Everyone Has Their Problems

All gourds are not the same even if they are all gourds - just like "problems."

I've been wanting to write about the subject of this post for awhile now. How so often during my widowhood I've heard the comment that "Everyone has their problems." It is one of those platitudes I have grown to hate. And another platitude I have come to disbelieve. First of all, why are platitudes tossed around so freely, especially at the newly widowed? Over and over I heard that one about time healing all things. Yet the people telling me these words had never been widowed so how would they know? Actually, I have come to think that the platitudes exist because people are uncomfortable dealing with us and our loss. Platitudes are handy lines in people's back pockets when they struggle to come up with something to say. They sound encouraging and helpful. But I have found them to be empty and meaningless for the most part.

I find the "Everyone has their own problems" response actually very dismissive to us. It is a put down that glosses over the issues and pain we may be dealing with. It implies that we are wrong to focus on ourselves and our own immediate problems. It has always made me feel guilty and upset with myself whenever someone has said it to me. I end up feeling like I'm not strong enough to handle my own conflicts and that I shouldn't tell anyone about my real emotions. Which of course is all bunk. Because the number one healthy thing a person grieving can do is to relate their feelings to others or through blogging, journaling, grief groups or individual therapy. And what the grieving really need more than anything is acknowledgment of where they are and what they are feeling and dealing with. People giving platitudes aren't listening or responding to what we're saying. Too bad that when people tell us a platitude they really think they're giving good advice. They can rest easy that they have done their part without too much discomfort, effort, or thought on their part.

But now on to the actual meaning behind "Everyone had their problems." Of course, everyone does. Widows had problems before they were widowed. We got into fights with our spouses, money was tight, kids acted up, there were conflicts with co-workers. Yes, we know all this and we've been there. However, comparing widowhood to a "problem" doesn't cut it in my book. How can you compare the totality of the widowhood experience and life with someone stressed out by their kitchen remodeling job? Or with the tension that comes from someone deciding to go back to school or start a new job. Yes, caring for aging parents is a drain. I've been there with both of mine as a widow no less, so there wasn't a hubby to share household or child rearing responsibilities with as I also took on those with my parents.

Widowhood involves loss after loss - loss of identity, loss of a life partner, loss of a best friend, loss of a co-parent, loss of a social network, loss of a financial position, loss of status, loss of a helpmate, loss of a sexual partner, and even more. Other "problems" that widowhood is lumped with don't involve losses, e.g., going back to school is an overall gain. My experience has proven that losses are harder to bounce back from because not only is there the grief to deal with, then there is the job of having to rise back up from the loss. Something is taken away leaving one with less than they had before. Therefore they aren't as whole as they once were. And that takes on another whole aspect of having to readjust to a very new discombobulated life.

Well, that is my two cents on this matter. Widowhood is a very complex, intense situation with multiple layers, stages and dimensions. It is a totally unique experience for each person faced with its reality. It is far more complicated a "problem" as compared to other problems although the statement "everyone has their problems" implies an equal rating for the life transitions faced by people. Going back to school, having a toddler, getting the kitchen remodeled, feeling the strain of starting a new job are all time relative transitions. But widowhood isn't over in the two years it usually takes to get a master's degree, as I can attest. Many of us are dealing with issues years past the death of our spouses that are offshoots of this initial loss.

I know people who say these platitudes really can't have a comprehension of the total widowhood experience. Because if they did, they'd never spout them off in the first place.It would be nice though to encounter more people in our lives who take the time to put some thought into what they say. But I guess that would involve really contemplating the lives widows face and live. Not what people want to think about or imagine. But I hope that people's understanding will increase in the future.

Time Doesn't Heal All Things

In recent years there has been a greater acknowledgment of the myth of getting over one's grief. This seems due to the flurry of blogs and memoirs about grief. There also seem to be more fiction books tackling the subject as well.

I wish I'd known this when I first became widowed. At that time I was subjected to the platitude
of time healing all things. I really believed this too. Now I would have the guts to challenge the non-widowed person spouting this off to me with a reply of "How do you know this? What is your personal experience of this?" But back then I took it on with hope and naivety.

Since I actually believed this reasoning, I tried to rush my first year of widowhood vainly thinking that once all those first anniversaries had passed, so would my grief. What I found, however, was that for me the second year was worse because I realized with so much more intensity what I had really lost - that first year kind of passed by in a blurry, hazy fog. So it would have been far better for me if someone had given me the more sound advice of how grief doesn't just magically disappear but that the day-to-day intensity of it does eventually lessen.

I wanted to share this passage from Belva Plain's novel "Crossroads," published in 2008. I think it is a good example of how our perception of grief is becoming more realistic and healthy. Wish I had had the wise wisdom of Belva's words instead of the unrealistic platitudes. In the book, the main character has suffered a miscarriage.

"Gwen had learned that those who said time heals everything were wrong. There are certain hurts that never go away, like the one she'd sustained when she learned that Cassie had been lying to her about her birth parents. That ache was permanent...

But the loss of a baby was different. That pain would never go away, either...but you finally did figure out how to absorb it. It became a part of what you were and it changed who you were. At first you were convinced that you'd never be happy again, that the gray fog that enveloped you would always be there, then one morning you woke up and it was autumn, and the trees in the little park at the end of your street were spreading the seasonal gold and orange carpet on the ground. And you noticed in a deeper and more satisfying way the beauty of the fresh flowers your husband now brought home every week...you knew that you'd turned a corner. The sorrow for your dream of a child was in your heart, in the very blood that pumped through it, but somehow that released you to get on with your life."

Beautiful and real words.

Yet Another Hurdle

Sometimes the world just seems to explode. Yesterday, I got home from picking up some cat food during the afternoon and noticed that they towed our van from the complex parking lot. We had not been driving it since my oldest is at college and my youngest is now driving the newer sporty sedan I got them in the spring. I am still driving my ancient sedan because the gas mileage is so good. I should mention that a rear flat tire appeared mid-month but I didn't have the funds to have it fixed.

Anyway, I became somewhat hysterical - tearful, and very, very despondent. Didn't even make it through the end of the month before another conflict had to rear its ugly head. It's $172.50 to pay for the tow, plus $40.00 a day thereafter. I don't get our pension check until the 1st or my paycheck from the restaurant until then either so there will be a couple days tacked on. Then I'll have to figure out how to get someone to change the tire. As if the poor aren't suffering enough. Lets sock it to them some more.

I had really hoped that the coming month wouldn't involve scrambling to meet my bills. I called my sister as a last resort because I was feeling so low. She said she would talk to her husband and get back to me with their advice, which turned out to be to let the car go - forget it - let them take it to a junk yard at the end of the month. Turns out that was Sam's advice too. I always wonder at the ease in which people can give away other's possessions. I don't want to let the van go. We'll need it when my oldest is home from college. I have to look ahead to the future somewhat. I'm not in a position to just go out and buy new vehicles.

