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In recent years I decided to take my love of helping people and became certified as a health and wellness coach. Then the last 18 months happened and I didn’t live up to my self imposed ideals of how I should thrive during a pandemic. I cratered. I gained weight – a lot – and mis managed my mental health. To make matters worse, there is no place to hide. It’s as obvious as the nose on my face that I’ve gained weight and am struggling with depression. For me, this became a humiliating lesson to learn and to bear. How in the world can I help others when I’m struggling so myself? And then, someone said this:

“I am perfectly positioned to coach imperfect people like me!”

I’ve always been honest with my piano students. I tell them “I know how to do this (whatever “this” is) because it didn’t come naturally to me. I had to work at it. It’s made me a better teacher. Now I’m learning to circumnavigate my self imposed perfectionism and am practicing compassion with myself. It’s been quite the lesson.

Lest this not become just a litany of all the crappy things that have happened since January 2020, let me skip ahead to today. Or was it yesterday or last week? I realized at some point that the wallowing I was doing was not doing anyone any good, lest of all me. I had fallen into a hole of indifference and ineptitude. Doing the most simple and mundane things took great effort and mostly didn’t get done.

I am at heart a survivor. Most of us are. However, is surviving enough? I mean, I have a small car and I can get to Austin on a half tank of gas. Is that enough? What if I want to (somewhat tongue and cheek) take a detour. (Ha! I crack myself up). Half a tank isn’t going to cut it. What I realized was missing is not the survival instinct but the instinct to thrive. I had started thinking of myself as old and as life being almost over. I had never thought that before and I don’t like it.

So, what to do? First order of business is to come out of the dark closet I had put myself in. Opening the door and “oh look” there’s a pretty great world out there. Sure, we’re all dealing with loss and challenges but in spite of those challenges, there’s some good stuff happening.

I see people offering kindnesses to others that might have been overlooked before all the difficulty of the last 18 months. I see my knitting group offering up beautiful hand knitted shawls to anyone who needs to feel a little more loved. I experience the young workers at my husband’s and my favorite little neighborhood restaurant open up to us about their challenges. Some of them call me “Ma”. I see this as a time to practice radical love, something I’ve been a proponent of all my life. But never to myself.

In my world, my piano students are returning to in person lessons. I’ll never forget the little girl who, when asked “would you like a hug” replied “I’ve been waiting for this day!”.

I’ve been waiting for this day! The day I make the decision to thrive and do whatever it takes to make my personal “why” come alive. More on that later.

I’d like to share this journey with you. I make no promises that it’ll be a straight shot. Detours can be fun and full of good surprises. Let’s see!

Annie Lamott says the only prayer we need is “Help, thanks, wow!”I would heartily agree with her.

I have decided to resurrect this seemingly forgotten blog (I know, I said that before) because – well, just because I want to write about my journey and all of the detours that journey has taken.  And, I want to, by writing, perhaps help others.

When my late husband died in January of 2015, I know that the single best thing I did for myself was to talk and write.  People want to connect on a heart level and I found that by opening up, I was able to receive and give support that I otherwise wouldn’t have.

If you haven’t read my blog in the past, I’ll give a quick summation as to where I was the last time I wrote and how I got there.  As I said, my late husband died in January 2015.  It seemed sudden but now, looking back, I can see the signs of his decline were there but I didn’t see them.  That is my biggest regret and my biggest anger.  He kept from me how bad he was feeling and how depressed he was.  I see, only now, looking at photos of him taken in the last five years of his life how much he was struggling.  There were some things I could write about regarding why I didn’t realize it.  Long work hours, stress from being the sole provider, stress from losing family income, etc.  But that’s of no use now and I’ve determined it’s not good for me to live in the past.

After 13 months of being a widow, I suddenly and without warning met someone who would change my world.  I’ll have more to say about that later but that’s basically where I left off in my blog.  I was struggling at the time with the very big learning curve of being in a new relationship after having been in another for 30 years.  It’s not easy folks.

But I persisted.  He persisted.  We both knew, somehow, that it was right and appropriate for us to be together.  Regret that we didn’t meet sooner in our lives while trying to honor the life I had with Doug.

So “help”.  Once I met Glen and started a serious relationship with him, I requested help quite frequently.  From God, the universe, the great good – whatever you want to call it.  And Doug.  I called on my memory of Doug to help me navigate all the new things that were coming into my life.  Whenever I thought “this might not work” I had that still, small voice in my head saying “Wait.  This man is here to teach you.  You need to stick it out.”  I heard that voice especially loudly when I thought I might cut and run.  You know – leave rather than patiently work out how to be in this relationship.

