Sigh...

Sleep has been escaping me the last few days.

And this year it is not due to the first days of school.

So I am grumpy.

And tired. 

A few nights ago, I had a somewhat disturbing dream.

Part of the dream I have about every other month.

I will describe that part of the dream first.

When I first moved out of my parents' house, I moved in with my boyfriend of the time.

One time, and only one time, when we broke up, I moved back home.

For about forty-eight hours. 

It was not a terrible experience.

But some reason, I am terrified the possibility of this occurring again.

T.E.R.R.I.F.I.E.D.

So I dream of it.

At least every other month and, in the dream, for a weird variety of reasons.

I wake up immediately and I am relieved that I am actually at my own place.

And I do not need to move back home.

Or pack.

Or find a new place to live.

Well, a few nights ago, I dreamt I had to move home again.

But this time it was because Roger and I were getting divorced.

I was so upset because it was my second marriage. 

I have no idea who I married the first time.

My sister was living at home too. 

We were back to sharing a room.

She was helping me pack. 

Also, I can never find all my stuff during this reoccurring dream. 

Which is frustrating as hell.

In this particular dream, another ex-boyfriend of mine was helping me find a new place.

It was very strange but Roger was alive.

And he looked good but he would not talk to me.

I woke up in a panic.

Then last night I could not help but think of the shirt Roger wore August 21, 2008.

I still have it.

It hangs in my closet.

I have never worn it.

Although it has been washed once.

After he died. Boo on me.

I remember him coming home from the rental house.

It had been pouring from Tropical Storm Fay.

I had just straightened my hair chemically for the first time.

I remember where I was sitting on the sofa.

I remember Roger just standing there. After driving in pouring rain.

He was frustrated with driving.

I smiled at him. Trying to get him to notice my new hair.

Less than ten hours later.

My heartache begin.

And prayers went unanswered.

Twenty One

In my class, I have been teaching about mechanical interactions.
Things like friction and drag.
And the perfect example of drag is, of course, skydiving.

When I was fifteen or so, I made a promise to myself and my high school best friend that we would go bungee jumping before sixteen and skydiving before twenty-one.
We went bungee jumping in Gatlinburg, Tennessee the summer before I turned sixteen.
Five years later, my twenty-first birthday was creeping up.
So I decided since my twenty-first birthday was on a boring ol' Monday, I would go skydiving the weekend before.
I found some friends who said they would go.
We went to the place, signed the paper work, watched the safety video, but weather was a no go.

My actual birthday, I went to class like a good girl and on my way home noticed the weather looked like perfect skydiving weather.
And in a time before cell phones were flooding our pockets, I drove home to call Skydive Deland.
I got home and the light was blinking.
They had left a message on my answering machine.
I called my friend but she was too busy spending time with her boyfriend.

So I rushed over, alone.
My adrenaline was pumping.
My eyes were big.
I could not quit smiling.
Life was good.
Twenty-one was good.

Of course, I bought the VHS tape of my jump but I have not watched it in years due to the fact it is VHS.
My homeroom (reading) class, who is also in my science classes, were amazed I had been skydiving and asked to watch the video.
And since Fridays are generally more relaxed and my classroom has a tape player, I brought in the video.

Wow.
Twenty-one year old me.  I have not seen you in so long.
You did not even know that your next birthday would be spent living in New York City.
You had not even fell in love yet. Even though you had a long term boyfriend before this time.
That would happen for the first time later that month.
You had not even traveled to far off places and did not even have a passport.
You had no idea what life would hold for you.
You were mature but yet life was full of surprises still.
Your friend Tom will still be your friend.
You will be a teacher in about ten years.

And you will lose so much.
You will hurt and bleed. And you will scar.
You will be in a serious accident where the unbelievable comes true.
You will be your happiest and your lowest all in six months time.
And you will jump again.

The Other House

Much to the surprise of a lot of my friends, I own a second house.
Roger's first house.
And since we moved out in 2007, I have had the same renters.
They are awesome.
They take care of the house.
They take care of the yard.
And just fantastic people in general.

