Vision

I was listening to the audio of Caroline Myss, "Navigating Hope," and at one point she said that the reason people have trouble moving out of grief is that we are too stuck in our pasts. By that she means we keep wanting for our lives to be like they were before. Because that is impossible to achieve, we remain pretty miserable with our lives.

Actually, I think there is a point to this observation. I know that I wish I had my old life back. Trouble is, I am having trouble envisioning a new life. How are we supposed to do this? It is so much easier to want to restore what we had because it was known and we can see it our our minds. How do I look toward the future when I have nothing to throw my anchor into except a blank slate? My anchor is still stuck behind me because it was familiar and good. The future as an unknown is scary and treacherous.

I guess the point is that we need to have hope and faith in the unknown future. And to cast our anchors out before us blindly expecting the best.

You hear all this advice on what to do but I'm still lost. What are the steps we can take to start our future visions? If I come across any advice on this I'll provide an update, but I've been on this path awhile now and am still floundering.

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.

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.

Beyond the First Year

Does anyone know of a decent grief book about widowhood for the years after the first? I know there are a fair amount of books about getting through the first year - those initial weeks and months of intense grief, how to manage the first anniversaries, etc. But I haven't come across those that deal with life after the dust has settled and life has moved on but you're still kind of stuck. Or put another way, you're trying to go forward but your wheels seem to be spinning in the mud. The world is going forward but you seem not to be moving along with it.

Take for instance an issue heavy on my mind of late. What do you do about lingering feelings of resentment, jealousy and envy when interacting with people more fortunate? I wish there was a whole chapter devoted to this issue. And what about the reality of having to continue to live in a world with some pretty clueless people when you've changed. You're no longer the petty, selfish person you once were but you're interacting with people who don't see life as you do.

There is a very self-absorbed mom of a son on my boys' baseball team. I've known her for years and she monopolizes the conversations on the stands, every topic is about her and she just drones on and on about stuff that just has no personal meaning for me - nor does she ever inquire how you are. Anyway, we all know people like this in our lives. Usually I try to tune her out, especially when her topic involves having to alter her daughter's cheerleading outfit because she has grown so much within three months. How this topic can last an hour is beyond me but it does.

The other day she was lamenting the fact that she was so exhauted, tired and drained having just returned from her vacation at Disney in Florida. She explained how waiting in line for rides in the hot summer sun is so exhausting. When I encounter situations like this I wish I had the courage to say, "Lady, you don't know what exhaustion really is. I haven't had a vacation in six years. You are so fortunate to have been able to get away and had the time to wait in line for a roller coaster." But of course, I just smile and nod understandably. In my mind my fantasy involves grabbing her by her sholders and shaking her!

I wonder what this women would be blabbing about if she were widowed. She would have been an excellent widowhood spokeman - for getting out the word about how challenging widowhood really is. But anyway, my point is that as widows we often confront these clueless people and sometimes I am clueless myself as to how to react. I wish I could get out my "Widowhood For Dummies Beyond the First Year" to search out an answer.

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.

Walking Beside The Grief

It was a strange weekend where I was feeling disjointed and disconnected. On Friday I called up my closest girlfriend to ask if she wanted to go with me to see my son perform in the "Mr. _____ High School" production he is competing in. I was in the parking lot at the sporting goods store to exchange a pair of compression shorts for my youngest, running track. I got distracted and locked the keys in the van because I was still on the phone. In six years of living on my own I have always had that fear on my mind - of locking the keys in after me. And for six long years I've accomplished avoiding that event. Luckily, it wasn't such a big deal. My oldest was still at school and found a friend to drive him over to the sporting goods store and my life was restored and back to normal in about a half-hour.

My girlfriend asked me to join her for dinner that night. We went to a place where I had a buy-one-get-one coupon. When I told my oldest I was going out he was thrilled - he told me I need to get out more, do more, etc. While we were dining, my girlfriend realized that there was an eerie connection to the date. Last year, she had driven me to my divorce mediation in an ice storm. We were hours late and I remember my ex being furious that he had to pay his attorney for the extra time. My friend and I many times that morning feared for our lives driving on pure ice. We didn't talk much about my ex or the divorce. It was just an interesting connection to note and makes you wonder about how certain dates and times match up.

The evening which was restoring and a rare treat, ended with a headache on account of the glass of Cabernet and then the very strong Whiskey Sour following. I wasn't motivated to do much when I got home.