So – help.  And it came.  And continue to come.

Here I am in April 2019 about to celebrate one year of being married to Glen.  And I’m so happy.  Happier than I could have imagined four years ago.  I marvel at what a great relationship we have and how loved I feel.

Next up – Thanks

 

When I began this blog, I had intended to be a regular poster.  Life, I guess, got in the way.

Almost a year since I posted!  And what a year it’s been.  Last time I was here, I told you about developing a new relationship.  At the time, I was giddy with love and hope for the future.

I was naive.  Very naive.  I had no idea how difficult it would be to begin a serious relationship with another person after being married for 30 years.  And I didn’t realize that, until a kind therapist pointed it out to me.

I floundered.  I sputtered.  I became angry when new man didn’t say “hello” to me the same way Doug did.  You may laugh.  I do.  For the second half of 2016, I felt as if I had tumbled down the rabbit hole.  Are things up or down?  Spinning or staying still?  Am I really floating because that’s what it felt like.

New emotions seemed to hit almost daily and I went around feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.  Lots of people were happy that I had found love again.  Then again, I lost friends.  Friends who judged me for starting a new life.  It was very painful and is painful still.

And all the time those people were judging me, I was lost.  Lost in a world of feelings that were not familiar and struggling to find new ways to communicate with a person who is very different from the one I spent 30 years with.  And, at the same time I was experiencing all the new, I was still grieving for Doug and our old life together.  The safe life that I knew so well.  It’s a testament to the love this darling man has for me that he has been able to withstand some of the ups and downs and remain committed to our relationship.

I walled myself off from friends who had been so kind and supportive to me during the year after Doug’s death.  I think they might have thought that it was because I was so busy with my new life but in actuality, I was at a loss to explain my feelings so I just kept to myself, except for a couple very close friends.

 

So, this is where I am.  Navigating, negotiating, and settling in for the long haul, knowing there will be detours along the way but also many beautiful and breathtaking views.

I’m wondering….have you experienced discomfort in newness?  Unease when you should be  happy?  What are your experiences?

Today marks the 71st birthday of my husband, Doug.  Needless to say, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about him leading up to this day.  I’ve also continued to think about detours.

Just as I became used to being alone and rather enjoying it, another path was laid before me.  Quite unexpectedly, I met someone.  God literally dropped this wonderful man at my front door and we had a fairly instant connection.  We’ve begun a serious relationship which seems to not have an end.

Ironically, I met him five days before I left to go on a grief and comfort retreat for the weekend at a Presbyterian run retreat center in the Texas Hill Country. Back in December, the pastor at my church told me about the retreat and said that if I wanted to attend, the church would make it possible for me.  I enthusiastically said “yes” as I hadn’t had any opportunities to work on grieving in any sort of formal way.  I had been grieving more since the one year anniversary of Doug’s passing so I had been looking forward to getting away and learning more about the grieving process.

To say I was confused during the retreat weekend would be an extreme understatement.  There I was, working through a myriad of feelings and sorting out all of my experiences of the past year while, at the same time, receiving beautiful text messages from this amazing person.  I literally had one foot in the past and another in the future, looking forward to the possibility of a new life.  I spoke to the lead facilitator and, contrary to what I thought she’d say, she told me to embrace the new and enjoy the awakening feelings I was experiencing.

One of my friends told me that when a person has experienced a loving relationship like the one I had with Doug, they recognize another  when it comes again.  I recently went to the wedding of a dear friend.  The man he married was a widower.  I struck up a conversation with the best man who told me he was a therapist.  In the course of our conversation, I shared with him that I was a widow of just 14 months.  He told me something that stuck with me.  He told me that he really believes that some people are just made to be in relationship and that I am obviously one of those people.  Perhaps.  I didn’t think so before meeting my new love.  In fact, I keep thinking about what I told Lorie the morning Doug died.  I said “well, my life is effectively over.”  Apparently there were other plans for me that I wouldn’t have believed at the time.

What I know is that Doug’s love for me was so profound that I learned how to love and be loved for a long time. Thirty years.   I know that no relationship is perfect.  Doug’s and mine wasn’t  and this new one certainly isn’t without some challenges.  I also know how to work through those challenges and that the work is so worth it.  I credit Doug’s love for making it possible for me to love and be loved again.

