Somedays the pain is so great.
Somedays it is too much.
But still I must put a smile on my face
And walk out to face the world.
I must pretend all is well.
But inside…
The pain is so great…
It is too much…
Too much…
~ Linda, 2013
All my life, I was raised to the “a good girl.” I can’t say I ever got it quite right, but that was always the goal set before me. I never thought it was unusual. After all, it was the same for (almost) all the kids I knew… That was the expectation – “be good.”
I don’t think there is really anything wrong with that goal, and I can’t say that I resent it at all. I just think there needed to be a clearer picture of what that should look like. Somehow, for me, “being good” became equivalent to being a pleaser. As long as I could make others happy (and not upset with me), then that was good… And I was good. And sadly, that mindset followed me into adulthood.
In my first marriage, when things got violent, I just kept thinking that if I could be better – a better mother, a better wife, a better housekeeper, a better “whatever”, then he wouldn’t be so mad, and everything would be better… I just had to be good. The problem, however, was this: what was “good” one day wasn’t “good” then next. Life in our house was a guessing game, and the kids and I were losing. It took me a long time to leave, and while logically I knew he was the only one responsible for his behavior, I was still ashamed. I was the one who couldn’t do it anymore, and a big part of me felt that maybe I should have just been better.
Then I met Bruce… And my whole world changed! He never asked me to be better. He never expected me to be “a good girl”. He loved me…. me! And his only expectation was that I love him back. I could drop all attempts at changing who I was to try to please him… I could just be me – the good and the bad. For the first time, I had “permission” to let go of all the phony stuff and just be myself… And I was still loved… not just a little bit… I was loved totally and completely… simply for being me.
What a blessing!!
Then… he was gone. Just like that, in the middle of the night, he took his last breath and left me here – all alone. To say it was devastating would be a huge understatement.
The first few months became a blur… I walked around in a daze, just trying to remember to breathe. Slowly, I became aware of the people around me. I had a great circle around me that was supportive. I also had a few people who wanted something else…
My grief… my sadness was making them uncomfortable. For them, I needed to “Get over it”… “Smile”… “Don’t cry” … “Move on” …
It didn’t take long for old habits to reappear. In my mind, I remember making the conscious decision that I needed to be “a good widow.” I needed to be careful not to make those around me uncomfortable. I needed to hide my grief and my tears. I needed to smile at the world, so that the world could be happy.
One day, I remember being admonished for crying, and being told, “How do you think that looks to others? How do you think that makes them feel?” So, I tried harder… And, over time, I got better at being “a good widow”. In other words, I got better at hiding my feelings. I got better at not talking about Bruce so often. I got better at pretending I was okay…
Only I wasn’t okay. I was imploding – slowly but surely.
How do I find joy in this when you were my joy?
I am sinking on my own.
I know I need to find some peace in this,
But all I want to find is you.
How do I reconcile what I know with what I feel?
I can’t…
Instead, I smile like a good girl,
Finding neither joy, nor peace…
Nor you…
~ Linda, 2013
Much later, I was to learn that this behavior is called “covering”. Covering is when a person “hides” a part of themselves in order to fit into the societal norms around them. (Most people in this world cover for something. I imagine, if you dig deep enough, you might be surprised to find what it is about yourself that you are covering.)
When I learned about covering, I realized it is something I had done all of my life… I did it in my first marriage, when I smiled at the world despite what was happening behind closed doors within my home. And here I was doing it again… Pretending this pain did not exist inside me… Pretending everything was fine, just so no one else would be uncomfortable… Pretending so I could fit into the vision they had of me.
For me, at the time, I didn’t know this behavior had a name. I didn’t know this is a normal behavior. I thought it was just a “me” thing. So, I started this blog. This became my safe space to simply be me… to express whatever pain or crazy feelings I was having on this journey. I quickly found I could express myself, while the people who know me could choose to read it or not. I wasn’t forcing anyone into my world of grief – it was an optional journey for anyone else. And because of this space… this once-a-week download of whatever is happening inside, I have been able to find some peace.
Over time, I have slowly learned how to be honest with the world around me while still maintaining a balance of not making everyone else crazy with my grief. More and more, I am able to be who I truly am, and that has saved me. It has allowed me to express myself in a way that more easily accepted… It might not be a permanent solution… It might not be the best solution, but it has worked for me… And because of this weekly space, I have been able to really and truly be “a good girl”, “a good widow” and more importantly… a better me.
I say this every week, because I believe it is important to recognize… this is not an easy path for any of us. It is not a path I ever saw myself on, and you probably didn’t either. I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. This journey is filled with challenges I never imagined. Each time I think I have it figured out, I find I don’t at all. Honestly, none of us ever know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger, and that can make this journey feel so completely baffling and hard to navigate.
Thankfully, I know I am not alone. We are here for each other and, it is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
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