Saturday I took my oldest to a costume shop 30 minutes away to rent an Elvis costume for his pageant. I figured by the time we tried to piece something together on our own from the party stores and Goodwill, it would probably cost as much as the $50.00 rental fee. Plus we'd avoid a lot of stress. He loved the gold jumpsuit so it was worth it. It was also fun to check out the costume shop which brought back memories of my theater days in high school and college. But I also felt out of sorts and out of the loop. I seem to get out so rarely now - I live a kind of secluded and lonely life. It was a sad realization.

The threat of an approaching winter storm held me captive over the rest of the weekend and I remained unmotivated and listless. The dishes sat in the sink; I didn't go to the storage shed; I threw together meals from what was in the house. I did crochet a rug for the kitchen and read.

There was a lot of sadness this weekend very present and close to the surface. As easy as it is for people to say, "Move on and get over it" it is hard to stop thinking about what I have lost, the life I used to live, the life I hoped to live and compare that to my life now. There is the slow realization that the grief inside me will remain and I can only do my best to work around it. Somehow I have to rise to the occasion and be there for my boys to the most of my ability. This is a very shitty realization to come to. The grief just doesn't go away even when you work at it and process it and walk through the pain. I guess you have to somehow make peace with it knowing that it will remain with you. Maybe the reconciliation process of grief is that you somehow keep plodding forward with the losses next to you - not behind you or buried beneath you. You walk forward as a much different and changed person, stronger they all say. Maybe even a little jaded and numb but that's not such a bad thing. You walk forward with the grief beside you. It is not your close friend or buddy. But you do nod at it and are able to look it straight in the eye without dissolving into tears, running away or hiding.

I am grateful:

1. That the snow wasn't as bad as I'd initially heard - more slush-like and wet.
2. That I woke up this morning.
3. For my friendship with my girlfriend which has endured the end of her marriage and both of mine.
4. The clean slate of a new day.
5. The fresh start of a new week.

Fractured Family Riding The Hamster Exercise Wheel

My oldest is refusing to speak with me, except to announce that he will be "taking" the van after school to drive the almost four-hour ride back home for the weekend. I am planning to bring the boys back home to the apartment for Christmas break next week. We need to stay here this weekend to help Sam out with his son. He has not seen him for almost two months and works this weekend. If we are not home, the 11-year-old will be alone by himself in a home he has never even seen most of the weekend. I feel it is only fair that we help Sam out. Sam thinks I should let the boys drive home on their own. Letting a just-turned-17-year-old drive the "good" vehicle on his own, along with his 15-year-old brother and then be on their own an entire weekend does not seem to me to be responsible or rational. Too much can go wrong. We are too far away. That is a situation more applicable for college kids, not those still in high school.

I have visions of having to call the police or reporting the van stolen if he storms out of the house. I feel such a sadness and weariness about my sons and their behavior. Both of the counselors at both schools have said that they feel the boys should be more mature and better able to handle this transition than they have demonstrated.

I can point to so many reasons for why I think the boys are acting as they are. I was overly protective after their Dad died; they have not had any significant male role models in their life since their Dad's death; I did not spend enough time with them when I was caring for my parents; they were very hurt by my second husband blowing us off and virtually abandoning us; there were periods after the divorce when I was so grief stricken I'm not sure how much of an attentive parent I was. And some of this too is that they are teens and going through normal acting out and rebellion.

Sam took over my cell phone plan to ease up on my finances and got everyone new phones yesterday, including unlimited texting and internet, which I had blocked because of the cost. The boys seem to find this an expected given. Where we lived, fancy electronics were the norm for the kids. Every family had an SUV and/or luxury vehicle. So that is a part of who they are too. Despite my widowhood status, I did my best to keep up and provide for the boys. They have gone without but then again, they haven't. I was able to do it until the divorce, although on a much smaller scale than two-parent households. My boys got the electronics, although they were used models. They had phones with unlimited texting but no internet. I fixed up an old manual transmission car so my oldest could drive the van, which still looks good despite its 108,000 thousand miles.

I am awaiting a call from the guidance dept. of the old school to discuss options for bringing the boys back. Sam and I both feel that needs to be considered at this point. Maybe this move is not in the best interests of this family. The move was made with the best of intentions. The only thing we are not giving it is time but right now there is not any to have the luxury to play around with. If we move permanently, it will have to be at the end of the month and I will lose my apartment. Both of us adults have to consider the future consequences of the boys not adjusting or fitting in here.

It would have been hard enough blending a family together in a new home even in the same old town. Try doing that in a totally foreign state and environment (rural, farm area). We're just trying to be realistic. At least we tried and made the effort.

