As a child, I was raised to “be good” – to do “what’s right” … always. While B’s might be occasionally tolerated, A’s in school were expected… That was “what’s right.” Discipline was strict, but the rules and expectations were clear… I won’t list them all here, because I can sum them up by saying we were simply expected to do “what’s right.” I’m not complaining about how I was raised. For me and most of my friends, this was the norm. Our parents did the best they knew, (as we all do), and they wanted the best for their children. In that place, in that time, and in our circle doing “what’s right” was just the way of things.
That “do what’s right” mindset followed me into adulthood. In fact, when I was younger, one of the few times I purposely deviated from it, I ended up with not very stellar results. It is how I ended up pregnant and unmarried. It is how I ended up leaving college before I graduated, and ultimately, how I ended up in a violent marriage.
This experience taught me just how important it was to do “what is right.” I spent the next 20+ years trying to perfect my ability to do “what is right.” Everything I did or said was evaluated and critiqued in my own mind… and by my first husband. The discouraging part was that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to get it right… But that didn’t stop me from trying. My (then) husband wanted a family that was perfect – children who dressed and sang like the Von Trapp children; a table set with cloth napkins and a tablecloth for every meal; dinners that consisted of nothing less than 3 courses… and the list goes on and on. It seemed that nothing was ever quite good enough. To do “what was right,” everything had to have the ultimate goal of “more” … or “bigger” … or “better.”
Back then, “perfection” was always the end goal, and doing “what’s right” was the only way to get there… Maybe it was because my heart wasn’t in it, or maybe it was because the goal was impossible, but needless to say, I rarely felt successful… In my mind, I seemed to fail at life… a lot.
It took a long time, but the next time I purposely decided not to do what was considered “right” was terrifying. After 20 years of a dysfunctional and violent marriage, I decided to leave. I was so scared of making this decision that when I talked to our priest, I told him I knew I would go to hell for what I was about to do, but I was already living in hell, so it didn’t really matter. For the record, he corrected me. He told me that God never expected me to sacrifice myself or my kids to my first husband’s temper… He gave me permission not to do “what’s right.” Instead, he introduced me to the idea of doing “what’s best.”
For the first week after I left, I couldn’t tell anyone… not even my own parents. I was too scared people would tell me I had to go back… They would say I had to do “what’s right,” while in my heart, I knew I couldn’t do that anymore.
It took three, long, hard years to get divorced. During that time, I listened to a lot of people tell me I was wrong to leave – it just wasn’t “right.” I dealt with the anger and accusations of my first husband and his family. I listened as parents of my students complained that I no longer qualified as a “Christian” teacher in our small parochial school. I listened as people whispered about me in our small-town choir and church. I listened as my best friend walked away. She had judged my decision and, while she had witnessed the abuse, in her mind, my leaving wasn’t “right” … In other words, many people had judged my actions as not “right.” In their minds, the reasons didn’t matter… I simply came up lacking.
However, also during this time, there were actually more people who listened than talked… more people who had suspected what our life had been like… more people who befriended and supported me and my children. These were not people who cared so much about doing “what’s right.” Instead, they were caring people who understood the need to do “what’s best.” These were the people I began to seek out. These were the people who helped me start on a path toward healing.
Move ahead several years and there was Bruce… He walked into my life when I wasn’t even looking, and even after hearing about all the baggage from my past, he stayed… He stayed, and he loved…. And through that love, he created a lot of healing. My kids and I learned what love really is. We learned what a healthy man is like and what a healthy marriage really is. He even helped me stop worrying about doing “what’s right.” Instead, he showed me how to look at things and determine “what’s best.” It was such a freeing way to think about my life. I began to have more confidence in myself and my own ability to determine what was the best course of action… And to own those decisions because they were mine.
Sadly, our time together was too short. I thought we would have a “happily ever after,” but that was not to be. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he was gone… Suddenly, I was alone, and in shock. I wasn’t sure how to even move forward. I didn’t know how to be a widow… I didn’t know what needed to be done legally, socially, or emotionally. It was too much… And suddenly, I found myself back where I had been years before … I just wanted to do it “right.”
I spent years searching for the “right” things to do so I could “heal.” I wanted a checklist that would guarantee a feeling of being whole again once completed. I wanted to be a “good” widow. I wanted to say the right things and do the right things…
And so, once again, I found myself on that senseless road of doing “what’s right.” I spent years doing so many pointless things because they were the “right thing.” Or listening to people give me advice while seething on the inside. Instead of just stopping the conversation or walking away, I kept trying to be a “good widow.” I thought I needed to be nice, because that was “right.”
I don’t know if it was two years later or six years later… I’m not sure if it was a specific incident or through my search for a deeper understanding of who Bruce was and how he thought. In other words, I’m not sure exactly when it happened or what triggered it, but eventually, I started waking up again… I started remembering all the things Bruce had taught me about doing “what’s best.”
Even now, I can’t say I always get it right. After all, it isn’t the way I was raised, and Bruce isn’t here to encourage it. However, he did leave me a great legacy… a legacy that says I do know enough to decide “what’s best” for me versus letting society tell me I need to strive for the perfection of “what’s right.”
And as a woman… a woman who now finds herself alone… Choosing “what’s best” has been a huge part of my healing and learning to survive on this journey.
What about you? Do you know what I mean? Does any of that sound familiar? How about yourself? Do you ever find yourself doing “what’s right” even though it may not be what is best? Did you struggle with trying to be a “good widow?” This journey can be hard and confusing, especially when we let others tell us how to do it. Let us know what you think. We would love to hear 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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