I knew this day would come.
I prayed it would not.
And it is a bittersweet feeling.
They bought a (different) house.
I am happy for them.
But I am sad to lose them as renters.
Since they moved in, (we) I have never had to worry about the house at all.
I did not even really have to think about it which is probably why my friends do not realize I own a second house.

Today as I was thinking about the house and my renters, I remembered something.
The night before.
They saw him last.
Roger had gone to that house because of Tropical Storm Fay rains.

I remember Roger recounting his visit.
Talking about how their oldest son asked about me.
My renter later told me how he kept saying "my wife" like she did not know my name.
She said it was really cute.

And now the last people to see Roger are leaving my life.
I could hope they will keep in touch but I know that is unrealistic.
Sigh.

The Road

For so many years, I saw people almost do the exact same mistake the other driver made in our accident.
In the wrong lane for the direction they wanted to go.
So they would violently get into the correct lane.
Cutting off other drivers.
Running off the road.
I wondered who designed such a terrible highway fork.
On a southbound road, to go east, drivers had to be in the left lane.
And vice versa.

I remember when the state posted your "Drive Safely" sign.
I remember how upset when I saw the location.
It was so far away from the road.
The other driver would never see it.
Other people would never see it.
And logic said, "Perhaps they are going to do some construction soon."

Then a year or so ago, they started.
And for a while now, Roger's sign has been hidden.
I keep waiting.
I keep hoping to see it again.

And while I wait, they did it.
They fixed the road.
It finally makes sense.
No longer can people make the same mistake.
And for that I am relieved.

Almost

Saturday night my heart almost stopped.
Mr. X and I were on our way to a friend's house to watch one of the Harry Potter movies.
We were on "the" road in a loaner car.
We had just passed the accident scene about five minutes before.
As we approached an on-ramp I saw quite a few cars needing to get onto the highway.
So I did what drivers are supposed to do.
I signaled.
I got into the left lane.

The SUV in the right lane just ahead of me decided to get into my lane.
No signal.
No looking.
Just over.
He was about a foot away from the passenger side door.
The side Mr. X was sitting.
I started honking my horn.
The driver started swerving all over the road.
I was torn between hitting my brakes even though there was a mini-van behind me.
Or driving off the side of the road.
Would I go across the median if I went off the road?
I had to slow down though or we were going to hit the SUV.
The van behind me thankfully saw the situation.
The driver went almost off the road as he saw my brake lights.
The SUV got back into the right lane.
And I tried to make sure not to lose control of the wheel.

It was all over in a matter of seconds.
No car hit another.
No one got hurt.
No one died.
But my heart was seriously racing.
In my mind, I could hear the crashing noise.
That unmistakable sound of metal bending and clashing.
And I was scared of losing Mr. X.

Mr. X offered to drive since I was shaken up.
He told me how well I did making quick decisions and handling the car.
Of course I did not take him up on the offer to drive.
No, I am strong.
I can do this.
But I used the excuse the car is a loaner.

I got away from the SUV as quickly as I could.
Unsafe drivers annoy me so much.
There is no way he looked before coming into my lane.
And no signal for a lane change on a major highway?!?

Please be aware when driving.
Please do not text and drive.
Be ten times more careful when you have other passengers in the car.
And obviously, do not drink and drive.
A car is such a heavy piece of equipment and can easily injure/kill others.

PTSD

I am not sure if I have divulged some early things that happened on this blog.
If I have, it was a long time ago.
And perhaps newer readers have not read this or know this.
But I had/have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder aka PTSD.
I was diagnosed with depression, PTSD, and a good deal of survivor's guilt during counseling when Roger first died.
Mostly from the accident.
But from also watching Roger die.
And me not dying.

Now it is way, way better that it was in the beginning.
But...
I still have nightmares.
And daymares.
I still have images stuck in my head that I will never be able to get rid of.
And I have exaggerated reactions to things that others may think are minor.
Such as when I had my accident a few weeks ago.
That frozen fear where I could not move and had irrational fear.
I still jump and get very angry when other cars get close to the car especially if I am not driving.
Sometimes I have to be reminded by others that the world is not ending. (Thank you, Holly & Candice!)
But it still comes out.
And from what I understand, it is something that will lessen but never go completely away.
But I can sleep most nights with or without an alarm on.  [Except this morning when I thought someone was breaking in even though logically I knew a burglar would not park in front of my house & would not set the alarm to their car.]
I can walk around the neighborhood alone.
And I can drive without too much fear most of the time. [Although I so try hard to schedule things where I have to drive during non-rush hours. Less cars, less chance of an accident.]

