“I can't go back to
yesterday because I was a different person then.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
When you wake up in the morning knowing the most exciting
thing you have to do that day is unload the dish washer you know you’re in
trouble. If not for the dog rattling the library door, I would have pulled the
covers over my head and stayed in bed until noon.
But he has a schedule to keep that includes dog walkers to bark at as they pass
by the house so their four-legged companions can leave early morning pee-mail
at our box. There is something pathetic about being jealous of your dog’s
schedule but, darn it, it must be nice to have a purpose in life like he does.
If I start barking at the rabbits as they feed in the back yard in the late
afternoon I hope the neighbors will call Social Services because that will mean
I’ve gone over the edge and into the land of kooky old people who, like Lewis
Carroll did when he wasn’t teaching and writing about mathematics, find our
imaginations more fun to live in than the here and now. Just call me Spot, your faithful Springer Spaniel.
When ever I bellyache about not having a sense of purpose
since Don died, volunteering gets suggested. I duly note and appreciate the
fact that often times the obvious answer to a dilemma is the correct answer.
I’m not dismissing that suggestion although it doesn’t excite me. Call me naïve
but I want to be on fire with passion over the direction I go next in life the way
I used to be in my younger days when a project or idea would consume me. But is
that even possible after we’ve pushed the envelopes of pain and happiness that
come with living a long life? What is it going to take to make me happy again?
Is it finding other people to connect with, finding a cause to fight for or a
project to prime my creative juices---a combination of all three? And how is my
search for happiness in my age bracket any different than at other crossroads through
out our lives? Is fear of failure more or less an issue as we age and are
contemplating a major life-style change? As we age do we become so afraid of
missteps that we forget that missteps sometimes lead us to our greatest joys?
“Who in the world am
I? Ah, that's the great puzzle.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
One thing, of course, that will make me happy again is
getting my dominant arm out of the sling at the end of the month. When I get
the sling off, though, I will probably need some therapy. I can’t get my hand
up close enough to my face to eat and my fingers wouldn’t stretch out fully
yet. This has been a major setback in my pursuit of happiness in the post-Don
era of my life. Breaking a bone at any age can bring a wave of depression into
your life but I’m discovering that at my age it can also scare the crap out of
you. Accidents happen so quickly and just as quickly they can cause you to end
up in a nursing home when you have no one at home to help you. And this is
where I need to remind myself about the Rule of Living in the Moment, and not
to borrow trouble from the Department of What If This or That Happens. If I was
inclined to get a tattoo it should read: DON’T BORROW TROUBLE. IT WILL GET HERE
SOON ENOUGH!
Broken bone or not, I suspect that all widows eventually ask
themselves the make-me-happy-again question. The pink elephant in the room is
the fact that a lot of us would secretly say the one thing that would make us
happy again is to rewind our lives back to a time when we could have done
something to change the outcome we are now living with---the death of our
spouse. But that possibility is in the realm of Alice
in Wonderland going down the rabbit hole and try as we might, we can’t turn our
lives into a fairytale where anything is possible. We can imagine turn-back-the-clock
scenarios, though, and in the end they have the power to help us heal, make
peace with the past, and that’s a good thing. I thought I had moved past the
worst of my grief…until I broke my arm and then the “poor me” feelings came
rushing back, and now the stress of not knowing where the future will take me
is nipping at my heels again. Or maybe---just maybe---it’s too early in the
timeline of widowhood to expect my mojo back. ©
“Would you tell me,
please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don’t much care where--" said Alice.
"Then it doesn’t matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"--so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you’re sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough.”
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don’t much care where--" said Alice.
"Then it doesn’t matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"--so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you’re sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
Sorry if I added to the cliched suggestion to volunteer. I never implied that there'd be passion for it. Hell, I do a bunch of beautiful things everyday that I don't give a damn about; I just know that they're the things I should be doing. At some point, the synapses will fire, the brian chemistry will kick in, and I guess all that right stuff will result in happiness. For now, it feels bad. It pretty much always does these days.