No one said, "Tough luck" or "Bad break." Sam told me he didn't know what to say to me so therefore he wouldn't say anything. Really? "I'm sorry for you" is too hard to eek out? I found myself getting angry at my entire family - that has been an emotion that has subsided over the past year but reared its ugly head again. My stay-at-home brother in law to his two high school kids couldn't offer to perhaps change the tire for me?

I've asked for very little of my family during widowhood. No one ever offered to help review my finances (out of CPAs and an attorney), assist with home maintenance, or provide childcare when the boys were little. Hell, no one in my family ever brought over a meal in the early days. If I spoke about the pain of my loss I was looked at as though something was wrong with me. It is hard enough just being a widow and only parent of grade school kids. To be poor on top of it and then have such little family support seems almost a crime. Not that anyone should ever be widowed but it sure makes one wonder about the great unfairness of life and all of that.

It will be necessary for me to take out a payday loan or not pay a bill this month in order to try and save the van. If I can't swing it, I will not have a choice but to let it go. But not without some kind of fight.

I am left with the realization of how alone I really am and how slight my support system really is. Widows need to feel connected with supportive voices and bodies. Even more for widowed parents. We are left to keep fragmented families together and to constantly keep our children uplifted on our own. It makes sense that it is necessary for us to be lifted up and supported at least some of the time. How can we keep it all together and raise children on our own without some sort of support system cheering us on and offering us strength and compassion?

To have this so lacking in my own life points to the cruel reality of life as it sometimes turns out. I am now hit with the hard realization that in order to have more support, love and compassion in my life I'll have to be willing to venture out of my cocoon and seek it. Fact is, being poor and struggling doesn't lend itself to the much needed positive self-esteem necessary for socializing and all of that.

I started blogging in part because I was aware that I'd have to broaden my horizons in order to obtain some understanding and support. But I think people in general are self-centered and don't like focusing on the problems of others. I believe it is very difficult for those who haven't been widowed to have any comprehension of widowhood, nor the reality of raising children as an only parent, left to pick up often shambled, broken pieces of life. My sister's comment yesterday illustrated this point. She said everyone has things that come up every month. But some people are in better situations to meet those challenges than others is my addition.

On this note, I feel as though maybe it is time for me to shift my focus. Towards creating and building a new life for myself rather than focusing on surviving this middle-aged widowhood. Something to ponder at least.

Realignment

When I dropped my son off at his dorm, they had a Route 66 decoration theme that I thought was very clever and cute. To me it is representative of these freshman students taking off on a road leading them to a new future. All summer long, we prepared for this adventure. I heard some of my friends complain that their kids were acting out by being defiant and rude. I struggled with my son being out til 2 a.m. hanging out with his friends. But otherwise he was a good kid all summer. Working hard at his job and playing baseball on a college league in his spare time which wasn't much. When I brought up how some of his friends were acting out, he scoffed and replied that our family didn't need him to be creating such drama - we'd already seen our share and we wouldn't put us through anymore.

I read in a book about parenting teens headed off to college, that the summer before departure is one of realigning relationships within the family. They also talked about this during our orientation at the college saying that kids act up to create distance between their families, which then makes it easier for them to leave.

One point in the book that I found especially interesting stressed that for single parents, this transition is especially difficult because of the multiple roles a single parent plays. Whenever I encounter a point like this I feel so validated. Someone out there understands how hard it is to be an only parent like I am. I am not crazy feeling so tired, drained, exhausted and frustrated after years of raising my sons on my own. Yes, there is a great part of me that is so proud of how successful my sons are turning out. But it is often trumped by those other feelings which seem to overpower the good.

In my opinion, based on personal experience and my training in psychology, widowhood is far more complicated than people expect or acknowledge. There are so many conflicting layers such as this one: a parent taking on multiple roles. Most people don't stop and think of the complications. They just make comparisons based on other parents. It is rare to come across anyone who makes the distinction between a two-parent unit and a single or only parent one. I just find it an added burden to always be compared to the status quo when I'm so far from it. And I continue to wish that more people were aware of the issues facing only parents. I'm not sure any great changes would come of it. But simply for the public to have some more awareness of what only parent families face, may garner some sympathy and compassion for them in the future. And maybe that would be enough of a change to be helpful for others traveling this road that will follow me with younger children to raise.

Father's Day

I never had any observations for my late husband after the funeral and memorial service. The immediate years following his death resulted in my caring for my youngest who'd been diagnosed with a heart condition and then my parents. There wasn't much time or energy to think, reflect or honor our past. We were all just so tied in with the current chaos.

Now that has all ebbed and so today there was some time for reflection while we were at our baseball game - the boys play in a summer league with the same team they've been on since their dad died. I will admit that there was a small pang seeing all the kids with their fathers and to be sitting on the bleachers without a hubby by my side. After the game, the boys and I went to Red Lobster for that 4-course $15.00 meal special. A splurge I know, but I felt like going out and wanted to experience the special before it ended.

I asked my sons how they felt today, what it is like to be a fatherless kid on Father's Day on the way to the restaurant. At one point, I mentioned how I have always hated hearing that pat phrase that kids are so resilient. What does that really mean anyway? I find it interesting that those who relate that statement to me are people who haven't experienced a major loss in their lives. I have come to believe that if they had, they wouldn't be spitting out this phrase to me. Because it means nothing. It doesn't take away the fact that my kids grew up without a father for most of their lives (he was sick for three years before his death).

Losing a father is a major loss and it should be respectfully acknowledged as such, not brushed away by the belief that kids will survive and go on. Yes, they will but their childhoods do influence their futures. Instead of being told that kids are resilient I would have rather heard some statement validating our reality - something along the lines of: "Your kids suffered a tough blow and it is too bad." Don't try to gloss over their situation and make it better by spewing out these statments we have come to believe as being true without having the personal experience to verify them as such.

My youngest son replied, "People are so naive. They have no idea." It got to the point that when people would say things to me like, "There are lots of widows out there funcitioning just fine" and so on, that I would hotly reply, "Oh, really? How many widows my age do you personally know?" Then when they would admit "None" I would just look at them - enough said.

Recognition

I have not been able to blog the past week due to a computer virus that didn't allow me to access the internet. Luckily, my oldest, was able to download an anti-virus program and our service was restored.

Last night, was the long-awaited Senior Farewell Band Concert which debuted my oldest son's original band composition. I will post on that separately as it was a very special moment worthy of its own recognition. In this post I will relate some personal comments that I don't want part of that.

My sister and close girlfriend attended the concert with me. FINALLY, after all these years, I wasn't alone in the audience! My sister commented that she has never believed me when I've told her that there aren't any parents sitting alone at our high school events. She was going to point out a man and women she saw alone, until she looked again, and saw that their respective spouses had arrived late. She admitted that there weren't any people alone in the audience, save one man I stopped to chat with who was reading "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo."

