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.

Antiquing

I really enjoy antiquing, although it has really taken a back seat in my life the past years. Now, I am making a point of visiting antique stores. The American made pottery and glassware I collect offer many items that can be found for $10-20. To me, there is something so fun and exciting about the "hunt" for pieces. But I think it may also have to do with the fact that as a child, my family would go to flea markets every Sunday. Then after the market, we'd have a meal out.

All four kids and two parents packed into a Beetle Bug. Funny how I have no desire to drive one (too small) but I do drive a PT Cruiser. Anyway, I recall these excursions taking place while I was in Junior High through my first year of high school. I remember that all of us kids would bring our homework to complete in the car! One of my brothers would have had to sit I think in that tiny back. We called it the "way back." I started to collect antique dolls and Valentine postcards. Nothing costly - I even believe I spent the first $5.00 I earned babysitting at a flea market.

It was at those markets that my family "acted" normal. Although my parents could still yell at each other in the Bettle, at least in the flea market mall they had to behave themselves. Maybe that is why I am finding myself "feeling" so secure and safe when I'm browsing in an antiques shop. It brings back memories of when I really did fell safe and secure as a child in a childhood where there aren't many memories of that.

My youngest son and I have gone on a couple of antique jaunts together and he has become quite in-the-know about the glassware I collect and is able to spot it. This time my oldest agreed to accompany us, maybe inspired by the fact that I offered to splurge on Steak n' Shake with the coupons I had. Oh I forgot, his girlfriend was out of town at her college orientation in Iowa. But no matter, I was happy both of my sons would be with me.

We hit a store out in the country about 45-minutes away. I'd never been there and it was in a beautiful old stone house. My oldest son was enthusiastic browsing and found a minature horse family in Bone China for $9.00. He purchased it for his girlfriend who is planning to be a vet. He also bought a beer stein for $10.00 deciding to start a collection in honor of his dad who was of Austrian heritage. I told him that his father had a collection himself and that I carefully packed it away, although it is hidden somewhere now in the storage shed.

I found it interesting that he would decide to start this collection which is similar to why my youngest son collects sports items from Wisconsin teams - it is where his dad grew up and went to college for his BA.

The women vendors at the shop fell in love with my sons. The fact that my oldest bought the horses for his girlfriend was sweet, as was my youngest going around and spotting my glassware. My boys are tall, good looking young men - like I don't state that enough in these posts. They're just such nice kids, wearing their Young Life shirts and interacting so pleasantly. I got to talking with one of the women who told me about her two daughters in college. I mentioned raising the boys on my own because of my husband dying. I don't bring it up that much anymore but I think I wanted some credit since the women were gushing over my sons.

This woman replied with one of those ignorant remarks that makes you just want to scream and which we get our share of. Hers was after a mumbled kind of I'm sorry: "Oh, I know someone whose father-in-law just died." Hmmm I thought. How does that relate to me or losing a husband and then having to become an only parent? Answer: absolutely nothing. But I wasn't in the mood to comment or correct her. She'd said a lot of nice compliments about my boys and I decided to let her slide. If I ever go back to the shop though and she is there, I may say something.

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.

Come Together, Right Now

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

Thank You All

Just want to take the time to thank everyone for responding/commenting the past few posts when I was so worried about the insurance issue. Dan was kind enough to say it is not necessary to comment back. But I have always been so grateful for those interested in me and my life that I want to acknowledge you. I've been a bit overwhelmed with having gone back to work - my free time has kind of vanished!

Kelly - I know you have had a lot on your plate and I am always glad to hear from you because we seem to be on the same wave length. I hope all is calm at your end with the death of the boys' grandfather. This must be a tough time for you so please let me know how you're doing. And thanks for checking up on me!

Anonymous widowed for almost a year - It was very nice of you to comment about my insurance worries and I hope you're holding up and doing okay.

Vanessa - I always appreciate your practical and useful comments.

Dan - I enjoy hearing from you because of the affinity I feel with you with both of us working in the social services arena.

wNs - What can I say? I often think of you and tonight did so when I saw the moon. I am honored that a woman of your artistic creativity and intelligence reads about my life and offers heartfelt comments.

