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The Wandering Widow

Observations, Tips and Reckless Truth Telling on the Road Through Grief

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CancerSucks

Understanding Grief: Grief Recovery is a Privilege 

A Wondering Widow Post

I was recently accused of putting a positive spin on grief, and it wasn’t intended as a compliment. I won’t lie. Once, when someone screamed at me in anger that I was Pollyanna, I thanked them and took it as one of the best compliments I’d ever received. And that was before cancer ever showed up on our radar. I DO try to find the glittery silver lining in whatever $hitclouds life throws my way. I know some people find it annoying. But it’s how I survive. No matter what, I choose to believe people are good, things get better, and love is real. There you go, a little Lisa 101 to give you a point of reference.

But no. No matter how hard we try to focus on the positive, there is no positive spin on grief. WE can grow and transform and develop, but grief itself sucks. It’s the evil joy stealing vampire that won’t let go of your heart. Ever. Ever ever. But you can find a way to make it less deadly and more symbiotic, like one of those gross fish parasites. How’s that for a lovely visual with your morning Cheerios?

Those of you that have been following along know I was repeatedly encouraged by my grief counselors to “feel the feelings” and that I chose to go deep into the grief recovery process. I’d usually say that I dove head first, but in this case, I could only push myself up from the bottom of the abyss. And I recognize it was a privilege to be able to do so.

I talk to the other widows in my tribe regularly. From all over the world; in person and online, we share our grief journeys. And the thing I don’t usually like to talk about is not everyone moves forward. Not everyone can, and not everyone wants to. I’ve met widows that have been on this journey for years, sometimes decades. And they are stuck. They weren’t allowed to grieve the way they needed to and have lived with the pain for so long they don’t know how to get out and no longer care. They have been abandoned or left behind by family and friends who couldn’t handle their grief. They are no longer living and wrap their grief around them like an old tattered blanket. Maybe it’s better to have something familiar and horrible than something new and scary and MAYBE beautiful. (FYI, for those of you even thinking about telling a widow she needs to move forward or that she’s stuck, please see me first so I can throat punch some sense into you).

I’ve also met widows that have no help. On top of the emotional black hole, they are struggling to survive on their own financially.  Taking time to “feel the feelings” is a luxury they don’t have. Not dealing with the feelings takes a toll on your physical health and mental well-being. It’s a vicious cycle. There is a reason that widows as a demographic live at or below the poverty level. My heart breaks for them. I know that I am one of the lucky ones.

So many widows are forced to go back to work before they are emotionally ready. I worked for the world’s BEST company who not only waited for me, they picked up a f@#$%^g sword and helped me fight my way back to life. When I made the difficult decision to leave, they lifted me up on their shields and celebrated my survival and new adventure like a bada$$ Viking queen. I am blessed. I know not everyone has that kind of support network.

And unlike many of my fellow widows, Dan and I had the chance to say the things most of us think we have more time for. We chose not to say goodbye because there wasn’t enough oxygen on this planet to allow us to breathe those words out loud.  But I know without a doubt that Dan loved me, and that he knew I loved him. I know without a doubt that my family and friends love me and have saved me repeatedly, from the worst situations to just holding space with me when they didn’t know what else to do. I have no question in my heart about how much I am loved.

After spending so much time being miserable, bitter, hurt and angry about how life cheated me out of my happily ever after, I’ve worked hard to find the positives and be grateful for the time we had. And don’t for a second fool yourself into thinking it’s easy. Learning to re-frame life’s most f@#$%d up moment is harder than any mountain climb I’ve ever done. And I think that’s what makes the most significant difference of all. When I meet all of these widows at varying stages of their grief journeys the ones that can still be grateful for what was, in spite of the pain of what is, seem to be the ones that find it “easiest” to move forward.

