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. ©