Melaka - I was very struck by your story of your husband losing his parents and his job loss. In the end, I agree, there are times we must do what is right at that time. There will be other jobs in our lives to replace those we may have lost but people are not replaceable. You offered good advice about taking each day as it comes and letting life unfold without our trying to always control it.

Jude - It is always great to hear from you and I like your real warmth and honesty.

Thelma - You always offer a lot of encouragement to me and inspire me to keep going.

Beth - I always appreciate the support you offer me for the decisions I've made on behalf of my sons.

CCC - I have appreciated learning about your personal experiences and you always offer a dose of inspiration and strength.

Again, I thank each of you. You've provided me with a great deal of support that would otherwise be absent in my life and I am grateful for you all!

Advice

Advice. It bothers me a lot that the well-intentioned sometimes tell us that we "need to move on," "become more positive," or "handle and cope with our lives better than we are doing." It is very easy to cast a critical eye on someone else because you think you would or they should be doing something else. Most times, a concern is expressed and that is that. We've been told that we're lacking in some way and now we need to change. Oh, if it were just that simple. How do we accomplish it? May I suggest that if we're going to advise people that they need to think or do differently, that at least we can offer some suggestions.

So, in that spirit, here are some of my observations. I have been noticing that I can seemingly cope better, physically and emotionally, when I am active and exercising, even a little. Getting up to face the day and not staying in bed or in my pajamas, also helps. Having a goal list of tasks to accomplish during the day provides structure and takes my mind off dwelling on the negative. Getting some fresh air, even in this brutal cold is life-affirming. Reaching out to someone else, even simply to send an email, also takes the focus off self. Choosing to read uplifting or positive books vs. dreary, depressing ones can make a huge difference. Taking the time to do anything, however small just for me because it makes me happy; e.g., baking some banana bread is well worth it. So is socializing or being with people, even if that means simply mingling in with the crowd at the grocery store.

These observations come from the past few years having been in and out of depression as the result of active grieving. I won't kid myself that there might be days in the future where I stay in my p.j.s or can only manage to eat BLT sandwiches. It's a given. I am prone to depression and life is challenging. Two loaded bullets waiting to be fired off. I'm not going to tell myself that I can never go into that cave again - that would be fooling myself. In fact, there are times when that is where we need to be. But my list of helpful hints is for when I need to start climbing out of that deep, dark cave of despair and rejoin the land of the living again.

This last bout of depression in December was a tough one. Looking back, I can see how my inactivity and despair kept feeding on itself. It was hard to break the cycle. I was distraught about losing the house, having to move the boys, not being able to afford a Christmas, and experiencing financial hardship. It was a lot on my plate. I had to grieve it all first. That part could not be skipped.

But at the same time, I can see how dwelling on the hardship perpetuates the anguish and keeps me down in the cave. At some point, I reach a place where I realize it is time to come back up. And using my arsenal of past experience as to what has assisted me caused me to come up with these actions. I am going to focus on them now because they have worked in the past.

1. Greet the day with the intent of facing and living it fully.
2. Just get up out of bed.
3. Take shower, put on makeup, dress in decent clothes.
4. Get some fresh air.
5. Try to exercise a little.
6. Reach out to someone in a small way.
7. Write up a to-do or goal list and focus on accomplishing the tasks.
8. Read something uplifting or watch a humorous movie or t.v. show.
9. Do something fun or meaningful.
10. Socialize.
11. Be kind to myself.

And when all else fails, JUST DO ANYTHING, SOMETHING, JUST GET MOVING! Throw in a load of laundry, wash the dishes, clean out a drawer. Focusing on something usually leads to another productive activity. There seems to be something to the Law of Attraction of positive energy increasing and building upon what precedes it.

I should add that I made a concerted effort in the past to focus on positives and list five daily items per post in that regard. That effort petered out this fall when we sold the house, moved and life became pretty frantic with Sam moving and me taking the Nursing Asst. class. Did reflecting on the positives help overall? I'm not sure, I just notice that since I haven't been listing them that I have been in a state of pretty consistent low-level energy, mood and hope. So I will attempt to reactivate my Grateful List now and we'll see what comes of it. It can't hurt.