To my fellow grievers, my random thoughts are in no way meant as any form of judgment. We all walk paths that are unique to us. When the clouds roll in, and I’m straining to find the silver lining, I pull that glitter straight out of my heart and throw it around until I can find some light. I’m happy to share if you need some for yours. And no matter where you are on your journey, don’t ever forget you’re not alone, you matter, and you are loved.  Of that I’m positive.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

P/C Pixabay

Letter to my 25 year old self

A Wondering Widow Post

Dear Lisa,

It’s 20 years from now, and amazing things are about to happen in your life.  I wish I could spare you the heartbreak and pain ahead, but can truthfully say it will forge you into a better you. And while it won’t feel like it, you will survive.  Here are some words of wisdom I wish you could hear:

1. Your goal to retire at 45 WILL happen, but you will pay an unbelievably horrible price to achieve it.  Don’t let that stop you from doing it.

2. Forever isn’t linear, it’s now. Forever is in every tiny moment. Don’t waste a single one. Stop working so damned much and invest those tiny moments in those you love and those that love you. Memories will always be worth more than things (trust me, at this exact moment you are selling everything you own). Take that trip. Take the class. Take a chance on love. Take the risk of living outside the plan, and outside what is expected of you. Sometimes happiness lies on the other side of playing it safe.

3. You have no control over anything but your attitude. I know your inner control freak won’t believe me until the universe decides it’s a lesson you WILL learn, and it will be in the hardest way possible.  It’s okay. It will be okay.

4. You are f@#$%^g awesome. I know you will spend years feeling insecure and not enough. You will hide those fears and lack of confidence in a hard shell that does you no favors.  Don’t be afraid. Believe in yourself. You are stronger than you could possibly know. 

5. It’s taken me our whole life for me to learn to love me.  Love you for you, and don’t wait so damned long to do it. 

XOXO,

Future You,  aka The Wandering Widow

After the Funeral, Help Them Help You

This is an article I wrote for a recent Treasure Valley Hospice newsletter.  Special thanks to the wonderful women of The W Club who contributed their thoughts on the topic.

Starting the moment your loved one breathes their last, a flurry of activity takes place. Family and friends are notified, funeral plans kick into high gear and you are surrounded by people 24/7. You are in shock, even if it was expected.  You are surrounded in casseroles, flowers, stories and love.

Instead of a memorial we had a party for Dan at his brother’s bar. Everyone wore tie-dye because cancer hates tie dye. Music, funny speeches, pool, and LOTS of drinking in his honor. He would have approved.

And then the funeral happens. And then there is silence. The friends and family that were at your side disappear, returning to their own busy lives while you are left behind. This is normal, but painful. Even if you’ve been warned about it, it will be unexpected. Why do the people we need most disappear after the funeral? Some of them thrive on crisis, which is now over so they move on to the next adrenaline filled tragedy. Others have been strong for you and now need to deal with their own grief and pain, and will try to hide it from you to protect you.  Others find your pain too much to bear because they love you so much and don’t know what to do, so they turn away. In fear of saying the wrong thing they say nothing.  Silence.

Regardless of the reason, their disappearing act doesn’t reflect on you.  It doesn’t lower your worth, or mean they love you any less. We live in a grief phobic society.  We aren’t taught how to handle these situations. Our friends and family are desperate to help us, but usually don’t know how. Most people feel useful if you can give them busy work, an action job or task that needs done. Tasks like mowing the lawn, cleaning the kitchen, grocery shopping or even getting the oil changed in your car. If they ask, have a list ready (or show them this newsletter). And to those of you who want to help your W, if she can’t think of anything, just pick something you know needs doing and do it.  It will be appreciated.

W’s we can help them help us by simply communicating.  When they ask what we need, tell them the truth. Be honest, even if you don’t know the answer.  
After visiting with some of my fellow W’s, here are some examples we came up with:

  • Call or text me every day to let me know you haven’t forgotten me.  
  • Don’t disappear or stop asking me questions,  even if you think I’m being negative. Help me talk about him, and listen when I do.
  • Don’t let me become a recluse.  Keep inviting me out, even if I say “no” a lot.
  • I don’t know what I’m feeling or what I want.
  • I just need to be held or to talk and you don’t have to fix anything, just be here with me.
  • I just lost everything. Please don’t leave me too.
  • Don’t offer me solutions or advice, just give me time to pull through this with you at my side.
  • And most importantly don’t hide your grief from me.  I want to know you loved him as much as I did. It makes me feel less alone.

You really aren’t alone, even if it may feel that way.  So do yourself a favor and help them help you.

Help your W by being there.

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