I am?

Sigh. So much has happened and changed in the last 16 months that I am not even sure I know where to start or if I should even bother starting. I have lost so much that is me that I don't know who I am anymore. And I don't know where to start to rebuild myself.
Tony, my spouse of 20 years, my support, friend and foe died 10/28/13. And along with him a lot of my identity. No longer am I allowed to call myself "wife". I used to fuss because everyone around the AC knew me as "Tony's wife". No name, ever. No separate existence. Just "Tony's wife". Used to make me so mad because dammit, I am a person. I am one-of-a-kind just like the rest of you fuckers. I am Angie. I am. I am. I am "Tony's wife". Damn. Ah, but they don't tell you after your spouse dies that you are no longer allowed to call yourself a wife. You become a widow. I even wrote about it. Now, I am not ashamed because I am a widow. I fulfilled my vows. Till death, bitches. I roll hardcore. But after about a year, I started figuring out, not everyone likes the word widow. It makes them uncomfortable. It makes them look away. Or even worse it makes them look at me with pity. I don't need their pity or your pity or anyone's pity. I do need some understanding, however. See, I haven't been this person before. I haven't been this widow. I have only been "Tony's wife" and I lost that title when he died. Now, when I fill out forms, I am not allowed to choose married. Most forms don't even have the choice widowed, oddly enough. Like it's not a word or a thing. Either you are married or not married or don't fucking exist in this damn world. I usually still choose Mrs. because dammit that is what I am. I am a Mrs. I am too old to be a Ms. and I don't have a ding-a-ling so I am no Mr. I gave up my Ms. at a very young age. I don't identify with a Ms. But even then I think people believe I am mistaken because I have to choose single on the rest of the paper so I end up being Ms. in the end. And I don't even want to talk about emergency contact information. People, the struggle is real. The first time I went to the Dr and had to change my emergency contact I cried. Now, I am usually numb and can save my tears until I am alone. Tony promised me when I got old and had to go the the home he wouldn't let them tuck my feet in or feed me foods I didn't like and make them understand I am a night owl and like to sleep late. I like a fan for noise and all the lights out. He promised me those things. But, well, that's just not how life worked out. He also promised me he wouldn't leave me but I am pretty sure he didn't have much control over leaving.

I had a vertical sleeve gastrectomy in the last part of June. I had decided it was time to do something about my weight. I had gotten so big that I couldn't really do anything. Walking killed me. Sitting killed me and it was time. So, I chose to remove my stomach. Well, I lost that identity too. I no longer can eat and eat and eat until I die. Well, most foods I can't eat and eat and eat. There are those few foods I can hoover up a good amount. But I lost my fat girl status I thought. But then maybe I didn't. I just traded it in. I am an oxymoron. I am a fat girl that can't eat. I am an anomaly. I'm still grossly over-weight and I can't freakin' eat. I snack and graze a lot because I make all the healthy choices. But eating, nope. On a good meal I can eat 1/4-3/4 a taco. Or about 3/4 a hamburger bun with soft meat on it. Hard, heavy meat about 1/2 a burger. Sometimes, I can eat a decent portion of food. I eat more like an average sized girl but I am still fat. I lost the ability to comfort eat. I am 127 lbs down. I lost the oslen twins. It's hard for me not to compare my journy to everyone elses. Today I read about one of the girls that had lost 200 lbs in 7 months. I want that kind of weight loss. 200 lbs and I would be close to my goal. Sigh.

And in Sept my hospital closed. 10 years of work and it closed. 10 years of laughter and tears, gone. Gone in 2.5 hours and I haven't recovered. A lot of my friends haven't either. I mean we have new jobs or other jobs but that feeling, that loss, well. We still struggle. We loved that stupid hospital. Our hospital that was, what we thought, too dumb to die.

I have a lot of good things in my life. In July, I started seeing someone and eventually it turned into tender feelings and from there love. So, now I am a girlfriend. Haven't been one of those in a long time, really, never, ever. It's a learning experience for sure. Tony took the lead when we dated. He had dated a lot prior to me and knew what he was doing. So, I just followed his lead. Now, well, Robbie and I just kind of fumble along and hope for the best.
I am a new employee with a nice new job but I haven't been new in a long time. It's hard to be new and not be new at the same time. When I was new at my hospital I was still young and eager. Now I am sad and have my own ways of doing things. My confidence is shaken and I am having growing pains. I don't know the inside jokes and who works well with who. Mostly, my new job has been a blessing. I needed a job and it's basically a place that I am used to working. It's small and I already know some of the staff and patients but it is still new. And I am trying hard to find myself.

So, now I struggle with who I am. Who is this Angie person. What does she like, dislike and want to do with her life? No clue. None. Do I like skulls and metal-ish type music? Am I really a gamer and a nerd or just a poser? I have no clue really. None. Am I still a nurse now that my hospital closed? Am I still a fat girl if I can't eat? Who am I?

Days and weeks

Today as I sorta sorted through this massive pile of mail I have collected, I came across the last two bills you filled out to pay. The dates on these, oddly enough, medical bills is 10/13/13. You died 10/28/13. And you were sick in the hospital 2 weeks prior. So basically these fucking bills were the last thing you felt good enough to do prior to your death. And it makes me so fucking mad. And in case that doesn't cause enough grief and pain, I came across my insurance bill which now I am so clearly labeled widowed. Widowed at 40. How did this happen? Why did this happen?


