Complicated Love - used by Creative Commons

"When I saw how much pain love could bring I felt sorry for those in love, when I saw how much joy love could bring I envied those in love." - Unknown


Many widow/ers have a beautiful love story of the man/woman who passed long before their love could ever run dry. Of kissing someone and not knowing it was going to be the last time. 

I knew I'd kissed Mike for the last time. 
Not because he was physically ill. 
But because we filed for divorce. 
The day we decided that we could not continue to hold each other back, 
we both left work early, curled up in bed together and cried. 
Cried and cried 
and held each other as if there was a death in the family. 
It was the death of our "family".

We cried for the hopes and dreams that would never be, 
we mourned the relationship that never reached the potential that we dreamed so vividly.
We hated that we were giving up, 
but neither of us had the strength to carry ourselves 
and the gimping, bleeding, festering relationship any longer. 

We praised each other for the accomplishments and goals we set for our new lives. 
I was going to continue doing yoga, 
Mike was going to finish school. 
We would find our true selves again,
then remarry someone new.

The plan:
Learn from the mistakes of our marriage, 
and find our friendship again.
We always were best friends. 
We were good at that. 

I was so excited for him to find his path. 
I could see it vividly....
he would finish school, find a pretty young woman, 
more in-line with his parent's expectations - 
and they would raise a family and be happy. 
I wanted this for him. 
I loved him so much that I wanted him to find his peace, his family and his future - even if that meant without me.

That may have been my plan, 
may even have been Mike's plan, 
But that wasn't fate's plan. 

Turns out, 
I wasn't the one holding Mike back.
I was the one treading his water.
I was the one fighting the demons.

Sometimes when you let the baby bird out of the nest, 
they fly right into the window.
But you still had to let them fly. 

I don't regret filing for divorce.
Mike and I agreed it was the right thing to do. 
But he never signed the papers before he took his last breath. 
A breath filled with desperation, escape and inhalants.

Filing for divorce doesn't take away the pain of death,
Death doesn't take away the pain of a failed marriage. 
Both are ranked as the most stressful events of your life
Having both together... 
if you haven't experienced it....
just be kind to those who have...
you can never understand...
how deep the betrayal, 
how tangible the regrets
how abandoning the loss
and how isolated you feel. 

Being a divorcing widow is a unique form of solitary confinement. 
You feel
isolated from your family, 
hated by your in-laws,
distanced by your friends,
and (sometimes) chastised by other widows. 

To all of the other separated, divorced, or 
just-plain-complicated widows out there. 
You aren't alone, 
You aren't a horrible person.
You are loved.
You did the best you could.

Try to love the man you married, 
and forgive the man who died.
In time, that combination of love and forgiveness will give you peace. 
Nothing removes the pain, 
But the ever-elusive peace can be attained, even for only moments. 


*Author's note: If you like this post, please share it. Let the "complicated widows" know that they are not alone, that you stand next to them and realize that their pain is just as real. 



With Love and Light, 
Jess

You can also check out this, and other blog posts at http://www.thewiddahood.com/2012/08/27/divorcingwidow/

The Grief Bus

Last week I had George in my office. A man in his 60's changing the beneficiary forms because his wife died  suddenly 2 weeks prior. He came in reserved but strong, braced to complete another set of forms to remind himself that she was gone, and he was alone, and things were changing.

I didn't have the form he was expecting, I had the other ones that I knew he would need. He looked confused. I said "I'm just trying to help. My husband passed 2 years ago, trust me - you'll be glad you changed your withholdings. And if you need any help with the forms, let me know. I've done them all."

He seemed to need a second to absorb it. During that time, I kept filling things out and showing him where to sign. Then, without looking up, he said "I'm sorry for your loss, but I'm glad you understand."
I gently said, "I do"
He continued... "It just hurts. Not the way people think it does, I mean actually physically hurts,"
He looks up with these vulnerable eyes and pounds the center of his chest "right here, ya know?".

Yeah George - I know

....
A week later, I wake up.
The day after completing my 2nd year without Mike.
I have to roll out of bed, because I can't stand.
My back is in too much pain to climb the stairs at work without stopping for a break.
And I remember George.

I remember that I'm not alone.
We all feel the pain of grief.
Not just the emotional, but the physical pain.

Our bodies react to trauma and stress.
I can't hit a significant date without wanting to sleep all the time, but actually sleeping - never.
Then the body goes out. First I'm comatose on the couch because it hurts to lift my arms.
Then I realize I'm staring at the wall because it hurts to think.
Lastly, I wake up in the morning and have to roll because I can't stand until I've done some yoga.

Whats ironic- I'm not in emotional pain today.
Just that nagging - I've been hit by a bus feeling.
I feel relieved that I've passed the date.
Relieved to have it past. I'm officially in the third year.
Now I just have to build my body and immunity back up.
And recover from being hit by the grief bus.

....

My plan:

yoga - I have a class pass that has to be used soon. I will use that and start yoga-ing more frequently.
read - get back into the calm of reading at night.
massage - I'm going tonight to try to work out some of the muscular issues that have been plaguing me.
connecting - I will be genuine and connect with friends and family.
truth - I will be honest with myself about how much I am going through, and try not to judge myself

Your response:

What do you do to recover from the grief bus?
When do you notice the physical symptoms outweighing the emotional ones?

With love and light for your journey,
Jess