2016 Sucks

If you’ll recall, I wrote an incredibly optimistic post about the New Year. I outlined all of my resolutions. I talked about how much I loved the symbolism of a brand spanking new year that’s just ready for one to shove themselves through the various doors of opportunity. It would appear that 2016 does not have my interests in mind. Not so far, anyway.

I’ve been gone from this blog for a considerable amount of time—admittedly, as I am wont to do from time to time—but this time there is a very clear reason. I very unexpectedly lost my fiancé, my partner, the love of my life. That has thrown my equilibrium into absolute chaos.

I had high hopes and possibly unrealistic dreams. My fiancé was medically unlucky. He endured multiple surgeries and exponential complications from those surgeries. Through all of his ill health, though, he was the eternal optimist. He always believed that there would come a day that he wouldn’t need his cane, that he wouldn’t be in pain anymore, and that he would live to a ripe old age. He was brilliant. He had the softest heart and the most generous spirit of any person I have ever or am likely to ever meet. We had such dreams. He had applied for Italian citizenship through his grandmother’s having been born there. We were the godparents of three really amazing kids. We were planning on having a munchkin or two of our own. We were supposed to move to Sicily in 2017. We were supposed to get married at the hotel of his adoptive family. We were going to have a dual-citizen child. For the first time in my life, I was happy. I had found a queer activist and intellectual who understood and accepted my layered and nuanced queer identity. For the first time in my life, I was considering very normative life paths like marriage and parenthood. I was considering completely uprooting my life and moving to another continent. But, perhaps most surprisingly, I was happy about it.

My partner and I spent almost all of our time together. We talked about everything. We spoke about politics, queer theory, life, space, science fiction, raunchy sex dreams, fears, aspirations, cats, and the mysteries of the universe with more or less equal vigor. Our relationship was very intense intellectually, spiritually, physically, and emotionally. As an introvert, it overwhelmed me sometimes, but I was happy and that was all that mattered to me.

Jamie changed my life. He cultivated and brought out my best self. Without him, I would never have had the courage to come out. I probably would not have graduated from college with such high marks. Hell, there’s a high likelihood that I wouldn’t even be alive if Jamie hadn’t entered my life. My life is never going to be the same without him.

His family, from whom he was estranged, tried to cause problems with me at his wake and funeral, which took three weeks to even plan. They accused me of being complicit in his death. I resent that. I love him more than anything this world has ever offered. I was supposed to grow old with him.

One particular member of his family showed up at my house a few days after the funeral, which spooked me. I had to move with some lightning speed. I’m now living ten minutes away, in one of my best friend’s basement.

Things have been very chaotic over the past several weeks. They will probably continue to be chaotic for the near future. I am grieving. I am a twenty-two-year-old widow(er). My grief is bizarre. It is confusing. It is causing me to feel things that make me feel other, conflicting things. It comes in waves and flashes. The smallest memory can have me in tears. Or feeling nothing. Or feeling very inappropriate sexual tension with one of my partner’s friends. My grief makes me horny, it makes me numb, it makes me very sad, it makes me dysphoric. It is quite possible that, as I found him dead next to me one morning with one of his arms still wrapped around my body, as I was the only person who tried to revive him, that I have PTSD. I won’t know until I finish grieving. I’m afraid I never will.

I am doing my best to move forward. I am doing my best to create a new routine for myself. I am doing a bad job of it. I moved into my friends’ house. There’s a lot of chaos. I’m running low on patience and I often feel as if I am drowning in the weight of the world’s problems. Things have been a struggle, but I am doing my best to put the pieces of my life, my heart, and my world back together in some semblance of a way that might suit me.

I applied for a fellowship that will, if I’m accepted, pay for me to get my Masters in Education and place me in an in-need New York City public school. I view this as a rather positive first step. Everything in my life right now warrants reevaluation. This blog will undoubtedly become an outlet for those reevaluations and frustrating internal conflicts. I hope not to impose on you for too long. I hope to return to my queer and politicking blogging as soon as I can. Until then, please bear with me.

I love you all, carpe diem, c’est la vie, and let’s do this.

8 thoughts on “2016 Sucks

  1. I am truly sorry for your loss and will be keeping you in my thoughts and prayers. My sincere condolences. I hope you get the fellowship! (Is it the NYC Teaching Fellowship? If so, I’m in it too! You’ll be a great teacher)

    1. Thank you, I really appreciate that.

      It is the NYC Teaching Fellowship! I have the in-person interview/mini lesson thing on April 12th. (thank you, that means a lot to me.)

  2. Thinking of you (and I will continue to think of you) – I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s a good thing that you have so much awareness surrounding your grief. Grief takes so many forms, try to be easy on yourself…

  3. My wife to whom I was married for over 31 years before she died occupied much of my energy to accept it and move on. However she had terminal cancer and her death didn’t come as a surprise like yours did. You will heal but in the meantime I suggest you attend a grief support group because hearing others share their grief process I believe will help you realize you aren’t alone in your grief. I wish you well.

      1. Your local hospice center is a good place to start. For me it lasted for 10 weeks and was worth it because I’m worth it. So are you. Blessings to you on your journey.

  4. Gee, I was thinking that 2016 was sucking too but nothing I’ve experienced even compares to this. I don’t have words to tell you how sorry I am for your loss of Jamie in your life. Nobody can ever replace him and he’ll always have a home in your heart. I wish you peace and healing during this time.

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