This year felt a little different going in. I don’t know why. As they say, the fog is lifting, and I’m beginning to see things clearer in my new life after losing my spouse. The one day I’ve been dreading quickly approached. As those closest to us know, Eric and I were married on Friday the 13th in 1998. He chose this day. It was the implication of it all. He loved the drama of being different and seeing others’ reactions. I loved that about him. Even so, the number 13 proved to be a good number for us in many ways.
The first year, in 2021, I took myself on a solo trip to the beach. The second year, I also spent away, visiting with friends. Last year was terrible. I went back to work full-time. Coupled with the day before a major holiday and being in retail were a recipe for disaster. I didn’t have the option not to work, and it turned out to be a horrible day, and I nearly lost my mind. So, this year, I decided not to work and do nothing at all or at least to keep my options open.
Later in the day, I did spend time with my daughter and grandsons, which brought me immense joy. I recently published coloring books for them and we colored for hours. (Click the link if you’d like to take a look at one.) Whereas I have only heard of art therapy for adults, this was my first time experiencing it. Not only was it enjoyable, but I also experienced meaningful mindfulness once I was able to let go of time. So, for those of you who have laughed at adult coloring being “art therapy” as I once did, I challenge you to revisit your thought process and give it a try. Indeed it was an enlightening event.
An Honest Confession About Grief After Losing a Spouse
Meanwhile, I started therapy again (click here to read about my prior therapy experiences for grief and PTSD) and had my first **EMDR (which means Eye Movement Desensitisation Reprocessing) sessions the week prior, so I knew I was fragile. I did a lot of crying and a lot of talking out loud. None of it seemed to soothe me, though. Here I am, just short of four years into my grief journey, and my heart remains broken into a million tiny pieces. Although I mask it well. The only thing more apparent to me now is that I’m honestly on my own.
Conversation itself is much more about comforting others than it is about myself. It was odd at first, being labeled “single” after decades of marriage. All at once, I couldn’t say “my husband” anymore. Now it’s “my late husband” so as not to confuse people and inadvertently make them uncomfortable. Either way, as much as my heart longs for him, I am alone now. No one will ever understand me or get me as he did. I know this, and somehow, I’ve come to accept it. I have meaningful relationships and some fulfill me in ways my marriage never did.
Dating in this void is exceptionally challenging. “Single” now means I’m in my mid-50s, older, yes, wiser, no. Certainly, it all made me want to throw my hands up and say I’ll be alone for the rest of my life. Life after loss has left me traumatized and unstable. I now have to find my way to some kind of life. Before, I wasn’t looking long-term because, honestly, I didn’t think I would make it this long, yet here I am. So, these days, I am starting to think ahead. What does life look like for me in 3-5 years instead of just tomorrow?
What Life After Loss Looks Like Four Years Later
I started this blog as a self-help, primarily for myself and then for my readers. Undoubtedly, opening up about anything personal was scary as hell but I’ve also found it healing. Now, I’m still determining the direction to go with everything in my life. Every day is still challenging to face. Every day never promises anything. The reality is, most days, I am hopeful, although there are certainly days I am not. Those days I just move through the motions and the emotions. Even when I was traveling, moving forward sometimes was difficult, but it still had to be done.
I love you all. –xxooC
**If you would like more info on EMDR you can click here to read more from the EMDR International Association. There, you will find answers to any questions about what it is, how it’s administered, and the benefits of therapy.
Tell Me Something Good