Margm

I do admit, once or twice I felt guilty writing something on a topic that was not mine. But you know what, maybe it is plain selfish of me, but I love seeing pages added to my topics and I don't care what they are talking about. I am so self absorbed I guess, give me a blank sheet of paper and I will fill it up with a "word salad," just cannot stand to see a blank sheet of paper. And I'm sorry if I hijack a subject you have started (and I am liable to) you will just have to say it reflects on my southern redneck country etiquette.

Laura, thank you so much. Really, my self esteem was not bad at all. Billy always told me I might not be the most beautiful girl in the world but I was the cutest. Now, how could I not be happy with that? Red hair, freckles. He said he would never date a red headed girl. One had sat in front of him in class. Guess what, he did, and he loved the red hair and even the freckles. My Daddy Wise had called me as cute as a speckled pup. I got told "you have freckles on your butt, your pretty." Now, how could I ever be taken down by things like that? Saying I would be sexy in a potato sack, and being called "Maggie, cat on a hot tin roof" did not bother me at all. I was always disappointed because my phone number was not written on bathroom walls. It was written on the wall of an oriental grocery store though and the police called me at 5:00 a.m. wanting to know if I knew anything about it. I did, but I had not robbed the store. Life was about living, and I did. Gotta remember how to chase sticks now. I know I knew how once. Not sure I can run though.

Bill, I have "hogged" the whole forum this morning. I feel those words you mentioned. I try to stabilize in this short circuited brain some acceptance from Billy my moving into a large apartment complex, moving from this safe environment with only nature and animals as my companions, and I have gone and sat in front of our first living quarters when we first married. It actually is still standing. Not for much longer though. But, I can look at this two bedroom apartment and still it hurts, but still I can remember the many rook and poker games we all played at the dining room table. I can remember serving lettuce and tomato sandwiches to our guests, every night. Yes, that was all I had bought in the way of groceries, lettuce, bread, tomatoes, and Miracle Whip. We finished up my two weeks of groceries fast and then went down the road every night and ate pinto beans, ham hock, big pan of cornbread and since it was summer, sweet green onions my FIL had grown in his garden. Oh yes, and big glasses of tea. For recreation, no money, so we went fishing on the borrow pits of the bayou close by. We kept the bass we caught and ate them. Years later, we caught and released. So Billy, you have left me and my only recourse is to end my life as we began our life, in a two bedroom apartment. Cannot eat his mom's cornbread and beans or even the onions, (cannot have the fiber on the low residue diet that will kill me if I get off it)) but I can have the sweet tea she made. Billy was the expert at this and ya'll, I have not been able to bring myself to make my own yet, but I will. BillT, time does not heal this wound, I don't even know if we can be truly happy again, but even after eight months, I do have times that I enjoy being alive. Then I feel guilty. Then I remember, that is the one emotion that I really try, I mean really try hard to get rid of. It grabs me by my shoes, my shoulders, my nose, and my short circuited brain and I have to say "no, no, no, no" and shoo it away. It loves living in me so well, I am positive I had to have a Jewish grandmother somewhere down the line. And, I am not making light of being Jewish, I love Jewish, Catholic, and lots more religions that I have not tried. I have tried Baptist, all my life, and probably will go back to it, but I think I would prefer a nondenominational church. Lord help me live long enough to attempt this. It is something I look forward to. See BillT, we do have somethings to look forward to sometimes.

You all know what I have to do to sleep. I take one Xanax and one clonidine (blood pressure med that makes me sleepy). I do not abuse either med. But, this is what works for me, might not work for anyone else in the world. I think I might miss out on dreams, cannot remember any. I have woke up and thought Billy was beside me, and softly I remember he is not. I could say sadly I remember, but it might be sad underneath, but it is also just a matter of fact. I hit the floor as soon as I wake up. No laying in bed for me. I do my most work when I am sick, definitely afraid to be in bed then. I know to watch for the rise in temperature that shows my ticking bomb is reaching the end of the clock. A woman at Walmart (checker) and I were talking. Her husband could not understand why she slept so soundly. She told him that if he stood on his feet 16 hours a day he would sleep soundly too. Right now your grief is interfering with your sleep. I know, from experience, before the battery operated clocks, if you wound a clock too tight, it would quit working. So, you and me both, our clocks sometimes are wound too tight. Mine is relieved with drugs and it runs again the next day. Just remember, wound too tight, eventually you will need to get one run by batteries. I do get my rest. Might not be the acceptable kind, but I accept it gratefully. Mama was a tightly wound clock. Often she would go to bed and say her body was singing. As a kid I listened but could not hear it sing. Now I know what she meant. At night, your body sort of vibrates in a way you can feel it in all your nerve endings, like it was making sounds.......like it was singing. Mama was that fine line between genius and insanity.