My husband's death had such far reaching consequences, well beyond what I ever would have first expected. I wish I had been the one who had died. The boys would never have had to face the financial problems that hit us because of my husband's income and job position. As males, it would have been better for their father to have raised them. And that is based on my overall perspective having been an only female parent of two boys. I think it would have been easier for me to have raised two daughters on my own or a son and daughter.

This kind of death and loss has such far reaching implications for the family members left behind. I just want to impart that the complications, trials and tribulations faced by such families as mine can seem unbearable and endless. I can describe it as being like a hamster on an exercise wheel. The problems and challenges keep piling up and you just keep running and continuing to run to keep up but the wheel really doesn't go anywhere. People have such a finite view of grief. That somehow after a certain time period, life will be restored and whole again. But if you can never go back to the life you had, how will that be possible? No one stops to consider that. And what happens when the new life ahead of you is harder than anything you could ever have imagined? Suddenly you have to reevaluate all of your original perceptions of happiness and contentment.

The complications, curve balls, hardships and challenges keep one mired in the grief. It cannot be escaped because it has overtaken one's life at all levels. In my situation at least, the grief has continued to follow me. That is because there are losses after the loss. And you have to grieve those too. So, my hope for today's post is that maybe in some small way I can spread the word about this reality. Grief can expand beyond the initial death. Families become fractured. Mothers lose hope. Life does not get better, easier or whole after a year of mourning. Sometimes the grief gets worse.

Transformation Isn't What It Is Cracked Up To Be

My grief counselor recently told me that a positive aspect of grief, if there can be one, is that in surviving it, one becomes transformed. You become a more in-depth person, introspective, kind, understanding, compassionate. She quickly added that she knew I would trade all the inner-growth and wisdom in a heartbeat to have my husband back.

A similar variation on this theme came from the asst. principal at the boys' new school. He said that living through challenging circumstances is what adds the substance and dimension to our character. He was saying that ultimately the boys will benefit from the painful and tragic lessons of their childhood in becoming better, more well-rounded men and citizens of the world.

I certainly get the belief in this but am not sure it really matters or that I care anymore. It doesn't seem that those of us who have had a more difficult path to travel get any special tickets to heaven or have to pay lower taxes. We still have to muddle through life with more on our shoulders beside all of those who have fewer burdens. I am not sure what any of this inner wisdom has gotten me. So I am more compassionate and kind. In the end what does it all really matter anyway?

We walk in a crowd of others and no one can see what is inside us. How we look on the outside provides no clue to all the transformation that has gone on within.

New Self-Image

I started referring and identifying myself as Middle in the Widow shortly after my husband died. I was picking produce from an apple bin when my hand brushed past that of an elderly woman shopping in the store with a group of residents from a nearby retirement facility. It struck me then as I observed the prominent veins in her hand that she was most likely a widow. And so was I. But so much younger. Still, I was not like a very young widow with babies to raise on my own. I was right smack dab in the middle of widowhood. A middle-aged widow, a widow in the middle. This title seemed an apt and appropriate way for me to describe and identify myself.

Since that time, six years ago, I've added to my identity by remarrying and then going through the excruciating experience of divorce. Even when I was married, a large part of me continued to identify with my widowhood. I looked upon myself as a remarried widow. There wasn't much opportunity for me to live a new life as a remarried, formerly widowed, middle-aged soccer mom. Because of my parent's illnesses I never moved to live with my new husband and he and I had a long-distance marriage - he stayed with us on the weekends and the boys and I spent holidays and school vacations with him.

When I started this blog I identified with myself as more strongly a widow. But things have become more complicated for me as I have worked to also heal from the divorce. There are these differing grief forces working beside themselves. One involves the death of my husband, another involves the divorce and the feelings of abandonment that resulted. Sometimes I need to focus and write about one or the other. Sometimes both sets of grief are combined. It has been a unique experience to say the least, posting about both events in my life and trying to go forward and make some sort of sense or reach some kind of closure/understanding to all that has happened. Then the old family stuff comes up too rearing its ugly head in between all of the newer stuff to process and deal with.

It is also weird to sometimes feel as though I am an old pro at widowhood since it has been six years, but then to feel all the emotions of being a new widow, especially if I am all caught up in the more recent divorce. I have also come to realize that some of the healing I needed to attend to regarding my husband's death got pushed to the back burner because the unresolved abuse and neglect from my childhood that took center stage shortly after he died.