Today I am grateful for :

1. Postal carriers.
2. The U.S. Post Office.
3. The red, rosy glow of winter sunsets.
4. Being able to pay bills online or over the phone.
5. Weather forecasts, which allow us to know when winter snow is on its way.

Thanksgiving "Break"

I am taking the day off and purposely going to try and not think too much, process everything, figure out problems or fret about the future. I am just going to try and be - to keep my mind blank and neutral. A bit of a rest from all the turmoil swirling around my head and body. Unless they've had to grieve a terrible loss, I don't think others realize the amount of inner work going on inside our brains. There is constant motion, never ceasing. Over and over our minds say, "What if," and/or "I miss him so much," and/or "I just want my old life back" and/or "I don't think I can go on." Our inner pain seems endless because we can't turn it off. When we go to bed (if we can sleep), we sometimes end up having dreams or nightmares. We wake up thinking about our loss/losses, during the day these thoughts consume us and then at night we toss and turn in loneliness. No break. And then on top of the grieving thoughts we have to figure out how to do things we've never done before, we have to live in new and unfamiliar ways and we have to make backup plans. Talk about overloaded minds and brains!

Today I wish everyone a bit of a break and respite from the thoughts swirling around within.

And to those who will be with a grieving loved one or know one, please take a moment to see beyond the person in physical form. Recognize that there is so much going on within and take a moment to give an embrace and demonstrate some compassion, comfort and love. No words are necessary and a gesture can be as simple as bringing someone a plate of pie and coffee or gently touching their cheek or holding their hand for a moment.

Fog Shrouded First Year

The first year following my husband's death is a blur. Looking back I think I existed in a bleary-eyed fog. I'm not sure how I managed to stumble through. I remember that I kept telling myself that as long as I could make it through the firsts (first holidays alone, first anniversary of death, etc.) I would be okay.

I was entitled to only three days off from my job. Isn't that utterly crazy? I recognized that this was absurd from the get go. Here I was a grieving mom needing to make funeral and memorial service arrangements on my own and then handle the complexities of the required complicated insurance and pension paperwork. I was luckily able to negotiate a month-long leave of absence. That first month was spent handling all the arrangements including those made long-distance for the funeral. My husband died October 25th. His funeral was November 1st and then the Memorial Service on November 11th. It was good to keep busy. Then I had to deal with the holiday season which had started with Halloween.

I returned to work on December 1st and had the crazy job of dealing with childcare because as a counselor my work hours (20 weekly) were in the evenings and on weekends. I remained committed to toughing it out and trying not to make any major life changes during the first year. I was also overly committed to trying to keep life as it had been for my boys, including their participation in travel baseball, which starts in January. I was the only single parent with two kids in travel - travel baseball is such a time consuming sport you need two parents just to keep up with the scheduled practices and games! It was an extremely stressful spring and summer for me but I was proud that the boys were able to participate in their beloved sport that they had shared with their Dad who had been their coach. But in reality it was very hard on me and took a lot out of me. I was exhausted. The juggling of my work hours and the boys' schedules was grueling because they traveled all over the area and even out-of-state (on separate teams).

As the summer waned, I realized that I had been so busy I hadn't taken much time for myself to grieve. Everything had been focused on the kids and trying to keep their lives as close to what had been as possible. I started to consider quitting my job and taking six to nine months off to organize my life, the finances, get some grief therapy and have an opportunity to just chill. Caring for a dying spouse over three years had been very trying. I took some time off from work during October as the year anniversary of my husband's death approached. His birthday and our wedding anniversary were in the same week.

I had been gearing up for this time all year. I thought that once that year anniversary of my husband's death had passed, like some magical wand, I'd be cured of my grief and everything would be okay again. I have no idea why I ever thought this. Because what happened was that after I made it through the first anniversary, I realized that my grief was more potent than it had been in the beginning. It was as though that fog I had been living in had cleared and suddenly I realized what I had really lost when my husband died. I also realized that as an only parent I'd gotten absolutely nothing accomplished over the year in regard to organizing my finances or handling the estate. Working and parenting had consumed me. I agonized over the decision but finally came to the difficult one that I needed to take time off for myself. My plan was to take 6-9 months off and then look for a job with daytime hours over the summer to coordinate with both boys being in middle school the upcoming fall. I left my long-time and beloved counseling job with the county at the start of that December, just a year after my husband's death.