Anne, that was so sweet. I cried, but only because it is true.

Your talking about your mother made me smile. I have got to say this, and yes I did live over it, but while my mom made my clothes until I was 15 (i had steady hands and took to sewing my own clothes at a very young age), when she made me something to wear her only refrain was "you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." I knew I was the prettiest "sow's ear" around, so it did not do anything but make me learn to make my own clothes. I was just so damn sexy too.

Well, Steve, I am glad you did more than read. I remember being in a panic at one point when someone mentioned that older grievers, and I don't mean that by age, I mean that by "grief in years" might need to leave. I still remember, and I think it was from you, the "one size does not fit all." Not sure if it was you, but "grabbing for anything when your falling off a cliff" I do think was yours. Whether they were or they were not, the people who have been our teachers on this terrible terrain path we must walk, only because you have walked the same path before us, you all are needed. You all have been through the flames and I for one would hate to lose any single person off this forum that has helped me, and I know if this old dog can learn to chase a stick, the younger ones can also. Please, all you experienced flame walkers, please stay to help us all.

Sue, I am already comfortable with you. And, please, just like those that have gone this path many years ago, we desperately need your input. We cannot have too many people with our sad experiences post too much. I post "too much" and have problems with my "run-on" fingers and short circuited brain, but I, for one, look forward to hearing about your walk down this sad path, hoping somehow you can shed some light in this darkness.

Laura, you do have friends. There always seems like there might be someone to help you. I think we get our most help from within. I have a friend of my daughter's and she is coming to "help" me. But, she told me to just leave it as is and she will "take care of things." She says this as she is lifting up things and opening cabinets, and being a little touchy. And, maybe I am being a little "touchy" also. Yesterday I was asked if anyone had claimed Billy's four hats I talk to.. I said "yes, I have." Sometimes help does not come from friends. Sometimes we have to do the work ourselves. And now, I will tackle the books again. That is my hardest job (I have Billy's things packed.) But books are magnets that stick to my hands and make me remember, and some of those memories are good, I just need to shake the glue off my hands when it picks one up. Billy did teach me many things over the years. I will never forget how to use the knot to tie a fish hook on the line. My hands shake so bad now I cannot thread a needle anymore and cannot tie on that fish hook. But, I do think I can tie that knot that I need right now that I am at the end of my rope, the one I have to hold on to.

"No matter what new adventure come, there is still that cavern, that deep river valley, that runs alongside everything. That loss doesn't leave." Megan Devine. I am glad that this woman's blog comes to my email. Some Freudian slip of my short circuited brain stops me when I looked for her site. I would always put "Refuge in Guilt" instead of "grief." When I first read something of hers I was not sure about who she was.. You see, going to a counselor, talking to a shrink about problems that I might be having, I want someone who has experienced the flames. Otherwise, I don't trust them. The psychiatrist I visited for 15 years was a teacher at my hospital in the psychiatric department. I went to one of her students, a third year resident who actually tried the method of "transference" on me in a way I was not comfortable with. While I was fighting the guilt for what I had done, thinking my cancer was caused from my "sins" and losing my two best friends and dad to cancer in a lump sum of time, the method this student doc was using was very disturbing. So, I went to his teacher's office in town. She had been through the flames. She was bipolar like my kids and my dad, so I trusted her. I find my "circle of friends" and teachers have all suffered loss of some kind. Life itself is a good/bad teacher. Anyhow, Megan Devine has been through the flames, her words hit home, she is a good writer if you need help by reading. Sometimes help does come by reading, but I find I have to be in desperate circumstances for reading to help me. I have been in those desperate circumstances often this past less than a year. This time last year, we had no idea Billy was even sick. Maybe that is why we never received a bill from his doctor that was doing blood work and physicals twice a year. But then again, I have put this blame on so many things, taken it upon myself mostly, but when it comes down to it only three words are true. Born, live, die. . If we are lucky we have some time in between those three words. We would not be on this forum without love thrown in there somewhere.

Have always been afraid of the dark and at my age, doubt that will ever change. I do not like putting my feet anywhere under my bed before I go to sleep. But, with my reputation for the kind of housekeeper that I am, it is understandable that I have dust bunnies under my bed that I have given names to. They are not handsome either.