She also acknowledged after the concert how polite, respectful and loving my sons are. She noted that my oldest was so modest and without an ego, despite huge amounts of praise bestowed upon him by the band director, parents and fellow students. He made a point of hugging my sister and referring to her as his aunt. She told me that she has to remind her two children to interact with adults, thank people and so on.

One of the highlights of the evening for me, besides the enormous pride I felt for my son, was when my sister said, "You raised your sons well. You raised your sons well, on your own." That little bit of recognition has been a long-time in coming. I think that most widows would appreciate acknowledgment of their feelings, and their reality. Also, a pat or two on the back for getting through some difficult and trying life situations.

My family would tend to downplay my reality - "It can't be that bad." "Other single moms are out there handling their lives. what's wrong with you?" "You focus too much on the negative." "There can't be so few single parents where you live."

Simply accepting my observations at face value rather than trying to contradict my reality would have been appreciated. Also, some praise at how I was coping, evolving and raising my sons on my own would have been a positive boost to my morale and self-esteem. Even late in coming, finally hearing some of these words was meaningful to me.

Continued Grief Reflections

This is a continuation of my recent post about my father's death. It is also prompted by additional comment to that post from Boo, Beth, Flo and Cape Cod Kitty.

When I was in my early 30s, a co-worker's mother died. The co-worker was a grandmother and her mother well into her 90s but she and her mom were very close. They spoke at least three times a day on the phone and I know the mother had been very supportive to her daughter throughout the years including those spent in an abusive and difficult marriage. My co-worker was extremely grief stricken by her mom's death - her mom had been in good health up to that point and consequently she requested a two-week leave of absence. I found no problem with this but other co-workers raised their eyebrows in question. Why would she need so much time off?

As it turned out, my co-worker spent almost all of the two week-period of her time off in her attic going through her mother's possessions (I don't recall whose attic it was but it was an attic). I am reminded about this because of the response to my father's death, which was basically no response at all and Boo's comment that a death is a huge loss regardless of someone's age. Why do we not treat loss with more significance and compassion toward the grieving? I continue to struggle with this years after my husband's and then mother's and now my father's deaths.

My own mother was my rock throughout my husband's illness. She and my father could barely walk by that time, yet when I called them with emergency requests to watch my sons because I needed to get my husband to the ER, an hour away at the hospital he was being treated at, they came immediately and without any complaint. When my husband had his first stem cell transplant and had to stay in a special hotel for a few weeks in isolation he was unable to live there alone. My father ended up living with him because I had to be at home with the boys who were only 8 and 9. Again, no complaints at the hardship this caused my parents.

At the end, I would go into the hospital and spend the entire day sobbing. On the drive home to pick up the boys from the school aftercare, I would call my mom and talk to her about what the doctors had said, how my husband was doing (in a coma) and how I felt. She would stay on the line with me the entire hour drive home. She kept me sane during that period. And I have often reflected that I had such a hard time with my divorce because she was gone by then. She would have stood by me and probably said a thing or two to my soon-to-be-ex besides! Not having her support and love in my life made the divorce that much more difficult for me to get through. It has been about two years, and only now do I feel myself coming out of that fog of grief.

The absolute worst, most insensitive comment ever made to me about grief was said during my divorce mediation by the mediator who told me I had had so much experience with grief I should be better able to get over it more quickly. He also told me that since my marriage only lasted two years it wasn't really that much of a marriage and likewise I should be able to move ahead more quickly. I think of Boo's comments and say it didn't matter the marriage was only two years in duration. I adored my husband (he had saved me from widowhood) and I was absolutely devastated by the divorce and his rejection. Also, the fact that I had experienced the prior death of my husband and mom did nothing to brace me, strengthen me or make it easier for me to deal with my divorce. In the end, I think those events so close to one another actually made it far more difficult for me to face and deal with it. To this day I continue to miss and even love my ex-husband. Death, grief and loss don't always make us stronger. Sometimes I think they make us weaker.

And not having the support of my devoted mother only made it all the more challenging besides. I pay tribute here to my parents who stood by me in the darkest of my days. I wish my mom had been with me during my divorce but in some ways I think it is better that she died thinking that my life was okay and I had a husband to count on.

I have often said that I would never have started this blog if I hadn't divorced. This blog was my salvation from that event. I am a widow besides but it was really the divorce that plunged me into the deepest pit of despair and grief - unimaginable. I think some people think that I am still in some backward state of grief recovery because I am seven years out. But the loss of my beloved mother so soon after my husband and then my divorce was too much for me to bear. It was too much for my soul and heart to endure. There were some tough years following the divorce.

But I've survived, even after losing the house! I'm surely not thriving yet - life can still be a struggle. But I've gone on and even had another romantic relationship. And I've raised two boys totally on my own who've turned out to become pretty decent young men - I hear that in the apartment complex all the time - "Your boys are so nice," or "I really like your sons," or "Those are good kids there." Life has gone on but it has been hard and I'm not going to dismiss the challenges or heartache.

I wish it were easier for those of us on this road. I wish our society was kinder to widows and to anyone dealing with a loss. I have hoped these posts have helped others understand even just a little about what grief and loss do to the living. And you can be sure that I informed the mediator of his misconceptions.

Love and peace to all. And love and peace to those we have had to say goodbye to. Mom and Dad, I thank you for all you did for the boys and I. I probably never thanked you enough or conveyed how much I appreciated and loved you. I hope you know. Husband, know that everything I have done since your death has been for the boys and I know you must see them and be proud.

And now if I may add the wise words of author Jane Green here from "The Other Woman."

"I know that love isn't enough. You have to cherish the people you love, that saying I love you isn't ever enough, that you have to show that love each and every day, even when life threatens to get in the way.

If I may quote from someone else far more eloquent than I am, 'The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're alive.'"

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.

Pain For Gain

Before my widowhood and my close girlfriend's divorce, we wanted to work on a volunteer activity together. So for a number of years, we ran and coordinated the monthly food drive at our local elementary school. This involved contacting a food pantry in the area to find out their specific needs, having collection boxes in each classroom and school office, "advertising" the food drive in the school's weekly paper, working with the students to collect and assemble the donations at the end of the month and then drive it over to the pantry.

Of course, looking back now, it is somewhat ironic that I was involved in this specific activity. I generally wrote-up the notices for the school newspaper and always tried to tie in our requests to the season at hand and what the needs of the pantry were.

What got to me the most, was how some donations were of items that should have been thrown out. Clearly long expired goods, open packages and one of my favorites - the inside contents of either jello or pudding but without the external box. I would try to tactfully address this issue in my notices and encourage generosity and the like.

As I think about all of this now I am struck by the knowledge that I have walked both sides of the fence, so to speak. When I was a volunteer it was with the best of intentions and I wanted to help and make a difference. And I did. But having had to become a food pantry recipient, I must say that what I have gained in terms of internal knowledge and growth has far exceeded those volunteer efforts. I have been confronted with and had to face: humility, guilt, shame, embarrassment, being humbled, grace, dignity, thankfulness, hope, hopelessness, anger, and relief (I could probably even go on with more).

