Stumbling Proudly

I've been feeling the strains of beginning anew lately. Let's face it - starting to date someone is always messy. New person, new energy, new triggers and sensitivities. But being widowed makes it even trickier. After almost 3 years without a man by my side... I am a completely different person than who I was with Drew. I am far more independent. I don't even think of it as being alone these 3 years, but that I have been in a very deeply committed relationship to myself. I'm discovering this is making it hard for me to navigate the landscape of a relationship with someone new.

I found a rhythm there, in the space of my solitude. I have come to a place inside myself where I deeply and genuinely love being alone. Where - much of the time - I would prefer to share time only with myself rather than others. A place where my solitude leads me into creative worlds unlike any other... allows me to see the world in new ways and the focus to ponder deeply on subjects which I often write about or photograph in my work. Being alone has in fact become my very favorite place.

And so the question is... just how do I navigate bringing another heart into my sphere? How do I balance these two worlds? How do I do so in a way that doesn't push this person away - and does not make me feel like I am cheating on myself? How do I help him to see and know it isn't personal, but something far deeper and more spiritual for me? That ample, deep, rich, free times of solitude are what root me deeply enough in myself to be my happiest self and do my best creative work?

I don't have any answers right now... which I hate.

The hardest part is that this is a new part of me. I never dealt with this in my relationship with Drew. I had a 9-5 job like most folks. And when I was off, I spent majority of my time, gladly, with him. But being a working artist and being who I have become is a whole other ballgame. My work never stops. My work and my life have become one thing - and solitude is a very integral part of that. I have to make efforts daily to isolate from friends, family, media and all the rest of the world in order to keep my creativity flowing. It is a constant fight for balance - even before he came into my world.

Today I think, I will allow myself a break. This is the first time I am doing any of this. The first time I am setting out to create a business deeply tied to my emotional and spiritual self. The first time I am learning how to live again after losing the love of my life. The first time I am letting new love in and the first time I am learning how to carve out space to still be committed to myself. And I haven't a clue what I am doing. In any of those areas. And that's OKAY. All I can do is my best... to take care of me, and to keep my heart and my creative work a priority, and to make room for this new person in my world to the best of my ability. And I think I am trying really hard to do all of those things.

I guess the most important thing is to remember... I am learning. The new woman I am has different needs than the one I used to be. It's going to take time to get to know what she needs out of a relationship and out of life. Naturally, I am fumbling. I am falling. I am tripping all over myself. I am making mistakes. I am thrown totally off center. I am having freakouts. I am stressed, and confused, and feeling a bit lost... BUT, I am learning. I am loving and laughing. I am sharing and growing. I am enjoying this new person who brings me so much joy... who has been doing his own learning through all of this messiness. I am living life again.

Sure, it's messy. But often times it is the messiest parts of our life that teach us the most. Drew's death taught me that, and it's an important lesson I need to remember. Adventures are never without hardship. They are always filled with a level of uncertainty. The beautiful part is that - for the first time since he died - my mind is now preoccupied with the new ventures in life... not with grief and death. That alone tells me I've come a long, long way.

No matter how chaotic my world is right now, I am glad for all the reasons it is. I am glad to have work that matters to me. I am glad to have formed a bond with myself over these years that I now deeply cherish. I am glad there is a new person in my world that I want to make room for... even if I haven't figured out how to best do that just yet. I am glad I don't know what I am doing and it feels challenging and everything seems uncertain - because it means I am living life adventurously. And I know in my heart Drew would be so proud of how I am facing the challenges that all of these new adventures in my life are bringing. Let's do this.

Weeping Willows

Hey babe,

Do you remember this place?  Do you remember how much Shelby loves coming here?  It was the first place that Shelby and I ever took a hike, and it's the final place, a year ago, that you and I took a walk.  I can still remember Shelby running around, picking up last year’s acorns, the few remaining ones left alone by the squirrels at least.  I remember holding your hand and just walking, letting her be fascinated by nature, as she always was, and still is. We strolled...slowly. You had already been in rejection for a few months, but you weren't sick enough yet that you couldn't shuffle along.