Today, while driving, I heard a lady describing PTSD to the host on NPR.
She described it so perfectly.
I am paraphrasing here but...
She said, "It is like having a black blanket thrown over your head.  You are paranoid of everything. You feel like there is a dark cloud overhead. Everything is going to go wrong and you cannot stop it.  You are out of control of your world.  There is a fog over you."
Yes!
Exactly!
Now, I do not feel like that extreme most of the time.  But there are definitely days where I feel like people are against me.
Even my best friends.
Where I feel so out of control of my life, my emotions, and my everything.

Decisions can be so overwhelming for me.
That is not so new for me.
But now I fear what is behind my decisions.
I made a decision that accident day too.
I decided not to say anything about the route Roger was taking to the airport.
I decided to say something about his speed.
I decided when he was to die.
Now, what if I decide wrong?  What if my decision leads to disaster?
I do remind myself that most likely not, but sometimes that reasonable voice gets drowned out.

Sometimes...

I Am Not Surprised

I am one of the few Central Floridians who has not kept up with the Casey Anthony case.
Or many one of the few Americans?
It has been on every news station in Orlando for three years.
Every newspaper.
Everywhere in our community for three very long years.
The whole fascination with the thing has annoyed me.
I just want the whole thing to go away.
To be done.

Perhaps there is some weird association with it being the same summer Roger died.
Actually I am pretty sure that is one of my disgusts with it.
I just want people to move on with it.
Personally I have been avoiding the whole obsession.
I have started to hide people who constantly update their status on facebook with the trial.
One friend even DVRs the trial coverage.
A few friends have given me a couple of updates here when I see them in person.

My response for the last few weeks... She is going to get away with it.
And guess what?
She did.

How did I know?
Because of my own experience with the court system.
Because I know it is never fair toward the victims.
I know that with enough money and enough lawyers people can get away with murder.
Murder of a child or murder of my husband.
I have been in that court house.
I have testified without any justice for Roger.
For me.
For us.

Small Accident

I knew the day would come.
I remember in my counseling saying "when" not "if" when I referred to car accidents.
I pray and hope I am never in a serious accident but as much as I am in my car, I knew that eventually.
One day.
I would have another accident.

This accident was very small, parking lot incident but I still felt a huge amount of fear.
I was backing out of a parking space.
It was drizzling.
A young girl got into her car and immediately began backing up.
She did not even look for me.
I honked my horn several times but nothing.
She just kept coming.
Later she stated she did not see me.
Perhaps because she did not look for me.
I kept thinking "This isn't happening."
"She is going to stop."
"I know she is going to stop as soon as she sees me.

I felt paralyzed.

I felt this crushing fear.

I knew we would not be hurt but I was still extremely frightened.  
She did not stop until she ran into the back of my car.
My three month old car.

She did damage my car.
Approximately $900 according to my insurance adjuster.

Now, I feel this fear of backing up.
And fear that another accident is just around the corner.
A worse one.
The week of the accident, I had a small fender bender in the rain.
A young girl ran into the back of my car.
Ugh...

The Other Shoe

It is really hard for me to enjoy myself right now.
To be happy for myself.
I get scared.
Mr. X and I got engaged on Saturday, May 14 and then on the Wednesday following I got my first teaching job.
Things are going well for my photography business.
We went to Alaska and I got to travel which I adore.
So now I am getting nervous.
I am waiting for the other shoe to fall.
Waiting for the "bad" thing.
I tried to tell myself getting a horrid head cold before the vacation and while on vacation was the "bad" thing.  But...

Immediately after Mr. X and I got engaged we drove to a friends' house for a housewarming party.
It was pouring down rain.
We were on the same highway as the accident.
Opposite direction but same damn highway.
I kept thinking "Please dear God do not let anything happen now. Please. Please. Please."