Did I really grieve over that first year? Yes, of course. In the early weeks I would go to the various bookstores and sit on the floor in the grief section and just sob. But that period was short-lived once baseball started and life flew out from under me. I also think that that fog I was in somehow protected me from really doing the hard grief work I needed to. In a way it was protecting me because it knew I wasn't ready yet to face and handle that part of the process. But I did cry and feel sad and grieve as best I could in the way I could at that time.

That first October I was vividly aware that the new level of pain inside my soul was far deeper than what I'd been feeling during the first year when the fog was shrouding me. It was kind of like getting sucker punched - I never saw or expected it coming. I was blindsided by grief. That fog had allowed me to keep it together and going - but now I suddenly realized that I was in trouble. I needed all those casseroles that had come during the first weeks following my husband's death that we couldn't eat. Now we were all hungry and I was so grief-stricken I couldn't cook. These realizations were in part what led to my decision to take time off from working. By the time I was ready to really grieve, the world thought I should have been over it because it had been a year. It wasn't cool to be grieving anymore and people shook their heads and tut tutted.

I don't mean to scare anyone by my account of how the grief that second year was far more harder and intense than what I'd experienced the first. It is what I recall from my experience and I hope by relating it to bring a greater understanding into what the process of grief involves. It is not this predictable pattern that everyone expects. I never would have believed that it could get harder after that first year - but it did. The fog protecting me had cleared and I began to see the full extent of my loss. And that first year of only parenting had taken its toll too. It was the time that we really could have used those casseroles!

Kind Gestures

I ran up a nice older gentleman and his wife the other day at the big box store. He left the counter before his wife paid telling her, "I'll go get the car and pull it up front for you." My keen ears picked this up and I was touched by his thoughtfulness. He was looking out for his wife and showing her his concern in a small but significant way. While touched, I also compared myself to this couple and felt the sting of not having had much of that thoughtfulness come my way, even in the face of grief and multiple losses.

I miss those random acts of kindness you receive unasked from a spouse. And I miss the favors given because you've requested them. I know that I relied on my husband for much of my emotional support because my family is not close. Since my Mom has died, I feel such a void in my life. As though there really isn't anyone besides my sons and recently GF who would care if something happened to me.

Those little acts of caring really add up and an absence of them over time takes its toll. It is certainly one of the reasons I am strongly considering remarriage. It is tough going on one's own for me. Maybe a more independent woman or one with very supportive family might think differently. But the way I am made up, I need to hear frequent terms of endearment and to have someone display care and concern like the nice man shopping at my store. I am sure he thought nothing of his actions - it was probably second nature to him. But I heard and saw him and put in a good word for him with the Universe.

Note to others, especially those who know someone who is dealing with grief/loss: It doesn't take much to zip off a quick email to someone telling them you're thinking of them and are concerned. Or offer to do some small chore or errand, even as simple as picking up some groceries or milk. Better yet - just do something/anything. Showing up with chocolate, soup or a seasonal pie for instance. Dropping off a coffee or walking someone to their car. Maybe next time the checker asks me if I want assistance with my grocery bags I'll say "yes" just to have someone help me, even if in this instance it is part of their job!

We all need to feel as though someone cares. We all need to have kindness shown toward us. We need to know that we matter and that once in a while someone will lighten our loads or pull the car up so we don't have to walk through a crowed parking lot. Not a whole lot - but it doesn't take a lot. Just small, frequent gestures.

Today I am grateful:

1. For the fabulous warm and sunny weather.
2. For the kindness and interest shown to us yesterday at the high school in GF's town.
3. For the kindness and support that comes my way through these posts.
4. For Mapquest.
5. For the softened hearts and moods that most people adopt through the upcoming holiday season - something to look forward to.

