Summer Slowdown

Haven't posted in a bit. Too much going on with my graduating senior and the end-of-the-school-year. Plus, our computer wasn't working well and I ended up buying a new one. We were without a computer a few days and now I'm trying to get used to this one's format. My youngest had to upload this photo for me as I was having trouble...

Anyway, I saw this gardening truck near my job this week on my way to work and stopped to snap this photo. It made me think of how summer is the season for most of us when we can relax a bit more and slow down. And if it isn't, we need to make an effort to do so. That will be my focus this summer. To make more time for fun and to recover from the eight long years that I've devoted to my boys - to get them through high school and on their way to college - concentrating on all their activities and interests so they'd become well-rounded and stay out of trouble.

It was all worth it and I'd do it all over again. But the past years have taken a severe toll. I am drained, tired, depleted and spent.

Tomorrow is my oldest's graduation ceremony. The band will be playing his original composition again (still need to post about the band concert in which it debuted). I absolutely dreaded attending this event on my own. For some reason it seemed doubly painful to be sitting alone. Although my close girlfriend will be on stage as she is a teacher at the high school, I will be sitting with her family - her ex-husband, his mom and their two sons. I could not bear to be in among the sea of parents by my lonesome without some anchor to grab on to. Especially on this significant day.

I am so happy and elated for all of the accomplishments my oldest achieved in his highly successful high school career. But there is also a part of me that is somewhat numb as this era comes to a close. I think widows often find themselves feeling conflicted emotions - it comes with the territory. It has been a long, hard road and although the ending is turning out to be a good one, I simply can't and won't wipe out the tears and trials that accompanied this journey.

There is celebration but also a sense of reality and somberness about the past. All the more reason to make this summer of fun a reality!

World Place

I was reading before bed last night - Claire Cook's "Must Love Dogs" and a passage really struck me. It contained the word "world" and I knew that would be the "W" word I would post about today.

"I even missed Kevin. No, it was more that I missed the idea of a Kevin. Having a husband, even one I barely talked to, had given me a certain status, a respectability, a belonging. I had a place in the world. I knew what I'd be doing tomorrow, even if it wasn't particularly interesting."

Having a place in the world. Somehow I seem to have lost that place since my husband's death and then losing another to divorce. At least that is what it feels like to me. To be floating around in this vast world without that deep connection to another being. I feel without roots, powerless. My identity and worth was so tied up within my marriage.

It was good to read these words and gain new understanding and perspective as to how I feel and see myself. Good to see how someone else expresses these emotions and to be able to grasp the meaning at such a deep level.

Of course I know that I am important just by myself. That my life has value and meaning. I've done the best I can to raise two young boys to be productive citizens of the world. That is worth something. But when all is said and done, I realize for me the value and importance of being connected to someone within a relationship/marriage. There is no shame in admitting or needing that. It is who I am. A widow wanting out of widowhood.

Pills

Depression and OCD run in my family. So does high blood pressure and strokes. So when life got too stressful with my worry over feeding and clothing my family, I sought medical advice - early Fall. I was prescribed an anti-anxiety med, one for depression and then two for high blood pressure. I did it for my sons. I need to be around for them through college. Having to deal with a mother disabled because of a stroke is not in the cards.

I know there are some people out there who seem to think I'm taking an easy way out. But I want to educate those not in the know that it isn't the case. Taking an anti-depressant doesn't make me automatically happy or high. I still feel my emotions, the sadness, worry and pain. I just have the ability to not hyperventilate and cry hysterically. The medication helps keep my emotions in check but it doesn't magically make everything better. These drugs aren't taken for recreation. They are being taken to keep my heart pumping normally and to help me get through my days on a more even keel.

I was doing pretty well on my own before my divorce and having to sell my home. Those two events seemed to do me in - the grief I felt was overwhelming and actually included internal physical pain. It's funny to live in a society that has medications to really assist people in need with their emotional issues. Yet at the same time there continues to be stigma toward the people taking medications - as though something is wrong with us because we can't handle life on our own.

For me, the benefits of trying to take care of and manage my emotional health are worth any of the stigma that is directed my way. I have an obligation to be there for my sons, in as healthy a way as possible. I don't feel I have a choice at this point.

Bear Scout Oath

I have joined the blogging A to Z challenge where each day you compose a post starting with the letters of the alphabet and today's is "B." This continues through the month of April with Sundays off. I thought it would be a fun thing to do. But back to the bears.

In an effort to pare down my life, I've been selling or giving away a lot of my books. The ones from the boys when they were younger has been kind of hard. They aren't readers but that didn't stop me from filling the book shelves with Scholastic paperbacks, picture books of dinosaurs, animals, the human body, as well as sport figure autobiographies. So many of these books were untouched. At the time they were purchased my husband was ill and there wasn't much time for reading before bed.

So now as I empty the shelves (or try to), I read these books before going to the used book store to sell them. I suppose this is a weird grief reaction but I cannot let them go to waste. It is almost some kind of defiant statement by me saying I won't let the three years of my husband's fatal illness end up robbing me of the books I was supposed to read to the boys. Even though now I'm reading them myself.

But you can learn a lot from books for the younger set. I especially enjoyed The Hardy Boys series because it was dated and brought me a sense of nostalgia. Did you know that the series started being written way back in the 1930s? Mrs. Hardy always makes a chocolate cake for the boys to eat at lunch - that is a hoot!

"The Berenstain Bear Scouts and the Sinister Smoke Ring," sets out The Bear Scout Oath which is as follows:

"A Bear Scout...

1. Is as honest as the day is long.
2. Admits when he or she is wrong.
3. Respects the creatures of creation.
4. Views TV in moderation.
5. Is never cruel, rude, or mean.
6. Plays the game fair and clean.
7. Does his best at school [life].
8. Following the golden rule, always respects the rights of others, including even sisters' and brothers'."

As I read this oath, I figured it was pretty applicable to me now as an adult - really for all of us. If we all made an effort to follow these guidelines, a lot of the conflict we feel, cause and participate in wouldn't exist.

Heroic Widowed Only Parent Mom

Last week began with my oldest, E., calling me hysterically from the automatic banking machine. He had deposited his cash tips totaling $140.00 and didn't receive a receipt. 18 years old. I've been told by some that I should and even could declare myself more "free" from him. That legally I am no longer even responsible for him. Are you kidding? Maybe 18-year-old males need parental input and support more than ever. I will never desert my sons. My childhood involved my siblings and I to be virtually self-sufficient. And I didn't have children to carry on that legacy. Yes, I need to guide my sons to be responsible and independent adults. But that doesn't mean shooing them out on their own upon their 18th birthdays.