The week after getting engaged, I was talking to one of my best friends about the engagement and such.
This is the friend who I called immediately after the accident.
The one who has been here through it all.
And she said something I was already thinking and knowing.
Once Mr. X and I are married, I will be extremely nervous about the six month mark.
I cannot even imagine the day of it.
I know getting to that first anniversary will be a big deal to me.
And sadly, part of me is trying to protect myself from being too happy.
I almost feel like I will not be extremely over the clouds happy until after that six month mark.
Don't read this wrong.
I am happy.
I am excited.
I know this is the right thing but I am still nervous about Mr. X dying suddenly.
This cannot happen to me again.
It just can't.
It. Just. Can't.

Perfection

I referred to Two Kisses for Maddy book yesterday.
As I continue to read, I continue to remember.

Yesterday while I was reading, Matt refers to how in those 27 hours between his daughter's birth and his wife's death his life was perfect.
He felt so incredibly happy.

I know that feeling.
I know that exact feeling.
The morning of our accident.
I was finishing up the packing.
Roger was still showering.
He got out of the shower and proclaimed how he must love me.
"I must love you. I just shaved against the grain at 4 something in the morning."
I smiled.  We were on the way to my ten year high school reunion.
Life was perfect.

We had our house with the perfect layout.
Four bedrooms and a big room over the garage.
Three car garage with one of the bays in front of the other.
Nice neighborhood with good schools.

I had an amazing husband.
He was kind and funny.
Had a wonderful family.
Married life was going well.

We had good friends.
I was happy.
I was loved.
I was in love.

But then the most important piece of the puzzle was gone.
In an instant.
Because of something so stupid.
And life was not perfect anymore.

Part of me is afraid to feel this again.
To be completely happy, again.
To be completely in love, again.
I do not want to be crushed, again.

Floods of Memories

I am currently reading "Two Kisses for Maddy".
I have been waiting for this book.
I started reading the blog a while ago.
And even though I do not have a kid.
Even though Roger and I were not together for years and years.
And even though Matt and I are not very similar.
Some of the things he writes about on his blog and now in his book, really shake loose some memories that I have been passively avoiding.

I started reading this book a few nights ago and the first night I could not sleep.
As he described the initial moments of his loss, I could vividly remember my own.

That initial pain of loss.
The complete devastation.
Seeing the face of "I am so glad that is not me" and "I so glad to have my husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend safe and sound next to me" while I felt so alone.

I remember one dear friend who just in tears and tears as she looked at me.
Yes, she was probably sad that it was Roger.
Maybe because it was me.
Maybe because we had met a few months after she met her to be husband.
But she was in the middle of wedding planning.
She was just about to send the wedding invitations.
And although some of those tears were for Roger and me, I know some may have been because she was glad it was not her.
Scared what it would be like if it were her.
I will never forget the look on her face.
But it was not her.
It was me.

I am not sure if I should be reading this book but I cannot help it.
Part of it really makes me feel like I am not alone in this journey.
That there are others like me.
With similar feelings like me.

I do recommend this book to my family and friends.
Matt does put into words things I could not.
Perhaps to see inside my head and my heart at those moments, read this book.

Under Construction

Two days a week I have internship.
I chose this school on purpose but I did not think through the commute too well.
Roger's old house is off the same exit.
The crash site.
Yeah, it is on the commute as well.

I wrote about a long time ago about how the government put a sign up for me in his memory.
Strangely it was really far off the road.
I always wondered why.
People could not even see it was there.
It was upsetting.
I wanted it to remind not just me of the accident but also the other driver.

However, recently I think I may know why.
The road is starting to undergo construction.
So perhaps it will be closer to the road.

Because of all the construction, they have put up temporary barriers.
Part of me gets angry at those barriers.
Why could they not have been there two years ago?!
I have these visions of how different that morning would have been.
Perhaps we would have seen a SUV hitting the barrier.
But it would not have affected me.
It would not have affected Roger.  

But there were no barriers that morning.
Nothing to stop the destruction.

The Greatest Fear

During my freshman year of college, the university had a big campaign against rape.

They told us how one out of four girls would be raped before Thanksgiving break.

