Tag: Strength

How to Kill it as a Widow

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Ha! See what I did there? I love a good pun. Is that a pun? I don’t even know.

Either way, recently someone said to me that they admired me, that they didn’t know how I did it and how I have overcome my so called widow-hood. The truth is, well first of all, who doesn’t love being told that you’re admired! That doesn’t suck. But second of all, what choice do I have? And thirdly, you don’t overcome widow-hood. You just have to learn how to live with it, how to live through it and how to be happy while doing it.

I guess I could choose to wallow in self pity. I could choose to focus only on what I have lost. I could choose to live in the past. I could choose unhappiness. Certainly I wouldn’t be judged (yes I would) if that’s the path I chose. But I don’t choose that.

I have 2 children that follow my exact example at all times. They deserve a life of happiness and joy and freedom. Losing their father at such young ages fucking sucks. There are no ifs, ands or buts about that. They didn’t deserve that. But we don’t always get what we deserve. Life deals our hand and it’s how we deal with what we are dealt that matters. (That’s a whole lot of dealing right there!) My point is, they are watching my every move, my every reaction and they are emulating what they see in me. Do I want them to be mopey, woe is me, my life sucks because these circumstances that we had no control over happened to us? Hell to the f-ing no. I am raising men. Strong men. Resilient men. Happy men. And it all starts with me.

Secondly, and I believe this to the depths of my soul, happiness is a choice. And I choose to be happy. Do I have bad days? Undoubtedly. Do I have days where I am mopey and feeling sorry for myself? Obviously. I just texted one of my closest friends in the middle of the night not too long ago complaining of my sadness. These days are bound to happen. Hell, they happen when you haven’t lost your spouse. But on the regular, I choose to be happy. I choose to focus on what I do have rather than what I am missing. I choose to stay in the moment rather than dwell on the past.

I also choose to stop worrying about things beyond my control. Take school for example. Is it ideal for my children to be educated virtually? Fuck no. I am no teacher. I have no patience. Jack will be fine. He’s smart. He’s disciplined. He gets it. Colt, who’s supposed to be starting kindergarten, he’s not going to be so fine. And neither am I. Not because we’re not smart or disciplined, but because it’s all brand new. Everything you need to know in life, you learn in kindergarten. Isn’t that what they say? That’s a lot of damn pressure right there. But at least when Colt’s dumb as a shoe box full of rocks his whole life because his mom taught him kindergarten, it won’t be his fault. He’ll have plenty to divulge to his future therapist about how his mom ruined his life when he was 6 years old because she didn’t know how to teach the alphabet. But all of these things are beyond my control. It is what it is. There’s nothing I can do about it. Therefore, I am not going to waste my time worrying about it. Because I have no control over it.

I can control how we spend our time. I can control who we spend our time with. I can control what I choose to focus on. And we choose to stay busy, we choose to surround ourselves with the people we love, we choose to have fun, we choose to laugh more often than not, we choose to sing out loud and off-key as often as possible, we choose to dance in the kitchen while cooking dinner. We choose to focus on the myriads of good things that we have in our lives. Because that’s the way forward for us. That’s what makes us happy. That’s how we keep on keeping on.

Perks of Being a Widow

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I don’t know much about the afterlife. I guess none of us do. What I do know is that these lightsabers (you know the ones from Disney – not going there (literally and figuratively) again) have a mind of their own. They turn on at will. Jack’s will stay on for hours at a time. Glowing in all it’s purpleyness and making its cool lightsaber sounds. Like right now. It’s almost 10 pm. The boys are long asleep. And the lightsaber is just a glowing and whirring away. I like to tell myself that it’s Ash. That he’s showing me he’s here, that he’s with me all the time. Other random things will happen, also. The X-box turns on nearly every time I sit down to write. One night, lying in bed, unable to sleep, my hand (just my left hand, that was resting where Ash used to lay) turned ice cold. I wondered if that was him, holding my hand, reassuring me that everything is going to be ok.

And I know, everything is going to be ok. And everything is, for the most part, ok. Except for when it’s not. (I know, wiser words were never spoken – it’s a wonder Harvard or Yale hasn’t offered me an honorary PhD in life.)