We could smell the dogwood trees blooming, and I remember you commenting on how they smelled so much better than any perfume that anyone had ever worn around you, and how, for a change, a potent scent didn't make you cough.

I remember being terrified at the time that this would be the last walk we would ever take together. Turns out, my fear would become reality in November..
 

God, how many times we came here, and walked the different paths through the various gardens, but we always ended up here, at the “Weeping Collection”.  

You loved weeping willows.  They were your favorite tree, and every time we would pass one on a drive, you would always comment on how much you loved them.  I always wished that we lived somewhere where I could have planted one for you.  They need more space, and our little white house with the white picket fence on a ⅛ acre city lot in Akron just would not suffice.  I wish we had gotten even just a year or two more...long enough we could have moved, and I could have planted that willow for you on the little mini-farm I always wanted to live out the rest of my days on.  I knew you weren't going to be around forever, but I had at least hoped for the chance to get you out of the city.  

We would have renewed our vows on our 10th anniversary, this coming August, right here under this weeping willow in the gazebo.  I had decided upon it on our walk, but I never got the chance to tell you.  

So, I came back here today to write this to you.  I had to come in the spring, just to remember that walk, and all the sights, sounds, and smells. Honestly, what I needed most was to sit and mourn you for awhile.  I haven’t mourned the loss of you for some time because frankly, I've been happy.  I needed to sit here and talk to you, honestly, deeply, and frankly, in a place that was one of the last that you and I shared before sitting quietly among industrial tile floors, a ventilator pumping away, and IV poles for six months, and I needed to do it alone, at least this first time.

I’m sorry babe.  I’m sorry that I didn't move fast enough in life to plant that willow for you, or to renew our vows under the little gazebo covered in wisteria.  If I knew then what I know now, we would have done it that very day. There was no sense in waiting for a specific date, because honestly, the vows I took, and wanted to renew, meant the world to me no matter when they were stated.  I guess there is no sense in renewing them now, as now that death has done us part, they can never be broken. I am morbidly proud of that fact.  

Unfortunately, we can only know what we know now.  I know now that you were preparing me, for 12 years, to be the man I am today.  I know now that, other than still being alive and healthy, you wouldn't have it any other way for Shelby or I.  I know now that I am supposed to continue my life as if you were still here with us, but with someone else that is just as special as you were, and that I can love just as much as I loved you.

I know now that every spring, I should come here, walk, talk to you, mourn you, and thank you for being who you were, and who you continue to reveal yourself to be.  I know now that the same thanks should have been given to you while you were alive.  I know now that those who deserve thanks and love should get it then and there, when I’m feeling it, and not on some arbitrary “special occasion”, because there aren't any guarantees that the special occasion will occur.

You taught me all of this, Megan.  You've taught me that I can love even more than I ever thought possible, and that my love for you will continue to grow right alongside my new love. You've brought me to where I am today, and you'll continue to take me where I'm going. In that sense, we're still holding hands, walking together, and I know you'll be there by my side the rest of my life. Shelby? She's running just ahead, taking in everything on her own terms, but always under both of our watchful eyes.

Thank you.

Take care babe, I love you.

Mike

Lessons

What widowhood has taught me so far…

Waterproof mascara not only withstands a little crying, but it thickens, holds curl and doesn’t flake/smear like regular mascara does. Okay, now for the real ones...

It is okay to ask for and accept help. You are not a burden because something terrible happened to you and you need help to get through it. If anything, the people who really matter are just hoping you’ll give them something to do to help. It’s just your turn to be helped.

There’s no right time. Timelines don’t exist. Don’t listen to someone else tell you that you should or shouldn’t. Don’t make any big decisions in the first year is bullshit. Most of us will HAVE to make big decisions. Some of us will want to. Do what you feel in your gut is going to help you in the long run. Then kindly (maybe silently, maybe not) tell anyone who disagrees to fuck off.

