I have been in hibernation so to speak, hiding away. After i suffered a tragic loss almost two years ago (in 2015), i was not prepared to lose my husband to death. He was my friend, my lover, my general and at times my enemy. We had been together for more than a decade and the day he died, i was not prepared for it. Who is?. He didn’t even say goodbye, he didn’t even tell me he was leaving me. I felt angry for a long time because i felt he had bailed out on me and our girls. In-spite of “life”, and what we had gone through together, we always found a way to each other.
I had been depressed before but this time it was a blow, like a rug had been pulled from beneath me whilst i was standing on it, unexpectedly. I was a widow, me a widow, it didn’t resonate. It was as if i was looking at someone else.
When he died, i was in the middle of discovering myself, i was in my becoming journey. You see, i felt like i kind of started late, in terms of knowing who i was as a person and as a woman and what i wanted to do with my life. I had left the corporate world to start my non profit organisation and was just finding my way in that arena and he left me.
I have walked around with a mask on and people would ask; “how i was?” and would be quick to respond; “that i am fine,” but sometimes i wouldn’t be. When someone would send me a text message and i would be “pretending,” and saying i was well, yet as i typed the responses, i would be crying on the other side of the phone, heartbroken with pieces of me scattered. I had a lot of questions, too much pain. I became the shell of the woman i used to be, it was as if life had been sucked out of me. The passion, the drive, i didn’t feel it anymore. I have cried, wailed; oh how i have cried, alone, behind closed doors. At first more openly, then later in the middle of the night when the children were asleep.
You are misunderstood and judged because you were not crying out loud enough, for the benefit of on lookers; but my grief and journey really started after the burial. I guess i was numb with shock. The pain was unbearable, i could physically feel my heart in pain as if there was a wound, it was truly broken. I kind of remember that kind of pain when i lost my mother but he was there to comfort me. This time i felt alone, my cheerleader, my friend whom i was literally naked with, without shame and could be myself with, without fear had gone.
In a room full of people, i felt alone sometimes, wounded, scarred, confused, hurt, afraid and angry.
I started writing again as an outlet, i wrote my pain, my feelings and i remembered i had always wrote before when i was growing up. I started “Dialogues with Mel” and started posting on Whats-App platform to inspire and encourage others as it made me feel stronger and it made me feel better, somehow.
And as i sit here, finally starting and penning this blog, i have decided that my pain needs to count for something. The private and protective me, will write what i feel i need put out if i can touch even one person at a time and to say; “you are not alone;” even behind closed doors. I need to inspire and encourage another who is in pain. Even though our experiences and paths might be different but pain is universal.
I still don’t understand this cycle of life, yet it is life. We live and we are no more, but our legacy continues.
I remember not being present anymore even on social media, i closed myself in, in my grief and from people. I wasn’t prepared. There were times the brave ones would encourage me to get out of my shell and i showed up. Although at times, i wasn’t present in other instances, but i am grateful. As i have made the decision to live for my sake and for my children and to be the best version of who i am called to be. I am ready to show up. And i am showing up as me, without putting any labels on myself.
Of course there are moments; i might not want to be around people and i am at peace, there are moments i still cry quietly and at times i wail out loudly, i have decided this is my journey and i would not be apologetic. I will move forward on my own terms. I am still here and i will live out loudly and boldly. These masks we put on, sometimes we hide behind while we are laughing out loudly, though i can feel the scar inside me and it hurts.
Then then are moments i am really laughing from the heart and i can’t believe i am laughing again, and i am grateful and i am thankful. There are going to be moments you might encounter me and i might be putting on a mask and pretend i am ok; and you might not understand me but i am now at peace with this woman that i am and the woman i am evolving into.
Do i post this? i am wondering. Should i add more of what i have felt or should i remove something; i don’t know. This is my next chapter and welcome to dialogues with Mel.