When we most literally feel our heart hurting, only then do we understand the meaning of true heartache. Nearing 1 year.

It's been nearly a year since my life was turned upside down. I can't begin to express the amount of pain, heartache, tears, and trauma I have been left with... I can't count on two hands the amount of times my eyes have been so swollen that I can barely open them because of the actual heartache this year has caused. It's strange, because we say the word heartache, but when we most literally feel our heart hurting, only then do we understand the meaning of it.  

          Nevertheless, as awful as 2017 has been, I wouldn’t have changed much. I mean, I most definitely wouldn't have wished pain or passing upon anyone, but it has taught me a great lesson about life. 

Ah... Life.

          (The last time I posted, I wrote about how I was going to continue blogging, but that was before chaos hit my life, even more. To be honest, I am not sure where to even begin with this post as it's been so long, and I have wanted to write something for quite some time. So, I am merely going to express my feelings. I also am announcing that I have officially decided that I will begin to write a book about my life. I constantly joke about how insane my life has been; living in Africa, then in Italy, then having a partner pass away from cancer, all within 6 years of my 22 years of life. However, I have officially decided that I do in fact need to record these things, as life goes by quickly and I don't want to forget the memories I have made or the journey I have been on. Although, the things I have been through/seen are unforgettable, lol!)

(So, my future posts may be some small put together pieces of my future book in the making (which will take awhile, but has been requested). For those of you who have asked me to write, it will happen- with time.)

Now, where to begin...

One year ago, I found myself sitting on a cot in a hospital room at the foot of the bed of my late partner: Dustin. I was settling in after the nightly routine of medications, stomach drains (and vomiting...), food, more medications, and the rest of the physical nightly duties that were performed. I had finally nestled into my constructed bed with my laptop and a heart full of feelings without a place to express them, and so, as per usual; I wrote. 

And now, here I am once again.

Dustin was young, full of life, and he had a deep love for the gym. His laughter was/is unforgettable, and so was his physical size. It was hard to mistake him for someone else  in a gym full of weightlifters. Dustin was  extremely passionate about his friends, his family, his video games, and ice creams full of toppings from the local gas station. We jammed to metal and blink-182 together, we went to the gym together, we laughed together, we cried together, and we did nearly everything together. We were polar opposites. However, I think our opposites balanced one another out,  and I believe that we were meant to be together for the journey that was in store. 

Then, (*cue sad movie scene from the cliché movies Hallmark makes*) in August of 2016, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. In the beginning, we both were in disbelief, and I believe that we truly understood the seriousness of it all until his physical decline and weight loss began. We could have never imagined what the future had in store. For months, I'd drive from Fredericton to Saint John to see a naturalistic doctor with him and we were constantly going from hospital to hospital, doctor to doctor, city to city, and then he eventually traveled to Mexico for  further medical treatments. As time passed, we found ourselves basically living at the Chalmer's hospital in Fredericton. I can't even count the amount of times he was misdiagnosed, or had death scares, both of which added to the insanity of the journey.

 I am not going to lie; the memories of my (now) past haunt me to this day.

And for as far as I have come, I think that this part of my life journey will always remain in my heart, my mind, and my dreams. He suffered so much and yet, his spirits and humor remained intact as his body deteriorated to a horrible disease that consumed him.  I have never met a more physically strong man, and it was difficult to see him unable to do what he loved (bodybuilding). That, for him, destroyed him as he was unable to do the one thing that he enjoyed the most. Both Dustin and I shared a mutually dark humor, and no matter what he was going through, he still knew how to make a joke and make others laugh through the endless amounts of tears.  When we first met, he was over 210+, and when he passed, he was under 115 pounds. It's still hard to believe that this is real life, even to this day. 

I think that after these kinds of experiences we expect to move on  quickly and easily, and in society, we watch movies about loved ones facing struggles, passing away, and how life just goes on after their death. But- life is so different when you're experiencing those things first hand. Recovery is hard.

I think one of the toughest things to face throughout this kind of journey as someone who had to act as a caregiver is that you try so hard to do all that you can, and in the end, you know that they're still in pain and that there is nothing you can do about that. You wish that you could trade places with them, take their pain away, take their cancer away, or at least give them peace. You wish that they didn't have to rely on painkillers to relieve their pain while it also interrupts their mind. But unfortunately, you can't. And that's the hard part. You can't take their pain away. 

You know what they looked like, acted like, and felt like before the disease took over their internal and external physical body. When you're that close, you know how  their mind works and what their inner thoughts may be. It's hard to be there for that person, because you know that they are suffering and in pain, and that they will always have a lot of bad days where the pain takes over their personality, and they aren't themselves. But if they are suffering, the least you can do is be that person for them. Be that person who holds their hand, takes care of their physical body and talks to them, and all you can do is try and support them no matter what kind of day they are having. Emotional support is so, so important. They need the emotional and physical support, and it's truly beautiful that you can do that for them, as some people do not have that.

