Some days the thread is thinner.
There’s not the elasticity or durability and it’s worn and used.
Not a great metaphor for how I’m doing, but I don’t really want to snap or break.
Not feeling it, not really enjoying the days, not seeing an answer.
If I knew answer, I’d fix it. Heal myself.
Frustrated about circumstances, lack of a break and having things thrust on me.
Not much other than keeping going I guess but it has a price.
Been thinking about you on and off.
Wanting to message. Wanting to say hi.
Then I go south.
Get to the hotel. A red car, same as I remember watching go away.
My mind goes sideways, backwards.
I realise it’s too long, justtoo long.
But then I have to check and it is, 2021.
I just know it’s not far. That I could.
Mind still racing, thoughts everywhere and then, clarity.
I shouldn’t.
I want to, but I shouldn’t.
Tears.
For what was. What wasn’t, what could have been.
Knowing I miscommunicated, knowing I got things wrong.
Feeling ‘I don’t want this’ but agreeing. Trying not to be difficult, trying to be mature.
But tears.
Memories making me smile. Knowing it was something good. Not knowing how to frame feelings.
But, need to suppress those and get back to the here and now.
Tears and a smile don’t make sense, but that turns to a fog of thought, shaking through indecision and regret.
But onward, must go onward.
A bad few days.
Communication, isolation and lone-handed parenting over the October school holidays.
The deepest feeling that I have is that I’m alone.
I feel that sharply in me. Normally something I try to avoid thinking about.
I have the dog and the kids with me (I’ll get back to that later too) and I’m not technically or physically here myself.
I have things to do in terms of them and to an extent that’s okay.
What I’m trying, and failing this week, Is to accept that ‘this is life’ and not focus on ‘what if’s’, maybes or dreams.
I feel a bit selfish. I feel a bit ashamed that I’m thinking this way and I do have to acknowledge that I want something for me.
Whether that something is someone or things to be slightly different is the thing.
One person or a relationship might be what I’m craving, but that in itself that would be, again, creating a mistake in my life.
Yes, I miss intimacy and just the presence of someone in that way.
I also know that I can’t be wrapped up in a situation where that person is ‘everything’ outside what my life presently is.
I need more than just that and the danger is thinking that I’ve accomplished something in terms of meeting that person and then onward having only them as my focus.
I’ve been there before, and it’s too much to then vest everything upon hearing from them, time spent wih them and having nothing to balance that out with.
It’s something healthier and not quite as desperate and all-consuming that I need in my life.
So, I recognise that I’d like to pick up threads of that, but at the same time, I need a wider effort to be amongst or with people again.
In previous blogs, I related my experience with the widowed groups and that it was helpful but was all online, that I needed something local face to face as well.
That’s what I have to find, from mundane ‘hello, how are you?’ to other conversations.
Not just about me, about the kids and dog but to share or offload too.
So, I have came away from that online community, I think I needed to.
A sort of habitual scrolling of those groups was my daily sort of thing. Maybe slightly addictive, at times situations I could relate to, at times things I could have written.
But, I did have struggles in my head with some things I read and my experience wasn’t the same given how my circumstances are.
By that I mean time limited and dependent on time off when the kids are with paid carers.
I could see people, on those groups, over a period of time, struggling less, finding the positives, having experiences and then thriving.
Obviously, sometimes with that pang of jealousy that it wasn’t me.
Maybe that’s unfair of me. I was very lucky for a while and I miss that. Maybe it was too soon, maybe too distant, maybe that I was dumb, maybe I should have found a way.
I don’t want to be more detailed than that. I know that’s not for sharing.
But, maybe I hoped someone would be possible in the here and now and near.
I tried the apps, the sites, the avenues and options and I fell short. It wasn’t going to happen that way.
I don’t want to look again at dating sites or apps and I feel I’d be same as my last attempt, as an interested onlooker, that’s not quite playing the actual game.
Maybe I learned my limits, Maybe I learned it wasn’t very real, it wasn’t true to life and whatever was in the algorithm, it wasn’t quite what I needed.
So, I’ve been getting on at getting on, since the summer holiday. Mainly without having that company of other adults and loosening my ties with the widowed group.
I’ve been walking with the dog, I’ve been keeping busy, planning for next year, thinking about Christmas, taking on the kids being a year further in at school.
My mind, says there’s nothing, there’s no-one.
I’m young enough still to want that someone in my life again, but my circumstances are not that good for even making a time for a coffee or a drink.
As I said, I’m limited in carer time and currently don’t have a weekend or night off.