My son ended up calling the bank's "Help" number. I didn't know what else to tell him. He was upset that it was outsourced and had difficulty understanding the woman he spoke with. It was not the time to tell him that I do not use these kinds of machines after hours for just the reason my son experienced. But he was assured that his deposit was credited.

Later in the week, I had the surreal experience of getting E. to two locations at the same time - his first volleyball match, which he was very pumped about since he is head team captain, and yet another band concert. Both locations were 30 minutes apart from one another. Said heroics involved a migraine (mine), negotiations with the vb coach and band director, my son changing into a tux in the van, and running down the halls of the high school to get his instrument from the band room and then to reach the stage. I will leave it at that and forgo more details.

This weekend, I had a 12:15 a.m. run to the all night pharmacy for some medication for my youngest, A. And so it goes.

I am tired and depleted. No one to share the responsibilities with or the logistics of how to figure all this stuff out. Sometimes the difficulties cancel out all the joys of parenthood. When I sink under the covers no one pats my shoulder and says, "Job well done, Mom."

I bring this all up now because I feel I haven't taken care of my own needs. The boys have always come first as it should be. But my relationships have always seemed lopsided, uneven. How can dating or seeing someone ever be fair and equal when my life is so intense and busy? The men in my life haven't had full time parenting responsibilities and have not understood the pressures always on my plate. I end up getting resentful and upset because it isn't even. Sometimes it has felt as though I have to do most of the work in my home along with my personal life.

Is there a solution to this? What do other only parents do when dating when they end up feeling like this?

I have decided to direct the focus onto myself this Spring a little more than I have in the past. I need to tend to my own home and affairs. That is just the way it is and has become. I still have never finished organizing our living environment or my finances and paperwork. It is Spring Break and the boys have promised to help me in this process. I will be more demanding of them.

One of my divorced girlfriends leaves her two kids, the ages of my sons, to fend for themselves over the weekends as she is with her boyfriend, out dancing, going for a drink, etc. I don't approve. She, I suppose is disapproving of my not getting out much socially. We represent two ends of the spectrum. Maybe it is impossible for only/single parents to lead balanced lives. It will just end up being lopsided, falling more on one side than the other. Parents constantly bemoan the fact that there aren't enough hours in the days. For only parents, there truly aren't. Nor is there enough steam in the engine to sometimes accomplish what needs to get done in the most productive manner.

Instability

Drove to the ethnic grocery store where I can get good deals on fruit and bakery items. Ahead of me in the parking lot, a pile of paper was churning around in the air in front of the stop sign. Immediately I felt a connection with the mess of paper, which I related to the turmoil going on inside myself and the need for it to STOP. At that point I also realized that the reason for my mood plunge may be the fact that I've had to switch meds because I lost my insurance through the state plan. Reason being that my oldest turned 18 and as such, is no longer considered a minor under my care. So my income was recalculated and I did not qualify for coverage, although both my sons will continue to be covered until they turn 19.

Now this is all crazy. Because how are kids at the tender age of 19 supposed to be able to support themselves and provide themselves with insurance, especially if they are in school full time? I can also attest to the fact that at my income level health insurance is almost impossible to afford. Working in retail and at a restaurant, I can also relate that these establishments keep a tight lid on employee hours specifically to keep them from qualifying for insurance benefits. That is why I am so eager to get a better job and to possibly remarry.

I did scramble and was able to obtain health insurance coverage for myself through my pension plan at the tune of $187.00 a month, which is actually pretty reasonable. Although the coverage is effective as of March 1, I still have not received an insurance card. It would cost me over $800.00 a month to cover my sons under a family plan.

I ran out of medication and found that the anti-depressant would cost over $100.00 to refill and the blood pressure pills about $84.00. So my doctor prescribed new meds under the $4.00 medication list from Walmart. Only problem, anti-depressants take a number of weeks to kick in. So now I do feel a drop in mood and my mental stability. And it doesn't help that I'm experiencing a huge bout of PMS this month too.

Stability. That is really what I long for at this point. A stable life and a stable mood. Widowhood can be chaotic and unstable. I want an easier and more predictable life. Not one where I have to scramble for insurance coverage and then deal with the ups and downs of changing medications. I know I sound like a broken record but I see widowhood and only parenting as a see saw. When there is a partner on the other seat, the see saw can be balanced. But with only one rider, the see saw is impossible to balance.

That blowing around garbage was a good visual metaphor for how I feel right now. Make the instability STOP please. Let me feel and live on an even keel. Please send me some balance. With balance comes peace, hope and contentment. It is just so hard to keep balancing everything by myself.

Recharging/Replanting Needed

I feel like I can't win. I complain that I don't have a social life, yet am too tired to participate in one. I've been invited out for drinks and dancing tomorrow night with my new friends from the complex, but now want to just stay home and watch Dateline. It is the end of the week and as usual, so much going on between work, show choir, school, dr. visits, picking up prescriptions, making dinner, doing laundry...

My son will be performing on local t.v. tomorrow and has to be at school no later than 5:45. I am at the dry cleaner every other day to make sure his multiple show choir costumes are clean and pressed! Then on Sat. the group will be performing locally. I plan on being at the contest all day and am looking forward to it. But again, I'll have to see my son off early in the a.m., etc.

The nice people who have invited me to join them tomorrow are not currently raising children and some do not work. Still, I feel so guilty for not wanting to go out with them. Well, I'll rephrase that. I'd like to join them but I'm so tired and not in the mood for a crowded bar/restaurant type place with loud conversation, drinking and dancing.

I hate that widowhood brings with it all this new stuff to worry about. When I was married, on Friday night it was a given that my husband and I would just be at home relaxing with the kids. It was happy, comfortable family time. We let down our hair and just were ourselves. Now I have concern that I'll be offending these people and can't understand why it is so hard for me to do what I want to do which is to stay home and relax after a hectic week.