But...

          It's exhausting. I don't think I was ever truly in a deep sleep if I even slept. It's a strange feeling, rolling through life caught in a daze. You feel like your entire mind and body is as glazed in exhaustion like the rows of Tim Horton's donuts.  It consumes you. I haven't had a proper sleep in what feels like over a year. 

 And then, it happened.

The day he passed away was the hardest, most emotional, heartbreaking days of my life. 

It's hard to watch them in pain and suffer. But he was so strong, and I don't blame him for choosing to be put into an induced coma, although it was heart shattering. He was supposed to sleep, and yet he woke up, and he continued to wake up to say that he loved us, and that he was 'okay'. It's beautiful, but it's hard to say numerous Goodbyes not knowing whether or not it would be the last, holding on to every moment you may have left with them.

His mother and I never left his side, and we were supposed to press a button to give him an extra dosage of medication to put him back to sleep, but neither his mother or I could bring ourselves to do that. For some strange reason, the idea of pressing that button puts a  thought in your mind that you're somehow contributing to their death. It mentally messes with you. I think that it helped that he woke up right before he passed away to tell us that he was okay, and that he was going to a place that was "just so beautiful!" He told us he was no longer hurting, and that's truly all that mattered to us.

He couldn't speak much before he passed as he had little energy, but then he woke up to ease our minds and tell us that everything was going to be okay. And, with time things will be okay. But it only time heals all wounds ... as they say.

 As I watched the life leave his body, I felt numb. It's strange, because although you are physically touching their body, holding them, talking to them, and you know for sure that they are gone because it's all happening before your eyes... it still doesn't feel real. 
...

I can't say enough good things about his family, and particularly his mother. They took me in as one of their own, and she kept me under her wing. I was alone until my sister came to physically and mentally help me pick up the pieces, but I wasn't alone because I had them. Dustin's mother, Cindy, is one of the most humble, beautiful, caring and kind women I have ever met. She would have given anything to swap places with her son, or to merely take away his pain.  I can only hope to be like her as a mother someday. His family is the sweetest, most humorous, and most sincere and warm-hearted family, and my heart still breaks for them and their loss. For each one of us, the loss is different. For them, it was their family member, for myself, it was someone I planned a future with and loved dearly in a separate way. The love is different for us all; as is the loss. 
I can't merely express in such small sentences how much I truly love and respect them, and I hope that their future is filled with more positivity, blessings and peace. They deserve every good thing that goes their way. 

As for how you feel post-loss; you will feel numb for awhile. Sometimes, it takes a long time to not feel numb anymore, or to at least feel partially like yourself. For a really long time, I wouldn't sleep. I suffered nightmares, PTSD, and I was afraid of closing my eyes. I still can't go to certain places as I will have a panic attack, and I have kind of accepted that. 
I didn't want to leave my house, I didn't want to respond to messages, I didn't want to talk-I just wanted to be alone. However, I was/am surrounded by amazing people who didn't let me push them away... and for that I am thankful. I just wanted to feel normal, and so I went back to class, my work and the gym straight away, and I wanted to distract myself and feel okay again. But- as you face these situations, everywhere you go you see someone who reminds you of your journey, and you never truly escape it, as much as you may try. So you learn to accept it as part of who you now are, and you gain strength from this.

For months upon months I saw people who knew him, and to this day I still do. It's tough seeing so many people who somehow know you, because sometimes you both feel like there is no words that either one of you can say, and that's okay. 
 And for the most part, people would ask how I was out of concern for my well-being. Which, quite honestly has good intentions to it- but it's frustrating. At first, you kind of think, "Uh, how do you think I am?!" But then you realize that they feel awkward and are unsure of what to say to you and they want to be there for you. Most, not all; people's intentions are positive. Others, not so much.  I was full of anger for quite some time, with myself, but mainly with everyone else. People tend to use social media as an outlet, and it angered me to some extent, however it no longer does. It's difficult, because no one completely understands what you feel, what you saw, and your position in the entire ordeal. Many people will say they understand what you're going through or try to relate to you, but unfortunately, when you're healing, you don't exactly want to hear all the things people desire to express to you, despite their intentions.

As a partner, and as a young woman, people have said to me, "Oh, you're so, so, young, life will move on and you'll find someone else". And that's when you feel the urge to strangle them... but you don't. Because laws and such (J.K… I'd never hurt a fly and I know how it feels to lose a loved one and I don't believe in murder of course). BUT- comments like that are unnecessary and irrelevant. They. do.not. help. Only I know my own experience. And of course, I know... that yes, life does move on, and yes ... I am young. I know my age. Does that make it any easier? No. Does that make it harder? No.

