Cowboy Bob Sorensen

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Today is the 67th birthday of my beloved Charlene, which she is celebrating in Heaven. Right now, I am writing this while listening to one of those music compilation CDs that I made her long ago. The concept of self-esteem has exaggerated importance, often used as an excuse for inflated egos and pride. However, the healthy kind is important. As I mentioned before, we met online and got to know each other texting through AOL. It did not take long to learn that her self-esteem had taken a beating her entire life. Baby Charlene ca. 1957, via PhotoFunia and other enhancement processes Charlene almost never received "props" or complements from her parents. Her daughter (who died in 2010) and ex-husband verbally and mentally abused her. Lots of manipulation. Like I have done, she had wished to go to sleep and never wake up. I think her belief that self-elimination is a one-way ticket to Hell kept her alive. If I rightly recollect, she said she didn't de

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen (Edited for wording August 12, 2024) People have probably noticed that in my articles on grief, I am being transparent. Anyone grieving needs to do this at least with themselves and counselors (which can include caring friends and family). I also admit to muddling through it all and probably never knowing the answers. This time, I am admitting that I underestimated Charlene's love for me. In my defense, we had a time of troubles years ago and she said she did not love me as much as before. In her defense, people change over time and she did indeed love me again later on. The other part is that I did not know how much I love her until she went to be with Jesus. People don't need to dramatically proclaim and demonstrate "I love you!" all the time. Love can be shown in small ways as well, adding up as time passes. Expressions don't have to be material, either. Encouraging remarks, courtesies, showing respect, and other things add up. For exampl

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Back in the late 1990s, I was in a loveless marriage and wanted to end it. By 1998, I was just existing and willing to let my psyche die. Charlene found me on AOL one evening, and we talked through the messenger almost every night for a year before we actually met in person. In a way, we knew each other inside out, sharing thoughts and feelings. We grew to love each other. I did not think I could be loved. From our first happy meeting in 1999, taken with a crummy disposable camera Charlene loved me before we met in person, and I started to come back to life inside. The execution of my own consciousness was halted, and I reckon that she saved my life; I may have not waited for the slow demise and hastened the process. This was still before we met. I wrote a couple of poems that are pretty dreadful about her. The poems were posted online and the property they were on disappeared, but I was able to find them again. I posted under an assumed name, so even though the

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  This is a mite wordy, but it is light reading. Although I am going through pain that I could never have imagined, and sometimes wonder about my sanity, good things happen. That grief fog is (in my case) characterized by forgetfulness and distractions. I have to do my own laundry. Kind people were doing it for me while I was under cardiologist restrictions not to lift more than ten pounds. When I was cleared to ease into going back to work, I started doing laundry. This was one of the many things Charlene did. I watched a video on how to do it. Washers and dryers very similar to where I live, Unsplash / Douglas Monterrosa Being alone now and having simple tastes, it is rather easy. I decided that I had time before church, and the laundry center at the apartment complex was open. The grief fog was not too bad and I was feeling a bit more alert. I gathered everything, went over, put in the wash, set my timer, and came back to the apartment. Twenty-some minutes late

People who have paid attention to the original Star Trek  series have commented on, and even given serious thought to, how Mr. Spock and the other Vulcans go overboard in keeping emotions suppressed. They have them, but keep them tightly locked down. I think that is unhealthy — at least for real people. Emotions are a part of our lives, and God gave them to us for a reason. Still, it is inconvenient to break down in tears while in the shower, typing, or whatever. Too bad I cannot be logical and schedule those breakdowns. Charlene's car — well, my car now — by itself Someone told me that although emotions are not logical, they respond to logic. Well, maybe. But Charlene was my wife and best friend, and I'm going to allow myself to feel the emotions. Normally, I can hold them back in public or when I'm driving. Also, having a routine helps get me through the day: Clothes laid out the night before, the evening wind-down with a television show that we did for so many years stil

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Calendars say that I am sixty-four today. Normally, I am not forthcoming about things like this, but since Charlene died six and a half weeks ago, I have been an open book to many people. It may help people who are grieving.  Anyway, this is the beginning of the Year of Firsts: My first birthday without her, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, our wedding anniversary, and so on. I just have to cowboy up and get through them. No apologies for tears — which is happening while I write this (I've even done it on legal and business phone calls). Now I want to talk about gifts. Charlene and Bob happy picture, possibly 2005 For having Scandinavian and Scottish ancestry, it's strange that I can't do facial hair very well. In this neck of the woods, giving a gift may bring thoughts of a package wrapped in paper and sporting a bow of ribbon. Some of us don't mind a bit getting something used, especially if it's personal to the giver as well as the reci

This weblog will focus on my grieving process for a while, and I hope that it will help some people who are going through these things as well. Everyone grieves sometime, but not the same way. There is no "getting over it." Some of these will be short, some long. Music has power. It can influence moods and even cause excitement (such as with rallying songs chosen as anthems). Some become a part of us while others have poor lyrics that were only effective because of the delivery and production. Songs can take us back to times in our lives, both good and bad. I'll hear a song now and remember how Charlene liked it. Some make me think of her even if she didn't know them. She told me that she was playing mix CDs in her car that I had made her years ago. I had label and case insert-printing software, and had fun doing it. What is seen here may be the very first one I made for her. (The picture was taken in the lantern area of the Rondout Lighthouse, and it was quite a feat