Exercise is medicine. Grieving is incredibly hard on your body. Exercise will help you sleep, eat and relax. It will also boost your immune system. You don’t need to have poor health on top of all the other problems. Also, I found that a strenuous workout was one of the few times when my brain would settle down. Physically challenging myself makes my emotional brain shut off temporarily and it’s almost the only thing that does.

Whatever it is you love to do, be it knitting, hanging out with animals, hiking, singing, walking in the woods, painting…do it. Do what used to make your heart sing. It might not feel the same at first, but you will eventually feel it again.

Don’t agree to do stuff you truly don’t want to do. Life is too short to do stuff you don’t want to do.

It’s okay if it feels like there’s nothing you want anymore. I think that will come back eventually. It’ll be scary when it does come back because it’ll feel like you have something to lose again and that’s terrifying. But that fear means you are alive and feeling. That’s good. And scary.

Humor is medicine. Don’t try to read or watch sad, dramatic or traumatizing stuff unless you really want to. Read David Sedaris or Tina Fey or Mindy Kaling, or watch SNL, 30 Rock or Arrested Development. Even if you’re too sad to laugh, at least your brain will get a break from the darkness for a few moments.

Seek out others who “get” you and support you. They will sustain you and vice versa. You need each other.

Disclaimer: Most of these are in my “easier said than done” category and I struggle with them daily, but I still believe them.

Independence

source

 
Spending the last 15 years with a man who was as industrious as a person can be meant that I got away with doing very little. I always thought I was an independent person, especially after the childhood I had, but being with Dave allowed me to relax that "I can do it on my own" attitude. Little by little, I let him take over so much because he loved to make life easier for me.

Of course, I worked full time, too and I'd help out around the house a lot. There were many chores I took care of that he never did (mopping, dusting, vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms...man, we were conventional!), but mainly, that dude loved to be busy and productive and I wasn't about to take away what made him happy and fulfilled! It was nice to split up the tasks and not have to do some of the things I detested doing.

So, he repaired, maintained and replaced everything, changed the litterbox, mowed, fertilized and weeded the lawn, kept up on all our vehicle's oil changes, repairs and tune ups, dealt with ALL things financial, assembled things, cleaned our gutters, made practically all the calls, researched all our big purchases, drove us everywhere, and just generally spoiled me ROTTEN. And he wouldn't have had it any other way.

He took great pride in this. It's not as though he slaved miserably over me and I sat around watching him toil while eating chocolates. What gave him purpose and made him proud and happy was to do these things that made my life (and our life together) run smoothly.

I truly didn't realize the extent of my dependence on him until he was gone. I'm STILL realizing it now!

In the past 18 months, I've taken on all of the jobs he used to take care of for me and some. I don't mind hard work and I like the feeling of being independent and capable. I like knowing I can handle it all myself.

However, it's been a huge learning curve. I just installed blinds myself and one of them kept falling on my head every time I'd go to lower them until I figured out how I'd installed them incorrectly. There was a constant stream of cursing and a little bruising before I had that situation handled.

I've had a refrigerator stop working on me, an AC unit leak all over the place and ruin a wall and soak the carpet in the hallway. I've taken apart and reassembled an Ikea bed (with no leftover parts, thank god). I've had a few extra bank fees because of financial mishaps - did you know that Dish Network can charge you for cable when you're not even using their cable? For 10 months? And that it's possible to not NOTICE that fact? For 10 months? Well, it is. I've moved furniture around that was way too big and cumbersome, absolutely HATING the idea of needing someone stronger than me around to help. I've done it all on my own. I think a stubborn form of anger fueled me to move some of that stuff around. I turned all Hulk on it.

I don't regret allowing him to spoil me the way he did. He loved it. He wanted everyone to know (most endearingly his impressionable pre-teen students) that a real man takes good care of his life partner. His former students still tell me stories about how he'd lecture them about this between math and science lessons. My favorite story was that he told all his girl students to accept nothing less than a platinum ring from their future spouses-to-be.

