Lest you think I’m doing wonderfully


I started to rage last night. I’m so fucking angry! FUCK HIM for leaving me. FUCK HIM for leaving his kids. FUCK HIM for making me hurt so fucking badly. Fuck him for getting to be free and endless while I am stuck here crying so hard I vomit on the floor. FUCK HIM.

If anyone starts talking to me about forgiveness, I swear to Elvis and all that is holy that I will bite you.

I don’t know how to love and miss someone with every fiber of my being and want to beat the living shit out of them at the same time out of epic rage and hate. I don’t know how to raise his children without him. I don’t know how to buy groceries without buying his favorite stuff that he ate and no one else did.
I opened the refrigerator this morning and all the mother fucking condiments in the door knocked me to my knees.

We have had 3 tiny, old school CorningWare plates forever. I always thought that we had either 1 too many or 1 too few. Now we have the exact right amount and I want to smash those fucking plates to smithereens.


And I scream and I yell and I sob, oh god, I sob. I sob until my eyes are swollen shut, I sob until I throw up, I sob until my legs don’t work anymore. I sob and want to throw rocks through every thing I see.

People tell me to forgive, to think of the good times, to be grateful for the amazing run we had. I want to strangle them with razor wire.

People tell me, “I know exactly how you feel. My grandmother / uncle / dog / sea monkey / begonia died.” No, you don’t. I’m sorry for your loss and I know your grief is very real, but it is NOT the same fucking thing and you have NO idea how I feel.

Everything feels like a betrayal. Eating. Driving. Laughing. Either betraying me or betraying him or something.


I want him to hold me, to kiss me. I want to kick him the balls. I want to drink myself into a stupor and also never see a drop of alcohol ever again in my life. I want to eat myself into a coma and I also want to starve to death. I want to laugh, I want to die. What the holy hell is this shit?

I have aged 10 years in 2 weeks.

I have moments of “Ok.” I have moments of “shitty but functional,” but mostly I have minutes like this when I would gladly still lay right down and die with him, when I see no fucking point in anything anymore. I am on autopilot with the kids because their life has to go on. I still arrange them playdates. We still have movie night. I still joke with them and tuck them in at night and we still laugh, but often I’m not really here. I’m somewhere else and that part of me just wants to lay right down and never get up.

I start therapy tomorrow.

Today is too fucking hard.

13 responses »

  1. This post has literally brought me to tears. I know you hear/read people telling you they are so sorry all the time….but all other words fail me right now, so I will just say that I AM SO SORRY as does everyone else.

  2. Years later, even with our daughter all grown up there are moments when I am still so angry at him. They aren’t like the moments in those early months when everything is still so cruelly raw but it is nonetheless there. Grief has many facets, this just being one. I cannot assure you that this will be easy but I can say that when the dust has settled; when his “gone-ness” has piled all around you and the primal pain has lessened – love will remain.

  3. You’re right to feel all those things. And you’re so very right that none of us have any idea what you’re going through. I can’t even think about what you’re going through most of the time. I just pray and pray and pray for you and your boys. I don’t know what you’re going through, all I know is that you have to go through it to get to the other side. I think it’s a very healthy step to be going to therapy. I also think its amazing and brave for you to put all this anger and hurt and rage out there for all to see, and I hope that some how some day you will feel more healed than you feel today. We love you and we will all continue to hold space for as long as it takes.

  4. I can’t know how you feel. No one can. But I do have an idea and I have an idea how your boys feel. I lost my father at age 12. My boyfriend was struck by a car and killed when I was 19 (I know it is not the same thing). Mum passed when I was 22 and since then I’ve also lost a brother and both my sisters. And I’ve only got a decade on you.
    All I can say is, it gets better. It is hard to believe it when one is going through the loss but IT GETS BETTER. And don’t be distraught if it seems to get better but then you suddenly feel like you are socked in the gut as memory washes over you leaving a void. That is normal; like a wound weeping as the healing is taking place.
    Losing my Mum was particularly hard on me because she was not only my mother but also my sister and best friend. We were tight like that, especially after Pop died. But I will tell you what I told her a few days before she died: “I would rather have had you for the short time I have than anyone else for my lifetime.” Even back then I hoped this was true more than I knew it was true. I was old enough then to know how much I did not know. But now, today, I am certain it is true.
    I hope you come to feel that about Brian. You will feel empty, angry, sad, deserted, betrayed – sometime separately and sometimes in combination but it gets better. Today may not be better than yesterday but next month will be. And next year. It will never be the same but it will get better – just different. You, your boys and Brian have lost your future together but you will never lose the life you have had. Not even death can take that away from you.