I guess the right way to define it is that widowhood has made my life so much more complicated as illustrated by just his one example. I am trying to make a valiant effort to only do things that I want to do and if my heart isn't in an activity I'm not going to force myself. As lovely as it would be to go out and socialize, I'm not a machine or robot. My battery has run down and recharging is needed. Yet I still struggle with that internal voice that tells me I have to be superwoman and make new friends and get out there and do the Friday night social thing... Many women struggle to say "no." Widowhood doesn't make that trait disappear, although I sure wish it had given me more strength to not care so much about what others think and pay more attention to my own feelings. I have found that widowhood has made me more sensitive to the opinions of others. I am constantly justifying my actions and thoughts. You'd think that the hardships I've faced would have toughened me up a bit. Funny that it hasn't worked out that way. I can already feel myself wavering and considering going just for one drink or just for an hour...

The Ice Melts

The ice eventually melted and all day there were sparkles in the tops of trees shining off the sunlight. I tried to capture some of the magic but didn't come close. So I suppose a lesson here is that life goes on and even in the aftermath of a storm, there can be unexpected beauty.

Flo commented that it is okay for us to have some self-pity every once in a while and I want to say a "here here" to that sentiment. We live in this society where it is looked down on to mope or complain. But I read somewhere that in actuality, it is rather healthy to do so on occasion - doesn't make us weaker but actually stronger because we are trying to comfort ourselves (when there isn't anyone else around to do so).

Stupid Ice Storm!

So in the end it all comes down to this. A blog constantly complaining about the trials and tribulations of being a widowed, middle-aged mom. I am on a freaking merry-go-round and just can't seem to get off. Round and round she goes...

This morning awakened to an ice storm from last night and can't get the vehicles scraped off. My car doors were stuck shut and I asked the nice young dad from downstairs for his muscle strength since the boys had already left for school. He got one of the doors opened but I looked at my ice covered windows and came back in for a cup of tea and a blogging gripe session before heading out to do the job. I don't want to. It will probably take me a half hour in the cold and then I'm off to work. I'm already tired and it is only Monday morning. How can someone be tired on Monday morning? I'm tired and drained every day!

I know that I've been posting more positive posts of late, but then an ice storm comes and it just blasts me back 10 steps. Everyone here is sick of winter. When they announced the winter storm advisory last night my youngest groaned out loud.

I wish I had the personality to turn this around with a more positive spin. Thinking/saying that having to go out and scrape a thick layer of ice off my vehicle to get to my "temporary low level job" makes me feel alive because I'm using my muscles and exerting myself in the fresh air. But I'm not that person in the first place and after a number of years of widowhood I haven't become stronger doing everything on my own, just more tired and depleted.

It is not the grief and loss that gets to you in the end - it is the living and doing and coping and struggling on one's own that does you in. At least that is my opinion on this widowhood road. Far more hardships than pleasures and somehow always having the scale tip downward seems a darn shame. Widowhood life is just so unbalanced. There needs to be more "evenkeeledness." But how can there ever be more balance when one is always behind, running to catch up, low on rest, sleep and relaxation and always doing the work of two? It's a no win situation if you ask me. And then throw in a freaking ice storm when it is almost impossible to just keep up when life is "normal" and I'm ready to throw in the towel or should I say ice scraper!

Come Together, Right Now

We are Green Bay Packers fans and living in the Chicago area among Bears fans can have its moments. I was actually punched on my shoulder twice the last week (hard, not just a tap) by guests at my job hearing of my alliance. My youngest son could not believe this. Punched? Yes, punched. How old were these people, he asked me. Middle-aged and both were women. Go figure!

I watched Obama's State of the Union Address last night and it made a positive impact. I really liked how the Democrats and Republicans were for once sitting side-by-side and the overall atmosphere seemed less contentious. Why are we such a contentious and judgmental society anyway? I asked my sister at the memorial for my dad why she has been so distant to me the past few years and her comment was that she has been too judgmental of me. She acknowledged that this is her issue and something that she has to work on. I left it at that but am curious why she has had such problems with me. I've been a poor, struggling mother. In my eyes someone deserving of some compassion not judgment.

Yet all of us seem to always want to be right. In the end what does it all matter? We should all try and be on the same side. Like what happened last night. We're all Americans and I think all of us want basically the same goals.

I have said it numerous times but will briefly say it again that widowhood has made me so much more aware of how judgmental people can be. Even I myself. Over the years I have received so many criticisms of how I have parented, grieved and lived my life. It has seemed that people in general feel more free to criticize because I am on my own if that makes any sense. When I had a husband by my side no one dared say some of the words I have heard. It was like being married provided me with an invisible protective screen around me. But that all aside, I know I have made a huge effort to be less judgmental and more kind since my husband's death. And my divorce.

I read somewhere that before speaking we should take care to make sure our words are "thoughtful, deliberate, kind and empathetic." We shouldn't be so hasty and quick to say the first things out of our mouths but take a moment to step back and consider our responses. We don't always have to agree but can disagree more kindly. Or at least give people more benefit of the doubt and reserve our judgment more often than not.

Reflection, Renewal and Healing

It has been less than a month since my father's death and I have been doing a significant amount of reflecting on grief, loss and the way our society deals with these issues. At work, no one and I repeat NO ONE, acknowledged my father's death. Not one "I'm sorry" or "How are you doing?" I know that I am a new employee and that some of the people I work with are younger. But not one acknowledgment seemed so bizarre and insensitive. What are we teaching our young people in school, what are parents teaching their children about life and death?

I know that an elderly parent's death warrants less sympathy in the grand scheme of things than a young person or even middle-aged one. There was sympathy provided when my husband died. But somehow this blatant disregard in acknowledging the loss of my dad hit me very hard.
When I mentioned that my father had died on 12/21 to the group of friends I went out with on New Year's Eve, one of the women actually told me to stop talking about it because she did not want to ruin her evening. I wasn't planning of dwelling on the subject. I just mentioned it because it was a big factor in my life. To have such a major event dismissed is troubling to me.

The last week has been insane. Dealing with the repair of two vehicles, getting the boys through finals, filling out the college financial aid reports, going to work, trying to shop for an outfit to wear to my father's service (unsuccessful), and dealing with all the requirements of getting my oldest to the talent contest, in addition to all the other normal duties of life as a widowed mom pulled me under the waves. There was just too much on my plate. I was exhausted and absent minded. I ended up losing the key to our mail box and having to pay $40.00 to have the lock changed. I also lost my knitting bag and all my expensive gadgets, implements and a skein of yarn from the project I was working on.

