Lately, I’ve been feeling bad about a few things. It doesn’t take much. I typically feel like I’m always in someone else’s way and I’m usually looking at what I’ve done wrong in any given situation. Add to this my tendency to try to feel how someone else might be feeling (walk in their shoes) and it becomes pretty easy for me to feel guilty or sad over just about anything.
As of this writing, I’m thinking about my upcoming move to Memphis. Specifically, I’m thinking about the things I’ve been getting rid of and the things I still need to pack… Christmas ornaments, things left by my ex, pictures and art. This got me to thinking about the art that my ex-fiancee’s late husband had created that she got rid of before moving in with me. I’m thinking about how we both got rid of our spouses wedding attire at the same time – it was a symbolic send-off to our exes. I wasn’t terribly sad about getting rid of those things, but on occasion, as I go through the process now, I get a little sentimental about my clutter. I’ve also been feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of things I need to do in order to move. Here’s where the guilt comes in. I’ve started to think about how hard moving must have been for my ex-fiancee, B – from San Diego to Philly to Yardley and eventually to a new city and new life. The trauma of always starting over. I’ve started to think about whether or not B was ready to get rid of these things, whether or not she was ready to move (on from her husband, in with me, away from her new home)?
The husband thing is complicated (understandably so). Not only has B moved to the city where he was treated for cancer, but she has taken a job with the hospital system that treated him. Several times during our relationship there were signs that maybe she wasn’t fully ready to let go (though in my understanding of grief, you never really let go). I feel really bad if she felt that I was forcing her to let go before she was ready. I had never dated a widow before. I didn’t know what I would or wouldn’t be comfortable with. There were times I was not comfortable talking about him (just like she wasn’t always comfortable talking about my ex). There were also times I thought about ways we could honor him. We were talking about a trip to Italy to scatter some of his ashes, and I had always thought it would be a nice gesture to plant a tree at our home and scatter some of his ashes there as well.
I feel horrible if B suppressed these feelings, if she avoided talking about him or how overwhelmed she was. I feel bad that she didn’t open up more about the stress she was under. The constant moving. The sadness of always leaving home. I’m experiencing that sadness now. I had no idea that it existed, how debilitating it can be. Just choosing a moving company, working on logistics, figuring how to break up the trip. Every decision adds a little more weight on to the pile. After a while it all gets so soul-crushingly heavy, that all I think I can do is break down.
I wish I could apologize. I wish I could have understood better. As empathetic and compassionate as I like to think I am, my experiences over the last few months have made me pause and think about B in an entirely different way. I think I’ve glimpsed her sadness and pain – the undercurrent of her daily life. I finally see… still only partially, but better than before.