And most likely by someone they knew.

I was scared.

It was my greatest fear.

It was easily a possibility.

I had mace on my key chain.

I did not walk the mile to my car at night alone.

When going out with guy friends, I made sure to keep my wits about me.

I used the buddy system with my roommate.

The fear carried through with me.

I check my car before I get in it.

When I am alone at night, I keep my eyes and ears alert.

I notice people around me.

If someone looks creepy, I try to describe what they look like in my head.

And thankfully, knock on wood, I have not been raped.

But no one told me nor did I really think it was plausible that I would become a widow.

That Roger and I would not make it to our first wedding anniversary because of death.

No warning speech by wedding officials.

No precautions to take.

No what to do if steps.  

Because it does not happen.

Widows are old.

Widows have adult children.

There are not many things that cause me fear.

Fear does not take over as an emotion for me.

But the morning of the accident, the fear was tangible. 

My heart was sinking.

I was praying.

Fear was so intense.  

Now I have still have a fear of rape but I have a new greatest fear.

I fear that I will have to deal with widow-ness again.

I fear more absolutely terrible unfair things may happen to me in my life.  

I fear losing friends in car accidents or freak events.  

I try to push down the fears out of my consciousness.

But it is still there. 

Still there. 

Decisions

A few weeks ago, I was having dinner with some widow friends.
The three of us are all young, under thirty at the time.
All of our men died suddenly at young ages.
None of us have children.

We talked about how I have a place to put my anger.
A name even.
A face.
Someone to direct all the voices and shouting and mean thoughts.
Which is "nice" I think.
Their persons' deaths were not a result of an accident.
Or homicide.
Or even self inflicted.
Random heart issues.

And tonight as I tried to go to sleep (note the post time), I started thinking that they did not have to decide.
I had to make a decision.
I had to decide the time.
And the date.
I chose this day.
I had to chose the day my husband would die.
Forty-seven months after our first meeting, I chose his death day.
Three weeks after his birthday.

I hate that feeling.
Hate. Hate. Hate.

No Bananas

On Friday morning, Mr. X and I started out on a road trip together.
I am not sure what I was thinking when I planned this trip.
A Friday morning.
In August.
Muggy humid August.
Slightly early in the morning.
Near the death anniversary.

The eeriness started early.
My stomach started to turn.
Mr. X told me he had put some bananas near my purse to eat in the car.

My excitement started to melt away.
Panic set in.  My smile disappeared.
Mr. X asked me what was wrong.
"No bananas in the car please."
"Why?"
"Just because."
"Because why? You hate the smell?  We can't throw away the peel right away? What?"
It took me a few minutes but I simply stated "Too similar."

Two years ago, I ate my banana in the car about fifteen minutes before the accident.
Roger never got to eat his banana.  It was in my bag.
I did not want Mr. X to miss his.

The similarities of the day kept going.
Getting the cats ready.
Division of chores.
Mr. X packing the car.
Mr. X driving.
Making fun of my music.
Cars getting close.

I had to remind myself of the differences.
We were not flying.
We were not driving the same roads.
We were not going to the same destination.
Mr. X is not Roger.  

Sigh... fifteen more days of August.

The Road

Way back I loved that road.
Before the accident.
Before it was my dreaded long everyday route to work.

I loved its gentle (Florida) hills.
I loved the 70 mph speed limit that I could do slightly higher on.
I loved the slight curves of the road.

The wildlife I would encounter is amazing.
Eagles soar above it.
The road crosses Lake Jessup so alligators swim below it.
And next to it.
As the sun comes up is just gorgeous.
Nests of these hawks sit on top of light poles.

The maintained landscaping and the natural Florida flora are beautiful.
Sand pines and long leaf pines.
Forget me nots.
Tall palm trees.
Short sebal palms.

It was a relaxing drive for me.
Especially while living on this side of Orlando.
It was a main mode of transportation at certain points of my life.
And I loved it.

But that changed after I had to drive more than half its length to get to a job I detested.
And after one of the worst weeks of my life, I hated the road down to the gravel.
I hated to be on it.
I hated to drive on it.
I hated to even think of it.