My compassion toward others has increased 100-fold! No longer will I ever look with judgment on someone needing or asking for help. This experience has stretched me far beyond any limits I could have imagined when I was just a middle-aged suburban mom trying to help out a bit in the community.

Once my grief counselor/life transition coach assured me that one day I would surpass the obstacles in my life and reside in a home again and have a better life restored to me. She added that the experiences I've gone through have served as amazing teachers and I am a better person for having lived them. Then she looked at my face and quickly added, "But of course I know that you would trade all of this inner-growth and self-actualization for having your husband still alive and your old life back." And she was right. I would trade it all in an instant to be the less evolved woman that I was seven years ago.

But of course, that isn't possible. So one way to look at it now is to accept that I have grown as a person and to hope that in the end this will all result in some good toward others and the world.

Part of the reason I blog is to try and convey to others about my life in the hope that it will result in greater compassion and kindness to others, especially widows. But I have come to realize that unless you walk in my shoes or live this life, it is impossible for someone to really ever totally understand. That is not a bad thing. Maybe I need to be preaching to the choir or those who are already in my shoes. Maybe I need to shift my focus.

It is hard to hear criticism. But the point is that we learn equally from praise and criticism. And maybe even more from the criticism. I've been thinking about some comments made to me about my not being proactive or creative enough in my situation to move and forge ahead. Yes, I'll admit that is true. I've been depressed and tired and hormonal these past months. But thinking of these comments has inspired me to think a bit more outside the box.

What if I could take some of this knowledge I've gained from my losses and use it productively? I know of a homeless shelter seeking volunteers and thought that even one or two days of going in a month would allow me to meet professionals in my social services field (thus increasing job contacts and giving me updated social services experience on my resume). The boys have also expressed an interest in doing some type of volunteer work. Maybe we could do this together as a family? In any event, I am going to the next volunteer training in early January and we'll see where that goes. I at least can serve as a compassionate listener to those in worse situations than myself.

Part of my message today goes out to others struggling. It is true that we grow more from the hardships than what is easy for us. Some of us will end up suffering and growing more. It doesn't make us better or the suffering less painful. But in the end, I don't think it is for naught. I believe somehow, someway our experiences will end up serving some purpose in bettering the world. Or at least I want to believe this because that is what gives me the most courage and hope.

Grace Be With Us

Words and books have always been my salvation, especially in times of trouble. I read the following words from Jennifer Weiner's book, "Certain Girls," which I finished last night. One of the book's characters, Joy, has to write a speech for her bat mitzvah. She scraps what she has prepared and wings it. This is taken from her speech but I've left out some of the parts to make it more applicable to the meaning I want to convey here.

"I'm supposed to tell you about what I've learned this year... but really, the truth is , what I learned this year is that life is hard. Good people die for no reason. Little kids get sick. The people who are supposed to love you end up leaving. When you don't get what you want, you take what's left and make the best of it. Even when I did the wrong thing or made the wrong choice, my family stood with me. Bad things happen. Stuff doesn't work out. Everyone has sorrow. Everyone has obligations. You lean on the people who love you. You do the best you can, and you keep going."

I pulled out my battered and highlighted "The Five Things We Cannot Change" by Dave Richo and reread words that had profound meaning for me as I struggled during the time of my divorce and moving from my house. His wisdom is "... we notice that we sometimes have to bear more than we can handle, and we may fold under the pressure. Our purpose in life is not to remain upright at all times but to collapse with grace when that is what has to happen. Thus the fact that we are given more than we can bear at times is not a flaw in life or in us..."

Richo is a proponent of loving-kindness and he ends the chapter (Pain is Part of Life) with this:

"As I say yes to the fact of suffering, may I accept the dark side of life and find a way through it, and may I then become an escort of compassion to those who also suffer."

These words were a gift to me from two vastly different people, authors and books. I offer them out now to others in hope that they may offer healing, compassion, strength and grace to us all. My oldest is composing a new musical piece for his final in music composition that his band director wants the band to play at the spring concert. He has titled it "Grace Be With Us." Those words and feelings of a 17-year-old seem to say it all.

Dismal Holidays Forcasted

Two million people are expected to lose their extended unemployment benefits this holiday season. People talk about not having trees, being able to afford gifts for their children and their lack of holiday spirit. I wrote about my food pantry experience yesterday as a way to deal with my own pain/frustration but to also increase awareness of the situation as well. To put a real and personal face on the matter, so to speak. I created another blog where I try to deal with my "living under reduced circumstances" issues but sometimes there is overlap and I figured I'd go ahead and post about my experiences here.

I went to yet another food pantry recommended to me yesterday and again admitted that I do not qualify for emergency food assistance based on the Federal guidelines. This time, the pantry was far more generous than the last one I visited and provided me with food although I will not be able to become a client. We received more food yesterday than we have had in literally months. When I shop at the store, it is always $20.00 or less because I can't afford to fill my cart or vehicles with gas ($5.00 or $10.00 fill-ups are the norm).

I was told to take as much bread as I wanted - good, decent, fancy bread not the generic stuff. I was led to a table of "cast-offs," items that clients did not want to take and left behind. I was also told I could take whatever was there. I almost cleaned the table off taking every can of vegetable that was there. I got two bags of potatoes and three bags of apples, sweet potatoes, lettuce, watermelon and pineapple, eggs, milk and a huge block of cheese along with meat. I took everything that was offered and it is probably enough to last through the whole month!

Here is where I struggle - I have enough to keep a roof over our heads but not enough to provide good, healthy, adequate food for my kids. People out there are receiving food stamps and able to visit a food pantry like this, twice monthly. No one in our country should have to go hungry. I always believed that the greatest nation in the world would provide for its own but am learning that is not the case.

Receiving this bounty increased my mood and spirits 10-fold along with that of my sons. People have to have food to get out there to look for work, to continue parenting and to simply remain hopeful enough to face the next day. I only see the situation getting worse, not better. I know of people who have been out of work now two years. They are surviving either because their spouse still has a job or they are receiving support of some kind from family.

It is especially difficult for single and only parents struggling on their own with no one to emotionally or physically lean on. It can happen to you. You can be a well-educated, professional, middle-class citizen and have your world topple over and fall on your face. I'm not finding a whole lot of assistance out there or those with kind, helping hands stretched out with compassion. Criticism and blame continue to be lashed out at the unemployed. Having been there now I can add that to simply tell someone to go out and find a job and take whatever is offered is not sound or positive advice. I've made the rounds of fast food places, restaurants (waitress/server), grocery stores and the like and have been told I'm overqualified. Then when I apply for jobs in my field, I am competing with better qualified folks. I'm caught in the middle. A male friend my age, lost his fancy advertising/art director job and was a bartender all summer. He also took training to become a nanny but so far has met with resistance because he is a male and hasn't been hired. I am actually considering the bartender training as a last resort myself.