Maryann, all of the people on here are here because of the pain we have from losing our mates. All Billy and I had were more years to make mistakes and more years to take each other for granted. We did that so much and I wish we hadn't. So, the first years we did have our children. No, we were not the best parents in the world. Billy was not the best husband in the world (well, he was for me), and me as a wife...........well, I will put it this way, he might not have been a saint, but I do think he should be nominated for putting up with me those 54 years. I am positive no other man would have. Perhaps the cancer (mine) and the sure possibility of losing me made us closer. Even after that though, we took each other for granted. His blood pressure problems and artery problems kept us on our toes. Then we almost lost me in 2014. In fact, I think that is when Billy came up with the saying "the one left must stay." I knew I had a very close call and I walk around with a ticking time bomb, but maybe if we had not had my health so much in the forefront we might have taken better care of him. I took his blood pressure often and one time I detected skipped beats. I had him at the first cardiologist's appointment I could make. He had a mole on his back we had removed that was basal cell carcinoma, and he went to the nephrologist twice a year. He had had trouble with his back since his 30's, so the worsening backache is what made us find the aneurysm and the cancer. We received no miracles this time, although I was determined we would. It is true we lived many years together, but only the last 30 or so were perfect. Up until that time, well, we just made some Jim Dandy mistakes, some really bad ones. I forgive very easily but that boy would get angry with me during the first years and honestly would go days without speaking to me. I tried his patience so many times and I did things I knew he would never forgive. I did a lot of things out of vengeance from the mental abuse from our beginning years. I am happy to say, we did grow up, and we grew up together. He was my best friend, my soulmate forever, and I so wished I had not been such a bitch a lot of times. So, we grew up together and the bad things made us grow closer. Forgiveness helped us a lot. And, if I could have five more years with him I would have lived through the problems 100 times over. I would probably do the same things, and I know he would have too. I miss him very much, but not because of just the years, I miss him because I have lost the use of my brain, I have lost my heart, my arms and my legs. I was him, he was me. And, if I ignored him telling me he loved me, he would let me know and I would be guilty. Yes, I wanted Native American blood, but somewhere in my genealogy has to be a Jewish grandmother, because I carry my guilt around like it was a bubble covering my head. And Maryann, your love story was beautiful (I cried) as was all the rest of yours. I miss Billy more than you all missed him, because he was mine to miss, as were the beautiful people who were your mates. Years did not matter because I would have liked 54 more. They went too fast. It was only yesterday..

I cannot begin to understand life. I once thought we could outrun death. I would get angry when someone said if it is your time, it is your time. My feelings range from the numb robot to a hopeless, overstressed, heartbroken old woman. It is a joke on life. When I first married, I said I married to get away from home. This was no big thing to put over on Billy, he knew the situation, and we entered as kids. I would awake in the middle of a nightmare that I was in prison, I was married. It was not a nightmare, it was true. I questioned him once about his feelings, and he always denied that he did anything but love me. Yet, I have seen him look at me as the bitch I was. Pregnancy and celebrated our first anniversary eight days after our son's birth. Could only afford a coke at the drive in at the end of our street. We went through a lot of tough years, but we stayed together. He wanted me to admit that life had only one great love. I admitted it, but sometimes I doubted him (doubted me too). Things evened out and he was my best friend, the real love of my life, We worked at it and made a good marriage out of one I figured would never last.. He was my one great love. I was him, he was me. We grew up together. Now I have dreams, not nightmares, that I am married. But, he is no longer there. It was a long marriage, it only seemed like yesterday. Life sometimes is a sad joke.

I am sorry, like everyone else, that you have to be here with us. You have members on here that have gone through months, years, and I joined three days after Billy passed. I would tell him every night "You know I cannot live without you." He would say "I know." He knew how crazy I was and I had a plan to follow him fast and be in a place no one would find me, but I would leave notes. There would be sadness, yes, but it could be a whole sadness, only once for both. Then I found Marty. Then I had to rethink things and my granddaughter became the most important reason for my living. We had raised her. She was not just a grandchild, she was our child. Her mom has mental problems. I could not leave her. I believe maybe Billy had a hand in me finding this forum. He had to. I wanted to follow him so bad. He had said "The one left must stay." So here I am. You have people on here that just read their posts. Sometimes you find out you are not alone, sometimes you find out you would like to help that hurting person more than even helping yourself. Just read along. Marty is a life saver........I know.