We got home from the talent contest at 2:00 a.m. Sunday (I'll post about the talent contest in another entry). I awakened tired and still had to quickly go through boxes and bags of my father's photos and awards to take to the service, starting at 1:00. I was upset with my family for being put in the position of having to jump through hoops to attend the ceremony. I felt more consideration should have been given to my situation with the talent contest where we could have held the ceremony either the week before or after that event. Again, I constantly struggle with how so few people get how hard it is to be an only parent. To just get through a normal week is challenging enough but to add on extra ordinary events pushes me beyond my limits.

I certainly was on an adrenaline rush last week. But now I seem to have crashed. I am exhausted and it is so cold here. I just want a day to myself, to take some time to reflect on my father and to renew my spirit. I am reminded of my husband's death and how there is approval for grief during the funeral and early period which gradually dissipates around the three month mark. Now that my father's service is over I'm supposed to be magically recovered, only I am finding that I'm not. The problem becomes trying to find the time to reflect and renew. As a widowed mom there is even less opportunity to fit this into my life.

I read in Dr. Phil's column in this month's "O" magazine about a woman who feels smothered by her husband's attentiveness - she lost both her parents in the past year and he apparently is worried about her well being. She feels he is being overattentive. Good for him I want to say. There are some of us out here dealing with grief and life on our own. We don't hear many words of kindness or concern or receive the support of a loving, caring spouse.

I recently was told that phrase I have absolutely grown to hate - "God doesn't give us more than we can handle." First of all, how does God really know how much I can handle? I've pretty much reached my limit as this past week has demonstrated. Message to God here - "You can stop the challenges for awhile. They are not making me stronger. I am becoming weaker, in fact. Ease up on the worn and weary and especially the widowed. We already carry such a burden in our hearts and souls." For those who believe adversity brings on strength, I will counter that sometimes that is not the case. I know it is contrary to what one would expect. But people only can handle so much before breaking.

As for the weeks and months ahead. If I have learned anything from my husband's and my Mom's death, it is that I will not stop grieving or put my needs aside because of the discomfort of others. I need time for healing, reflection and renewal with this new loss. I won't stop talking about it. Maybe I'll ask for a day off.

The dead deserve respect and we provide that with services and memorial. But so do the living and somehow we seem to shortchange the ones left behind. We are expected to go on demonstrating strength and courage. The reality is that without taking the time for renewal and healing, it isn't really possible to go on successfully.

Bone Weary

I am exhausted. I wish I could stay in bed all day. I am drained to the bone and have no motivation or energy. The little bit of energy I can eek out goes toward making dinner and forcing myself to take a half hour nature walk. That restores me a little. But I feel as though I am giving up and that whatever I do or don't do from here on in doesn't matter anyway.

How did I reach this place? Is it an accumulation of all the grief and losses over the past few years combined with the stress of living and parenting on my own? I guess it has all just caught up with me and I am left holding the bag of weariness. I do think a large part of it has to do with the only parenting. I do not believe any one should have to assume and face parenting without any support as I have. If single parents lack family support there need to be better and more available programs in place to provide assistance. I know that despite my education and intelligence, that this job has been the most difficult of my life and that it has been costly to my emotional and physical health.

My Mom used to tell me about two of her aunts who had lost their husbands while they were still raising children and the entire family rallied around them to provide support. I know in today's day and age that is less likely to occur. But that doesn't mean it is right.

It is not just the solo parenting and constantly having to make the decisions and dole out the consequences and be the moral instructor. There is no one to bounce off ideas to, or to fill up my emotional tank while I am engaged in the task of caring for others.

Today I went to the doctor for more tests related to my high blood pressure. There had been a mix-up with the prescription so it couldn't be filled until today. I was told to go immediately to WalMart to pick it up and take a pill right then and there. Concern was expressed for my constant headaches and the possibility I'll pass out while driving. I went and did as instructed feeling as I went through the motions, so what? I have no one to share this with, no one who is worried about my health. If I pass out and crash the sedan still needing $600.00 in repairs the only ones with a loss at stake are my sons. That aspect of my life horrifies me. That my social circle has dwindled to the point of me having meaning to only my sons.

I write about this a lot - what I call the fatigue and drain of widowhood. Getting up everyday and going through the day alone, sometimes not talking to anyone but my sons. I know that living and feeling alone are awful for anyone, but I know from my own experience that it has been hard parenting at the same time. I would have made a much better and able widow at age 60 with the kids grown, than I did still having to raise them throughout most of their childhood on my own.

I am hopeful that the anti-depressant medication will kick in soon and provide some relief from my apathy and tiredness. I am also hopeful that once I obtain a job somewhat related to social services that I will feel as though I am making a greater contribution and better about myself. I hope that leads me to meeting people I can relate to socially so my circle will expand and I can feel less alone. I want to remain hopeful that this too will pass and someday I will be involved in an intimate relationship that brings me peace of mind, security, love and affection - keeping my fingers crossed on that one.

But in the meantime I still have to cross this bridge of hard terrain stretching out in front of me. Why is it that my moods are so volatile? Before widowhood I was never like this. Yes, there were days I was bitchy or cross, sometimes even a bit down. But never to the degree of what I have felt over the past years and never the amount of fatigue and wanting to give up. Those moods from my old life passed quickly and were forgotten. These days the highs and lows are frequent and my lows stay longer than the highs. In the past eight years there has been far more sadness than joy - more hardship than ease. I'm not even sure I care that much about happiness and joy anymore. Just some stability, enough to eat and a few people who care that I'm alive, who value my presence. Perhaps when all is said and done, that is what really matters.

Social Graces

The other day when I went into the grocery store where I scout for discounted specials, one of the employees passed me and commented that I am always in there. I just smiled and walked by because I felt offended that I'd been noticed and I suppose somewhat ashamed that I'm in there daily to try and snatch a deal. But afterward, I thought about my attitude and the next time I saw this woman, I initiated conversation and admitted that I go in almost daily to check out the deals. She replied that her mother always used to do the same. I felt better that I'd counteracted my previous unfriendliness. I've been going to this grocery store for over 10 years - of course, the clerks know me. There is no reason for me to be ungracious or rude. So what if I go in every day to look for specials? The store comes out ahead because of my business. I shouldn't worry about looking odd or feeling ashamed of my shopping strategy. It has been what has putting food on the table for us the past year.

Today, I took my few specials to the checkout lane and was checked out by one of the middle-aged male managers. I pointed out how grateful I am that the store offers discounts and we got to talking a bit. He told me he was widowed last year and has five children, three of whom are older and out of the house or in college and two younger ones, around eight. He added that he checks out the daily meat specials himself. I felt a kinship and connection with him that never would have been realized if I hadn't made an effort to converse and reach out.