ReplyDeleteHang in there, Jean.
So many things to think about and comment on. First, I dearly wish you lived down the street because you sound like the woman I'd have such fun paling around with.
ReplyDeleteSecondly, our age counts for something. IF I had 'little to do' I'd maybe volunteer, but goodness, you, or I, may want to create a path in another way. Our radar is fixed on passion, something intrinsic to our being; ideally we haven't time to fritter away; this may be the time to immerse ourselves.
Thirdly, you're open to discovering that passion, and we need whatever it is you offer that will put a spring in your step. Please find it!
Fourth, widowhood scrambles out hearts, our confidence, our hope. It strips from us our comforts, and consolation. Maybe it is also stripping from us impediments to reaching for stars we trust are there?
Sorry I've gone on so long. I identify with you. Besides the obvious, I am also down to one arm. At least it's not my dominant arm. But I wish I could accept this down time more gracefully. Oh, well.
Do you know what a secret longing of mine is? To use this camper I have parked in my driveway to explore this country of ours. I've not found a kindred spirit that would like to follow where the spirit leads and has the time to do so.
We all have secret passions that may have a chance to bloom now. I hope you give yourself a chance to find out what really makes your heart sing.
Finchreader...I was worried you'd feel bad about suggesting volunteering. Please, please don't! It's such a common cliche and it comes at us from so many different directions. Heck, I've even suggested it to myself and probably to others at one time or another. One blogger reaching out to another blogger is the warm take-way here and that's what counts....doesn't matter if our suggestions hit the mark or not. It's the fact that others care enough to offer one.
ReplyDeleteGoWitheFlow...Did you know there are RV camper clubs just for women? One is: http://www.rvingwomen.org/ but I know there are others you could research. I read an article about traveling in RV caravans like this a few years ago and it sounds and they have a lot to offer. This particular club has 16 chapters and one is in the Great Lakes covering MI, IN, OH and PA which I believe would be near you.
I don't know how relevant this is to your situation, but a number of years ago when I was doing research on single women, I learned about what is called "the age 30 crisis" for never-married women. This is the decade when women who have been thinking of themselves as "not married yet" start to consider the possibility that they may never find Mr. Right. The age 30 crisis is a time of great unhappiness as these women can imagine only one path to true happiness (the one our culture tells us is the path to true happiness) and begin to think that path may not be accessible for them. The "Age 30 Crisis" tends to resolve itself in two ways: (1) the women make it a project to find a husband, using dating services, being "less picky" (their words) and finding a Mr Right to marry; (2) they begin to embrace the possibilities of single life, stop worrying about finding Mr. Right, and find a version of happiness very different from what they had ever imagined. Both paths usually lead to happiness, but they are very different versions of happiness -- and both take time. I'm wondering if there is a similar process for widows. I would imagine that, for those like you who found great happiness in marriage, seeing possible paths to happiness that don't look at all familiar might take more time than you've had. -Jean
ReplyDeletestepintofuture: I was 27 when I met Don so I'm very familiar with the never-married crisis leading up to being 30 that you wrote about. I think you may be right about there being a similar process that widows go through as "the age 30 crisis" where we have to come to terms with changing our idea and definition of happiness and/or approaching our pursuit of happiness like a project. You, being a sociologist, I really value your opinion that I might need more time. It's what my instincts tell me but that's in conflict with the message widows get elsewhere. At a year out we're suppose to have it all behind us. Thanks for sharing the above!
ReplyDeleteJean-
ReplyDeleteI had no idea there were RV clubs for women. The Northeast Network includes my neck of the woods. Many thanks!
Have fun exploring their website and maybe researching other groups. I remember from the article I read that one of the groups was started by a few widows who didn't want to give up RVing when their husband's died but were afraid to go it totally alone.
ReplyDelete