Laura, before Billy got sick (although he must have already been sick) we had started moving things out. We were getting ready to move into the RV and start what we had began nearly 20 years ago. We were RVers, we were never homesteaders. This house is a responsibility. One of my friend's told me I would now be able to find myself. Did not know I was lost but then it came to me, I have never been on my own. Still not on my own, but fighting to be. We are not homesteaders. No house anywhere has ever had ropes or chains tied to me except a Holiday Rambler 5th wheel, that when we sold it and moved into a brix and stix house, I knew that was the end of the most wonderful part of our life and we went back to being the responsible adults we had been for over 50 years. There was a song "A Time for Us" that was our song. It never really came to fruition. There was never a time for us. Right now, there is not a time for me. I look at the members who have no one. Then I look at myself who still is depended upon by grown children, grandchildren, a sister and a 95-year-old mother. I have to ignore some of this and I do feel guilty. Making a way for myself, I have spent almost all of Billy's life insurance helping these people out. I found out my burial insurance was only accidental death insurance, but we had paid for it for years and years. I wonder if Billy knew. I find myself knocking around in this over 2000 sq foot home on over two acres that I can not/do not want to keep up. The quietness drives me crazy. The nature loving we used to share, now it is a drag and I find myself afraid of nature more than crime. I did not claim to be sane. I might disappear from the forum at any time. If I do, I will be joined with Billy or in a padded room somewhere. An exaggeration told by an old lady that prefers laughs to tears. Maybe.......maybe not.

Mine is being mowed today. Wish I had a magic energy pill. You know in the 1970's those amphetamines were magic energy pills. They would kill me now, but I sure could use some of that energy. Butch's mama's sad refrain of "being tired" comes to mind and just going to sleep. I do that each night. I take my Xanax and my Clonidine and I just go to sleep. I have a fear of my granddaughter finding me like I found Billy. I will not put that back into my mind. I can happily say, I can fight that image and the guilt off because it would kill me and it seems, I do have miles to go before I sleep. Don't laugh at me God, I have not got set plans, I am just throwing away as I go along. Just shaking the bushes boss. (Bet you all cannot remember where that came from.)

I don't remember "Green Onions" but remember all the rest. (Okay, went to You Tube, of course I remember it and Booker T.) I am old as dirt.

Please, let me be the poster girl for "do not move the first year" after death. I know statistics. I know Billy had one more year to go for his statistics I keep singing "Please Mr. Custer, I don't want to go." Thank you all for reminding me. I am not being sarcastic. Today is my son's birthday. In 1962, I was at a small country hospital. I had insane food cravings and had gained up to 150 pounds. No AC I lay on a mattress between two sets of windows in a Louisiana hot summer. They put me in the hospital because of one pork chop. It put so much fluid on me they feared for both our lives. Then they brought on labor (he was 10 days late) with two doses of castor oil and orange juice. Seems like I have always been dragging along right before modern things were going on. I was 18, gonna be 19 in August. A kid having a kid. Doctor had not come in yet, knew I was in labor from first dose of castor oil. Took me five years to get pregnant again. And, I was not even trying. Woman down the hall the next day asked me if I had had that "damn baby" yet. Seems they were giving me drugs where I would sleep between pains. Husband of one year, minus one week, emptying bed pans constantly. Me screaming "I don't want this damn baby." We all made it through a lot of tough times, until one of us decided to drop out. It seems a short rough ride Kind of reminds me of right now.

I cannot wear the necklace. My son and daughter and granddaughter cannot either. Over the years people expect me to be weird. So, anything I do never seems to bother any of my friends. I think I am very lucky. Now my daughter and sister come the closest to criticizing me and they know their words are water off a duck's back to me. I wear my ring and his wedding ring nugget on a long chain, double, and have had remarks, none bad. I don't know why, but people usually leave me alone. I feel like I am that Native American from years ago that people revere because she is insane, like spirits have inhabited my persona. They have. Nothing they say can bother me. But then, you have never heard this sweet little ole lady let loose with a vocabulary that you would never dream could come out of a little old red headed (now gray) freckled sweet old lady's mouth. Being old has some benefits, being weird has even more.

Brad, back when I was typing the medical reports Remeron was prescribed a lot. Especially for people that had no appetite and what made it seem safer to me was they gave it to older people also. If it gives you rest for a few hours then go for it. I know the diet is tough and I know Billy hated the Boost and others but I love them. I just like the idea that I can get the vitamins and protein in a drink. That darn diet takes away the fun of eating anyhow. I have been known to drink two in the morning. They make me feel better. I wish Billy could have drank them but it was too late.

Prozac would not let me cry. Would not let me feel. Also now would give my tortured colon death.