It does comes back to that I’ve nothing, no-one.
Now, I’ve questioned if it’s just a depressive episode, that failure with dating, the isolation, the day to day with kids had combined to lead me downward.
Maybe resentment that I can’t go out and do things that I’d like to.
I’ve been active with walking and trying to do 10 kilometres a day and in the main succeeding. I’ve felt the benefit of doing that too.
I’ve been looking ahead, I’ve been keeping busy when I can.
I haven’t been moping necessarily but have had the ‘no-one, nothing’ occasionally crop up.
My main frustration is time.
I have time off but not as I said, at the times where I’d like to do things.
Maybe it’s an inability to square the circle, maybe a part of it is wanting to do things or seeing other do things and thinking that I can’t. Certainly been true recently in terms of seeing people going to gigs in evenings.
Perhaps. I realise the issue is that time and getting the right time off so I can handle or balance what I do day to day as a parent and a carer.
It’s just going from recognising the problem to finding a way to pick up the threads of life that I want again.
There lies my challenge.
I joined WAY – Widowed and Young after Lyndie’s death, maybe the October after she died.
I had a recommendation about it and things like that.
So, I was thinking yeah that’d be great, others in same position.
I had no idea that it’s mainly men that die young.
At times much younger than their spouses.
Some other people’s stories were heartbreaking.
I knew that there’s no scale of loss, that someone else’s experience didn’t invalidate mine, but at times with accidents or long illnesses, I did think bloody hell.
What many people had that I didn’t was a goodbye. Where they knew their person was dying. I have to admit jealousy on that as even getting that would have been better.
I’m rational and knew once I was told that it was it.
Many people struggle and I really understand that. They wish for their ‘rubbish new life’ to stop and go back to where they were with their person.
If wishes were given flight.
But unfortunately, it’s more difficult and messy and emotional.
For me, I had a long phase of shock after Lyndie died. I had to be functional for the kids I had to be Dad. There wasn’t another way.
Messy grief came five months in, I had just started thinking I could maybe get back to work and then whoosh. Memories and thoughts and seeing her.
It was about that point that I figured the WAY stuff was Facebook groups, I sort of joined and learned and communicated again. I had some feedback, not answers as such but it helped to know that it wasn’t just me.
And that’s the value, shared experiences.
But it was all in the Facebook groups
I tried once to go to a in person meet in Glasgow. I had a panic attack on the train out from Paisley. Couldn’t do it.
There was a coffee meet up in East Kilbride at a museum cafe. I had no idea which table of people it was and my shyness just got me, so I had coffee and a biscuit and left.
That’s all on me. I’m hopeless with people, it’s difficult for me in those situations.
But, then lockdown came in 2020.
At that point I needed the groups and I think it kept a lot of people sane in their day to day.
I never really got to anything after that. I had a period where I left the groups and kept away from it.
Last year, I realised I needed some support and went back into some of the groups. One that’s related but not official wouldn’t have me, which was a bit difficult but I had to take that.
I’d contribute by posting or commenting, I didn’t sit back and just lurk. I guess I believe if you join something you at least try.
With the fourth anniversary of Lyndie’s death coming up, I had some thinking to do. I don’t think I’m getting anywhere and I’m okay with the kids here, but struggle without them. Carer hours changed and I no longer have a weekend off.
As my other blog posts have said, dating isn’t the answer and I have to accept my situation and take from there. That doesn’t mean a stoic attitude and that I’m on my own to my death. I may meet someone organically but that would take time and it’s not something I can make happen.
It also meant questioning if I stayed with WAY. It was compounded by leaving another unofficial group and I just felt anything I posted was in moderation. My last few posts over a fortnight were like that and I ended up deleting after they had been in moderation for about three or four hours.
Maybe nothing personal, maybe not related to me, but I had wanted to communicate about my last attempt with match and how badly it went. Basically I was just looking. I hadn’t the confidence to even message a hello.
So, that was a group I had dipped in and out of as well as the main official group. One other that was very helpful and supportive, I won’t talk about, but I said thanks to them.
So, I’m going to let the subscription expire. I didn’t find people locally to befriend/talk to/know and I guess that was the biggest downside and a lot of that is on me for not making things in person before the lockdown.
I’m not saying anything negative, it just didn’t work out for me.
With carer hours I can’t go down to England or do things like that, nights out even locally would be tough. I have to resolve or reconfigure that if I can.
I need to find the resources on acceptance. I have to be here for the kids, I have no option on that. My first priority and I have to be healthy and fit enough to do that.