A Lesson in Empathy

I was crying the other day to my guyfriend and saying that I do not want to have to live in this apartment. He held me as I was crying and said, "You have to, you have no choice." I did not find this comment comforting (sorry Guyfriend if you are reading this). To tell me the obvious is not helpful. I already know I do not have another living option. What would have been a more empathic/helpful reply? Try one of the following:

1. "I am so sorry you are feeling this way."
2. "Tell me more about how you're feeling."
3. "This must be hard for you."

I think back to those early days after my husband's death when I would say, "I just want him back" or "I just want my old life back." I would get the same reply as guyfriend's - "He is not coming back. Your old life is over. You have to move on... You have no choice." Of course I knew all of that already. Substitute any of the three replies above and I would have felt a little better. My situation would have been the same but at least I'd have felt that someone was trying to understand me and offering some real compassion.

Another Casualty

On Saturday at work, I ran into the male half of a married couple my husband and I knew. When I remarried, I invited them to my wedding, although they did not attend. Our kids were in the same classes and my husband coached youth athletics with the dad, while I volunteered at the holiday school parties with the mom. She stopped by my home just a few days before my husband died to offer her support. A few years later, we sat at the pool and I listened to her as she spoke about some marital disappointments. She shared the story of a college friend of hers who'd been widowed and then remarried and that gave me hope.

The dad is a successful and popular civic leader in our community. He knew about my foreclosure. So when we saw each other at the big box store where I work, I mentioned that I appreciated his kindness and tact in regard to that matter. I briefly explained about my divorce. He asked how the boys were doing. I inquired in kind and was taken aback when he told me that he and the wife had divorced in 2008. I experienced a range of reactions. Of course, some shock and sadness. But I was also a little suspect at his version of the story. I immediately wondered if his power and wealth contributed to the divorce. When I asked if he is dating, he admitted to seeing a woman who is the mom of one of his son's friends. Hmmm, I wondered...

The other reaction that I also felt immediately was "Finally, someone in our community who has also had to face a rough time in life!" My hardships have been difficult to face in part because of the insulated community in which I live. It is a charming, quaint town with little evident poverty. Mostly upper-middle class and above. Most women do not work outside the home even in today's day and age. When my second husband first came to visit me, he could not believe the number of luxury cars and SUVs being driven. A sale's clerk at the local Talbot's women's clothing store told me she has nicknamed our town "Mecca." Although I am sure I cannot be the only one facing financial problems that resulted in me having to sell my home, I have not known anyone personally in this position, except for my newly divorced friend. So along with my widowhood being very isolating, so too have been the other complications of my life - lack of family support, the divorce, etc.

The dad was buying three cartloads of household items and I wondered if he is redecorating because of a new level reached in his romantic relationship. I thought about all that this couple had faced together - they were teenage sweethearts and each supported the other throughout college. After school, they dealt with infertility, adoption, serious health problems and their share of aging parent issues. The mom is a few years older than I am. Dad got custody of the kids. My mind flashed to a scene from our kids' grade school days. The mom and I were picking up our children from school and I saw her oldest run into her waiting, open arms. They were smiling and laughing and I was so struck by the apparent love between them that that moment has remained etched in my mind all these years.

I know now that there is another mother out there hurting and in pain over a life she expected to have that didn't end up as planned. I cannot imagine her distress over not seeing and being with her children on a daily basis. My mind flashes to another image of her in the craft store as we shop for Halloween favors for our children's school parties. Her son is seated in the cart; another memory - the adoring look in her eyes as she brushed the hair off her other son's forehead in the bleachers at a little league baseball game.

I will have to call one of her closer friends to try and contact her, invite her to lunch. I will share my story of woe but offer to listen to hers and to try and comfort her in some small way.

I am almost ashamed to admit that this family's hardship has made me feel better. I know that I am not the only one in this land of Mecca that is experiencing tremendous loss and change. God help all of us middle-aged parents facing the tulmultuous changes brought on by death, divorce, financial hardship, illness and sandwich generation problems. Don't pass us by because we are living in a community where so many are fortunate and problems seem to be faced by so few.

Today I am grateful:

1. For seeing yellow school buses again.
2. For the way the shadows of the leaves were dancing across my comforter this morning.
3. For the lovely breeze ruffling the leaves on the trees outside in the warm sunlight.
4. For graham crackers with peanut butter.
5. For s'mores.