Gwen, they could not give me a diagnosis other than chronic depression after 15 years. I tried for other things. How did I escape with just CD? I'd like to see them give me a diagnosis now. . Brad, Xanax is addictive. And, for me, addiction to Xanax is the least of my problems. I was "addicted" to it in the early 1980s. I knew how to get off of it. I still know how to get off it. The fact is, I do not want to get off it. All the other pills, I have tried. With my colon in the shape it is in, not too much I want to try. Ambien gave me 2 hours and then I would take it again. I was always in bed when I took it, but I would take it every two hours. Knew it was addictive and supposedly weird things happened. Not to me. Hated it though. It was an alarm clock, 2 hours, then 2 hours, then 2 hours. Not to be taken like that but I was so desperate to sleep, not think. Now, I take my Xanax at night along with my clonidine (blood pressure) which makes me sleepy also. They say they give Xanax to more older people now. It does not bother my colon. It does not bother me in any way. People say it is not good, but I have been on it, I have been off of it. I had prescriptive amphetamines in the 1970s. Seven years. Taken away cold turkey. I know withdrawal from a drug like amphetamines and the drug craving for years. Xanax did not do that way. No craving when I got off of it, but I weaned myself off. I do not plan on weaning myself off anytime in the near future. It helps with my congenital tremor, and I won't give it up. But, that is just me. Many have disagreements with prescription medicine. I am not one of them. I do not abuse my prescription nor take more than prescribed. If I did, they would not renew it.

Steve, I believe I have watched enough Gunsmoke episodes that I know what a dowser of one type is. They take that stick with a double end and when it points to the ground, they dig for water. Remember Tanya Tucker's song "Lizzie and the Rainman?" Step back non believers or the rain will never come; Somebody start that fire a-burning somebody beat the drum; You know some may think I'm crazy for making all these claims; But I swear before this day is over you folks are gonna see some rain. Now there is something called spiritual dowsing. And, I am not making fun of it. I cannot remember the titles but I have put about five books on my Kindle I want to read, but it is like opening Pandora's box, I am scared to read them too. I bought one evangelist's book about the three heavens, or the three stages of heaven. I spent the money on it and then I deleted it. It scared me. I bought the neurosurgeon, who supposedly died, I bought his book about heaven that he visited. I kept this one, but it scared me. Last night I bought one by an investigative reporter about questions and answers about heaven. Again, I am scared to read it, but I am going to.I think. Some things I have a giant spiritual force that scares the bewillies out of me to read other people's opinions. But, I am curious. Will it mix me up? Can I be any more mixed up than I am now? I know we have good Christian people on here and this is a question to you. Should I lean on my on understanding (you don't question the Bible), or should I read them.) My son was a Baptist, he met a Mormon girl, he became a Mormon. He was initiated into being a Mason until he found out they did not mix services with black people and he wondered about the reason for that. Now, He was elected/initiated into the Masonic lodge. He has looked for religions and that bothers me. Now he practices something called (and I am going to get this wrong) called Astrasu. Something about our long ago relatives. I don't make fun of it, but I kind of tune it out when he talks about it. He knows I believe that "thou shall have no other Gods before me." And Mama used to accuse my Daddy of making money a God. Life is so confusing. But it was confusing when Billy was alive and I could discuss this with him and he would talk to me. Now you people get the benefit of my insanity.

Exactly Steve. You "hit the nail on the head."

My daughter just told me this morning that she went to the yard sale of a woman who is moving to her daughter's house in Oklahoma and she was so happy, not depressed like I am all the time.(The woman's husband had just died after 56 years of marriage). My daughter wanted me to live with her. She fixed up the front room with a new bed and all the comforts I could want. I hurt her feelings because I am not wanting to do what my mother has done and make a slave out of my sister. There is also a small verse at the end of this perfect poem (and you can help us too, financially). I know my daughter and she unselfishly would take care of me the rest of my days. I also remember my mom (who shares the same personality disorder) wanting me to work 60-70 miles from home and come home each night and pay her rent. The fact that I would share rent with my best friend was frowned upon, she needed me at home. The recruiters came out from the different services I wanted to join and Daddy would not sign for me. I was a prisoner of my own upbringing, did not know how to break away, so I got married. I went from one prison to another. But, we worked on it, we made mistakes, we really worked on our family and marriage and there were lots of times I knew he loved me, but I also knew he did not like me. There were times I felt the same. Still we worked. In the end it was beautiful. A long marriage and the last 30 years of it was heaven on earth. No, our family do not understand the depth of our sorrow. Oh, I think Butch understands his dad and can help him better than anyone. But we all know, our help has to come from within and we have to wait for it. Might never happen, but we have to wait. I would not mind going though the worse parts of our marriage again and again and again.