When I walked past the store employee earlier in the week because I felt criticized and embarrassed, the end result wasn't productive or positive. The same thing happened at a football game when I wasn't very responsive to one of the mom's saying hello to me. Later in the game, I realized my unfriendliness was rude and made a point to respond to her, admitting she had caught me with a bad mood. I then did my best to smooth over the situation.

These social interactions have made me cognizant that although I do make a very strong effort to be pleasant and kind when out in public, there are times that I resort to bitterness and I close myself off. In doing so I create disharmony - not good. Compared to the nice, interesting conversation I had with the store manager which definitely showed that lightness, openness and pleasantness are powerful social graces.

I know that none of us can be up and in great moods all the time, least of all me. But it was nice to be reminded this week of the ability I have to control some of my own destiny in a simple interaction that can set the tone for the rest of the day and that of the people I've interacted with. I was also reminded that I can blow it but then apologize and smooth things over. All is not lost if I goof up - there are second chances in which to make amends and heal wrongs.

I think in the past that I've worn my grief and loss as a badge allowing myself to blow people off or interact in public with a stoic distance. But I'm realizing that I can still feel all that I feel and have felt and still be decent to the innocent public who don't know me. It makes the world a nicer place for all.

Birthday Blues

It was my birthday last Friday. I didn't post about it to let my feelings settle. Guess I wanted to see where they'd lead me. I did experience a letdown and some disappointment. I've posted about the lack of gifts in my life before - that is part of the reason Valentine's Day is so hard for me. Since widowhood, I haven't received flowers and gifts are a rarity. The ones you buy for yourself don't count.

So, on my big day I got a text message saying simply, "Happy birthday," a phone message and an email message. No cards, no gifts. Three impersonal messages not even given in person. I had to go to my insurance agent for a copy of one of my policies and did receive a "Happy birthday" in person there.

I struggle with whether I should be glad for getting even the message acknowledgments that I did. But I'm that half-empty glass gal and so instead I focus on the stinginess of the messages.

Now I should clarify that I have never sent cards to my family with the exception of my Mom when she was alive. So I shouldn't even expect anything from my family. And two of the messages were from family members. But I feel it would be better to have received nothing instead of paltry, duty messages. Instead of feeling noticed and cared for, I ended up feeling diminished and not worth very much if that makes any sense. Maybe I'm thinking about this all in the wrong way. But I know most days I don't feel very valuable to anyone and often I feel invisible.

I know I often disclose about my desire to remarry. How else will I have someone supportive to be by my side if I get sick like my husband was? I worry about dying alone now. There would be no one who'd come to the hospital and manage all the home care stuff that I did for three years nursing my cancer-stricken spouse. My sad little pathetic birthday is evidence of how small my social support network is. It will be up to me to try and reinforce and build it up by meeting new people and establishing myself in new social circles. But right now extra time is limited and my mood is so low it is hard for me to gain the incentive to get out socializing. I can picture it now - "Hey everyone - let's meet that attractive newcomer to our singles group - she is so depressed and negative. All she does is complain. We get so inspired by her life sucks attitude!"

All of us need to feel as though we are valued and important to others. I want to know that someone out there cares enough about me to go out and buy me a gift. In the past, before widowhood, my Mom always sent a card with a check, my husband of course gave me a gift and card as well as making sure the boys picked out something, my mother-in-law would send a card, and there would be cards and a cake at work.

All week I've told myself that my value as a person in this world is not dependent on whether or not I received a card or gifts for my birthday. I've told myself that my circumstances right now are what they are and not to take it personally. But it is hard to have a birthday seem to pass by without so much as a pause in the day-to-day routine.

I've really struggled raising the boys on my own without familial support on either side. My husband's family has not given the boys one single gift or anything since their Dad's death. Their indifference has been hard to deal with. It seems as though family thinks I'm just fine on my own but I'm not. Out of sight, out of mind. You know what the real gift could have been? A phone call other than on my birthday at any point over the past seven years where someone from my life simply called up and said, "Hey, I'm thinking of you - is there anything you need right now or something I could do?"

Envy Update

I've been doing some online research on that dreaded topic, ENVY. This is what I've come up with so far.

- Envy is related to wanting something you don't have, whereas, jealousy has more to do with taking something that isn't yours or having to give up something.

- Envy is considered a very negative trait and that is why it is hard to openly discuss. People are very uncomfortable admitting feeling envious and those who do face criticism.

- But it is a very common and normal reaction in grief or otherwise.

- In relation to the "Stages of Grief," envy is tied in with anger, which is the second stage (although today, the order of the stages isn't considered as important and it is acknowledged that they can be mixed and matched, and returned to time and time again.)

- A grieving person tends to be envious when they feel they have been wronged through no fault of their own. They also tend to feel powerless in regard to turning their lives around.

- Interesting enough, a person usually is most envious of people they identify with and are similar to (in my case middle-aged, middle-class moms).

- Also, what is usually the object of the person's envy is that which the person holds most dear to them (in my case marriage and a husband/intact family).

- Although I came across numerous references to envy being a part of the grieving process, there were very few recommendations for how to work through the emotion - except strongly worded references saying how bad it is to be envious. Suggestions I did find are related below.

- You can't just tell a person to stop being envious. Doesn't work.

- What does work is for the person to fully experience the emotions behind the envy vs. stuffing the feelings or denying them. That means staying with the feelings when they take over and to try and understand where they are coming from and why.

- Once a person has an idea of why they are feeling envious and about what, ways to manage the envy include diverting your thoughts to another topic (changing the subject). Also, and this one made a lot of sense to me, when the feelings overtake you, to start thinking about your personal strengths, successes, etc.

There is another football game on Friday so I'll see how I feel sitting in the stands with my lonesome. It'll still be hard - I'm not expecting the envy to just go away. But I tell you I will be holding my head up and will not be down on myself for feeling envious for what I long for and so dearly miss and have been missing for many years now, simply because the cancer hands of fate took my husband away from me and my boys.

Sometimes Lemons Are Lemons

I was thinking about that saying, "When life gives you lemons make lemonade" and concluded that it is rather silly advice. It certainly doesn't apply to widowhood. There are some situations that no amount of altering will improve or make better than before. What can be added to widowhood that will take out some of the sour - the endless hardship, loneliness, daily grind, fatigue and struggle to go on as one when you were paired with a loving life partner by your side? I can't think of anything off the top of my head.

