It's taken me a while to write about my experience at The Ranch.
It was good. It was hard. I fought going and I cried at the airport when my aunt and mother in law drove away, but I did it.
Many people will hear "I went away for a while" and think shit... she must have been messed up. And, I was. I didn't know how to deal with the unexpected death of my wife and all of the things that came with death.
Backstory to how I got to The Ranch:
**A Look at a 3 minute self conversation in "Widow Brain"**
Obituaries, Caskets, Cremation, Burial, Mass, What should she wear?, This? No, that's her favorite but, she should have her favorite right? Do I keep her favorite things? What should I wear? This isn't real. This is a joke. Wait, do I have to be the first person in the receiving line at the funeral? What about our house, probate, cars, jobs, calling family and friends (or not), life insurance... is that even a thing at 30?, Fucking 30... She was only 30. Shit...Court paid the mortgage, I Vemo'd her...we split our bills 50/50, How do I pay the mortgage? How MUCH is our mortgage I just took it and divided it by 2 and sent her whatever rounded number, now these people want the EXACT AMOUNT so I can pay my mortgage? JUST TAKE MY MONEY. You want my money DON'T YOU?! Our utilities are in her name, what about taxes? This isn't real... Where the hell is Court? I need to pay our cellphones. I need my cellphone. Do I cancel her cellphone? I should wait to cancel her cellphone. Where is she? Wait, what's that password? Shit, Jax needs to go to the vet, did she schedule that appointment? Do I keep that appointment? Next week is my Dad's death anniversary, we were supposed to go camping... I already booked the site. Will I get my money back? I need money. We survived on two incomes. What am I going to do? Work? I can't work right now. I don't even know the name of that thing that you put on the stove to cook an egg. What the HELL IS THAT THING CALLED. Court just bought them for me, they're the best non-stick egg cooker things ever. She even got me those felt things so they wouldn't get scratched. She thought of everything. I love those... I miss those.... those things are at my house... I can't live at my house EVER. We built that house. We LOVED that house, we said it all the time... sitting on the couch at night either her or I would say, "Babe, I love our house. I love the home we built together." Why did this happen? She always thought about me. Always. Cooking... I was going to get a pork shoulder, Saturday we're supposed to have a party for Pride, I need to tell everyone she's gone and there will be no party... Wait, how do I even say that? She's gone. It makes no sense. Frying pan. It's called a fucking frying pan. Did I write that thing down that I needed to do? UGH, I had another piece of paper with things on it I needed to transfer to my other list of things to do that i'm keeping in my notebook. Where's my notebook? Maybe I should get a planner and a file folder. I need to write out all the monthly household bills. I need to call the funeral home and call back the detective. Did they take her wallet? Who has her wallet? What is happening? Babe. What the fuck!
Those are daily thoughts I had running through my head with the passing of grief, anger, shame, guilt and sadness... every day. "Take it one step at a time Chelsea... but, what about x,y and z?" Well. Shit. Anyone would have gone bat-shit crazy. And I did. I won't sugar coat it. I had NO IDEA how to deal with death. Yes, I've experienced loss but not this. This was different. Suicide is the most complex, heart-wrenching form of death. There are so many questions, so many blank spaces, so much guilt, so much reliving every minute of every day leading up to THAT DAY. I felt like the last four years of my life were a lie.
I never understood the term heartbroken. I'd say it all the time, "Oh, I feel so bad, I'm HEARTBROKEN for her!" No, heartbroken isn't that. It's the most painful feeling because nothing can fix it... nothing for me except alcohol. And yes, I drank and I drank A LOT. I took up smoking the day of my wife's funeral. I bought a Juul and I would vape ALL DAY LONG. Packs and packs of cigarettes, cartons of Juul pods. I'll just destroy my body... It's OK. Bulimia, Alcohol, Cigarettes... "You look good, you've lost weight!" I guess it's one way to do it, so thanks? I wasn't OK. I felt so alone, there were people all around me but I still felt like I was drowning. I was numb, I was in pain and I felt messed up because I was numb yet I knew I was in pain. I questioned my love, I questioned hers, I questioned everything.
*Side note* If anyone thinks they would have had a better way to react to the sudden death of your spouse in general or especially by suicide, PLEASE write the book because I'm still looking for a "How to Get Through This Shit for Dummies". Seriously, you'd become a millionaire.
Court and I talked about death. Its weird, but I'm glad we did. We both lost our dads unexpectedly and therefore we knew about death and death in an instant. We talked about if we wanted to be cremated or buried, where we wanted our ashes spread, that we weren't religious so a mass wasn't necessary. So those questions I didn't have to second guess. But, every other aspect of my life I did. I won't beat a dead horse but, guilt, anger and sadness constantly circling around will surely throw even the strongest off their feet.
August 5, 2019 I arrived in Nashville, got my checked bag and waited to be picked up by someone I've never met, someone who's name I didn't know, someone who had my cellphone number and would call me when he arrived...
-"Hey! It's Ken from The Ranch. Where are you?"
-"Hey, uhm I'm inside baggage claim... I'm wearing a turquoise headband, a blue sweatshirt and I have a bluish/grey backpack..."
-"OK, hold tight and I'll be inside in a minute."
There came Ken, strutting in with a plaid shirt and jean overalls, those glasses that the lenses change in the sunlight... he was bald and had a southern accent... he did NOT look like a mental health professional and he wasn't. He was the sweetest transport guy at The Ranch. He always greeted me with a smile and a "have a great day!" when he shuttled me to and from appointments all over campus.
I didn't think I belonged at The Ranch. My "trauma" was stupid. (Something everyone thinks so I'm telling you YOUR TRAUMA IS NOT STUPID. It's yours. No one persons story is the same and that is what makes life beautiful. That is what makes YOU beautiful.)
It took me a week or so to get into it and countless people saying "Chelsea, you DESERVE to be here" to actually believe it. In reality, we all go through shit... I think everyone needs a stay at The Ranch at least once in their life.
Long story short, The Ranch was the best choice (to appease other people) I've ever made. I learned about me, about suicide, about coping strategies. I learned what emotions were... I know it's crazy but, I literally needed my therapist to give me a chart with the core emotions... Daily affirmations, highs and lows of the day at dinner and inspirational readings were amazing. I did equine therapy. I talked, A LOT. I got to share stories about Court, about our love, about my life after suicide. About my past, because yes, we all have one... 6:45am-8:00pm was therapy after therapy, class after class, session after session. When I say it was intense, I mean intense. I feel like I got 9 months of therapy in 35 days. I did yoga, I went horseback riding, spent a sunny Sunday at 'The Creek'. I was cut off from technology and the world. I learned about co-dependency and that there is an anonymous group for EVERYTHING. Hey whats up, emotions anonymous I'm RIGHT HERE! And I learned about different skills that would help me get through the worst of days. It was just what I needed. I was among women who supported each other, who listened, who accepted and who knew you weren't OK even when you said you were.
I will tell you the two most powerful things I learned at The Ranch in the 35 days I was there.
First, I learned that it's OK TO ASK FOR HELP. That that is indeed the most powerful thing you can do for yourself. I can't say it enough. Ask. For. What. You. Need. You don't have to go through rough times by yourself. No "problem" is too big or too small. ASK FOR HELP.
Second, the healing that came with sharing my story and my wife's story was more therapeutic than any session I've had within the last 5 and 1/2 months. Sharing my story and having people look me in the eye and say, "I'm so grateful I met you. You've changed my life. I love Court. I love how your face lights up when you talk about her and I KNOW suicide isn't an option. You and Court saved my life." That, THAT is healing. That is powerful. That is the beauty that can come out of tragedy.
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