie read my writing. I continue to marvel at how okay it feels that I’m putting some words out into the world pretty much every day and yet not dying from embarrassment when anyone reads any of those words. I’m still surprised to realize this.
Consciously focusing on my feelings during the worst times is far healthier for me than trying to ignore them and ride it out. That’s been the best way for me to process and manage than anything else, so it’s the direction I need to go with it.
As I continue to work to try and have a sustainably happy and healthy life without the most important aspect of my life available to me (Kellie), I thank anyone who’s reading this for being interested in how the process is going and for sticking with me even if it seems like I’m mostly writing for myself, not for an audience. That’s sort of the point, so I appreciate you being here.
Regardless of why you’re here, thank you for being here. Onward!
Take care of yourself,
Matt