When Mike died part of me died too. I used to think that maybe this was just me being dramatic, but it is not. When he suddenly vanished from my life, I lost a very real part of myself. To deny that Mike’s death has irreparably changed me would be wrong minded. This said, for all the words I write, I am unable to compose anything that adequately describes exactly what I miss about who I used to be.
Nonetheless, I assure you, there are plenty of things I miss about my past self. There are qualities that I yearn to possess again. Things both tangible and otherwise. There are attributes both big and small that I miss about the woman I used to be. Namely, I miss her joy. I miss being joyful and joy filled. I miss being completely enamoured with my life. I miss being happy. I miss feeling content. I miss being at ease in my own life.
Mike brought to life all these things inside me; and, without him, I have not been able to successfully recreate any of this. After nearly four years, I have been unable to find my place in the world without him. I endlessly search for a sense of belonging. I work tirelessly to reestablish a feeling of contentment and I have been largely unsuccessful. All feelings of joy and peace that I have experienced since he died have been fleeting at best. *Sigh.
Yes, I miss him, but it is more than just missing Mike now. I miss what he brought to my life and who he brought out in me; and it bothers me that without him I seem unable to manufacture my own sense of happiness. I miss all that I was when I was his. I miss sharing my life with a man who utterly adored me. I miss being wildly and madly in love. I miss all the richness Mike brought to my life. I miss the woman I was when he walked the Earth by my side. And, I hate that it is so ridiculously hard to live without some of the best things you ever had. But, I am doing it because I was not given a choice. We are all persisting and living forward because life demands that of us, but this sure is weighty stuff.
Fulfilling my obligations and responsibilities is one thing, but living forward with real purpose and joy is another. I can’t seem to move forward in a meaningful way and this makes me disappointed and angry. I have grown tired of grief stealing my life and I refuse to allow this tragedy to continue. Thankfully, my grief is becoming less powerful. My grief is less consuming now.
As it shrunk in power, my grief evolved into something much more personal than just missing Mike.
Now, much of what I grieve has become about me.
I no longer simply miss Mike the man.
I also desperately miss the woman I was when he was alive.
It’s enough to say that at 3.10 years, my grief is about the loss of my self identity. My loss of direction. My loss of belonging. My grief is all mine now. Simply put, I miss who I was and who I had the potential to be when he was alive. I miss living a full and fulfilling life. My grief has evolved and grown into a “grief of my own”. My grief is not just for Mike, but for me too. I believe that this is a good thing… My grief has come full circle. It has come back to rest with me.
I know that there is a lot of untapped potential inside me. And, I recognize that a good portion of my strengths survived his death; but, still, I mourn deeply for the parts of me that are now absent and seemingly not as easily assessable. I write to you with a full appreciation of my capabilities; but, with the very same pen, I concurrently mourn the loss of some very lovely parts of who I used to be as a human being.
The woman Mike loved is gone now. She is gone just like he is. When he died, big parts of me also vanished with him. The foundation of who I was still exists, but the way I had to put myself back together, in order to survive his death, has permanently altered who I am. I used grit and tenacity to rebuild myself, but the way I put myself back together is different. I still resemble myself, but inside, I had to change things because the pieces just would not fix together like before…
It has been hard, but I have accepted that there is no returning to who I was. These days, I try to focus on who I am becoming. I am rebranding myself and working to become comfortable with who I am. While I become this new woman, I am forced to recognize that both my potential and the lost possibilities coexist inside me. Like any rebuilt, coming into my new self is tedious and messy stuff.