Asking for Help

Grieving people should not be expected to ask for help - it is an unreasonable and unfair demand. I remember in the first weeks of my widowhood reading in a couple of grief manuals to ask specifically for what I wanted/needed. My thought was "Now I have to do this too?" Another job to add to the already large pile of tasks I still have to get through - completing insurance/medical paperwork, figuring out the finances, arranging the funeral/memorial services, dealing with my grief, parenting young sons also grieving... At that time having to ask for help felt like an intrusion and almost a slap to my face. But I went ahead and did it anyway. The results were far from what the grief books predicted. Instead of people saying sure they'd do this or that for me, I experienced the complete opposite with the people I asked refusing to do what I'd requested!

Here is an example (one of many and I'll only relate this one). My husband died on Oct. 25th. We live on a heavily wooded, double lot. Come fall, there is a lot of leaf raking to get through. A mom at the boy's school called me about a week after the death to bring a group of parents and kids over to do the raking. I didn't want it done for a number of reasons. For one, it was very early in the grief process for me and even the thought of a bunch of people in my yard raking was something I could not handle - I needed solitude and privacy. I kept thinking that people would need to come in to use the bathrooms and would I need to provide drinks/hot chocolate for the kids? I just couldn't handle the intrusion and at the same time wanted to do all of the raking myself. It had been a job my husband and I had shared for 11 years together and I wanted to do it with him "by my side" one last time. The thought of the physical strain/exercise in the cold autumn air appealed to me greatly.

Even though I owed this woman absolutely no explanation, I tried to explain all of these thoughts after a number of days fretting about it. She didn't seem to understand my reasoning - in fact, she was taken aback. I remember offering her some other options of how she might assist me but it seemed as though all that she wanted to do was the raking. She was so pleased with herself for making the offer. So, after a number of times being similarly shot down, I just stopped asking and did what needed to be done by myself.

Suggestions for offering assistance to the grieving:

1. Go ahead and bake that casserole but remember to bake another at the six-month, year and year and a half anniversary marks too. Support pretty much seems to dry up after the first three months and I found that I needed it the most long after the early grief period. None of us had an appetite until after the first three months anyway. You don't know how much I longed for those casseroles a year later when we were eating again and I was working and struggling to juggle being an only parent!
2. Ask what you can specifically do and offer your assistance. Many of us have great difficulty requesting help. Don't wait for the griever to ask - offer it and be on the ready to say "yes" even though it is not what you might have expected doing.
3. If the griever has children, offer to take the kids to an event, activity or even to babysit a night or too. Another school mom ended up doing the nicest thing for us when she called at Christmas and offered to take my two boys with hers to the new Disney movie out. It was a rare escape from our painful reality for all of us.
4. Gift cards to local restaurants were very much appreciated because I could use them later on. It was also nice for all of us to have a night out because it forced us to do so.
5. Although we got a ton of sympathy cards in the beginning, it would have been so nice to have received a message of support later on in the mail.
6. Wine is always good to give if the griever does not have an objection.
7. JUST LISTEN - refrain from offering advice.
8. Gifts such as a certificate for a massage or pedicure would be unexpected but a nice change of pace from the casseroles.
9. I also would have loved anything homemade involving chocolate! Candy would have been a close second.
10. One day I came home to find the gift of a hand-knitted prayer/comfort shawl on my doorstep - that was a lovely surprise!

My guy friend is currently estranged from his only living close relative (his older sister) whom failed to contact him in any way during the painful period of his divorce. He finds her behavior unforgivable at this point.

11. All she needed to do was send him an email or call him with the message of "I'm thinking of you and am so sorry for what you are going through."


Today I am grateful:

1. That it is raining because it forces everyone to slow down a little.
2. That I have the day off from work.
3. For a day to catch up on laundry, knit a little and just be.
4. That we have had enough food to eat.
5. That we have health insurance (although it is costing a pretty penny).

