Grief Recovery Project

Only The Lonely – Part 2 of the Inherent Loneliness of Widowhood

October 16, 2018 By Lisa Bain Leave a Comment

Remember: the time you feel lonely is the time you most need to be by yourself. Life’s cruelest irony.
~Douglas Coupland, Shampoo Planet

A Keeping It Real Post

Thanks for all the positive comments and feedback from last week’s post. It’s a tough topic, for sure. This is Part 2 on an exploration of Widow Lonely. Thank you to all the W’s who continue to help me work through these concepts.

Forget And Forfeit

The historic Primark building in Belfast’s City Centre was recently destroyed in a fire. Even as a burned out shell she is still beautiful.

One of the biggest dangers of the loneliness is that it makes us, the vulnerable bereaved widow, more willing to forfeit who we are and what we need, want, and deserve.

If you’ve been reading for a while, you know that I’ve said a bazillion times that I didn’t know who I was anymore. Part of the grief recovery journey is figuring out who we are in this new Widowhood reality.

If we don’t know who we are, and have neglected to find out, how can any man (or woman*) in our lives have a chance to do so? If we allow ourselves to make decisions borne from the loneliness, we are at risk of both forgetting and forfeiting who we are.

Need/Want/Deserve

And even after we figure it out, it’s far too easy to choose companionship instead of a fulfilling relationship to escape the loneliness. Are you getting why I was hesitant to write about being Widow Lonely and Widows and Dating back-to-back?

It’s all too easy to settle for the first guy to pay attention to us, even if we know it’s all wrong. Sometimes loneliness just wants to snuggle on the couch and watch mindless TV with someone so badly, that it hushes that inner voice warning you he’s not right for you. Easy vs. Right is a test of will that we all experience, W or not. And, sometimes, W’s still feel so much guilt about starting over that they unconsciously “punish” themselves by choosing the wrong guy.

The opposite of that is hiding ourselves away and keeping everyone at arms length. It’s just as easy to resign ourselves to being alone, even if it’s not what we really want, as it is to jump into a relationship we know isn’t right. Maybe even easier.

So What Do We Do?

Lean in and I’ll tell you. Closer. Okay, here it is. I have no f*ng clue. If I knew the answer I’d be screaming it from mountaintops. What I do know is that we can’t stop trying. Our grief and bereavement are unique to each of us. We all walk our own path. I’ve read, studied, meditated, and interviewed other Widow’s everywhere I go. What I’ve learned is that there is no answer. We just have to find a path that makes it easier for us to stop fearing the loneliness. When we make decisions from a fear center, that’s where we make mistakes.

Beauty In The Loneliness

Like the Douglas Coupland quote, for me it meant being by myself for a while. And that time was what I needed. I no longer fear the loneliness. I’ve found great beauty in it because I’ve trained my eyes (and heart) to look for it; even embraced it. When the loneliness wants me to forget my worth, the men in my life, my Bros, are there to remind me. And most importantly, I’ve learned to listen to my heart. At the end of the day, it’s the one voice I have to live with.

So there you have it. More random thoughts on Widow Loneliness.

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

*I was recently reminded that Widows are women who have lost their spouse, and that isn’t limited to husbands. I use husband by default since that’s my story.

POST SOUNDTRACK

Broken, lovelytheband,

I met you late night, at a party
Some trust fund baby’s Brooklyn loft
By the bathroom, you said let’s talk
But my confidence is wearing off
These aren’t my people
These aren’t my friends
She grabbed my face and that’s when she said
I like that you’re broken
Broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you’re lonely
Lonely like me
I could be lonely with you

There’s something tragic, but almost pure
Think I could love you, but I’m not sure
There’s something wholesome, there’s something sweet
Tucked in your eyes that I’d love to meet
These aren’t my people
These aren’t my friends
She grabbed my face and that’s when she said
I like that you’re broken
Broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you’re lonely
Lonely like me
I could be lonely with you

Life is not a love song that we like
We’re all broken pieces floating by
Life is not a love song, we can try
To fix our broken pieces one at a time
I like that you’re broken
Broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you’re lonely
Lonely like me
I could be lonely with you

Songwriters: Christian Medice / Mitchell Collins / Samantha DeRosa
broken lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, BMG Rights Management

Only The Lonely (aka The Inherent Loneliness of Widowhood)

October 9, 2018 By Lisa Bain

A Keeping It Real Post

“Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.”
Henry Rollins

Early in my grief journey I found another Widow’s blog, in which she stated, “Loneliness isn’t a strong enough word.” And she was absolutely correct. If the Eskimo can have a bazillion words for snow, then there should be more words for loneliness. I’ll settle on Widow Lonely for now. Widow Loneliness is overwhelming and all-consuming. In the beginning, it’s a raw pain that just can’t be described using anything in a known human language.

Over the last few months, I’ve spent a lot of time examining the loneliness, working to not only make peace with it, but to find the beauty in it. I’ve struggled to articulate the loneliness of widowhood, spending hours in conversation with my fellow W’s. I’ve even looked at why I’ve avoided writing about it. (FYI, referring to a W as “the lonely widow” or any variation thereof, is throat-punch worthy.) I purposely waited to post this until after my Widows and Dating series because I didn’t want to cloud the dating issue with the fact that loneliness can sometimes push us into making decisions we aren’t ready for. (More on that next week.)

The Shame in Being Lonely

Like many facets of bereavement and grief recovery, loneliness is one that is glossed over. For some reason, we are ashamed to talk about it. It’s as if admitting we are lonely is a weakness. So we ignore the elephant in the room. News flash: I’ve yet to meet a W that doesn’t struggle with the loneliness that comes from losing her husband, no matter how she’s moved forward in her life.