  5. I hear you. I do not understand, no one truly can. I can only imagine and I can’t even really do that because my brain won’t let me. From a lame outside perspective it seems all you can do is feel what you feel in the moment and then do it again in the next. All I know of you, from our yogic interactions, is that you are strong with an amazing perspective and an open heart. If anyone can allow themselves to feel and be angry and love and hurt and rejoice and hate all at the same time it is you.

  6. Fuck the fucking mother fucker!! I would be more worried if you were not angry at some point. passion and love go both directions equally for balance. This shows how much love there was and still is between you. It’s makes you who you are. And you’re amazing. Every breath, every snowflake, the rays of the Sun, the darkness of the night. It is all intertwined. and Brian is still in the Center of it all.

  7. Right now it feels like the anger is in control, but the last paragraph–all the things you’re doing to carry on, to make sure your boys maintain their normal childhood–those are the things that are the essence of who YOU are. In the moment you tell yourself you’re doing what anyone would do to survive, but not everyone would make those play dates, go to those movies or even be self-aware enough to go to therapy. Your sons will look back one day and understand what a truly awesome and amazing woman you are. And eventually you will too.

  8. Recently, I’ve started defining trauma like this: incredible amounts of unwanted and undesirable change over a very small period of time.

    We’re actually not wired to cope with trauma very well. Sure, our bodies do okay if we have to run away from something dangerous. But sustained trauma crushes and changes us, and its a bitch of a thing to recover from.

    One thing I’ve learned is that trauma and grief aren’t just emotional, but also physical. Very much so. Your adrenal system is currently being worked overtime, trying to process the massive changes (and resulting threat to your life). This impacts your physical health on so many levels.

    So, this isn’t just about therapy although that’s bound to be helpful. All of the pain and grief and trauma is in your body – which I’m sure you know. So, if you can, get massages. Get acupuncture. Or some kind of body work.

    Maybe not just yet, but soon. As soon as you think you can, because its important.

    And rage all you want. xxx

  9. no words to describe the feelings…crying along with you.sinc i first got the news.brian’s death,how youre dealing with it,all ripples outward.can you feel that?..’im so sorry’, ‘hang in there,’ ‘you are loved’, ‘i support you’ are so vacant.i know. and i dont dare go to ‘i know how youre feeling’. but ,dear srah,i am so very very damn GRATEFUL that you are blogging thru this and are clitty enough to SHARE the fucked up crazying contradictory all-inclusive everything nothing total shit-ness of it all.your confesions, your pure observations, your honest to the bone marrow rants are unimaginably priceless gifts youre offering out. can you even know this now? THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. walking us ALL thru this dark time,sarah.and ,fuck me,what unexpected LIGHT is shining. bizzare. ‘you are so damn brave and strong’ pales, i know. but there it is. it just IS. you.being.REAL. this is where blatant unadulterated TRUTH transforms. yogini sister,i dont know you personally,socially,closely in any way,barely at all ‘cept knowing your face, seeing you in a yoga class and reading your blogs from the past,but i am feel connected to you thru this and am bowing waaay down to the indescribable rapturing awful beauty of your experience and your spot-on ability to SHARE it. this kali-force of you stuns me.and your gut-kicking confessionings Mystery-ously open me somehow. thank you thank you thank you. in your own dying, what you are bestowing to us is awesome…my god..breathing underwater…my god..breathing where there is no air…my god…living through the unlivable…thank you

  10. I wondered when the anger would come. We know the stages of grief and we know that this is one of them. Loving him (and being loved by him) as fiercely, as strongly, truly as all encompassing as it was (IS) the rage has to be that strong, the loud, that painful, and also… that necessary.
    I have no words to take this away, to lessen it, and even if I did I would not offer them, because this is part of it. I can only feel a echo of what you write, I can only empathize with you based on your words. I know, as well as you know, that even when you don’t want to, you still get through it. Every minute is another minute gone by, which add up to an hour, which then add up to a day. Just like you learned to walk you will learn to navigate this. I believe in you.

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