Just think, you imagine an entire life with someone, they propose to you, you plan your lives together, you picture everything with them. And then ...they pass away.  Then all of those hopes and those dreams and that picture are gone. They're gone. And it'll never feel real. You are stuck in a new reality that you wish didn't exist. You feel as if life could never move forward, and people will often treat you like a parcel that has "caution" tape all over it. Due to your age, people will treat you like you're immature and like you haven't experienced life yet just because you're young. They'll tell you that this part of your life will be over soon, so don't worry. People will try to consult you, saying words that don't always help, and you'd rather them just quietly hug you in silence. It isn't any easier as a young person or an old person to have your loved one pass away, especially while your gripping them, hoping that you're caught in some kind of sick nightmare. It will never be easy. It's the hardest thing you'll ever face in this kind of life. It's just as real and heartbreaking. 

My age does not define my experience. My age does not define my knowledge, my maturity, or who I am. My age does not define my healing process. Out of all things, I think that bothered me the most because no one truly understands, and they pretend they do. As a young woman, you have a lot of critics. But this is my journey, and I stand in these shoes. 

However, what I realized with time is that life does move forward. It's hard to move on without them and everything will constantly remind you of them. But; the entire experience aged me, in a good way. My journey has taught me so much about who I am, about who my true friends are, and about life itself. It was simply an experience. It was a hard, saddening, heart shattering experience; but nonetheless, an experience. He taught me so much about myself, and no; he was not perfect. But nor am I. I believe that things are meant to be, and although that was and is a horrible journey, it left me with life lessons and it helped me grow as a person. I believe I was meant to be there for him, as he was for me. I feel him as if he's still there for me throughout my life. 

Thank you, for teaching me so many lessons, helping me grow as a person, and for watching over me now.

I didn't think I could have ever moved forward, but as time passed, I booked a trip to Italy, in search of inner peace and to get away on vacation and visit long-lost friends and loved ones.

Background: I lived in Italy over 4 years ago where I met the most wonderful, kind-hearted man. We dated the entire year, we fell in love, and then I unfortunately had to leave after my year abroad ended. I moved back, and distance crawled between us. Life moved forward, I dated other people, as did he. Then, I met Dustin whom I dated for over 2 years. Dustin left me with memories and life lessons, but I eventually ended up back in Italy. 

Coincidentally, I reunited with my long-lost love. Did I expect that to happen? Not in a million years.
 I think one of the most difficult journey's is the one of recovery. You want to move forward, but it seems that you aren't the one that is holding yourself back. Rather, you feel as if others are. You are constantly criticized, picked-at, and you have eyes on you at all times. Everyone tells you not to care and to forget what others think or say, and that you shouldn't care; but it's impossible. I faced/face endless amounts of comments and judgment because I chose to go back to Italy and I ended up back with someone I'd been connected to years ago, and it happened in less than a year.
For some reason, people tend to put time frames on recovery. There is no time frame. We are constantly recovering. I will be honest, it doesn't get any easier per SE, but you learn to live with it. 

BUT what I have taken from the criticism is: 

Screw what anyone thinks, because for the first time in years, my heart was happy, and I knew I couldn't let him go again like I did 4 years ago. I couldn't let him get away again, despite the critics and their 2 cents. 

But hey, "cents" don't even exist anymore, so they can go shove their 2 cents in their little piggy banks. 

Despite the separate love I had for Dustin, I hadn't ever felt so connected to someone. I hadn't ever felt so safe, or so "at home" with anyone. Every love is different, and there are so many different kinds of love. 

My relationship now is different that any other past relationships. My love for Dustin was a different kind of love, and I couldn't be happier to have someone now that is so open to me talking about him, my past with him, my journey, or the difficulties of losing someone so close. But, Giuseppe is my person, and never once has he quieted me when I told him about my past. I deserve this kind of love, and I wasn't even looking for it. Call me cliché, but it was fate. 

I didn't think I would ever be able to move on, and I did not expect that to happen at the rate it did. But I fell all over again, and I couldn't be any happier with how I am treated and who I am surrounded by. This year has been insane. It flipped my life upside down, and I haven't felt more like myself in such a long time, although I am still getting there. I faced some health concerns this year, and I am still working on finishing my degree (I am in my final year), while I am still trying to sustain myself and work on my sleeping patterns. I am alive, I am well, and I am left with an insane amount of life experience and stories. 

I wouldn’t be who I am without my experiences.

 I must admit; 4 years later, and my heart is mended and has been sewn back together by Italian thread. I didn't think I would ever be able to give that piece of my heart away again, after all the trauma, nightmares and sleepless nights.  I didn't believe in love after loss. 
But for the first time, in almost a year without a full night's rest, I slept through the entire night  on the first day that I arrived in Sardinia/Italy.