When my parents were ill and we were handling their affairs, all kinds of long buried ghosts came to the surface. I personally had a very difficult time with all of this new turbulence, probably because I was still raw from my husband's death. I did not have the insight or strength to say no to helping my parents in the ways I did. I did what I thought I should do, the ever dutiful daughter to my mom. But at a great price to pay. I did not take care of myself or my children adequately or fairly. And my new husband was less than understanding or patient. I was having trouble managing and handling my own life and at times it was insane caring for my mother. There was a great deal of sacrifice and heartache surrounding this time.

All of these events have swirled around and around separately and then mixed together until they've represented a yucky looking, unappetizing stew thrown together of left-overs. What a mess! If I could compose a photo of how all this grief and loss actually looks like to me this is what it would be.

Today my identity has shifted. It is a broader view than that original description of widowhood. Today I view myself as a survivor of childhood abuse, middle-aged widowhood and divorce. A survivor of many different kinds of grief, loss and challenges. I don't want this to sound like I am bragging or deserve some kind of extra sympathy. There are others out there who have faced greater losses and challenges than I could ever imagine. This place where I have now come to doesn't feel as gaping and insurmountable. It seems survivable. That constant bleeding wound finally is slowing down a bit from the bandages I have applied.

If Her Husband Hadn't Died...

I wanted this blog to tell the story of a woman who wouldn't be writing it, if her husband hadn't died.

If her husband hadn't died, she would not be sitting in this apartment having had to sell her home for virtually no profit 2 1/2 months ago.

If her husband hadn't died, she never would have married the man who ended up devastating her emotionally and financially.

If her husband hadn't died, she wouldn't be so careworn and exhausted.

If her husband hadn't died, their sons would almost certainly have better grades and be more adjusted (and happier and less troubled).

If her husband hadn't died, she never would have left her part-time counseling job with the county.

If her husband hadn't died, she would not have gone six long years without any kind of vacation (even a mini weekend getaway).

If her husband hadn't died, the vast majority of the household goods owned by the family would not be sitting in two extremely untidy storage units.

If her husband hadn't died, a small family would not currently be on the brink of losing everything.

If her husband hadn't died, their sons would not be celebrating Christmas for the second year in a row without receiving presents.

If her husband hadn't died, there would not have been the financial struggle that has existed and which just worsened with the divorce and Recession.

If her husband hadn't died, this woman would not have had to go looking for another partner with whom to share her life since she wants to be with someone. Happy dating in the land of middle-age flab, sags, grey hair and wrinkles! Not to mention financial and ex-spouse baggage. And all the drama that goes with the kids. Whoo hoo! It is time to party! Oh and then there is all the fun worrying about STDs.

If her husband hadn't died, life would not have been the challenge it has been the past six long years.

This is not some joke or fiction. It is all real and I do my best to convey what is happening in my life honestly. Why? Maybe it will end up helping someone along the way. Maybe my tale will let others know that grief doesn't stop after the first year. And for some of us, the secondary losses of financial hardship, divorce after remarriage and only parenting take a far greater toll than the actual death of our spouses. I hope maybe to somehow get through that women like me fall through the cracks because we don't qualify for any financial assistance but that what we earn on our own isn't enough to raise the children that were left behind for us to bring up on our own. I hope to depict that it is a very hard and lonely road for some of us to stumble along everyday.

New challenges abound. If we remarry and move, how will that impact our kids? What about the kids who have led a less than stable life in their formative years? How screwed up will mine be having been rejected by their mom's second husband so soon after their beloved Dad died? Everyone says kids are resilient and will come out just fine. But I'm not sure I believe that anymore. No one seems to remember the kids or the widow after the first few months. But where was the magic wand that was supposed to be waved to have made it all better? Do people honestly think that with the passage of time everything just turns out? It doesn't for some of us, nor is being an only parent the best thing for kids. They need and deserve to be raised in a family or at least within a loving network that provides support to the widow/widower and the kids. But for some of us without much family, our lives become isolated and we parent on our own out of necessity. It is a very hard job to undertake. No one sees the underlying stress and strain that results from this relentless job.

It snowed this morning and here again comes my greatest fear of the winter - that I will fall and break a leg and there will be no one to assist me with the kids or my recovery. I will myself not to get sick every year because I cannot afford to.

I wish I were not this woman whose husband died and that the following years had not led us to this point. I wish you had all gotten to know the woman I was before stress and strain left me jaded and pessimistic and so down all the time. I wish this were not my real life and I was just making all this up!