I don't wish I'd done more. It was the way our marriage worked and it worked well for us. It's just that I'm learning all of this now and it's coming at me regardless of my need to heal and the fact that I'm still grieving. So on top of nursing a shattered heart, I'm also learning to do everything all at once. All the tasks we shared are now mine alone. Not gradually, over several years, so I could take my time learning them, but all at once.

It's no wonder I'm still exhausted. It's not just grieving we're doing here. It's relearning and sometimes learning for the first time, how to be alone. It makes me feel both weak and exhausted and endlessly powerful. It's a contradiction like so many other aspects of this experience.

There were some things I did along the way that eased the process though, and they might be suggestions that could help someone else who is new to this.
1. I simplified. Not everyone might be able to sell everything and move to a more convenient location or take time off work like I did, but there are a million little ways to simplify. Eliminate all that doesn't need to be done RIGHT NOW. Give up tasks you don't have to do that cause you stress. You'll need time and energy to learn all of this stuff, and most of all, to heal.

2. Get help. I was able to "hire" a team of people to help me. I was lucky enough to have amazing friends who swooped in and helped me in the very beginning. They took care of figuring out my financial situation and what bills needed to be paid so I could take over once I was able. They took care of shopping and cleaning for a while until I could begin to do it on my own. If you get offers of help, TAKE THEM. Now isn't the time to be a hero and try to do it all at once yourself. It's simply too much. It's your turn to be helped. You'd do it for them if this had happened to the ones you love. I even found a team of professionals. I have a life coach (or 2!) and a great therapist. My life coach has been incredibly helpful. She's taught me ways to be more financially organized and how to re-imagine my life and career situation. When I moved I had movers do it. When I furnished the new place I had someone help me in the planning and shopping. Even if you can't afford to pay professionals to help you, take advantage of people in your life who want to help you and let them. Eventually you'll be able to take on more yourself.

3. Utilize the internet for help. You can find a YouTube video on just about anything. Don't know how to fix that appliance or install those blinds? Someone out there made a how-to video and you can benefit from their skills. I've used the Internet to help me figure out what was wrong with my broken fridge and AC unit and how to get a generator working. There are also websites dedicated to all sorts of things, of course. I found several helpful websites when I was trying to learn to deal with all my financial and career issues.

4. Read up on everything. Knowledge is power. Feeling power means you'll feel in control of something, and even a teeny bit of control can feel good. We've had this rug pulled out from under us and the helplessness can be powerful. Combat it with a little bit of knowledge-is-power. It was maybe two days after Dave died that my book buying began. I've read books on grieving, finances, self-esteem, dating, traveling solo, meditation, and most recently cookbooks because I'm beginning to enjoy cooking again after not doing it for nearly a year.

5. Connect with the widowed community (like you're doing by coming here!).  This one move has saved me more than any other. It is from my fellow widows I find inspiration, advice (when I'm ready for it), love and acceptance.

Of course all of this is what's helped me. That doesn't necessarily mean it will help you or that it will be feasible for you in your situation. We are all so different and our situations warrant very different strategies, so take what helps and lose the rest. Do what helps you, whatever that may be. Your survival depends on it!

I would trade in all my new knowledge and independence to have my baby back.
Since that can't happen, though, I'm pretty damn proud of myself and know he'd be too.

What have you done to combat the extremely steep learning curve?

strength

I have read a variety of quotes with a similar message. I think anyone who has dealt with trauma, loss or tragedy has come face-to-face with this choice. I also think that, at times, we have all chosen each one of the three options. I just hope that as we all get further from the moment that provoked this epiphany, we manage to choose to let this event strengthen us. To grow instead of be wilted. To swim, not sink. There is no need for one life to be wasted for the sole reason that one life was lost.

someone to watch over me

Photo from here...

Recently, I was told of a widowed father who was married within one year of losing his wife. The story was told with the tones of scandal and betrayal. It was insinuated that if this poor man had truly loved his wife, he wouldn't have remarried so quickly or 'easily'.


