Your right Friday do suck. I work on Saturdays now so it decreases the mindset of going out Fridays. It will get better they say. We all heal differently. I deal by working what use to be our days off. Sundays and Mondays for me are non traditional off days so it doesn't impact me as hard. I find being alone is the biggest challenge I face. I had to move after my partner passed and being in a new town is an experience I would rather not got through right nowbut I am. Take care Sir
Brad thank you for the friend request. I lost my partner of 26 years this past year. I'm coming up on the 1 year mark and there are times it feelslike it was just yesterday we were talking and laughing. We all here go through the grieve process differently. I would neve presume how to say which one is the right way. Just know that there is a supportive group of brothers and sisters here to offer whatever you may need.
I just remembered you saying you don't know if widow is the right title for you. If it feels right for you then use it. No one is goingg to ask to see your official widow ID card.
Oh, and on dating - yes, it's new, it's scary, it's a bit f'ed up, and you'll make mistakes. The online stuff is particularly rife with nutbags. Plan on botching the first few guys you meet and think might be more than a single date - we're out of practice, and we have baggage. Don't fall for the on-line scammers - "oh, I've looked for someone like you my whole life, you're the man of my dreams...." etc. - bogus. Your spouse didn't say that to you online before he'd ever met you - they're just going to hit you up for money or worse. Join some social groups, do some things you've always wanted to, and it's when you least expect it is when you meet someone. I guess there's some truth in the cliché.
Yes,it's difficult - and it doesn't seem fair.....but, after all, few couples die together, somebody usually predeceases the other. If it happens early on, as it has with me and with you, then we - the ones left behind - have a simple but fundamental choice to make: life, or death. Simply because you're here means you've chosen life - i.e., you're asking the question, what do I do now?
The absolutely toughest thing - which nobody tells you, even the folks here - is guilt. You will feel guilty every time you take apart something that was his life or was your life together. I did - I still do. But I also understand this is a reaction, not a reality: my spouse is no longer here or able to care about what I do, say, with his house, or his car. I am only answerable to myself. And that's the key - your memories will always be yours. How you respect those memories is personal, not bound up in effects; he will always live in those memories, as you remember him, and over time the good remains and the bad fades. What does it matter if his favorite chair is still in the corner, or if it's been donated to Goodwill and you've put something there that suits you? The answer, it doesn't. What matters is what suits you, not what would have suited him.
It sounds mean - it sounds disrespectful - but it's not. We're human: we have a tendency to enshrine our memories. Not only does that not make it right (our tendency, I mean) but this trait gets in the way of us living our lives for, well, us. It's a lesson I'm still learning but the more distant my past relationship becomes, the more important I realize the memories are, versus the tangible effects of a life and a partnership that is no more.
But it does get easier. Every month, every day, every hour. The fog lifts, and you emerge. There's more life out there than we can ever truly experience - so if our choice is living then we must, however cruel it may seem, put away the past.
it takes a while - to stop grieving only to realize they are gone, to transition from the fog you're in throughout that whole process, and ultimately to begin living again. Time is what helps; little things are what make it bearable. I found that by focusing on what felt important to me, it was easier to restart my life, even down to stupid things like taking down a picture I didn't like, putting most of our mementos away, etc. After all, it is your life now. He's still part of it, but he's part of your memories - not your go-forward.
Believe me, it does get easier. I'm even dating somebody - it's somewhat serious, although there's a part of me that might not want that again, so you do exit the whole process different than who you were before it all began. The tough thing is you really can't talk about it with anybody; your friends quickly tire of it and you start to be a little Miss Favisham if you're not careful (!). Yet it's very universal: yes, I can still remember exactly what his eyes looked like, his smile, how his hands felt, his smell, his voice. You never lose that. Yet....you realize there are other people that have something else to offer you - and you have something to offer them - and it replaces what you had yet it's different. I hope that doesn't sound too weird, but it really was a year+ before I was able to step away from the past and look to the future. You're just coming up on a year - the journey continues for a while. And eventually, you are who you were again (a bit older, a lot wiser, possibly a bit poorer..). This site does help, because everybody here is going through the same things.
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I just remembered you saying you don't know if widow is the right title for you. If it feels right for you then use it. No one is goingg to ask to see your official widow ID card.
Oh, and on dating - yes, it's new, it's scary, it's a bit f'ed up, and you'll make mistakes. The online stuff is particularly rife with nutbags. Plan on botching the first few guys you meet and think might be more than a single date - we're out of practice, and we have baggage. Don't fall for the on-line scammers - "oh, I've looked for someone like you my whole life, you're the man of my dreams...." etc. - bogus. Your spouse didn't say that to you online before he'd ever met you - they're just going to hit you up for money or worse. Join some social groups, do some things you've always wanted to, and it's when you least expect it is when you meet someone. I guess there's some truth in the cliché.
Hi, Brad - thanks for the friend request.
Yes,it's difficult - and it doesn't seem fair.....but, after all, few couples die together, somebody usually predeceases the other. If it happens early on, as it has with me and with you, then we - the ones left behind - have a simple but fundamental choice to make: life, or death. Simply because you're here means you've chosen life - i.e., you're asking the question, what do I do now?
The absolutely toughest thing - which nobody tells you, even the folks here - is guilt. You will feel guilty every time you take apart something that was his life or was your life together. I did - I still do. But I also understand this is a reaction, not a reality: my spouse is no longer here or able to care about what I do, say, with his house, or his car. I am only answerable to myself. And that's the key - your memories will always be yours. How you respect those memories is personal, not bound up in effects; he will always live in those memories, as you remember him, and over time the good remains and the bad fades. What does it matter if his favorite chair is still in the corner, or if it's been donated to Goodwill and you've put something there that suits you? The answer, it doesn't. What matters is what suits you, not what would have suited him.
It sounds mean - it sounds disrespectful - but it's not. We're human: we have a tendency to enshrine our memories. Not only does that not make it right (our tendency, I mean) but this trait gets in the way of us living our lives for, well, us. It's a lesson I'm still learning but the more distant my past relationship becomes, the more important I realize the memories are, versus the tangible effects of a life and a partnership that is no more.
But it does get easier. Every month, every day, every hour. The fog lifts, and you emerge. There's more life out there than we can ever truly experience - so if our choice is living then we must, however cruel it may seem, put away the past.
Rich
it takes a while - to stop grieving only to realize they are gone, to transition from the fog you're in throughout that whole process, and ultimately to begin living again. Time is what helps; little things are what make it bearable. I found that by focusing on what felt important to me, it was easier to restart my life, even down to stupid things like taking down a picture I didn't like, putting most of our mementos away, etc. After all, it is your life now. He's still part of it, but he's part of your memories - not your go-forward.
Believe me, it does get easier. I'm even dating somebody - it's somewhat serious, although there's a part of me that might not want that again, so you do exit the whole process different than who you were before it all began. The tough thing is you really can't talk about it with anybody; your friends quickly tire of it and you start to be a little Miss Favisham if you're not careful (!). Yet it's very universal: yes, I can still remember exactly what his eyes looked like, his smile, how his hands felt, his smell, his voice. You never lose that. Yet....you realize there are other people that have something else to offer you - and you have something to offer them - and it replaces what you had yet it's different. I hope that doesn't sound too weird, but it really was a year+ before I was able to step away from the past and look to the future. You're just coming up on a year - the journey continues for a while. And eventually, you are who you were again (a bit older, a lot wiser, possibly a bit poorer..). This site does help, because everybody here is going through the same things.