If My husband hadn't died, I wouldn't be in front of this computer screen, all of the crazy events of the past years would have never happened and I would just be a normal, middle-aged soccer mom who had never even thought of the screen name Widow-in-the-Middle. Tonight I just so wish I was that normal, middle-aged mom. I want to pretend that I am for a little while.

Giving Myself a Long Overdue Hug

According to the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale, the death of a spouse is the most stressful change a person has to endure. Back in the 1960s, these psychiatrists ranked various life events and assigned them numeral correlations. The death of a spouse comes in at a whopping 100! Getting married is ranked 50. Taking out a small mortgage is 17 and so on. The main point behind this scale is that the higher score someone has, the more likely that they will be facing significant stress which can lead to serious illness, anxiety, depression and anger. To see the scale go to Wikipedia and then just search under Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale.

I am not surprised about the highest ranking being assigned to losing a spouse. After all, I've been there and I know what this is like. The stress just doesn't go away, say like having your computer break and then having to either get it fixed or chuck it and buy a new one. It is not a short-term life change that can be quickly dealt with. Rather, a spouse's death is so multi-dimensional and the changes that result continue for years. Talk about long-term stress!

I find it surprising that despite what these guys determined way back 40 years ago, that the world continues to overlook and dismiss the complexities related to losing one's spouse - especially, those of us who are younger and/or with children. I'm not sure why there continue to be so many sterotypes about grief and loss, such as people need to get over their grief and move on within a year period. Or the myth that you can get over grief in the first place. I also continue to struggle with how underserved this group is. Here we have had research into grief and loss that even shows that the brain undergoes chemical changes when grieving - reasons we are absentminded or forgetful, unable to concentrate. All the books and studies by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross on death and dying. While I don't totally agree with the stages of grief she developed, she brought into the forefront sociological and psychological data into what grieving really involves.

In a way it was good to see in black and white confirm what I have been living and know to be true in my heart - that the death of my spouse was the most significant life changing event I could endure save something happening to one of my children. Knowing this I need to be kinder and more gentle to myself. I need to step back and see the entire picture for what it is and what it has been. It has been a nightmare - having my soul exist in unending darkness within a world that continues to brightly shine. Maybe that sounds overdramatic but it is what I have endured. All the times I was so hard on myself for not grieving fast enough or being strong enough or making decisions that I shouldn't have made. Boy do I need to give myself a break!

I just had the silliest imagry of myself having a hand long enough to reach behind me and pet myself like I pet my cats. Giving myself a small measure of kindness and comfort. Then I had the image of part of myself breaking away from my body and giving myself a big long hug. Yes, it is sad that the world doesn't seem to understand how significant the loss of a spouse is. But I don't need the world's understanding to provide that recognition to myself. In the end that is what counts the most anyway. I get it - I know it - and from now on I am going to make more of an effort to show myself compassion and empathy I should have long ago.

Grief and Houdini

I am over halfway through the book, "The Secret Life of Houdini - The Making of America's First Superhero" by William Kalush and Larry Sloman. Harry Houdini was extremely devoted to his mother and was deeply affected by her death. He apparently would often wake up in the middle of the night and call out loud, "Mama, are you here?" When he received no response he would sigh with disappointment and fall back to bed morosely. Even five years after her death, he still suffered great feelings of loss. In a letter to a friend he wrote, "I have worked hard and faithfully, and never knew what it was to shirk work, until one morning I awoke and found that my Mother had departed - and since then I 'loaf' in my work."

I find it very interesting and informative that Houdini also makes references to how he is affected by his mother's death around the date of her passing. He writes, "I have not recovered from my Mothers Loss, and July 8 was the last time I saw and [held] Her in my arms kissing Her a genuine Goodbye, and about the 17 of each month the feeling comes back to me, and I get melancoly [sic] moods." On the second anniversary of her death, he purposely stayed in the room "in which My Darling Mother went to Sleep for Evermore."

Houdini was friends with the "The Call of the Wild" author, Jack London and his wife, Charmian. When Jack died at only the age of 40, he immediately sent a telegram to Charmian. While she was in New York 11 months later, she attended one of Houdini's shows and met him afterward. He appeared somewhat shocked and upset that she was looking "so well and blooming" that soon after her husband's death. She responded defiantly with "I REFUSE to be beaten! I am going to put in whatever years life still hold for me as profitably in the pursuit of happiness as I possibly can. You have lost and suffered. An I not right in my attitude?"