Talking til I am blue in the face

For me, one of the hardest aspects of widowhood has been my inability to explain to others my feelings and new life realities. Particularly with my family and my second husband. I've talked until I've been blue in the face to no avail and it is still causing much frustration. Briefly, my family has not understood how hard it has been for me to parent alone, handle finances, work, manage the house, etc. Nor do I think that they have been tolerant of the grief process. They have also failed to step up to the plate in any way to interact with the boys or provide a male influence (my brothers and brother-in-law).

Since April I have been corresponding by email on a very limited basis with my ex-husband. Last night he sent me a scathing message accusing me of always putting him last, one of the reasons he divorced me. During the brief time of our marriage, I was helping to care for both of my parents (one dying and the other terribly ill) while still doing the only parent routine. I just couldn't manage it all, I admit. But part of me now is getting pissed off at this lack of compassion and just plain decency. (No one in my family has offered any emotional support during my divorce and now during this foreclosure. I guess I shouldn't expect anything because they didn't provide any during my husband's illness either. Nor should I be surprised that I ended up remarrying a man whom replicated my family in certain ways.)

I just don't want to be punished anymore for the decisions I made under duress about caring for my parents that resulted in my not moving quickly enough to my husband's home out of state. Enough is enough. Everyone always thinks that they would have done better but the fact is that no one knows how they would cope/manage under challenging circumstances. And to assume they would have handled the situation better is unfair. The way I handled that part of my life is in direction reaction to the fact that my husband had died a mere three years before and that two years before I'd had to care for my youngest who had been diagnosed with a life threatening heart condition. This made it impossible for me to leave my parents in their hour of need to move into my new husband's home 120 miles away. There was so much stress and tension going on along with the boys not wanting to move and leave their friends that I could not face the move. I had to take care of what was happening on the home front first.

I have gone over and over this with my ex to no avail. (Even my siblings have criticized me for not moving sooner). And here I am trying to explain it again to my husband after the divorce. At one point I just wrote him that I will not grovel anymore - I did the best I could under horrific circumstances. Why is it so hard for those closest to me to give me any credit for what I did do? The loyalty I gave my parents and the parenting care I provided my children during this horrible period so soon after my husband's death? I just am throwing in the towel here. I know what I accomplished and my dignity is intact. I refuse to be browbeaten and condemned. It would seem that my family and ex deserve a swift kick in their pants for their lack of compassion far more than I deserve to be continually criticized for what has been done. The reality is that they have not been emotionally supportive and that is yet another loss that I have to face, accept, forgive and move on from. I always believed that a family stood by its members in their darkest hours, including husbands, as I did for mine. This has not turned out to be my reality and it has been a painful realization.

Today I am grateful:
1. That I have had an opportunity to communicate (such as it has been) with my ex.
2. That I never gave into temptation and actually did all those evil plots I wanted to inflict during my divorce when I was so angry - that would have been pointless and accomplished nothing.
3. That I am starting to stand up for myself because if I don't no one else is going to for me.
4. That I am proud of what I have lived through and know it was the right way for me to have lived despite the criticisms of others.
5. That I am beginning to realize that I don't have to subject myself to dysfunctional relationships if I don't want to (I can limit my family contact, etc. in the future).

Advice 101

A friend offered his advice that my oldest should get a job to help pay for the increased cost of car insurance now that he is getting his driver's license. Of course, this would be a great idea but unfortunately not entirely practical in our situation. Right now I have difficulty managing to get the boys where they need to go and to my job - the thought of adding a job held by one of the boys to the mix seems impossible at the moment!

This kind of response from friends just gets my goat! It is so easy to tell me what to do without examining the logistics needed to accomplish the plan. It might even be hard for an intact family to figure out how to manage driving teenagers but I'm here on my own and expected to do it, plus go above and beyond! I just get so tired of all of this. People just see the surface of my life - they don't have the time or interest to delve below the water to really understand the workings of my life. And as usual, they're coming up with advice based on their lives which aren't being lived as "only parents."

To add insult to injury (and this has become my favorite part of all of this), when I admit that I honestly can't accomplish their advice right now, I'm criticized as not being good enough or trying to get out of it. I hate that I am penalized for being honest in regard to my circumstances.