Acceptance of being alone isn’t the same as being okay with being lonely. And before you succumb to the knee-jerk reaction and tell me I have friends and am just alone, not lonely, I’ll remind you this post explores being Widow Lonely. I fully acknowledge I have amazing friends. They are incredible humans I’m grateful to know and have in my life, but it’s different. Their presence in my life keeps me from being isolated but has no bearing on my loneliness as a Widow.

Companionship

If you’re looking for a post about sex (or lack thereof), move along stormtroopers, these aren’t the droids you’re looking for. But there is an inherent physical loneliness that comes with the loss of your life companion. Waking up alone, living your day alone, watching TV on the couch alone, dining alone, and going to sleep alone when you’ve had your beloved ripped away from you, is horribly lonely.

And it’s not just the big stuff. My first business trip after Dan died was a stark reminder of how much my life had changed. While my colleagues, Amy and Cameron, went back to their hotel rooms to call their spouses, I went back to my room and wondered what to do since I had no one to call. Back then, the loneliness looked like a big Dan-shaped void in the universe and felt like a plastic bag over my face, suffocating me.

Alone

I have no problem being alone. I actually enjoy it. I travel all over the globe, usually alone. I like the freedom of doing what I want, when I want, without having to consult anyone else. But aside from having full control of the TV remote, the day’s itinerary, and not having to share the closet, having someone to share in the beauty of all the adventures I have and places I get to visit would be amazing.

But, wanna hear a true confession from Miss Independent? I cried (in secret) the first time someone brought me my morning coffee because they remembered how I liked it. It was a beautiful gesture; one I’m not sure I ever appreciated until it was gone. I suddenly remembered how much I’d missed sitting in my pajamas with another human, and being handed a mug of the magic de-zombifying elixir. It reminded me of how lonely it’s been since I became a Widow. It reminded me that no matter how positive I try to be about life, I miss having someone to share it with.

Partnership

Whether we have kids or not, our husbands were our partners. We made decisions, together. We faced the consequences and rewards of those decisions, together. I can’t adequately describe the loneliness that accompanies any major decision that has to be made. Even now, two years later, I struggle with self-doubt and loneliness whenever I have to make a big decision alone. We don’t know anything about the future, but before you become a Widow you believe one thing is certain: you won’t be facing it alone.

Multiple Emotions

It’s important to make the distinction between loneliness and sadness. We can still be happy but feel the loneliness. Perhaps that’s another reason we don’t talk about it. It’s confusing and full of complex onion-y layers. For example, the joy at holding my grandchild for the first time was sitting arm in arm with the overwhelming loneliness of wishing Dan was there, too.

The Beauty in the Loneliness

Like many of us, I recoiled from the loneliness, running from it. But I’ve learned all that running does is just make you tired. There is a peace that comes with acceptance, and I’m learning to find the beauty in the loneliness, like a single bloom in the desert. Henry Rollins was right. Loneliness forces us to appreciate the beauty in everything, and everyone, around us.

So there you have it. My random thoughts on being Widow Lonely. Got a topic you want to read about? Message me. And as always, thanks for reading.

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

POST SOUNDTRACK

Only The Lonely, Roy Orbison

Only the lonely
Know the way I feel tonight
Only the lonely
Know this feeling ain’t right
There goes my baby
There goes my heart
They’re gone forever
So far apart
But only the lonely
Know why I cry
Only the lonely

Only the lonely
Know the heartaches I’ve been through
Only the lonely
Know I cry and cry for you
Maybe tomorrow
A new romance
No-o-o more sorrow
But that’s the chance
You’ve got to take
If your lonely heart breaks
Only the lonely

Songwriters: Joe Melson / Roy Orbison

Dating Is Scary for a W (Widows and Dating Part 3)

October 2, 2018 By Lisa Bain

A Keeping It Real Post

“He said anything worth doing should scare you a little, and that some of the greatest stories began with a journey.”
Mindy Mejia, Everything You Want Me to Be

In my last post I described how men who date Widows are brave. Today’s post describes the bravery required by Widows who date. And it does take bravery. W’s are bada$$ survivors, but the thought of dating can push us over the edge. @#$%^&* Daniel, this is all your fault! I’ve cursed Dan more times than I can count since I started this process, and that was after receiving his (unwelcome at the time) blessing and encouragement to try to find love again. It’s all his fault I’m in this situation. If he hadn’t died, I’d be curled up on the couch with him, not polling my friends to decide on an online dating profile photo.

Choosing Life

“Feel that? Flesh, and blood, and warmth.” (Jacob to Bella, Twilight Saga: Eclipse)

A few posts back, I made a casual reference to the Twilight rivalry between Team Edward and Team Jacob. (Team Jacob Forever!) I was describing to a friend why I couldn’t choose the cold dead guy over the living, breathing, hot one, and that had me laughing out loud when I realized what I was saying. I know it may be a stretch, but damn if that didn’t hit me between the eyes as a metaphor for moving forward, especially as I’ve been working on this series of posts about Widows and dating.

If only it were that easy. But this isn’t a post about the emotional challenges we face as we move forward. Nope. This is specifically related to the fears W’s may have about dating. For the sake of clarity I’ll use myself as an example, but I spent hours interviewing other W’s for this post. (Shout out to all my W’s who generously shared their insights and experiences.)

Dating Is Scary Stuff

Out Of Practice

Um, we’re a little out of practice for the whole dating game. After so long as a wife, and then a grieving Widow, how do I get anyone to see me as a woman? Least of all myself? Being a W is part of who I am, but it’s not all I am. And guys tend to get the deer in the headlights look when it finally comes up in conversation.