Again, I found this reaction to be very interesting. Even in 1917 two very different reactions to death and grief are at play and at odds here. Houdini doesn't feel his friend's wife should be "over" her grief while Charmian has adopted a mindset of moving forward despite her pain and looking for happiness in the future. I was just blown away by this very small part of the book - probably most readers find it somewhat interesting and continue reading without much further thought but it really impacted me in many ways. I am most struck by:

1. Houdini's love and devotion for his mother and his acknowledgment that the grief lingered long after her death.

2. For the courage of Jack London's wife to forge ahead meeting life head on and with the specific intent of pursuing happiness (and not feeling guilty with herself for this attitude).

Interesting that Houdini was upset with Charmian for not grieving enough as he saw fit. After mulling all of this over I have settled in on my conclusion. I think that we all need to grieve in our own ways and for the time we need. I have come to believe that the grief over my losses will forever be incorporated into my life and they've become who I am. But at the same time, I also want to move ahead and experience much more happiness. Debbie Ford puts it so perfectly in her book "Spititual Divorce" by asking, "In this new situation, how can I be happy and have a great life?" Like Houdini I want to honor my losses. But like Charmian and Debbie Ford I am ready to ask this question and to seek the answers.

I pay tribute to Harry Houdini on this Halloween for the mastery of his magic, his talent, devotion to family, work ethic, creativity, courage, honesty and patriotism - all true measures of a great man and true American legend.

Sixth Anniversary

Today is the sixth Anniversary of my husband's death. I have never written about it because at the time of his death we didn't even have a home computer. He used a computer at his job and I did the same. My kids were young enough to use the computer at their school as well. Boy, has a lot changed in those six years!

My husband and I did not have cable (we still don't) because we weren't at home enough for it to be worth the cost. We coached our sons together for many years - baseball and soccer. He sang semi-professionally in fine arts groups and I volunteered in the community, as well as the boys' school. We had such an active and full life together. I would say that is was very rewarding. We felt that we accomplished good things for the world. He taught - I counseled. We gave back. And we still had time to pursue some of our own interests. It was a pretty balanced life.

Blogging has been a bit of a strange experience for me because I have been widowed for awhile. Yet I never really had an opportunity to do the necessary grief work after his death. Life just went forward too quickly and presented us with way too many curve balls. It is funny because the divorce with Husband #2 plunged me right back into grief mode - and in actuality, maybe I had never left it. Anyway, when I post I find it sometimes a little bizarre because although I am not a new widow, many of my feelings are those of one. In certain ways I am a seasoned widow but at the same time a novice one. Evidence that the grief journey is so unique to us all. Certainly not one-size-fits-all!

Today there is a break in the rain and I am going to work at the storage shed. While there, I hope to have some time to contemplate about this day. I'll see what I come up with and where my heart and feelings lead me. This will be the first time that I have done that.

Life's Path

I have recently received some comments from womanNshadows, Sari, Bec and Judy S. that were just what I needed to hear. These past weeks I have been in such a struggle to try and be happy despite all the grief surrounding me and I also have been struggling with the concept of trying to see the good in my husband's death.

These women gave me some insight that I was unable to see myself - that it is okay to be grieving during this time and not be happy; that some losses can't be gotten through so you live on despite the loss and make the best of your future; that the death of a good husband is crappy and there may not be any good to be found in the loss; and the biggest key is to cultivate joy and happiness in one's life even having faced significant loss. That happiness can be found again in spite of the previous pain and suffering.

My mind has become much less burdened by the wisdom of these kind souls who took the time to convey their thoughts and beliefs to me. I feel so much more free to be able to acknowledge that I don't need to"get over" my husband's death - yes, I'll need to adapt and cope but it is not an event that I'll ever totally "get through." I love the concept of experiencing future happiness - that perhaps the greatest testament to my strength and healing will be to go on and experience joy despite the hardships.

Today at work I adapted some of these ideas to my feelings of dissatisfaction with my current job. I thought to myself that this is a job I took as a temporary bridge to being in some income while I sell my house and get my feet back on the ground. No where is it written in stone that this will be the last job I'll ever have. As my life stabilizes, I'll be in a better position to pursue jobs in my field of social services. For now, it is what it is - and that is okay (thanks to womanNshadows for this perspective). Again, I felt such relief and a weight off my shoulders.

The hardships will eventually lessen - someday soon I'll be back in my field doing the work I love. It'll all be okay - right now this is where I'm at on the path - and the fact that my feet are even hitting the road is a good place to be.