Bah on all the dribble that comes from the other sayings and beliefs such as "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" and "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Also, my personal favorite, that what I am living through will end up making me a better person. In what way? I'm bitter and drained, tired and pissed off with this crummy life. I don't want to live this life anymore - but guess what? I don't have the option of "divorcing" it.

I've come to believe that some of us do have to face harder lives than others. It isn't fair and there is no rhyme or reason sometimes to what happens. But by the same token, when some people fall they fall pretty hard and they just can't get up again, or if they do rise it is not without significant struggle. So I'll throw in all the crappy sayings about being strong, and fighting back and not giving up... blah, blah, blah. All just stupid, silly words that end up being meaningless in the end.

Some situations are just sour, bitter, lemons and nothing will ever turn them into a cool, frosty drink that we can't wait to sip. Lets cut the fantasy and call a spade a spade. Widowhood sucks and I will never ever make it into something it is not and that it shouldn't be. Right now I just want to spit the widowhood lemon out of my mouth and say "The hell with you!"

"But you have to go on and make the best of things." What if you can't see any best or there isn't any best left? What if you are too weary to keep walking the widowhood walk? What if there just isn't any fight left because the lemons outnumber the oranges and you can't afford any sugar anyway?

More Being Real

This is a continuation of my previous post on being real and the view of society to get over our grief asap. Life coach Dr. John H. Shlare gave the advice that to get out of heartache we stop focusing on what we don't have and focus on what we do. Easier said than done. I get irritated at all the self-help suggestions that fail to give suggestions at the end. What should the grief-stricken focus on when their worlds have collapsed and their grief is centered on what has been lost and the missing loved one?

Case in point - yesterday I had to venture into our quaint and adorable little suburban enclave to drop items off at the resale shop. The local farmer's market was going on, the fountains were flowing, the pots of flowers blooming. Lovely and pretty as a picture to be sure. Now just insert all the cute young families going out to a leisurely breakfasts after Junior's little league game. Notice all the middle-aged couples shopping for fresh vegetables and wine at the market so they can prepare a special Saturday night dinner together which will be shared on the patio. Everywhere I looked were families and couples and no single, tired looking middle-aged moms like myself. It was depressing and disheartening.

We live in such a couple's dominated society. On Thursday nights I watch the new comedy "The Marriage Ref," which pokes fun at married people's squabbles. All the commercials are geared to couples. The gossip magazines follow the latest couplings of the stars. The message I've been receiving is that something is wrong with me because I'm not part of a twosome. I feel embarrassed in addition to the great loneliness. Often I tell people I'm a widow because it makes me feel less of a loser.

I'm supposed to feel happy and excited about being able to date and the freedom of singlehood. But I tell you, middle-aged dating is exhausting. I'm too tired to make much of an effort now. I've already put myself out there since my husband's death and I'm not sure I can do it again. Maybe if I were younger. I'm missing the drive and energy. All that being upbeat and smiling, putting on the happy face! Getting to know someone is kind of like a job and I already had put my time in with my marriage. I look at the matronly middle-aged women with their men at the farmer's market and wonder how they would handle being newly single and "out there." I am bitter and weary.

So with all that said, now lets turn it around and focus on what I do have! A life with two sometimes ornery and difficult teen boys, the youngest who can take his anger and frustrations over his Dad's death on me. I'm struggling financially doing the best to make ends meet just barely. I can focus on my health (although I think it is rapidly declining as the result of always feeling depressed, lonely and stressed). I do have a roof over my head. But quite honestly, those things don't come to the forefront of my mind when I'm in the swarm of suburban families and couples, all smiling and looking as though they should be on the cover of postcards with the heading: "This is happiness!"

It's all well and good to be advised to stop focusing on what I don't have. But a little challenging when what you don't have was taken from you without just cause. And all you can see around you is evidence of what you once had, what you once loved and valued.

I don't want to hear advice from people who aren't in my situation. Dr. Phil, Dr. Wayne Dyer, and Dr. John Shlare should consult with a panel made up of people who have actually been widowed, as well as divorced. Get the advice straight from the horse's mouth. And please throw in some practical suggestions besides just telling me what to do. Those of us fighting grief sometimes don't know which direction to turn and we could use a push.

Can We Please Be Real!

I am coming to more realizations about love and grief. Yesterday, I read one of my daily newsletters from "Lifescript.com." This question was posed to the resident life coach on 5/18: "My husband left me. It's so hard and I'm in so much pain. Can you please tell me how to get over a broken heart?"

This question struck me in a number of ways. First of all, having lost two husbands, one to death and the second to divorce, I could really sense and feel this woman's pain. Of course she is really hurting. All of us grieving our losses are. You can't get around that awful, gut-wrenching pain. It comes with the territory when we suffer the loss of a relationship whether from death or divorce.

What concerns me most is this woman's apparent need to stop feeling her pain and to quickly move on. I want to tell her that it has been two years since my divorce was initiated and I still feel the pain. Less intensely for sure, but it's still with me. And I'm not even sure that I want it to be gone.

Our grief symbolizes the deep extent of our feelings for our loved ones. Why would I want those to disappear? Yes, they are painful and hurt a whole lot, but I'd rather have them than not, if you know what I mean. To displace them so quickly would somehow be dishonoring the real and true love I had and felt for both my husbands. It was genuine and there is honor in that. My relationships with my husbands may be over but I believe the love I had for both can continue to exist and even still remain a powerful force in the world. Sometimes I send my love out to my second husband and hope that it somehow touches him along with others along the way.

We live in this rather unrealistic society that believes people can and should dismiss their feelings and get on with things. But love can't be replaced. I fell in love with Sam during my divorce and it didn't magically negate the love I still felt for either of my husbands, nor did it take away the pain of my grief.

Our society needs to own up to the painful feelings and embrace them rather than focus on how to hide and run from them. I want to tell this woman that there is no quick and easy cure that she is searching for that will take away her pain. The key is that we all eventually learn how to manage our pain and keep on living. And as we go on, we learn how to add more joy into our lives and even more love. Different love - but love. And love really is what it's all about.

Here is the answer offered by Dr. John H. Shlare: "The more you focus on what you've lost and what you DON'T have, the longer it will take you to recover. In general, getting over any kind of loss is best accomplished by focusing on what you DO have, making positive plans for the future and keeping yourself busy. Don't let the overwhelming emotions of the moment blind you from your greatest advantage: opportunity. Taking positive action now toward a better future is the way out of this heartache. ...the end of one thing is ALWAYS the beginning of something else."