I have heard stories such as this a few times since Jeff died. I have understood the implications of people not in our shoes that remaining single after losing your mate to death shows the outside world something of your feelings surrounding the loss of your mate.


But none of us widowed people seem to stand up very often and say, "Hold on a minute! I understand the impetus that propelled that person."


We are all too ashamed or embarassed by the memories of our own desires and hopes that finding someone to love us or fill the gap of the parent that our children/families would soothe our hearts.


I remember that before Jeff died we'd occasionally talk about what we'd do if/when the other person died. I SWORE I would never want to physically share a bed with another man. I truly believed it.


But when Jeff died, I longed to have someone hold me. I most certainly wished it could be Jeff....but since he was dead, I would cast my eyes about searching, hoping, needing the comfort that another body can provide. I would take inventory of my single male friends and wonder if they could/would protect me and my kids. If any of them would touch me and hold me and love me.


Of course, the people that I spent most of my time with wouldn't have understood this need - so I kept quiet.


But now when I speak to other widow/ers, those dark, early days are sometimes dredged up into conversation. And it seems to be pretty universal. We all long to have someone to hold us. To smooth down our hair. To love us. To watch over us.


And in the absence of the one we truly want, I am sure that occasionally the "stand-in" can fall into a small space made where the huge void developed. And maybe that is love. A new love.


I know that no one should judge this. It just is. And if it brings comfort and soothes a broken heart, who is anyone to say if it is "right" or "wrong".

This Time ....

.... I chose it.
Yep, this time I chose grief.
Although, in my defense ..... I really didn't know I'd be experiencing grief.
I thought it might be more cut and dried ..... but considering the amount of tears I've shed since Friday, it's anything but dried.

I ended our relationship.
We ended our relationship.
I instigated the "talk", but it was mutual.

I love him.
In fact, I now realize that I love him more than I thought I did.
He loves me.
I don't know what he's realized.
I only know that it's over.
It didn't work.
We just weren't right for each other.

I found out that I can love someone, but not be meant for him.
Or he for me.

I am sad.
I am beyond sad, though I've done much better these past two days.
And yes, I chose this.

Who knew?
Definitely not me.
Well, I didn't really, REALLY know that it would end, but if I'm honest (and you guys know that I always try to be truly honest with you) I'd have to say that I've been .... "questioning" the relationship for several months now.
I've innately known that something wasn't quite right.
But .... and here's the problem ..... I have only loved one other man.  In my whole life. Really.
Three guesses as to who that man was .... and the first two guesses don't count.

So I've considered myself "inexperienced".  And thus, I questioned my feelings.  And my thoughts.  And my intuition.
I questioned my innateness.

I thought that maybe, at this age and stage of life, I had to settle for companionship and not expect to feel crazy in love with someone.
Or expect someone to be crazy in love with me.
Thankfully, I now know that there's no way in hell I'm going to settle.
I'd rather be single for the rest of my life, than to wish that someone loved me the way I want to be loved.
I've had that love.
And I'm good with how much that love filled me.

So yay for me.
And yay for the experience of this relationship.
We both learned something.
We learned that we can love again.
And that we can be loved again.
And that, my friends, is a true gift that I feel God blessed us with.

I'm thankful for him and for the gifts he gave me.
I'm thankful for the love he gave me.
And the knowledge that I'm capable of love.
And the knowledge that it's OK for me to want to be loved the way I need to be loved.

I'm most thankful for his friendship.
We are still friends.
I hope that we will always be very good friends.
I want the best for him.
Whoever she is.

So ..... I chose this.
I chose grief.
I chose to not settle.
I chose crazy love .... or no love.

I chose to believe everything that Jim, and God, taught me.
I am special.
I am worthwhile.
I am deserving of love.  Lots and lots of love.
I am a woman who can love deeply, strongly and crazily.
I am blessed with an amazing group of family and friends who love me.
Very much.

Yes .... this time .... I chose.

I chose me.