Guilt all the way to God

I can still feel guilt for not posting “Happy Birthday” on his birthday, right?

Seriously, I have to let go of these things.

Since a reader asked, BB stands for “Buddy Boy”. I think I typed it somewhere in here a long time ago.

I am sorry that I sucketh with updates. Home life is SO busy with a toddler. Work filtered out blogs so I can no longer post there which is what I had done in the past. I try and keep this quiet at home. I guess it is like my own little private journal.

I think I have been taking the approach lately of not trying to think of things. Well either that or I simply don’t need to think of things. When we were in the area as of late, FRU suggested a visit to the cemetery. I DID NOT want to go. That is unlike me which is why I am going with the trying not to think of things option.

January is a big month for BB’s family. His birthday, his brother’s, his Grandpa’s, his mom’s and his niece’s are all within about 2 weeks of each other. This means lots of family time. We already had the Christmas celebration and the other niece’s birthday just last month. I am surely seeing lots of them!

FRU had a meltdown when we traveled over the holidays. He is still grieving his mom who passed away a few months before BB. He has pretty much coped with it in unhealthy ways and will begin counseling tomorrow which is a GREAT thing. I have high hopes for some positive changes in that respect.

Not to get too spiritual or anything but I do believe in God, have a personal relationship with Jesus… I have sort of had a message driven home to me in different ways lately. I feel like it is just the tip of the iceberg though in regard to what I am about to learn.

Here goes…

We bought a house just before we got married. I thought it was a good decision. I was pretty happy in the house for 4-5 mos.  I was fairly happy in the area although it was far from work. It is pretty, it is was new. But for the last 2 years, I have mostly HATED it here. I feel trapped. I dislike the neighborhood, dislike the area, dislike the commute to work and dislike being so far from any support system on either side of the “family”.  Mostly I focus on how crappy it is that we will never get out of here as the housing crash hit just after we purchased this place and the builder cannot fill this phase let alone the next 2 that he has committed to build. So, people trying to sell their now used homes have to compete with the builder’s new models and all-the-time-lowering prices. Add to that the complete economic breakdown of our state and country and our house is worth a whole lot less than what we paid for it. To sell it and move to a more favorable place, we would lose our butts and have no $$ left for a down payment elsewhere. I know it isn’t the end of the world but please consider the money in this house comes straight out of the aforementioned aftermath. I just can’t see blowing that away.

So, we are stuck. Trapped!

It occurred to me the other day that everything happens for a reason. Yes, even the widow in me can own up to that one. That our living in this very house, in this very area, so despised- is for some kind of reason. Then our pastor started talking about the treasure principle- you can’t take it with you and such. That God has a plan, a purpose for my life. Maybe HE tried to tell us it wasn’t the right choice, maybe HE didn’t. Regardless, he knows the outcome of this move. Maybe HE will direct us to move and bite the financial bullet at some point. I know I don’t think I want to be here too much longer but maybe that isn’t what HE wants for me/us.  We are here now. We have been blessed with a roof, heat, jobs, family and so much more. So it isn’t a more modest (yeah, I hope for a smaller house next), older ranch home with brick on its’ exterior. It doesn’t have a fancy tub for me to lounge in or a fenced yard and storage shed for all our junk. There is no finished basement or a view of the lake. I pray that I hear loud and clear when I need to move on.

Keep your fingers crossed on that one.

Young widows, come one come all.

I often find myself wondering about why it is I drew the lucky young widow card. Ironically enough, I have been obsessed with dying since I was young. I remember when I was about 12 I told my mom I thought I would die young. I was half right. My husband died  six weeks after we were married. That was nine days after we learned he had leukemia. Did I mention he was only 25?

Mostly I hope somehow, someway I can help someone else out there. I have forever thought about leading a support group or something but am fairly clueless at how to start something like that. In the beginning, I didn’t know where to turn. I desperately wanted to find someone that knew what it was like to be walking in my shoes. I searched for young widow groups and came up with nothing. Many of the groups out there were for older women or women who had children and I just didn’t fit. I wish I could have lived many years with my husband and had many babies. Just wasn’t meant to be, I guess.

If you have found me because you were looking for proof that you are not alone in your grief, I am happy you are here. That being said, I am so very sad to know that you too drew that unlucky card.