In the future, I'm going to try and keep issues like this separate on my other blog but felt I needed to finish what I started. This is my experience and my opinions. No one needs to agree or feel sorry for me or my situation. But I do hope it in some way it softens the criticism others may have against people struggling right now, including the two million people worried about feeding their families during the holidays. I've gotten a break this year - others won't be as fortunate.

Get a Life!

My younger son and I got into a little tiff when I picked him up from Friday's football game. I mentioned that I hadn't stayed for the whole game because it was so cold and not fun sitting alone in the bleachers, especially when it is cold. He launched into me that it is my fault I sit alone and I should be more social at the games and strike up conversations with the people around me. "Make some new friends, mom," he chastised me.

Well, you can't argue with a teenager. I felt disappointed because it was an emotional game night with it being Senior Night and my having to go out onto the field with my oldest as he was honored. And I know that my youngest is also more emotional about his Dad's death and may have been lashing out his own pain and frustration onto me.

But part of this widowhood gig is having to take the good and bad crap from the kids with no sounding board from another parent, or even adult. There is no one to pass off to - "Here husband, you take this one, I got the last snotty teenage mood."

It's no use trying to explain to my son or even other people in general that it is hard enough just for me to attend these school and athletic events on my own for years on end when I miss having my husband see his boys perform with such an ache in my heart it is almost indescribable. Not really conducive emotions in which to start chatting with your bleacher neighbors when you're fighting back tears and trying to keep a grip on your emotions so you can watch you sons play through your watery eyes.

Same thing with those other frequent phrases I often hear - "Get a life" or "Get a job." What do you say? It's not like someone can snap their fingers and just get a job like that. Unfortunately, we live in this world that expects instant results and isn't particularly patient. Well, from experience I know that turning one's life around takes some time. So I guess all one can say when confronted by a surly son or less than sympathetic party is to simply reply, "I'm trying" or "I'm doing the best that I can."

The Lonely Road of Widowhood

I started blogging as a way to emotionally survive. I've had a tough time being a widow. I don't think I've adjusted well to this life, and in fact I'll admit I'm not sure I ever will feel restored until I'm remarried. I'm comfortable saying that. It has come after a great deal of soul searching and looking at myself honestly. I'm not cut out for the widowhood life, no one is. But I suppose some of us fare the jouney better. I don't get on well living and making decisions on my own. I'm a better team player and I need and want the safety and security living in a committed relationship brings. I never liked the dating scene back in my teens, even then preferring to have a steady. I was in a marriage I worked extremely hard at maintaining and I valued it beyond measure. Every day I miss that old way of life and what I had. You might even say that with the passage of time my grief in missing my husband has softened. However, my grief at losing my marriage and the lifestyle I had, hasn't.

There are numerous reasons the widowed struggle to adapt to their new lives. We live in a society that fears/hides from death; people these days are busy and preoccupied with their own lives; exteneded families don't exist anymore to provide support, emotional or otherwise; death has become sanitized and removed from our lives since people live longer and die in hospital settings; our society expects people to handle and face their own hardships and life realities.

As I've expalined before, for me it hasn't been so much the grief that has been the challenge. What has challenged me has been the adjustment to my losses, beginning with my husband's death and then the downward spiral that seemed to occur with each subsequent loss. I haven't managed my adjustment very well. In some cases, I just plain and simple did not known what to do. We emphasize teaching our children academics through their early years. We need to add some life, relationship and communication skills training to those classes. We jump into love relationships on a wing and a prayer with no foundation on resolving conflict, much less communicating effectively. Some resiliency training or classes on handling conflicts, loss and adversity would be good too.

It didn't take long for the hard world of widowhood to come down on me. Those very early days when I was overwhelmed and shell shocked was when I encounted the least amount of care and sympathy. Teachers demanding that the boys complete assignments or take tests without giving them a short break to get their bearings, or even an extra day to finish a paper. The counselor insisting my sons serve Saturday detentions because they'd arrived late a few days in a row. I tried explaining that it was totally my fault as a grieving mom. I related that I was having trouble getting it all together in my grief and yes, we were a few minutes late to school during that early period. We weren't cut any slack - the boys had to spend some Saturday mornings at school being reprimanded for actions that weren't in my eyes their fault.

Then there was the Winter Carnival at the school just a few months after my husband died. My boys wanted to win a cake at the Cake Walk. The parent volunteers running the game knew my family well and the situation. My boys spent a good part of the afternoon and their tickets hoping to bring home a cake - they didn't. I remember wanting to scream at these parents I knew - "Just let them 'win' some cupcakes! It wouldn't take much to make them happy! Can't you even imagine what the last few months of their lives have been like and what it will be like for them in the future without their Dad? Can't you 'overlook' the rules and 'pick' their ticket from the bowl?"

There was so much fury in those early days as people discounted how I was feeling. I definitely encountered minimization whereby people would try to talk me out of how I felt - "It can't be that bad." "You just need to be stronger." I ended up feeling weak and as if something was wrong with me, for grieving in the first place, then for having such difficulty and resistance dealing with the changes death brought to my door. I desperately needed help - with finances, childcare, some time for myself to figure out what to do next, but whenever I asked, I'd get shot down. I picked up the message that I needed to handle everything by myself and that I was weak for having to ask and even admitting that I was weak and couldn't manage on my own. Now I know that this is my experience and not one that is shared by all widows.

I think though in the end that what drove me most up a wall, was the unwillingness of society in general to cut the newly widowed mom and her kids some slack. I had to perform to the same standard being held for all the two-parent families in my community and I just wasn't cutting it. Then when I couldn't measure up, I'd be penalized, or the boys would be by having to serve detentions and the like. I can come up with more examples - difficult coaches or parents on the boys' teams, my employers but I'll save my fingers.

I think this is what I struggle with the most. That we live in such a black and white society that can't or is unable to make an exception or two. Really, the positive power that would have been released and magnified by the stingy parents running the Cake Walk would have been far greater if they'd let my sons "win" a cake, than whatever lesson they were trying to prove by sticking to the book. Our society is so dead set on treating everyone on the same level. Maybe part of my hope in blogging has been to show a bit of the grey that exists in people's lives - that even after the first few years, the aftershocks of losing a parent/husband are still vibrating.

How will "The Untouched" even know a fraction of our experiences if we don't tell them? I once read a comment by the famed and elegant interior designer and author, Alexandra Stoddard. She was a single mom for two years following her divorce when her two daughters were quite young before remarrying. Her comment was that she just has the most ultimate amount of respect for single parents, having been there herself and knowing what that reality entails. I think most people must have some concept of the hard reality of single/only parenting but sometimes I'm not sure why it is so difficult for others to extend some sympathy, comfort and caring. Maybe to ask for understanding is impossible because unless like Alexandra Stoddard who has been there, people don't know what it is really like unless they're there too. But certainly sympathy can be extended and kindness.

Those traits seem to me at least to be rather lacking in our society now too. What happened to that "Random Acts of Kindness" movement from some years back?