Coping with loneliness is what I need to accept and deal with and with my lack of people skills I’m always going to struggle face to face. I have to figure that out in a workable way.
It’s saying that yes there’s a future of some kind and I need to look in other directions and other ways.
I’ve unfollowed on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram people from WAY, as well as organisation itself. It’s not personal, just that I know I have to adapt without that environment and what I need isn’t virtual, it’s real people in and around where I am.
All I hope is that whatever advice or comments that I made across the nearly four years were worthwhile and my love to all of those people, as I said above, it’s heartbreaking to read and understand other people’s situations.
For me, I have the fourth anniversary of Lyndie’s death on Friday, I had never set out to mark or make a point of the death date, but it will be significantly on my mind and I guess I take it from there.
I’ve been walking with the dog, recording our walks and distances has seemed to help the past few months and it seems maybe that there’s room in my jeans.
I’m not saying I’ve lost weight, but it’s slightly easier fitting in things. I wouldn’t weigh myself but possibly I need to look a size down in waist size.
I know that’s a good thing and positive but, it’s only really a start and when you’re unsure of your body in first place it’s not easy to think ‘oh I’ve did something’
Winter is to come and although I’m happy with going about 8.5km with the dog this morning, I know it’ll be tougher when it’s colder and wetter days.
Walking is good for my head. I’ve had a few really down days recently and I don’t know where to start with it all.
Firstly I’m in the dates/anniversaries period of time. Our wedding anniversary last week, L’s birthday and the date she died are ahead. It’s difficult and she’s been in my thoughts a lot. She is everyday anyway but maybe more than usual.
I left a Facebook group. I felt my posts weren’t being allowed and were hung in moderation and fair enough, I’m maybe not exactly scintillating or posting good news but at same time, I could have used the support.
I was wanting to talk about my latest experience on dating apps and that was really last month. Where I looked positively at the views and considered various people but I didn’t have the wherewithal to say ‘hello’ or try and start a conversation. There was one initiated by someone else but it was three messages each in and out.
I am lonely. I am lost and listless. I don’t see anything working out dating wise and have been thinking about acceptance and just giving up on looking at the apps and things. I don’t think that’s particularly positive, but I have to accept that there’s not much interest, not that many likes or chats or chance of a date.
I done see it being possible organically with me being free when boys at school and that’s pretty much it. I don’t have an overnight respite carer time or anything like and I’m wondering how to even make something work.
I used to think I’d be better for boys and looking after them if my life was more balanced, today I’m not so sure that I can achieve that balance.
Another thing has been on my head and it’s the dumb ‘I want to contact her’ stuff and I do know no answer is no. But maybe that’s the listlessness.
It’s a whirl of stuff. Grief, missing L, my inability to move on after what’s coming up on four years and lack of company, lack of even a hug, I guess.
My thoughts aren’t suicidal or anything like that. It’s certainly depression, there’s the autistic inabilities in terms of communication and being able to approach people and just that daily lonely feeling. Maybe lack of anyone to even talk with.
I can’t waive a wand and change things and I know deep inside that change has to come from me. Motivation is lacking and even while using the dating app last month I was thinking well, how would you even go for a coffee meet if the person worked daytime sort of thing.
I’m responsible for me and I’m glad of the walking as something to do, the dog is willing to come with me and that’s about as much as I could hope for. I’m looking at distances and times and just trying to keep up a weekly and monthly amount.
In an ideal world, I’d stay in bed. Avoid the world. Fix myself again, but reality is that boys need me, they’re back in at school and we do the morning and evening routines.
My ‘me time’ is often time without the kids but still doing laundry or looking for things for them as well as the mundane stuff.
I’d like to find positives,,take more enjoyment from life but, that seems a distant prospect and I’m unlikely to be near what I want any time soon and so be it for existing.
Not a positive writing experience but it is truthful.
Above is the confirmation from match dotcom that the profile and account are deleted.
I gave it a month.
Had one chat, that didn’t really lead anywhere but a decent amount of ‘views or looks’
My conclusion is that the people I was interested in probably already had chats with other men.
I had looked at ages 39-58 and set searches 10, 20 and 30 miles from me.
Had nothing specified on height/weight and my only real insistence was for non-smokers.
I didn’t feel there was much for me in the 100 cards offered by Match.
I looked at ‘online recently’ and ‘their requirements meet yours’ too.
I think being widowed I’m looking at people older than me and instinctively thinking no.
I’m somewhat unsure where that came from but definitely means I need to scale back upper limit if I look again.
That’s not to say that they weren’t attractive or interesting. My foible.