If only it were all so simple and a three plan solution is what it would take. In the six and a half years I've been battling grief I've embraced positive plans for the future (getting remarried, going to school, entering into a new relationship). I've done my best to focus on what I have vs. what I've been lacking. And as an only parent I can attest to the fact that my life is crazy busy. But guess what? The grief remained. And I suspect it still will for this woman grieving the end of her marriage. The solutions presented here are ways to help us keep on with the process of living but they are not ways to "Get over" a loss.

Can our society stop with the "Get over it" attitude? I have resigned myself to the fact that I won't ever get over either my husband's death or my divorce. The grief surrounding those events will continue to live within me until I die. The funny thing is, that once I accepted this and stopped fighting my need to 'get over it," the claws of grief lessened a bit and the pain subsided - or I should say became easier to accept and live with.

And that is the advice I would offer this woman. Embrace your grief. Accept it for what it is. Know that its intensity will stick around for a while. Try to focus more on the love and all the good stuff you experienced vs. negative and vengeful thoughts, although those will come and keep you company on some days. Send the power of your love into the Universe and be proud of the fact that you loved your husband so deeply. The hurt signifies that depth. Be active and strong not as a way to get over your love, but as a way to continue focusing on the here and now as no one grants us a pass to tune out out of life for even a few weeks. We're stuck having to continue with the daily grind of living. Recognize that it is okay to grieve and feel the pain of your loss for the time it takes. I'm not ashamed that I still struggle with the grief of my divorce two years out. Be as gentle and as kind to yourself as possible because you'll be challenged from all fronts to "move on and get over it" as soon as possible. Don't pretend you're strong and over it just to placate others. Recognize that you're in for a battle because what people don't want to tell you is that the pain can feel like it will almost kill you. It will get that bad. It will hurt that much.

That is what I resent about the answer of this life coach. He doesn't tell it like it honestly is. His answer is that glossy belief that we all somehow have the power to quickly and easily move on. "Here are the three steps and if you follow them it'll be all better and you won't feel anymore pain." An illusion to match the totally misguided belief we have in our society that if we just take a pill, everything will be better. Well, all of us out here in the blogosphere of grief and loss know what's really what. And I do believe that we all would be in better shape (emotionally at least) if our society had prepared us how to face our grief and losses instead of offering us empty promises that we'll be cured by following these three easy steps. Lets not pretend anymore. Lets tell it like it is. "It's going to hurt like hell but it's okay to feel and even embrace that pain!" As Dan from "Dan, in Real Time" once astutely observed, it is okay to walk beside the grief instead of running in front of it or behind it because it is going to be around for awhile and you might as well make friends with it and even share a joke or two!

A Scrambled Egg Life

A glimpse of my scrambled eggs life, NOT the sugar-coated cereal life!

Last Saturday, the van wouldn't start for my son. The timing couldn't have been better. He was at his girlfriend's post-prom party and it was 3:00 a.m. So, I drove over across town but by the time I arrived, his girlfriend's dad had given a jump that enabled my son to get home. The van didn't start the next day but did a few days later. I told my son he couldn't drive it as I didn't want to worry about him being stranded somewhere and then have to pay a towing charge as well. The past week has been a bit of a challenge with me having to take the boys everywhere. They got a ride to school one morning. I didn't realize how helpful it is to have my son drive himself to school, sports meets and to his baseball games for umping. Not to mention his helping me out with picking up his brother. A little bit has gone a long way in easing the load off my back.

It was with great heaviness that I had him drive the van to our local car repair place on Thursday, my day off. Already this month I'd had the extra expenses of having to pay for my youngest's driver education fee ($200.00) and the car insurance for two vehicles (a half payment of $200.00). I was so hoping to be able to take the boys and I out for a Mother's Day meal, which would be such a treat for us.

Bad news - an $800.00 repair (fuel pump and filter) which got reduced to $500.00 because a used pump was found at a salvage yard. I was concerned about even paying the $500.00 out so the owner of the place was kind enough to work out payment arrangements with me. They'd fix the pump portion for $400.00 and I'd pay $200.00 now and $200.00 in two weeks, then have the filter replaced in June.

Making those arrangements took up a good portion of the day. Then, I had to work out payment arrangements with the electric company because now there wasn't enough money to cover that payment. To add to the merrriment, the maintenance staff was in fixing a leaking problem with our two showers, so my day off wasn't much of one.

Okay, so stuff like car breakdowns and broken water pipes happen all the time to everybody. But I think that those of us facing this kind of thing time and time on our own just get so weary of it all. There is the stess of rescuing the stranded kid, getting the van in for an inspection and then working out some kind of payment/repair arrangement. It is that mix again of the emotional and physical stress. Figuring it all out alone is the double whammy!

That's what I mean about my life being like a plate of scrambled eggs. Widowhood is not easy and with raising kids as an only parent, it is even more challenging and messy - like a plate of scramble eggs. Yet all of us are supposed to forge on with our heads up and smiles pasted on our faces. I flatly refuse anymore to pretend that everything is peachy keen. My life is not like a box of sugared Honey Combs or Capt'n Crunch cereal.

The biggest joke of all came on Friday morning. The van wasn't finished yet so the boys had planned to walk to school in the morning since I had to work, starting at 6:00 a.m. When I got up around 4:00, it was storming with heavy rain, wind, thunder and lightening. I figured it was probably too late for the boys to arrange for a ride so I called in to work saying I'd be an hour and a half late. Then I just laughed at it all. What a nutty situation!

I don't have as many options available to me to help out when life throws me a curve. What choice could I make other than take my sons to school? It wasn't safe for them to walk and they would have been soaked by the time they got to school. Whenever, something like this happens, I have had less than sympathetic responses from employers but I just don't care much about that either. I can only work with the resources I have and mine are pretty limited. As a widowed parent, my reality is that there are simply going to be days when I'm late or absent. No hubby to fall back on, or family close by or even a boyfriend around.

I don't feel uplifted and proud of myself when I successfully meet these challenges. I end up feeling drained and morose because I start wishing for that absent husband who used to take care of these things.

Don't Minimize My Grief

If any readers have experienced similar interactions to the ones I am going to ponder within this post, please respond. I am trying to come to terms with and understand what I have encountered for many years now and what I'll describe as the minimization of my grief. It seems that people want to minimize my circumstances. Over the years I have heard the following:

- A mere week after my husband died I was talking to a relative about the sadness and loss I felt that my sons no longer would have their father with them as they grew up (they were 9 and 10 and it was Halloween). My relative snapped back with "There are lots of single parents out there dealing with this - I don't know what your problem is." Trouble with this is that at the time, I don't think I even knew anyone raising kids on their own. I couldn't relate to this.