I blog for the emotional connection I receive from interacting with other widows and widowers. It has been my saving grace. The first time I communicated with another widow my age who was griping about having to handle the winter elements (shoveling, scraping) on her own, I felt an actual high - I wasn't the only one out there in the universe grumbling about taking out the garbage by myself yet again. But I also blog to relate my life in the hopes that maybe someway, somehow a reader will gain a new perspective that will lead to a positive outcome in some way toward a widow or widower in their life present or future.

I'm reminded of an incident that happened a few weeks after my husband's death. Our property was a double, heavily-wooded lot with a major amount of raking that needed to be done every fall, taking weeks to complete. That first fall I wanted to do it myself because the physical exercise helped me with my grief - I could think and work at the same time - it was a very therapeutic activity for my healing at that time. Now the neighbors all knew my husband had died and I'd received sympathy cards from them. One afternoon I stood astounded as I watched one neighbor use a leaf blower to blow the leaves from his yard into my backyard. I was outraged but if I hadn't been suffering from some PMS probably would have held my tongue. But I approached the guy and called him on his actions. He stood in front of me, leaf blower in hand and flatly denied blowing his leaves in my yard. I remember replying, "I've just been standing here watching you do it - what a terrible thing to do toward a new widow." He didn't reply.

The Great Divide

I got a nice comment from Leslie about a recent post, in which she honestly related that she wasn't able to comprehend the magnitude of "only parenting" until experiencing it as a widow, herself. She labeled the difference between being able to understand and not, "The Great Divide." I love that description. I see in my mind two great mountains in view of each other but being separated by the deep canyon between them.

It has been an ongoing frustration for me to live with the Great Divide coming between myself and those I interact with, especially those closest to me. I have tried without much success to try and explain what middle-aged widowhood has been like for me, especially the aspect of only parenting. Usually my attempts to describe my life are met with the response of diminishing my reality - "Oh it can't be that bad." "You're making more out of things than you should." "Why are you always complaining, other single moms don't."

Thanks to Leslie's comment, I can appreciate that my efforts at explaining my world are probably pretty fruitless and I need to give up the fight of trying to bridge the Great Divide. But there are times when I do need to explain myself and I wish there was some easier way of trying to get my point across without me always feeling misunderstood and diminished.

About the only times that I have truly felt understood on an honest level have been with my therapist who specializes in grief and when I was communicating with a single dad of four kids - now he got the meaning of tired! Also, with the interactions I've had through blogging.

I don't live in an urban, diverse community. In fact, the suburban area I do reside in was sighted by the U.S. Census as being one of the three highest in the United States in regard to the number of married couples living in it - 69%! Add to that statistic the fact that just 3.7% of the population in my age group (45-54) is widowed. So there you have it - the Great Divide evident in black and white. The vast majority of people in my life and my community don't get it and there aren't a whole lot around who do that I can seek solace with.

They left all this out of those grief guidelines and books I read at the start of my widowhood - how to really deal with the fact that most people won't get it, or they'll try to talk me out of my own reality. And that it will be a challenge to find support, sympathy and understanding.

I thank Leslie for her honesty because reflecting on all this, I've come to the realization that part of my anguish is the result of the huge frustration I experience in trying to unsuccessfully explain my world. If I give that up, I'll lose all of that. Because it seems as though the answer here is in the acknowledgment that I can't really explain or describe my world to those living on the other side of the canyon. I'm setting myself up for failure because it is impossible.

America's Got Talent

I continue this blog for a number of reasons. First and foremost, it is a way for me to grapple with and come to terms with my feelings. Sometimes I'm not clear about what I feel and setting out my quandries here, is a way to gain perspective. Secondly, this blog allows me to obtain the feedback of others and to interact with other interesting, intelligent people. There is a lot to be said for that. Maybe the most important reason for blogging is the hope that in my doing so, I increase or broaden the perspectives of others, be they widowed or not. This blog has kind of moved beyond the topic of grief to encompass adversity in general. I hope that in sharing my feelings, a greater understanding of what it is like to live under trying circumstances is reached. And one of my main goals is to illustrate the life of a person affected by multiple losses since that is not often discussed. Maybe in trying to deal with my life, I'll end up helping others in some, small way.

I've been giving a great deal of thought to the issue of unfairness of late. No doubt triggered by being around all the families at the baseball fields. We live in a town of higher than average income. For instance, I know of no one who has "lost" their home and had to move to an apartment. I know one family that has struggled to hang on to their home with the mortgage crisis with Countrywide and two who sold their mini mansions to move to smaller homes. So I do struggle with this issue because along with feeling alone and isolated because of widowhood and not having much of a support network, I also feel the stigma of being the only one to have lost my home. Now of course I know there have to be some folks in my community who have indeed lost their homes. But when you don't know of any, that is not much help or consolation.

I asked my girlfriend about all of this as it has been troubling me so. She agreed that the parents and families she knows have been pretty much spared hardship from the recession, etc. She attributes it to the fact that the circles we are involved with, or our kids are involved with, are simply made up of higher income people who can afford travel baseball. We're not around struggling people, therefore, we don't know of anyone dealing with severe crisis. And while I do know that people don't air their dirty laundry, it is not the same for a married mom of two to be caring for aging parents when she has a husband to lean on and rely on vs. my situation when I was involved in the same activity as a widowed mom of two young sons.

Part of my frustration could be labeled the "America's Got Talent" syndrome. I've never seen the show before this year - I guess last summer I was too busy packing up the house for our move. But the boys and I have watched it when we haven't been at baseball games. The whole concept of the show has really been bothering me. If you haven't seen it, it it a huge nationwide talent show in which adults and kids can pretty much compete with whatever talent they have. So you have singers, dancers and fire blazing magicians competing alongside others hand whistling and playing the harmonica. There are five year olds and 75 year olds! It is kind of a crazy, hodge podge mess!

What bothers me is that I don't think you can fairly judge apples to oranges. I want all the singers to be in their own competition and then even separated by those who compose their own songs vs. those who sing Fleetwood Mac. I want a junior vs. adult competition. I want the dancers to all perform in a sole dance show. How can you fairly compare a harmonica player with a hand whistler? Before this show I didn't even know hand whistling existed! Maybe the point is that you just can't compare such diverse people, talents, ages and acts. In the end, popularity and the performers who fit into the mainstream will be the ones who come out ahead.

Anyway, back to my own musing. I really get that EVERYONE our there is dealing with their own troubles. But what I struggle with is that all troubles are not created equal. Just as all talent isn't either. There are greater losses than others and some of us have had to face more than our share. That is my point. I won't dwell on it. But I did want to try and clarify my view on this topic.