At lower end, I initially looked at 39-45 year olds and then stopped, my feeling was no, that’s wrong for me and my feeling that they wouldn’t be interested.
Realistically that left 45 to 55 year olds and certainly twenty to thirty suitable profiles that I could have contacted.
I didn’t.
My confidence wasn’t there.
First, I think I’d drag someone down, I look and think, they seem okay and I’d be a lead weight.
Second, I’m looking and thinking she’s a 6,7,8,9 and I’m a 3 maybe 4 at best. That may or may not be true, but my feeling is that I wouldn’t be likely to get a chat never mind anything further.
Third, my circumstances. I could have a great chat with someone and then be stumped when it came to arranging a meet at a coffee house type place. That’s how poor my free time is.
Fourth, I’m conscious of how I look and that I’m balding and grey and I probably look older than my age.
Time for another go at seeing if therapy by paragraph will help me
I was thinking about writing it all down and I think it’ll help. She was Cathartic for me, I guess.
A person who understood what I’d been through, someone that ‘got it’ and instinctive, kind, caring.
I think we both started out just wanting to talk, have someone that understood and it became more.
Chats progress and move their own way, Then messaging and then talking on phone.
Organically and real and we realise we like each other too.
A bit more time and it’s romantic and feelings and caring about each other as well as wishing we could be together and wanting each other.
So, it’s long distance and boyfriend/girlfriend and experiencing feelings and emotions but not having met. Being in love but that one step removed.
So we arrange a weekend.
I’m nervous and scared, but also really wanting to meet her.
And I do and it’s electric and fantastic and amazing and she’s everything I could hope for.
But then I have to go home again.
Desire and waiting and wanting and we eventually get to be together three or four times.
Lockdown happens.
We follow the rules and advice as it is. Don’t travel.
Eventually it lifts and we get to try again, but time away from each other and we didn’t get to be a habit.
I wanted her to come up here too, but I guess it was always me going down and I was lucky to have weekends to do that.
I had never said about her on social media.
At first, it seemed too soon and I was worried about reactions if I posted truthfully and honestly and well, enthusiastically as I was so happy with her and had fallen for her.
I was meaning to be discreet. Not to hurt anyone and not for to give anyone a wrong impression or be inappropriate. I was separated before everything changed and I guess in my own for a while, maybe four years.
It took ages for lockdown to lift and 2020 went to 2021 and we had drifted, it was great seeing each other and doing things but maybe the fire had gone and maybe there was a misunderstanding and perhaps that was it sort of gone.
We had a last time and I thought I was being nice guy/sensible/good guy by agreeing and going along with ‘it was mutual’ and not screaming ‘No’
I wish I had screamed ‘I only want you’ and ‘No’ and just.
I wish.
Seeing her go hurt. That last kiss.
I went home early that weekend on the Sunday, just hollow. I took back the kids early and then had a disastrous night as they were both vomiting, something they ate. Both off school for the week.
Lucky me. I struggled through the September and October and things weren’t great.
I felt crap and I didn’t want to be myself or without her.
And we chatted a little bit at first but then it fizzled away.
I sent a Christmas gift, just chocolates, nothing crazy, but she didn’t and I guess that was clear enough
I understand that sometimes a clean break is better and to get on with things and I suppose it makes sense.
I’ve tried. I am probably okay now. I still want to talk to her, I’d still like to be friends, but understand why we can’t.
I guess all I can do is hope that she’s moved on and that she’s happy and has someone that’s good for her. I hope that.
Maybe distance was impossible, maybe just that inability to be near and with each other was always going to break. I don’t know. I know others manage to.
I wanted to write about her before and always, always thought no. Maybe i shouldn’t have.
But I can wish that maybe one day or somehow or..
I sit and revolve the cube. One side is always fixed at the top and I work it backwards and forwards to have it mainly three-quarters solved.
Hand and eye and repetitive movements.
I’m thinking about her. Remembering, thinking to myself how good and pure and just happy that I felt.
How happenstance and just everything fitted and felt right. How timing and distance just maybe weren’t.
Her, not her.
And, my deep rooted fears, that I wasn’t enough, that I failed, that I couldn’t be.
I read and write these lines again.
Back to the cube, twist and turn and move it.
I’ve hesitated about saying anything about her in the past, I start to type and then I delete usually.
But it’s gone and past and ‘was’ rather than is.
I think and think. Wish. Cry. Hope, sometimes.
Reality intervenes. I’m handling the cube again. Moving instinctively whilst answering questions and talking to my younger son.