Today I am grateful:

1. For the beautiful park in our center of town
2. For the misty half-moon I can see from the window
3. For Poptarts (sometimes I really just have a craving for them!)
4. For this year's set of Fall magazines coming out soon
5. For geometric coloring books, find-it puzzles and word searches (so adults can have fun too)

Coping

This is the best I can do today:

1. Make a fruit salad
2. Drive the boys to their baseball and volleyball events
3. Have food in the house for them to eat
4. Shower and look presentable
5. Go to work and then work
6. Take a vitamin
7. Focus on the moment


Today I am grateful:

1. That I am not an alcoholic.
2. That I am not a drug addict.
3. That I don't weigh 200 pounds.
4. That I am intelligent.
5. That there is food in the house.

Use Love to Burn Through Grief

I read about the concept of "using love as a deliberate strategy for dealing with the pain of an unacceptable loss" in Dr. Ira Byock's book, "The Four Things That Matter Most." He suggests that when you are grieving to "respond to anguish with love." To do this, "each time a wave of grief threatens to tear you apart, ask yourself, "What does love ask of me now?" How can you be more loving toward the person who is dying or has died, and to other important people in his or her life? How can you be more loving toward yourself?"

This way of thinking blew me away! I thought about how I could use it not only for the grieving times (of which there are many) in my life but for all the moments in my day. If I have to make a decision, I can strive to do so within the context of love. If I am dealing with a trying situation at work, I can call on this perspective for support. If I am having a tough time coping, I can ask myself to be gentler, all in the name of love.

"What does love ask of me now?" is a great way for me to keep focused, motivated and cognizant of the power of love which needs to be a greater part of all our lives. In closing his chapter on this topic, Dr. Byock adds, "Death makes us aware of the importance of the people we love and the sustaining force of love in our lives. When someone close to us is dying or has died, we can use love to burn through our grief and come to a place of gratitude for each other and being alive." Such powerful ideas and words. I really like the concept of having love burn though our grief. The mental image I see of this alone is awesome!

Today I am grateful:

1. To be alive.
2. To have shared the time I had with my late husband.
3. That I am still searching for answers and growing.
4. For Drumstick icecream cones.
5. That it is summer and not winter.

Choosing to be positive

It has been a bit of a tough time the last couple of weeks with getting readjusted to the boys being out of school for the summer. I have also been fighting with feelings of general sadness and some hopelessness. Getting the house cleaned up and cleared out is a daunting task to handle on my own and it also depresses me. I'm doing the best I can - getting up and going to work when I'm scheduled to; feeding the boys; taking care of the little day-to-day duties.

I started clearing out the study yesterday and spent the day going through and recycling old paperwork. Toward the end of the day, I came across a crinkled piece of paper that I'd torn out of a woman's magazine. I was about to recycle it when some words caught my eye from an article about cultivating inner joy. One of the suggestions was to focus on the positive in all situations - not because life is always rosy posy. But by embracing life positively and cheerfully, we can make our lives better.

I reflected on this because I'd recently read some articles about choosing to be happy and that being positive and optimistic is a choice we can all make to improve our lives. I have to take some of this advice with a grain of salt. When someone is deeply grieving, such simplistic suggestions are not suitable. The prevalent upbeat spirit in the self-help books I have been recently reading is beginning to annoy me. There is a time and place for appropriate grieving, such as when a marriage has ended and you're in foreclosure. I think that I am entitled to feel sad at my losses right now. Yet according to these self-help gurus, by focusing on my grief (which puts forth low-level energy vibrations), I am actually attracting back negative things into my life!

Yet at the same time I understand the logic about choosing to see the good in a situation and putting your best foot forward and all that. I guess as in all things it is a balance. A balance between setting time aside for deeply grieving and then choosing to move forward with a more optimistic mindset.

Today I am grateful:

1. For having the strength to face what needs to be done with the house although it is dreary and hard work.
2. For the small surprises I find along the way in cleaning, such as a self-portrait my son drew of himself that made me laugh out loud it was so realistic!
3. That the weather has continued to be cool enough to not have to wear shorts because I haven't had time yet to organize my summer clothing!
4. For the great cheap dinner we had last night - fried bologna, coleslaw, potato salad and corn bread.
5. For the good advice I got from that torn out article which was when you're feeling envious, say to yourself, "Right now I have enough." Aren't those great words?