So in the end what does this all mean for me? I guess I just want a bit of compassion expressed to those of us facing a significant amount of adversity. For others not to immediately jump in and chime "But everyone has problems." And I suppose I'm still trying to come up with helpful solutions to my own situation. How can those of us really struggling have an easier time of it? Where can we turn for more support? How can we learn to balance our problems with hope? For those of us with multiple losses, we're already tired and bogged down from having had to face numerous struggles. So it is a double whammy of dealing with loss and stress such as moving from a home, while facing adversity such as financial hardship. A mixture of grief, stress and anxiety all in one! No wonder the young woman who left home at 16 and was in foster care moved on in the AGT competition. Her story touched at the heartstrings of America even if she sang slightly offtune.

Beyond Comprehension

I watched Dateline on Friday night and it was about a man accused of murdering his daughter, who was around 12. Now the guy at first adamantly denied the charges (he made over 600 denials) but later admitted to the deed after intense and grueling police interrogation. The DNA found on the poor girl did not match the father and was matched with a sexual predator who had made other attacks on women in the area. The father's testimony and reenactment of his confession was found to be totally inaccurate with the facts of the crime scene and forensic evidence. The leading expert in false confessions determined this was a case of an innocent man falsely admitting to the crime. The prosecution's theory was that the father knew the sexual predator and "arranged" for the murder. The sexual predator said he had never met or knew the father until they were linked together in the case. He said the father was innocent but remained silent on his own involvement.

I relate this utterly sad and horrible story because of the verdict of the jury. Despite all of the evidence proving this father's innocence, they still found him guilty because they could not get around the fact that he admitted his guilt to the crime (a number of times). They believed that an innocent man, especially a father, would go to his grave proclaiming his innocence. They were utterly unable to comprehend how a man could be manipulated or give in to a crime he did not do. This was despite the fact that the police had told the father they had proof he did so and they also "prompted" him in his confession. The jury was simply unable to imagine what the human mind is capable of or what another man can do under horrendous pressure, strain and events.

Dateline asked the false testimony expert about this and he shook his head and said there are numerous cases on the books of innocent people admitting to crimes they didn't commit. It happens. Just because we can't conceive of it, doesn't mean it isn't capable of happening.

I thought about this relating to widowhood. I get so frustrated trying to explain what this life is like and largely I am misunderstood or blown off. I think the prevailing attitude is that widowhood can't be that bad, I'm making more out of it than I should, and I'm too much of a compainer. I've come to the conclusion that my efforts to explain myself, my feelings, frustrations and my life are pretty much in vain - unless I'm talking to another widow/widower. It is beyond the realm of consciousness for people to get me and what I try to describe, especially how drained and tired I have become.

The jury was so stubborn and steadfast in their belief. Because they were unable to comprehend it being any other way. For an innocent man to admit to such a despicable crime doesn't make sense. Therefore, it can't be. They were so rightous, so certain. I felt frightened at the end of the show of how innocent folks do get sent away for crimes they didn't do. Sometimes the innocent are wrongfully punished. I was also scared of how people can come to false determinations based on their own limited knowledge and biases. And I am worried too that there seems to sometimes be a limit as to what the human mind can comprehend and understand. That there can be a lack of compassion and empathy toward others.

I guess I will recall this jury the next time I am met with a wall of resistance when I try and explain some aspect or another of widowhood. Some things are impossible to get unless we have lived them or are living them.

Not Tempting Fate

To say I became more cautious after my husband's death would be an understatement. It was about a year before I would let anyone else give my boys a car ride. I was under the deluded assumption that I could somehow control my own destiny and I wanted assurance that if anything was going to happen, it would to all of us at the same time.

Today I take the back roads to avoid highway traffic and the semi trucks that scare me when they roar past. I drive the speed limit or only go a bit above when I'm on the road long distance. Locks and the stove are double checked. No longer do I take any chances. I know too well that the unexpected bad fluke can happen. I also realize that I can't protect myself from every calamity, but I sure make an effort to do what I can.

This is one of the reasons I've probably not done so well at the nursing home job. I don't take chances with the residents under my care and I play by the rules. We were told in my training that a spotter is needed whenever using a mechanical lift with a resident. But to track down another CNA who is available to help takes time - sometimes up to 15 to 30 minutes. The old timer CNAs just use the lifts by themselves. They save time and their own skin. But not necessarily the residents' health or safety.

Early on, there was a mishap with one of the lifts - the switch wouldn't shut off and kept going. At the time, I was being assisted by another new CNA and our resident was a 300 pound woman, with a paralyzed left side due to a stroke. We managed to get the woman safely to the ground where she lay until another lift could be obtained to get her up. It was scary and very worrisome. The resident ended up on the floor for 30 minutes while arrangements were made as to how to best "rescue" her. We'd been told that if such an incident happened like that and we were operating the lift alone, we'd be immediately terminated. Also, there is the grave concern of actually injuring someone and then as a result losing our CNA certification, not to mention possible injury/neglect charges.

So, I never took the risk. For myself but most importantly, the residents I was caring for. I think that some of it comes from my husband's death. I can't take chances anymore and I won't, even if it comes at my expense. No use pushing fate. I wonder about the other CNAs though. Their carelessness and disregard for the helpless residents in their care. I guess it is easier to be confident and cocky that nothing bad will happen when you haven't suffered a loss or losses. I can only assume that others don't think about it because it isn't on their minds. It doesn't exist within the realm of possibility. Or if they do think about it, they can quickly dismiss the worries of something going wrong. But I think for the most part that people just don't think about bad things happening. And it is easier to not think about them if you haven't experienced loss.

We become different people after our loved ones die. We don't think or act in the same ways. It is sometimes hard to fit into a world where perceptions haven't changed as ours have. I'd like to believe that I am a more caring and introspective person than I was before. But it can end up being a hindrance when we're interacting in a world that isn't the same for us anymore, or dealing with people that don't think like we do.

Victim Rebuttal

Throughout my widowhood I have heard this constant refrain: "Stop complaining, get a grip, don't be a victim, refuse to be a victim of your circumstances..." That word "victim." Why are people so quick to jump and assume I think of myself as one? Yes, there are times I gripe and feel sorry for myself. But then I stew awhile, drink a glass of wine, go to bed, wake up and face the next day. How is my complaining about my life as a widowed mom any worse than a married mom complaining about her life? It is human nature for all of us to complain at times. Why do the poor widows get slammed and told to buck up and deal with it? No one ever spoke to me in this way when I was still married. Why do people feel they can criticize me for what I have and haven't done and then still have the nerve to tell me to stop playing the victim?

The widowed are victims! Why is it so hard for people to accept that. Here is the definition of a victim: "a person cheated, fooled, or damaged whether by someone else or by some impersonal force." Now the few widows I've come to know (mostly through blogging) have all been pretty normal, decent people living average lives. No one was out having affairs or robbing banks. Just trying to live full lives with their spouses and children. And then through no fault of their own (damn unfortunate circumstances), these good people suffered the calamity of life when their spouses died. According to that definition, seems like it fits for being a victim. People cheated and damaged by an impersonal force.

