Peace, Love, and Grief – Choices

This week while, while reading a devotional about love, the opening question caught me by surprise… “How has fear dominated my life?”

Wait! Fear?? I thought this was supposed to be about love, but as I kept reading it dawned on me…

I can’t tell you where these messages came from or when they got so ingrained in my psyche, but (like a lot of women) somewhere in my youth, I “learned” several things:
1. Me… just being me… wasn’t “enough” for me to be worthy of someone else’s love.
2. It was my responsibility to keep the people around me happy.

So… If I wanted to be loved… If I wanted to “be enough”, I needed to never stray from doing everything in my power to keep others happy… Anything less was viewed as selfish and, hence, made me unlovable… And I was terrified of not being loved.

This, then, became a vicious circle that just kept expanding as I grew older, especially in my first marriage where the abuse instilled it even further – I wasn’t lovable because he wasn’t happy. It didn’t matter that I had no control over most of the things that frustrated him. It didn’t matter that he struggled with self-control and accountability. Due to the messages of my youth, fixing it was all up to me… or so I thought.

As I have written before, it finally reached the point of no return. I simply couldn’t do it (or take) anymore, and I left. I didn’t care if I went to hell… I was already living there. I needed find some peace… somewhere. I needed to learn how to be responsible to me, and I had no idea where to start. I had been a people pleaser for as long as I could remember. I didn’t know any other way to “be” …

… Until I met Bruce… This man… This loving, gentle man changed my world. He was always grateful when I did kind things or went out of my way to make him happy, but he also made a point of letting me know that it was not expected. He never saw his happiness as my responsibility, and even encouraged my independence.

Because of this, even though we were married, we kept a lot of things separate – not because of a lack of trust, but because we were two independent people… We kept separate bank accounts, (although we each listed the other on the account in case of emergencies); I kept my maiden name; we bought our own groceries, and (usually) cooked our own meals (although we ate together); we did our own laundry… and the list goes on.

So why bother being married? For us, the answer lay in the fact that we were two independent people who were hopelessly in love and wanted to spend as much time together as possible, while still living within our own morals… No judgement on how someone else chooses to do that – this was just the way we chose to do it.

I remember one rainy Sunday afternoon; we sat cuddling up on the couch. Bruce was watching sports of some kind, while I read a book. We were both doing our own things, and still able to enjoy just being together. Per normal, I was reading some kind of self-improvement book, (remember – “never enough”). I paused reading during a commercial and asked him what he needed from me as his wife… What I could I do to make it easier for him to love me?

Bruce took the book out of my hands and placed it on the coffee table in front of us, pulled me closer, looked me in the eye, and said, “You don’t need to do anything for me to love you. I just do. It is that simple… And all I will ever ask of you is to love me back.”

That stuck with me… Granted, the people pleasing had become a habit, and it was a hard one to break. Yet, over the years, with his encouragement, I started apologizing less and less for things that weren’t mine to own. I started learning to let others have their feelings and figure things out for themselves. Due to the habits I had created, this caused definite shifts in some relationships, but with time, these also found a way to exist in a healthier manner.

Then, he died… I was alone… My support was gone… The unconditional love that had given me confidence was gone. I felt abandoned, unloved, and unlovable… all the things I have always feared and more… So, I did what I had always done – I went back to the old habit of taking on everyone else’s happiness in order to be loved in some way… any way… no matter how small.

Throughout all of this time, I had been in and out of therapy. I would go for a while, start to feel better and thinking I had a solid plan, I would stop until something else popped up… and so on and so on. A couple of years ago, though, I started again, only this time, I have stuck with it. I have found help in the rough patches and growth in the good.

I have learned that my feelings of not being enough aren’t that unusual… Neither is my propensity for people pleasing. I have learned that “bad” things just happen in life. Each person’s response to that is up to them. We all have the choice to either accept it, reject it, or to try to micromanage the situation.

If we choose to micromanage it, we can either try to micromanage the actions of others to align with our own – using love and rejection as the “prizes”, (also called abuse), or we can micromanage ourselves using people pleasing to “buy” their love/friendship (also called enabling). Neither one is healthy and neither one can create a healthy relationship.

This is why my relationship with Bruce was so good… so healthy… because with him, I learned to accept the things I couldn’t change, as well as the things that weren’t my responsibility to fix. I learned that healthy relationships come by allowing each person to be who they are and respecting our differences… finding balance in my life by setting boundaries for myself (no one else) … because, after all, that is the only part of my world where I have any real control… myself… and only myself.

This last year, I have learned that I can be kind without losing who I am. I have, also, learned that by allowing fear to dominate my life, I lost my ability to be me. This meant others couldn’t love me because they didn’t know me. It really was a vicious circle. Now, though, my relationships, however they stand, are at least honest on my end. If someone loves me for me, GREAT! If they can’t, I am sad and it hurts, but I accept it… No more changing who I am to try to become someone else’s version of me.

I have learned how to love and how to be loved… Thank you, Babe, for your legacy which has supported me on this road. <3

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Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. 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.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love, and Grief… On Being a Good Widow

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.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.