Widow's Voice

When your brain & heart are overwhelmed.

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Recently, I had one of those weekends where I did way too much. I haven’t had one of these kinds of weekends in a while. I overcommitted myself and tried to “do it all”, without really thinking about the emotional exhaustion it might bring.

One of the weekend activities involved attending a birthday party of a friend that I shared with Boris. Naturally, many of those in attendance of this birthday party were also friends of Boris (shared friends). This birthday party also happened to take place in the house where Boris lived. So, yeah. This one was certainly not an easy one. On top of that, I brought a date!

That night, as I was driving home, alone in my car I started to cry. I felt an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and shame. I think it took this quiet time in my car for my brain and my heart to catch up. On top of the other weekend activities (one of which was a funeral!), I attended a birthday party where Boris’s absence was very real–he should have been there with our friends, in the house he once lived in. And the person I brought with me was only there BECAUSE BORIS IS DEAD. It is strange, and hard to wrap my mind around. And I was overwhelmed by it. And, I don’t know when it might not be so overwhelming.

Grief is so exhausting, and sometimes we are just trying to do normal social activities, and do all the things that other people do, and our brains and our hearts are like…wait that was so hard! I hope I can be gentle with myself and allow myself to rest when things like this happen. And, I hope anyone reading this does the same. We are doing the best we can.

 

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.