I relate the details of my life through this blog not to play the victim but to give a depiction of how a normal formally middle-class mom is living her new life as a widow. Sympathy rather than condemnation would of course be preferred. This rendition of my life is not some pity party fest. Sometimes when I look back and read about my life I do feel compassion for how I'm living and what I've lived through. It is the same sense of sympathy I'd feel for a victim of a natural disaster who has lost everything and picked up stakes moving to a new area, forced to restart their life. These folks are victims and so are widows. Victim is not a bad word. It is a description.

Yes, I believe someone can proudly hold up their head and say, "I'm a victim of some hard circumstances but that doesn't mean I'm giving up." I think you can be strong and a victim at the same time. Why do people want to take our past away from us? Widowhood and victimization go hand in hand. By telling us not to be victims, what does that end up doing to us? What is the message? That we're somehow responsible for our lives. That we brought this hardship upon us.

How we move on with our lives as widows is in our control. But what brought us to our knees was not. Admitting that I feel sad, depressed, lonely and scared doesn't mean I am submitting to a victim mentality. Saying I feel I was dealt a raw hand and I'm angry and envious of others better off than I am doesn't make me a victim either. I am a victim of widowhood - it is my reality. And I don't want to have to apologize or make excuses to others about it. Nor do I have to hide my grief or other feelings.

As a widow I've felt attacked from all directions - I shouldn't grieve so much or so long. I should or shouldn't have parented the way I did. I made the wrong decisions and that is what led me to where I am. I need to be stronger and get myself off the floor. I should be more grateful for all that I do have in my life, blah, blah, blah. And I've been accused of playing the victim. I think most widows out here are doing the best we can with the resources we have available to us. Maybe the solution should be less focused on pointing fingers and labeling and more focused on acknowledging what is being accomplished is lieu of what isn't. Criticizing me for being a victim doesn't change my circumstances or reality. Nor does it provide motivation. But it does make me feel more of a failure for not being able to overcome my adversity fast or good enough. I am a victim. Don't make me feel bad and guilty about that too.

Anyway, when did it become such a crime to be considered a victim in our society? And when did it become acceptable for people to point their fingers and tell people to stop being victims? Widowhood has put me on the defensive where I feel I am constantly under a microscope being judged for my thoughts, feelings and behavior. There is something very disconcerting about this. And whatever I end up saying or doing doesn't seem to make much difference to others, especially those pointing fingers. What is interesting about all this is that I think my life would still be where it is now regardless of how I'd viewed myself - victim or survivor. And the thing is, I think that is how I do view myself. As a combination of both.

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.

A Day in the Life

Spent most of the late morning and early afternoon at H & R Block. I had to run home for the boys' social security numbers and that added 30 minutes (my error - I should have thought to have them on me). The first draft had me owing around $700.00. But redoing the numbers with another exemption brought it down to owing nothing, thank goodness, the first time since my husband's death that I am not paying the IRS in April! H & R Blocked charged me $349.00, I thought it would be less. I delayed paying them and having the taxes transmitted because the due date is still a month off. I'll wait until I receive my first paycheck next week - it will only be for a couple hundred dollars but right now I am fearful of running my small checking account balance down and overdrafting. I would rather be safe than sorry. At least I know that the damage isn't going to involve owing the IRS money that I don't have. That is a blessing.

The cold/flu thing I have is still with me concentrated in my sinus area and chest. I have to cough and my voice is hoarse. But I am better, on the mend I would say.

I made the boys go to the free dental clinic they had at the school, which is available to all students regardless of income. The first thing my youngest said when I picked him up from track was "I am never going to that dental clinic again." He disclosed that he was the only non-minority of the 10 kids there. He also said that he does not think my oldest went and will blow it off. The boys have not seen their dentist since last April so I thought it would be a good idea for them to go. It was at the school and I talked with the nurse about the boys being embarrassed. We'd arranged that they would see her for passes so they wouldn't have to be called out of their classes. I just figured it was worth getting done because it was free and would avoid me having to take them in the future and wait for future appointments, etc.

My son's comments upset me - I feel for him. Luckily, he does not need any work done (he got a cleaning). We are the family that had to move to the other side of the tracks. This can't have been easy for my boys. If they rode the bus to school, they would be the only non-minority kids riding. I'm not sure how to process that. Does it make our situation worse to now live in a community where we have become the minority? I have no problems or complaints about our neighbors but I do understand my sons' wariness about riding the bus. They want to avoid trouble and I suppose also want to avoid feeling embarrassed. I feel kind of crappy that I forced my sons (at least one) to go to the dental clinic. I thought it made sense, was worth it and helpful to me besides. Anyway, at least I don't have to worry about getting one of them to the dentist now. I wish I could have gone - you can bet I would have taken advantage of a free cleaning as it has been almost a year for me too.

What I keep being reminded of is that my boys have been deeply touched by my husband's death. In some good ways and in some bad. I continue to feel hurt for them that so few people have ever really stopped to think about how this experience has impacted them. That old cliche "Kids are resilient" doesn't stand muster with me. I have come to believe that kids can be very wounded too. They don't bounce back as easily as we may want to believe.

I needed to stop to pick up something for dinner when I got my youngest. He complained that he did not want to wait for me to even run into the store quickly, agreeing to eat a BLT sandwich tonight with soup since I have those items on hand. I still needed to run into the store for two small tomatoes and to get money for the laundry card. Then I had to fill my little sedan up with some gas. The mileage is great - $20.00 fills the tank and lasts a month!

My son then got annoyed with me and I had to listen to his complaints about my not having signed him up for driver's ed yet - he is 15. He was supposed to register for it at school but did not. Now it will cost me $400.00 or so to get him signed up at a local driving school. While he badgered me with the fact that I love my older son more, I was frantically thinking about the H & R Block bill due, the 4 tires I need to replace on the car, the auto insurance due in mid-April and the fact that I still need to come up with the remaining $400.00 owed my bankruptcy attorney. I was getting irritated at my son, short and snippy but at the same time felt sorry for him because he went to the dental clinic so I didn't want to bash him. But still...

We get home and I realize I have forgotten to pick up bath tissue yet again from the store. I run back out to put $10.00 on the laundry card so I can wash towels tonight, of which there have not been any clean ones in the past few days. The boys go through them like no tomorrow and I am considering hiding them and rationing them out. It is too expensive to be washing as many loads of laundry that I do weekly now and the machines here do not wash or dry particularly well. And I hate having to drag everything down to the laundry room - it is so dirty in there. I really do miss the huge, extra large capacity washer and dryer I had when I lived in my home.

So there is my day and I am tired. I am not sure if it is because I am still recovering from the flu/cold thing I had, or getting the taxes was emotionally draining or the prospect of doing laundry depresses me. But I feel drawn out and not looking forward to fixing even the simple BLT sandwiches on the menu.

I am grateful:

1. The taxes were done - not the most pleasant job to get done.
2. That I do not owe any taxes.
3. That my youngest (at least one out of the two) doesn't need any future dental work.
4. I am feeling a bit better, slowly but surely.
5. There is food for dinner, gas for the cars, electricity for the appliances.