There are some perks to being a widow – I have full control of the remote control (well, after the boys go to bed that is); nobody ever critiques the way dinner is presented anymore; we eat in the living room whenever we feel like it; I can read for hours if I want – no one complains he’s not getting enough attention; there’s less laundry; we spend way less money (that’s also thanks to the whole don’t leave your house thing we have going on right now); I can go to bed whenever I want (my husband was always big on us going to bed at the same time – funny (not like in a funny ha ha way, but funny in an ironic way), he used to be the one that wanted to stay up late while I preferred an earlier bed time and now I’m always up late watching television that doesn’t make me any smarter and living other people’s lives through social media; there’s no guilt for eating the last Twix; I no longer have to watch golf on television, which I guess is also due to circumstance at the moment, but also, I don’t really enjoy watching golf on television so I’ll keep it in the perk column; there’s less mess in the house (not much less because 2 boys and I kinda suck at cleaning) but slightly less; I have 2 bathroom sinks all to myself; Ash was a critical guy by nature, so not constantly being told how I could improve myself isn’t so bad. I know, these are all silly things but I’m a silly girl and you get what you get.

There is one major thing that I can take away from being a widow as being a pretty large, I don’t know that perk is the right word, but it’s something I have always lacked and something I’m gaining more and more of every single day. Courage. I’ve always been a bit of a coward. I mean, my dad was still ordering my food for me in restaurants when I was 18 years old, I made my roommate make any kind of important phone calls for me all through college in exchange for ironing her clothes and then, once I got married, my husband took over ordering my meals for me and all the important phone calls. I’m intimidated by people. I always have been. I’m more on the shy and introverted side and was always happy to stay on the sidelines. But once you become the only adult in your life (that’s not literal, obviously I have other adults in my life, but on the regular, it’s just me and 2 kids), you have to grow some balls, you have to take the field and you have to start making some fucking plays. You have to order your own food. You have to make important phone calls. You have to make huge, life changing decisions, all by yourself. These things have never been my strengths. But now, I don’t have any other choice. And you know what, it feels kind of good. Liberating, in a way. Given the option, clearly I would keep my husband and keep deferring to him but nobody gave me a fucking choice. So I have had to woman up and I won’t say I’m doing great at this whole courage thing (it’s still pretty new), but I’m not doing bad, either.

Some days, I still put off the important phone calls, I avoid answering the phone, I turn in to myself and avoid being brave. But that’s only some days. And there will always be times when I have to take that time, because I am not naturally courageous. But I’m learning and growing, I’m changing, for the better, I think, because I’m relying on me to get us through this life, and if I can’t rely on myself, who can I rely on?

 

Strength and the Lack Thereof

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I am strong. That is my daily mantra. I set the intention of having strength every day. And I’m going to brag a bit and say I do a pretty good job on most days.

Enter global pandemic. That strength I’ve been holding so tightly to has sailed away like a ship in the night. You see, in real life, we are constantly on the go between kids, friends, sports, school, eating someplace other than the kitchen, errands and other such things that make our lives an actual life. Put that life on hold, and us recently unfortunately widowed folks are left to actually have to deal with our feelings. So thanks for that, raw bat eater. I’ve got a couple of hand signals for you.

I selfishly took this past Saturday, and aside from working out, did not leave my couch. I let my children play outside, I gave in to too much screen time and too many video games. And I parked my ass on the couch and didn’t really move. Other than to blow my nose because I let myself basically cry all day long. It is not my proudest day in history, nor my strongest day in history. But maybe it was my most necessary day.

I recently complimented myself on not having a day where I laid around and drowned in self pity. I guess I planted the seed in the recesses of my mind. And that seed sprouted and turned into this past Saturday. I watched romantic comedy after romantic comedy, which was quite the idiotic move because do you know what life is not? If you said a romantic comedy, you would be exactly right. But it did unlock feelings that I guess I’ve been holding onto for far too long and I finally let them out.

The problem, you ask, with letting them out? Once they start, I’m not sure how to make them stop. There is so much shit, in the world, in my own personal life, that sucks right now. And if I’m completely honest, I’m having a hard time finding the bright spot. Yes, my children are a bright spot, we have our health and each other and all the other shit you’re supposed to say that you’re grateful for (and I am grateful for it) but I also have all of these other negative feelings and self doubt and pain that are overtaking everything good that I know I have.

And there’s really not anything to be done about it, which would drive Ash crazy. He was always a fixer, not great at the listening and just being there. If there was a problem, yo, he’d come up with several ways to solve it. There’s no distractions to push away the painful feelings. There are no friends to give hugs and love and feed me wine and tell me I’m pretty. (That’s a joke.) It’s just me. And the boys. And the dogs. Trying to pretend like we’re ok.

My poor kids, every night, something makes me cry, generally at the dinner table. My sweet Jack always asks if I’m alright and my sweet Colt always answers she’s just missing daddy. And that is true. I am missing him. But there’s so much more to it than that. So many things, that I, myself, do not understand and do not know how to navigate through.

So, for now, I guess I’ll just let the water works flow. Because what else are you supposed to do when your husband dies and then the world fucking stops?