When There is Just More

phil the palm plant on my table next to my journal book

Just More Unexpected Trauma

It happened again today. Another flashback, just more trauma. Reliving the “thing” I don’t want to think about, let alone discuss. But there it was. I think this whole experience is all part of reconnecting with the world. After a traumatizing event, it’s hard to be part of something. Because being part of something means exposure. Being vulnerable to more trauma again and never quite knowing when or where I’ll be drawn back into it for a moment, an hour, a day or more.

Luckily today was just moments but the lingering effect lasted much longer. I was taken back several years to just after my trauma. I was trying to make sense of the world around me. Always moving, never looking over my shoulder. Putting time and distance between me and “it.” Today it caught up with me though.

Unintentional But Still

I was doing routine things. At work, not really on guard. It’s a semi-warm day today so I didn’t wear stockings. My thigh tattoo was exposed. Someone saw it and commented and asked about it. Then the whole office was asking, surrounding, questioning. Then there I was, back in my trauma. Explaining what it was, why I got it. Who did it, when he died. All of it. There, at work and I said it all without batting an eye. I’ve come that far by the way. I was very proud of myself. I stood there and told the tale. Then I retreated.

I went to the washroom where no one was and I cried. I cried like I did when I got this tattoo. Like I do every time I spread more of him and feel his soul touch mine once again. The feeling I get when I’m back in my safe place, back when all of this never happened. When I took it all for granted. When I was whole and completely naïve.

Ending The Night

All I can say is tell the people you love what they mean to you because there may not be a tomorrow. Not for them, not for you. I know how cliché that sounds but for my husband it was true. Tomorrow did not come for him. So live like there’s no tomorrow. The one question I go to bed asking myself now is, am I proud of who I am and what I did today? If the answer is yes, then I sleep a little better. If not, then I hope there is a tomorrow that I can do better.

Thank you for reading. I love you all. -xxooC

sunset on a street in chicago

One response to “When There is Just More”

  1. Thank you for sharing. I have been going through the few things I got of Tracy’s this past week and oh the memories. Some sad but more good. Hearing your stories make me know I am not alone in my grief for him. The day I found him was the most traumatic experience of my life. Like you I have relived those few minutes over and over. Then seeing all the pictures of him and his friends enjoying life together made me realize he was loved and he loved so many. I am thankful for the time I had him and grateful that he has been released from the living hell he was in for so many years. I found some pics of you and him when you were both so happy. If you would like to have them let me know. Thanks again for sharing your journey. I love you dearly and hooe to see you afain. Take care!

Tell Me Something Good

About Me and My Grief Journey

My grief journey began in the Summer of 2020. I became a widow overnight. Without warning, my entire life was turned upside down, broken into pieces I didn’t know how to put back together. Writing became my anchor—my way to breathe, process, and heal, even in small, fractured moments.

After losing Eric, I was diagnosed with PTSD, complicated grief, and an anxiety disorder. For a long time, I was paralyzed by my own emotions. I traveled across the U.S. for over two years, mostly alone, learning how to carry myself through the aftermath of sudden loss.

Along the way, I found love again. Greg became an important part of my life, bringing companionship, laughter, and even new challenges. Losing him to suicide has been another unimaginable heartbreak that shapes much of what I write here. Through it all, my emotional support animals —Odin (dog) and Freija (cat)— keep me grounded and remind me there is still love, life, and care to give.

I moved and now reside in Chicago, Illinois. This city, this home, is my space to rebuild, to grieve, and to explore who I am beyond loss.

What you will find here

This blog started as a place to house my writing. Over time, it’s become much more. Here, I reflect on grief, healing, and the messy, beautiful, often difficult journey of life after sudden loss. I write about my day-to-day experiences, the struggles and triumphs with my diagnoses, and anything else that captures my heart and attention.

My journey on podcasts

Many of my articles are available in podcast form on Spotify and Amazon Music. I welcome your comments—I love feedback. Let’s share this journey together, and maybe find adventure along the way.

Newsletter

Discover more from Blue Widow Chronicles

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading