A year ago when I was at the end of my first year of widowhood and on the threshold of my second I wrote the following words: “I acknowledge, now, that the second year of widowhood is not going to be sunny stroll on other side of a tunnel door that I had imagined. It’s not going to be a tar pit, either, holding me in place. It’s going to be a step by step climb as I rebuild my life and find me again---the woman who is sometimes wise, sometimes silly but always wanting to honor what Don and I had together by striving towards being as upbeat and lacking in self-pity as he was. The first year I just came through, what was that all about? Most widows would answer ‘survival’ and I’d concur.”
Since in my mind I had labeled the second year of widowhood
‘the rebuilding year’ it seems fitting that I should pause as I approach the
second sadiversary of Don’s passing to take stock of whether or not I
accomplished anything that could be classified as success in rebuilding my
life. Honestly, the answer is complicated. On one hand I certainly made (and
will continue to make) a valiant effort to network my way into forming new friendships
and/or developing a new way of living without Don at my side. I joined the Red
Hat Society and the historical society, I started volunteering at the museum
and I went into overdrive signing up for events, classes, day trips and
lectures at the senior citizen hall. Winter has slowed down that effort but my
master plan is still in place waiting to resume with spring. On the other hand as
I took part in all those social outings, lectures, and luncheons this past year
it felt more like pleasant diversions or busy work than building blocks to a
contented and happy life. Where is my niche? I always knew where to find that
sweet spot before Don passed away. It got lost and I haven’t found it yet. Oh,
well, as I’ve often said since becoming a widow, “Fake it until you can make
it!” I know of no other way to change the status quo than to keep working
towards that rebuilding goal---any goal that keeps the pity parties away.
Most people would call it ‘major progress’ that in my second
year I also didn’t avoid any social situations because I didn’t want to go
alone, a first year bury-your-head-in-the-sand commonality amongst widows and I
did my share of that in year one. I’ve gotten braver by design and
determination. The hardest part, though, is when I have a good time, then come
home to realize that I have no one to share my joy or excitement with. Oh, cut the whining, I can almost hear you saying, that’s why personal blogs and diaries were
invented. Dear Diary, I’m so proud of myself! Today I actually had a great
time at the senior luncheon.
What else can I point to and claim as a second year success
as a recovering widow? Somewhere along the line, last year I quite crying over
songs on the radio. This was a big issue for me in the first year and part of the second. I couldn’t
get in the car and go anywhere without the Prime Country channel making the
tears flow and I couldn’t force myself to change the channel either. I suspect
I needed the purging of tears mixed with memories that the music brought to the
surface so I could get back to enjoying my memories as just good memories minus
the pain. Somewhere along last year, I also quit talking to Don’s ghost, a
positive thing I’m sure the professionals would say but I still kind of miss
feeling his presence in the house. It was oddly comforting. And another mark of
a widow moving on? I finally claimed my husband’s La-Z-Boy as my own. (Although
the dog still thinks it’s his property and I physically have to evict him from
the chair on a daily basis. He’s a stubborn little bugger.)
Former broadcast journalist Jane Pauley was on TV recently
talking about her new book, Your Life
Calling: Reimagining the Rest of Your Life and one statement in particular
jumped out to me: “You don’t have to do it right the first time.” She was
talking about baby boomers redefining retirement but much of what she was
saying in the interview could apply to widows struggling to reinvent our lives.
She talked about how it doesn’t have to be a straight line to get to your goal.
Okay, point taken, Paula. I need to stop being impatient with myself when the
building blocks to my future seem to be taking their sweet ass time coming
together. Experimentation is necessary and good when life changes are needed. You
really don’t have to get it right the first time. How could I have forgotten
that?
It wasn’t necessarily true for me but I understand, now, why
so many widows say the second year is harder than the first. At the end of our
first year, most of us have accepted our losses and are no longer fighting
against them with denial and/or avoidance. The legal and logistical stuff is in
place and we say to ourselves, “This is it, this is my life now.” That can be
daunting and depressing to know the status quo can’t change unless we put a lot
of effort into reinventing ourselves. We need a road map to do that and have discovered
that we’re in charge of drawing one for ourselves; no one’s going to do it for
us. It’s been called the ‘second year slump’ and from what I’ve read in other
widow blogs and have experienced firsthand this winter, it’s real. But when you
think about that word---slump---it should give us hope. The widowhood recovery
process can’t have a slump without a raising of spirits and/or emotional growth
at the end. A slump is a temporary dipping from the trajectory, not a
death-spiral nosedive.
Slump or no slump, finding myself is still on my agenda but
in my coming third year out from Don’s passing I hope to take the pressure off
myself---that almost desperate need to make something change or happen sooner
rather than later. “Seek contentment,” yup, I picked the perfect mantra for my
2014 New Year’s Resolution and for my embarkment into my third year of
widowhood. I want to learn to enjoy the experimentation without worrying about
where it’s leading me. ©
YES!!The feelings I had when I named my blog. I figure if I keep going onward and upward--ever forward, I will be all right. You are a positive person--taking charge of your life. I am the "wait and see" slug. But I am happy and most of the time content. I has occurred to me today that, I find I have more days that I don't think of Fred, then days that I do. It doesn't make me feel guilty--I suppose that in itself, is an accomplishment? Who know? Journey on Dear Friend.........
ReplyDeleteJudy, I would count that as a second year accomplishment...not feeling guilty about having days when you don't think of Fred. There are days when I don't think of Don either. I can't say I'm happy, happy but I'm not UNhappy if that makes any sense. I was at a luncheon today and sat next to a four years out widow and she said for her, it didn't all come together until near the end of her third year. She's in the process of building a condo and feels like she's turned a corner on the past.
ReplyDeleteWhere would I be without your journey? Here on this blog you are so Technicolor, so vivid and 3-D. Jane Pauly has a really good point - how liberating. The only report card we owe anybody is to ourselves, and it needs columns for 'exploration' and 'sidebars'. those journeys we take that don't add up to anything, that don't have to.
ReplyDeleteHugs to you on this second anniversary. I'm so proud to be your online friend.
Thank you!
ReplyDeleteI thought of you this morning when I discovered an art exhibit of a painter named Aleah Chapin. She did a series called 'The Auntie'---nudes of women over 50. I can't get over how spirited and free those models were and now talented Ms. Chapin is. http://www.aleahchapin.com/GalleryMain.asp?GalleryID=113157&AKey=6R4J7T2G
Wow. Her artwork is amazing - she clearly loves and admires these older women. I love the one she's standing in front of... hmm 'age before beauty'? She is turning the whole idea of beauty on its head!
DeleteWhen I read about the exhibit I expected it to be depressing...kind of like when you see photos and paintings of homeless people, But the artist really captured their confidence, friendship and spirit. I loved the colors she used!
DeleteJean :
ReplyDeleteI love your blogs reading them is so therapeutic for me, I feel like someone is writing what I felt after my stroke & loss of my job & my identity. & I am sure you will find your contentment back sooner than later since you are not afraid to step out of your comfort zones. you so prove my old peoples theory, you are nothing like some old people who are so set in their way that would not give new thing a try. I am grateful to find you at the right time when I was so ready to jump off the ledge your comments & kindness saved me
Asha
This, my dear, is a wonderful post. I'm not a widow, but there's a lot here for me, too. I admire how you've taking the initiative in your own life. As I was reading this, I thought about how much get-up-and-go and guts it takes to put yourself out there, especially after being part of a couple for so many years.
ReplyDeleteLove this...
"the status quo can’t change unless we put a lot of effort into reinventing ourselves."
Ain't that the truth.
I saw Jane Pauley, too. She's so positive.
"Seek Contentment" That's perfect.
Thanks Asha. I think you saved yourself. We met at a time when you were ready to turn things around and you did all the hard work it takes to do that. I think of the parallels between the losses surrounds having a stroke and widowhood often...both as a caregiver and for people like you and Don. The adjustments to a new life not of your choosing and the mourning of an old life are very much the same and I draw from my own advice and words from those days at SN.
ReplyDeleteThanks Bella. You've had a recent loss with your dad and you were a the long-term caregiver like I was so I know we shared some of the same experiences.
ReplyDeleteIsn't Jane Pauley great? I hated it when she went off the air.
Good for you for working through this slump and putting it into perspective with the "peaks" of this past year. All those activities are wonderful, but they're not the goal; they should be an instrument to contentment. So you can find contentment whether you're rushing all around or getting snowed out of the festivities. This is quite a journey, isn't it?
ReplyDeleteIt sure is, Fichereader. A certain amount of my winter discontent is just plain old cabin fever and I would have had it even if Don were still here. But elements of the second year slump are present too. Next winter I will be better prepared!
DeleteJean - I'm not a widow, but I am finding your words to be so comforting and real. You've done more as a widow than I've done just being who I am. I keep telling myself I need to get out more, meet with friends, join the senior center or something to get me out of the house. I really enjoy yard work, and reading. And, of course being with family.
ReplyDeleteBut, anyway I just wanted to tell you, you've truly given me a lot to think about. I think your Don would be very proud of you! Heck, I am and I don't even know you! :)
Sally, I have to thank keeping a blog for a lot of the things I do. I keep telling myself I won't have anything to write about if I don't get out and do things, so I get out and do things. LOL
DeleteI am six months into the loss of my husband, and I have no clue whom or what I am right now. I retired early to take care of him, and which I do not regret it. I would have been down on myself right now if I hadn't taken care of him. But, like you, maybe early, I need to determine what my life alone or without him will be. And, I admit, it is taking all my courage and will to figure it out. Don't know, but have decided to let it go, trying to hard sometimes isn't good. I will let it come to me. Oh, I'll be out there whenever I can, and pray it comes to me, with effort of course. thank you - Tara
ReplyDeleteSix months out is such a difficult place to be at and "courage" is a good word to apply to what it takes to get up every day and move forward. It does get easier in time. I'm so sorry you (any of us) has to go through this! Thanks for reading my blog.
DeleteHi..I am so glad I have found your blog. I just passed my husbands first " anniversary". It was quite emotional, but with the help of close friends we did a beautiful honoring ritual.
ReplyDeleteSorry you had a reason to find my blog but now that you did, I'm thankful for the comment and hope you keep on reading here. That first year sadiversary is tough, isn't it!
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