Today my oldest and I have been at it because he doesn't want to go to club volleyball practice tonight (it was the last day of school and he has a baseball game tomorrow). I want him to go because he asked to join this club, made a commitment to being in it and then I paid $235.00 of money we really don't have for him to join. We have been going back and forth on the matter and I have wished over the course of the afternoon that there was another parent here to help me in this situation. I'm feeling tired and worn down from the "only parenting" because it is hard to be doing this on one's own day after day.

I am so in need of some kind of break or vacation. I just have to restore my energy and mental strength here soon because I am absolutely running on empty.

TIP: If by chance you are reading this and know of an only parent, rather than be quick to offer advice and then respond judgmentally, just offer sympathy and support the next time. Advice is helpful sometimes, but not advice that isn't feasible in our situations. What would be so nice to hear is just some compassion of how hard it is to manage everything on our own. Personally, that would help me feel stronger and more productive knowing that someone can view my situation for what it is. A pat on the back goes so much farther than criticism.

The Stupid, Unfeeling, Hurtful Things People Say

I am sure those of us facing losses through death have our lists of the dumb things people have said to us. My top three come from the FIRST WEEK following my husband's death and are as follows:

1. "Everyone has to die sometime."

2. "I know lots of single moms and they seem to be managing just fine on their own."

3. "Your kids are going to be great "latch-key" children!" (The boys were just nine and ten and were afraid to be alone in the house even during the day!)

Now I have a new comment to add to these zingers. It was said to me on Easter by my brother-in-law, whom I really like. His comment was made after I was updating my family as to my financial status and the very real possibility of my losing the house to foreclosure. I also briefly related my sadness over my divorce. He glibly replied that my life if better than any individual's living in Africa so I should find comfort/solace in that.

I was pretty amazed at his choice of words and logic. I replied that of course I recognize that my life is more fortunate than those living in other countries. Over the past weeks his comment has sat with me in an unsettling way. I brought it up to my therapist who provided insight with the reflection that it wasn't a very empathic thing to say.

That I think is what is most important when throwing in your two cents to those who are grieving. First and foremost acknowledge their feelings (where they are right then and there in regard to the situation). By bypassing any acknowledgment of my current situation, my brother-in-law ended by negating my emotions and making me feel bad for even having them. After all, if my life if better than others living in poverty around the world, how can I really feel bad about anything going on in my life?

What he could have said was "I'm so sorry for the hardship you're experiencing." Or, "this must be difficult for you right now." That is all that was needed. Nothing more, nothing less. Now I unfortunately cannot get images of poverty stricken individuals out of my mind. And I feel terribly guilty for worrying about losing my house.

Divorce Grief

I am going to have to devote a few more posts to the end of my marriage because it is where I am and I need to process, vent and tell my story in order to move on. A few days ago, my nice guyfriend gave me the typical response we hear so much while grieving - "Get over your ex-husband and move on." What is so frustrating about these words is that the person saying them never offers any wisdom as to exactly how we're supposed to "get over it." Do people really think that we can just turn on some sort of switch inside us and stop thinking about our losses whether they result from death, divorce or some other hardship?

If there had been any kind of pill I could have taken to have avoided the last nine months of pain that I've endured, let me tell you, I would have been the first one to take it (maybe even before FDA approval). Working through the grief of my failed marriage has been excruciatingly tough and brutal. Perhaps for me, some of the difficulty has been because the divorce followed so closely behind the death of my husband and then my Mom. I'm not even sure how much I'd successfully grieved those losses before the marriage blew up.

Each loss is different and has to be grieved in its own way. Each person is so unique with an equally unique life history. For that reason, those grieving often find themselves facing other losses from the past, that have resurfaced because they remain unresolved. My friend and all the others who tell us to move on as quickly as possible mean well, but it is not the answer. The only way to the other side is to stand in the face of the storm and reflect on all those painful emotions and NOT just put them on a shelf to deal with sometime later.

So that is what I am going to try to do now with the next couple of posts - devote some time for thought and reflection regarding my divorce (it is hard to even type that word). I hope that in doing so, it will help me get to the other side. Where that other side is and what it exactly looks like, I'm not sure yet. But anything that is less painful than this will be better!