Maybe I look busy or sad or whatever. I guess I can be distant when memories kick in.
I think about the anticipation that first time I met her. I think of walking over from the car park, a bit nervous, a bit where am I?
Worrying how I looked and how I smelt.
Thinking and overthinking, and saying her name over and over in my head so I didn’t get it wrong.
And into the place and she was waiting and amazing and..
I want to cry, I want to save that memory, I just don’t think I should share anything more than that though.
I’ve had to move, my oldest son has taken over the TV.
Went to do dishes, the dog wanting his treats, the drier needing turned on. Here and now, harsh reality and not there, then.
I wish I could, I don’t know, rewind?
But things were as they were, told not to travel, told not to.
Obeying the rules, doing as we should and months pass and it seems to takes forever to get back to travelling.
Talking by message and phone just wasn’t enough.
Things change.
Reality becomes a memory. Sharp and clear detail fades and becomes less certain.
I want to message or text or call, but I shouldn’t and I mustn’t and it wouldn’t be fair.
I messaged last and no reply is no reply. I have to leave it. That’s how modern messages work.
It’s how it is.
I get on with what’s needing doing. My thoughts are mixed.
Should I be writing this?
You bloody fool.
And I think about that last time and having that sinking feeling.
My doubts and my inability to say ‘No that’s not what I want’.
My mind had been full of ‘here it comes’ and ‘this is it’ and I’d probably got into that state where it didn’t want to be difficult or unreasonable.
‘Me now’ would slap ‘Me then’ for being good about it.
You bloody fool.
I’ve got a few more things sorted, tidied done, a school night and the routine. Thinking about now and what I am compared to then, feeling my inadequacies, my inabilities, my insecurities.
You bloody fool.
I think about love and happiness. Feeling held. Being wanted and it’s rare. Really rare. Well, for me.
My head has been through the permutations of what I should have said.
I doubt it would have changed her mind.
Eighteen months later, I’m a bit lesser. I’m a bit more frazzled and a bit less me. The downs more than ups and the..
I move the cube again and try to figure the rest of that sentence.
The downs are absolutely that, lows and flat and the combinations of doubt and feeling not good enough.
Ive blogged how my past year or so went on the apps and I can’t pretend it was good for me, only that I learned it all was difficult and it ground me down.
Sometimes, there’s moments we wish that we could step back into our heads and change and I guess that’s one. I can think of others, I can wonder and berate myself, but time has moved on.
For, now I have other things to think about and how that’ll impact me moving on. It doesn’t change my situation, my day to day at all.
Memories are nice and good and pleasant but I really need to move on and yes that’s acceptance and yes it’s another thing to process.
I was lucky, She was special and I can only hope she’s found happiness.
Halfway? Midway?
Partways Through.
I’ve looked older than I am for a long time. Balding, Grey Hair.
Maybe I’ve looked at it too far ahead, but I have in my head what to do.
Senior.
Older/Elder/Mature – whatever.
More labels
Autistic/Disabled/Widower/Sole Parent.
I already have enough.
Alone.
I guess, I had an idea in my head that if it didn’t work out by this date that I’d quit.
Zen Monk.
Zen – chilled acceptance, at ease with my situation and there for the kids.
Monk – alone, no partner, with no one, chill and thoughtful, celibate.
A concept that I’d just find a way to accept and do that as I’d hit a point where I’d look stupid continuing to look/ continuing to think there was a person to save me.
Having a bit of fucking dignity.
Keeping my head up.
Philosophy, Psychology and it also means a little less of all this and a little more about writing on other things.
My journey in widowerhood. My struggles with mental health and autism. My feelings, emotions and issues. The loneliness. Emptiness, Loss, Damage.
I have to now go with my plan, less descriptions, more living, less being and more being aware. Less hurt, less crying, less heartache, finding my place, finding a way.
I’ve wished everyday it was me and not her. I’ve had so much to learn and so much to try and so much to do.
Yet I haven’t the time when I have time. After 3 years, she’d have moved on. She’d have started again, she’d have taken it on. She would be 42. Plenty to live for. Plenty.
For me, it’s different. I have to give myself to the kids and particularly my boys. I have to prepare them for adulthood with what they have.
I maybe don’t need a distraction. I have enough to do with the kids and I have company with the dog.
Maybe I need another dog.
If you’ve read and followed my posts thank you. But I think it’s time that I self described and took my journey privately.
There will still be things to write about, but now is the time to do that and make the milestone work for me and not to be a millstone.
Peace and Love to you.
Chic Gibson - A blog of sorts 