This past Friday night I was driving back from a friend's house.
Who happens to live off this road.
It was late.
My drive home included about about twenty minutes on this road.
Across the lake.
Up the gentle hills.
Around the curves.
Not many people were on the road.
I was playing a mix CD I made for myself.
The volume was way up.
And an old feeling started to find its way into my consciousness.
I found myself loving this road.
Enjoying the road.
Again.

So Jaded

Most people live life like their are immortal.

They ignore the fact we are mortal beings.

At least while they are young.

Because only old people die, right? 

Yeah right...

I finally took myself to my lawyer's office this afternoon.

I finally started the will/trust process.  

Why?

Because I am constantly thinking I might die.

Maybe next week.

Maybe in a year.

But I need to be prepared.  

I have had this worry in the last (almost) two years of what will happened if I die tomorrow.

As I spoke to the lawyer, most of my questions were "If I die next week..."

"If I die next year..."

"What happens to _______  if I die before next month?"

My lawyer finally says "You know, more than likely, you are going to live for years and years."

"You are not going to die soon statistically speaking."  

"Most of my clients I have to remind them of their mortality but you are living like you are going to die any day now."

I am just jaded.

So jaded.

My life as I knew it ended abruptly.  

Roger was full of life.  Healthy and just beginning a new chapter.

And it ended in an instant.

No warning.

No blinking lights.

No years of waiting for the moment.

What makes me so immortal?

What makes me so special that I will live till I am ninety?

Why will I not end the same?

Why will my life be different?

My life could end just as quickly.

I could die young too.

I guess I am jaded that it is not impossible.  

So jaded.  

Fear

Recently I have been scared.
Actually, I guess more like paranoid.

As the weather has warmed up, and summer is officially here.
As August creeps closer.
I keep thinking someone is going to die.
Someone I love.
Someone I care about.
Someone close to me.

And not in a normal way.
In a car accident specifically.
There is blood usually.

I do not feel paralyzed by this fear but if someone is late.
Or I do not hear from a friend.
It is my first thought.
They are dead.

I am especially scared of Mr. X dying again.
Ugh...

My Arm

I hate the scar on my forearm from the accident.
For some reason, especially in the last few months, it seems to be in view all the time.
Every time I look down, it is there.
Every time I look in the mirror, it is there again.
Staring at me.

I thought it would look different by now.
I thought it would blend in more with my skin.
I thought the hair would grow normally like the rest of my arm.
Instead it is still very pink and darker skin tone.
The hair grows backwards.
The skin pulls strangely when I rotate my arm.
There is a strange light pink line that goes toward my hand from it.

The scar reminds me that I survived.
That my injuries were recoverable.
Roger did not survive and his injuries were too great.
With this scar staring at me, I will always have to live with some remembrance of the accident day on a constant basis.
Of course, I would probably remember every day anyway.
But the scar makes me think about the accident versus remembering Roger on everyday before August 22nd.

I have tried creams.
I take vitamins which did initially help some.
I just want it to be less obvious.
To be something I do not notice ALL the time.

Happy

Lately quite a few people have told me I look happy.

And I am happy.  

I do not want people to think I am not happy.

I am definitely in a better place emotionally.

However....

And maybe this is selfish but sometimes I am afraid to say "I am happy."

I am afraid people will suddenly be like "Oh good, I can stop asking about you and go on with my own life."

I am afraid people will think I do not think of Roger or still love Roger.

I am afraid people will think the grief is over.

I still have sleepless nights.  

I still have a permanent video tape that runs through my head of the accident.

And another one of Roger actually dying.  

It has recently been on almost full time.

There is still a part of me that is sad.

I still cry on a fairly regular basis.

But I do not talk about it.

Or even let anyone, including Mr. X, see me cry.  

I try to think back before all of this.

Was I ever truly "happy" before?

Did I answer "I am happy" before?

In fact, I did say it before.  

But back then I did HATE my job.

I did have insomnia every Sunday night.

And I was not completely happy with my body.

But I still answered "I am happy".  

I almost feel like people are tired of me.

They want me to be happy so they can feel released.  

And part of me wants to give it to them.

And part of me does not.