I will have a few days or at one point it was even a week that I feel OK. Not great because I never feel great because I am a fucking Eeyore. But I will feel OK maybe like I will live through this and walk out the other side of this journey better and whole and healed. I don't really think that is how grief works. I think I will limp along waiting for someone to save me from drowning in this pain and when that doesn't happen I will still continue to limp along. I am good at limping along I have had a lifetime of practice.


I am not going to wax poetically about how great our marriage is/was or whatever because that is just bullshit and the world is full of enough bullshit without me adding to it. What I am going to say is we did tragedy and suffering well together. It was our "thing". The world knocked us down and by God, one of us pulled the other one up and we dusted ourselves off and we survived. We made it through my family's multiple screw-ups, the loss of friends and the year we lost Grandpa, Gran and Gertrud. But we always had each other. Now, I am alone and it sucks.


It's been 26 weeks and 3 days since you left me. I replay your illness and death over and over and over in my mind. I have a lot of anger. A whole hell of a lot of anger. I failed you. Medicine failed you. Ego's failed you and ignorance failed you. And I am sorry.

New title

I hesitated about blogging right now. I am going through a lot of painful feelings right now and I don't want to hurt anyone or perhaps it is I don't want to cause anymore hurt in a world full of hurt. Yeah, yeah, cliché but true.

It's been 2 weeks since Tony died. The first week was a numb blur, last week a numb blur and well, I am damned thankful for that numbness. I sit and I am still waiting for him to come home. Logically, I know he isn't returning but I do a few things around the house, sigh, and wait. The dogs wait. My family waits. His friends wait. We wait and he isn't coming home. And I am so fucking mad. I feel so cheated.

I feel the medical field that I work in failed him. It failed me. I have wasted all these years working nights, weekends, and holidays for nothing. I let this useless-ass medical field take-over my life and sap what happiness I had right out of me for what? For nothing. Nothing. I was already bitter and now I don't have the words for what I am.

There are things in life I never thought I would have to do, I had always kind of thought I was so damned high strung that I would just drop dead or perhaps a nice stroke? I just thought I would die first. I mean, I am left-handed -10 years, obese -10 years,  work nights -10 years, married -5 years, and no children -10 years. I should be dead last year. I don't relax, hate fun, eat junk and don't move. The 7 deadly sins and I are friendly-friends. I wasn't supposed to be left behind. But here I am.

Here I am. I am here. Starting a different life, a new life. What do I like to eat, how is it going to get fixed, bought, and put away. Who's going to eat with me? Ask me about my day. Worry when I am late coming home. Take care of me. Who is going to be my side-kick and who is going to have my back? No one had my back like Tony.

This blog is just a jumbled mess. Like my head. My thoughts. Myself. Our family and friends.

Three years

Today will be the anniversary of my mother-in-laws death. My Grandmother died 5 days before my MIL and my Pappy had died 6 months prior to them. I still don't think my heart has recovered. I re-read some of my posts on myspace tonight, where I blogged for about three years or so before I started blogging here. I wish I could tell you things were bright and happy full of love and hope then but you know, it would be a big fat lie. And for all my faults I try not to lie.

Thanksgiving is approaching and we still (we being Tony, my sisters and I) feel sorta disconnected. It not that we can't go anywhere for the holidays it is just that we are still trying to figure it out. We used to fit everyone in and celebrated for days now it is disjointed and we both still feel lost. I do get to go to Kim and Dad's, they are my rock, my constant. And I try very hard to ensure my sisters and I are in the same place at least once during the holiday season. And while I would like to see my mother, well, she is not interested as she already informed me she would not be celebrating Thanksgiving with us and for me not to get my panties in a twist. You know what Mom, I hope your turkey is dry, your stuffing is bland and your beer be skunked and also, you suck. So there.

*sigh* What else? Well, last night I went out with some of my old (haha) girlfriends from High school.  I will say that I did have a good time but (there is always a but with me) I still have never stopped feeling like the odd man out. I am weird, I am different and had I a bit of self-esteem I might celebrate that fact. However, with my self-esteem as poor as it is, I bemoan the fact. Different in my case is not good. I never am dressed appropriately. All three of them, torn jeans. Me, long, baggy fitting jeans (lost 52lbs). Them, two shirts, layered look. Me, tee-shirt, brown denim jacket. Them straight-hair, me nappy. Well, I am sure you get the picture. Did I look like Quasimodo? Probably not, did I feel like quasi, yeah pretty much. How is it that a successful woman such as myself feels like such a useless weirdo? I dunno, guess if I had the answer to that I could solve world hunger. (too lofty of a thought?)

I know that I probably wouldn't want to be "cookie-cutter" but damn it sometimes this square peg would like to fit into a round hole! Or if I am not going to fit in the round hole perhaps I can at least have on the right shoes?!

Well, enough of this trivial shit for tonight. Please my friends listen and listen close. Your loved ones will not be here forever. Hold them close, surprise them, hug them for me. Relish your stupid traditions, don't get mad when your Pappy tells you the same story for the 50th time, or don't not stop by when you are close. That 20 minutes it would take to say hello will be 20 more minutes you have with them. They love you and yes, they are annoying, but damn it when they are gone, your life will never be the same.