Death vs. Divorce - which is harder

I have been really struggling with the grief and loss I feel about the end of my marriage. For me, this process is far more painful than what I went through when I was widowed five years ago. I think it has to do with the fact that Husband #2 made a conscious decision to leave the marriage, whereas Husband #1 had no choice in dying. So much of the situation mirrors an actual death. Husband #2 has refused to speak with me about the divorce and I do not have a definitive explanation as to why he wants out. Even the fact that I think Husband #2 has intimacy problems (he had not been in a relationship the five years prior to meeting me which included not having sex for five years!) does not make it easier to comprehend and move on.

I feel that I need an opportunity to respond verbally to Husband #2's divorce action but he has cut me off from any opportunity to do so. I sent him several emails but am not sure he received or read them as he did not reply. This has just left everything hanging for me and although I can suspect why he filed, not knowing for certain causes doubt and confusion. I believe that Husband #2 is exerting such rigid control in an effort to avoid feeling intense hurt. He had little experience in relating to others having been in only a few very short term relationships throughout his life. For example, he did not date in college and only started dating at age 25. He also never was married and had no children and I think that he exhibits a preference for living on his own. In the end, he could not adjust to a life involving a wife and two teen boys. He is far more comfortable living in his own limited little world.

So far it has been much easier for me to write about Husband #1 and his death but I am ready to undertake more introspection about the end of my marriage.

Today I am thankful:

1. For friends who care about us and are kind enough to take us bowling and lunch out. What a treat!
2. For friends who ask how our day is and really want to hear the answer.
3. That the world and Universe are large enough to provide more than one partner for each of us.

"Getting Over" Grief

You just don't wake up one morning and find that you've gotten over your grief. Why do we refer to grief as something that we need to "get over?" Where exactly is it supposed to go? What exactly are we supposed to replace it with? And how about all those time lines we think we have to adhere to? That once the first year has passed, we should be magically recovered. It isn't that simple and doesn't work that way. Life can throw in some complications.

In my situation, life events prevented me from attending to most of the duties associated with my husband's death so I am four years behind the process of getting over it! A year after his death, my youngest son was diagnosed with a heart condition and the next nine months were spent in and out of hospitals again. Then, when we could finally breathe a sigh of relief my parents became very ill and I spent two years as their main caregiver before my mom died and my dad went into a long term care facility. And all of those duties occurred simultaneously as I tried to navigate my new life as a newly widowed mom with two boys, ages 9 and 10. I also got remarried and did my best to negotiate a long distance marriage while getting my home ready to sell so we could move out of state. That was in addition to helping with the sale and clean out of my parent's large home. Maybe a little too much on my plate the past five years...

So, it wasn't until this past June that I finally had the time and energy to start going through my husband's possessions. It took me two weeks to get through the library and 20 years of old tax/financial documents. My deceased husband was divorced and with a son when we married so there were many items from that marriage to dispose of too. Husband #2 was exceedingly irritated at how I was going about the process. He felt that I should just take all the records/documents and throw them in the trash but I found out of respect for my husband (and first wife) that I needed to shred those containing personal information. Overall, the process was long overdue for me and very healing - lots of crying and reminiscing. But at one point in the middle of this difficult process, Husband #2 angrily accused me of not being over the death of Husband #1. I remember angrily replying that I would never be over his death and why would I even want to be?

At that moment, I realized that at least for me, grief is not something you ever get over. And I do not want to be over it. This man was my husband and father of my children - I nursed him and stood by his side during the painful years of his illness and death. To be over him would represent the opposite of what I truly felt for him. It is an honor for me to not be over his death. Somehow by saying I am over it would mean that I am over loving him. Because we never stop loving people - even after they die.

That is not to say that I want to be mired in grief. I have moved on but that is different from saying, "I'm over it." I think that instead of getting over a death what happens is that we learn to live with it and incorporate the pain into our daily lives. It does not mean forgetting. We learn to manage our lives despite the loss. It means living with pain while at the same time focusing on the future.

Life moves forward and the pain lessens, is not so intense. A few days after my husband died, the boys and I heard something funny and I laughed. My youngest asked, "Mom, why are you laughing? Dad just died," and I replied that what we had heard was funny and it was o.k. to laugh. A good lesson at the time for us. And a good example of what I am trying to convey - that life goes on even in the midst of grief and somehow you have to balance the pain of the past with the progress of living. So sometimes you end up laughing and crying at the same time. But that doesn't mean that one day you just wake up to find the pain all gone and that you're over it. There is no pill to take that will ever accomplish that.

Today I am thankful:

1. That the projected blizzard that was supposed to hit us apparently missed us!
2. That the sun has just come out!
3. That I have learned to live with my grief.