Widow's Voice

Ambition Loss

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Because I am in a Ph.D. program, I get this question a lot: “what are you going to do with that?” or “what are you going to do when you graduate?” And, it is a normal question, and one I have probably asked many times to people who mention that they are in a degree-seeking program. What I have noticed lately about myself is that I not only do not have an answer to their question yet, but I also don’t feel an urgency or significant drive to figure out that answer. And, I wonder how much of it has to do with grief…starting with Boris, then with the pandemic and the world shifting, and then with my dad’s declining health and my role as a caregiver.

I have never been extremely ambitious, but I have had a fair amount. I have always had goals and worked hard to achieve them, and I have always been driven. I never aimed for being the very best because it felt too intimidating and scary, plus it would mean I’d need to become a lot more competitive than I am. But, I have always aimed for being really good and achieve success. Career-wise, I have always wanted to be in a position that helps others, and one that felt meaningful to the world. But, right now, I just feel…tired? I feel like I want to work a maximum of 10 hours a week and spent the rest going on walks, watching Netflix, cleaning, eating at great restaurants, traveling, and taking naps with my cat. I just don’t feel a drive to get a really high paying job or do something amazing.

I think I will revisit this topic in a later post, so I don’t really have a big resolution. I just wanted to reflect on this because it feels sort of new to me, and something I maybe should be more concerned about than I am. When Boris died, I think I realized that my life cannot be planned. Plans can shatter in an instant. And then the pandemic added this layer of the unknown…and it shifted how we all think about productivity and what is important. And, my dad’s declining cognition and ability to communicate and participate in daily life has been the icing on the cake for this feeling of…why even bother? 

 

About Victoria Helmly

My love story began in 2005 and though my love is no longer physically here with me, our story has not ended. I met Boris when we were 14, but it was not until our junior and senior year of high school that we became more than friends (he was my first kiss!). We went to the same college and although our relationship was a bit rocky through our early 20s, we made it through. He was my person. Our relationship grew stronger as we matured and learned about one another more as adults. I was certain that he was my forever. We talked about the future a lot and we knew we would get married, but we did not want to rush—he was still finishing graduate school and I was just starting my first full-time job. We did not realize how little time we had left together.

In the summer of 2017, Boris was hospitalized three times for active suicidal ideation. This was a heartbreaking, exhausting, and life-changing experience. After 10 months of therapy, medication, and support groups, Boris died by suicide on April 7, 2018. My life now has two parts: the one before April 7, 2018 and the one after. My very best friend, my person was now gone.

If you were to ask how I am doing now, 2.5 years later, I would say I am okay. I am living. My world continues to spin, and I continue to move forward. However, I still carry deep sorrow and loneliness. I have struggled with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Sometimes I still cannot believe that he is actually gone. I still feel him with me, and I know that I will never stop loving and missing him.

I am currently in school for my Ph.D. and live just outside of Atlanta with our cat, Kitty Cat (Boris is responsible for the creative name). I work as a graduate research assistant currently, but I worked for three years with our State Unit on Aging prior to going back to school. I love movies, my friends and family, long walks, and traveling.