- Even my beloved Mom, the person who provided me with tremendous emotional support once said, "Think of the war widows" when I was trying to describe the amount of loss and pain I felt. I remember being confused and questioning which war widows she was referring to - the World War Two ones it turns out. But her statement flew over my head because again, I didn't have a point of reference to compare myself to a war widow from 50 years ago, no less.

- A couple months after my husband's death, I went to my dentist, whom I've been going to for 25+ years. I let everyone in the office know my sad news and my dentist's response was that one of his other patients had recently lost her husband too - but she had five children to now raise on her own in comparison to my two. I should feel grateful that I only had two children. This comment and reasoning really knocked the wind out of me. I recall feeling as though someone had punched me. Of course I felt bad about this other woman and her situation. But at the same time knowing she has what can be considered a more challenging situation did nothing to negate or lessen my own feelings of loss. In fact, it just made my own feelings worse because now I felt even guilty for not feeling more grateful and guilt because in some ways I didn't really care about this other person I didn't know. I was scrambling to make sense of my own life and was pretty self-focused. So there was more guilt about that too. I questioned that maybe I was grieving too much, etc.

- I attended a grief support group sponsored by a local church for about five months - it started two months after my husband's death. The group wasn't a good fit because with the exception of one other widow, it was made up of divorced or divorcing moms. Once there was a huge debate where the divorcees kind of turned on the two of us, claiming that they had it worse because they had to still interact with their deadbeat husbands. And that had to be more painful than having to deal with the onetime loss of a spouse due to a death. I was pretty flabbergasted with this reasoning and had enough sense to not get into an ongoing argument that would never have been resolved.

I do remember that it served as a light bulb moment when I realized that grief is grief. It shouldn't be measured or lessened for anyone. I knew then that I would never compare my own grief as a widow against that of another widow's. Meaning, if her children were raised and grown, I wouldn't say her life was easier than mine, having to go on as an only parent.

- Then there is the debate over whether the widows who've been caring for sick husbands have less grief than those whose husbands died unexpectedly. When this came up, I remembered my conclusion that grief is grief and I didn't get into the comparison of who has it worse.

- Here is a good one. My grief was supposedly less painful than a woman whose husband had died of old age. This was because they'd shared more time together than the 12 years of marriage I'd had with my husband. Again, I wisely avoided any argument.

- The divorce mediation attorney told me in what was supposed to be kindness that I shouldn't have any trouble getting over my divorce because I was an old pro at grief/loss. A divorce was so much less painful than the death of a spouse, you see. And living through that had made me stronger. This attitude/belief distressed me so much, some weeks later I made a call to my own attorney to voice my upset. I knew she often lunched with the other attorney and I requested that perhaps she could inform him that just because a person has experienced prior grief, it doesn't make them immune to hurting when loss pops up again in the future!

- But my all time favorite is the living in Africa argument. I've been told that I don't really have much to complain about in my life because I'm fortunate enough to live in the United States instead of Africa!

So, basically if I add all this up together, I shouldn't have felt as much grief or less of it because there are others out there in the same boat, there have been war widows or others before me with the same or worse experiences, I only have two children, I wasn't divorced, my husband died after an extended illness (so I guess I had time to emotionally prepare), I was a middle-aged widow instead of a senior, I was an old pro at grief and therefore, stronger and I don't live in Africa.

Might I add that all of these comments and others like them, always came from people who had not experienced the death of a spouse or for some, even a relative for that matter.

But I guess the point I am making here is that grief is grief and it is relative to each person's life and experiences. There is no way to measure it because it is so individualized. I never felt better after hearing stories of other people's hardships, some worse than mine. I can't relate to them because they are not mine. But because someone else suffered longer or more, doesn't mean that I don't feel the pain and intensity of loss. Nor does it mean that I shouldn't have the right to grieve what I've lost.

So often, I've felt guilty for grieving too long or too hard - as though I didn't even have the right to grieve. Or if I grieved openly I was taken to task for it. I used to say, "Don't take away my grief - I've lost my life as I knew it - don't take away my mourning for that too. I'm at least entitled to that."

Is a wealthier person's grief less than mine? No. So, please can we stop the comparisons to Africa and other horrific hardships. I already know that my situation is not comparable to that of a genocide victim or one that has lost a child. I already know that I don't live in Africa. Knowing that others out there have suffered more severely does nothing to diminish my pain and just intensifies it because of the added burden of feeling guilty for having the audacity to grieve in the first place. Add that guilt to what I already feel for not being able to keep up - Beth in NC referred to that as feeling as though she has failed at widowhood. There are so many burdens we're already shouldering. Don't add to the pile.

Say nothing. Don't offer advice, especially if you haven't lost a spouse. The best feedback I've ever received has been from my stepson, age 28, who has just responded in conversations we've had with, "I can't even imagine what it is like or has been like." I don't believe most of the widowed are out there trying to get a pity party going for them. We're describing the pain we're feeling and what we're experiencing. It is our life at the moment. And yet we're usually criticized for not being stronger.

In fact, I don't believe suffering actually makes people stronger. In my opinion, it can make us weaker because we end up being more vulnerable in the future. So I have come to hate that saying, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I don't agree.

The question I have is why are people so quick to dismiss and minimize our grief? Is it a way of thinking on the national level? You know, Americans are supposed to stand up and face hardship while marching strongly forward? Is it that as a culture, most of us are so quick to speak, yet rarely listen. Is the first response one of trying to come up with a solution so advice is quickly offered? Sometimes, there aren't answers and silence (listening) is the key. As a nation, we haven't been taught much about grief/loss - I think that has really changed in recent years. And maybe even intensify as more baby boomers face loss with illness, death and disability.

I remain perplexed about all of this but in the end, it just kind of convinces me that it is very difficult (maybe even impossible) to try and explain what the journey of widowhood has meant for me to those who haven't been there. That is why I keep coming back to the point of not wanting to talk about it anymore. I've said what I want to say. I end up sounding like a broken record, no one seems to get it and I find all of that very demoralizing as well as tiring. I can understand why some people don't want to make a big deal about their widowed status. It could be easier sometimes, to just pretend everything is okay.