Friends tell me how happy they are to see me smiling again.  Sometimes I feel like a walking sunbeam, finding it difficult to contain my joy.  I think of the e.e. cumming’s poem:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

To honor Doug in the weeks to come, I’ll be doing this:  Doug liked to ride  his bicycle on his birthday.  He would ride whatever age he turned. He had a route around our neighborhood and continued to ride his age in miles up until about the year he turned 65.  One year I remember some of my students setting up a lemonade stand and cheering him on with posters as he rode round and round and round.  I won’t be able to do 71 miles all at once but my bike is out of storage and waiting for me.  Over the next few weeks, I’ll be on it, riding round and round as the past and future merge together into happiness.

 

January 27, 2016 at 2:51 a.m. my husband will have been dead one year.

Never would I have imagined writing those words.  Never would I have imagined how difficult it would be to survive without him.  But survive I have done.  Sheer will and the strength of the love I had for him has given me the fortitude to muddle on this past year.

Whenever things got tough, whenever I felt like giving up, whenever I just wanted to stop….I thought of Doug and his unending faith in me.  I have been so fortunate to have been loved so well by such an amazing man.

I haven’t written for quite awhile.  After starting this blog, I began to feel too vulnerable to continue writing.  However, I’m ready to step out again and allow myself to openly share my raw feelings of grief.    One of the things that I believe so fiercely is that we must be willing to share our difficult times and our painful feelings.  Grief is unimaginable to those who haven’t felt it.  I know that I never understood until it happened to me how one could be crippled by grief.  It has changed my outlook forever and changed how I function in the world.  I am much more likely to give someone the benefit of the doubt now.  That driver who cut me off in traffic …..perhaps they are rushing to the bedside of their loved one.  That person in the grocery store in the express line with a cart full of groceries ….perhaps they are too distracted to realize what they have done.  That person taking too much time….perhaps it’s all they could do to get themselves out of bed in the morning.  I wish I didn’t understand but now I do.

I’m hoping that by sharing this past year and going forward that I can bring a little light into the world.  Doug would like that.  He was such a good man.

Let me tell you about him.  I don’t think I have in this blog.  First, he had the most beautiful pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen.  Those eyes were full of intelligence and humor and when he looked at me more love than I could have imagined before knowing him.  He was smart.  Perhaps the smartest person I’ve ever known.  He was fair.  He was a hard worker.  He brought me coffee in bed every single morning even though he wasn’t a morning person.  He still continues to influence how I live my life.  If I have thrived, and people say I have, it’s because of him.  It’s because I want him to be proud of me.

Doug and I genuinely liked each other.  We loved being in each others company. We could talk for hours even after being together thirty years.

Doug loved the way I play piano.  In fact the morning that he went into the hospital he laid down on the sofa in my studio to listen to me practice.

Any friend of mine was a friend of his and I cannot remember how many times a friend would be in need and I asked Doug to help them.  He always said “yes.”

My mother said at his memorial service that Doug was more of a son to her than her biological son.  She was right.  He was such a good man.  I keep coming back to that because it’s true and bears repeating.

And so as to not make him into a saint….he left an office filled with, no other way to say it, crap.  A workshop so full it was hard to walk in.  He was that kind of genius / artist that didn’t seem to mind how things accrued around him.  I’ve spent the year clearing things out and I still can’t find the safety deposit key nor do I know what’s in the box.  I can see him looking sheepish as I write this and it actually makes me smile.

I have been incredibly lucky to be gifted with an amazing group of people in my life.  From students to their parents to  friends, colleagues and to musicians I work with …..I am astonished at the generosity and love that has been showered upon me.  The word “blessed” is so overused that I hesitate to say it but say it I must.  I have been blessed.

This certainly has been quite the detour. I’m still stumbling around seeing where my new map will take me.  Come, go with me on this new adventure.

 

Yesterday was the 7th month anniversary (I need to think of a better word – anniversary implies a joyous day) of Doug’s death.  People keep telling me it will get better but that’s not what I’m finding.  Or, perhaps I should say I’m finding myself on a roller coaster ride – still.

When I returned from my trip, I felt fresh and new.  I felt like, perhaps, I had turned a corner and things would start looking up.  I had gotten to the top of the hill but, unfortunately, found myself heading back down, almost at breakneck speed.  Today, I miss him more than ever and I’m afraid I’m turning into a needy, clingy person that no one wants to be around.

People say “I’m thinking of you.” Or “I’m holding you in my heart.” Or “I’m praying for you.” And I appreciate the thoughts and prayers. I do.   They don’t help me with the loneliness, though, and I’m so tired of being the one to reach out and call people.  I want that old happy relationship that I had.  I want my friend and partner back.  I want someone to care that I get home safe.  I want someone to hang out with me just because we love being together.  I want someone to miss me.

People survive the loss of their loves.  I know they do.  I think people even become happy again.  I’m holding out hope, still.

I meant to post on July 27 but I was traveling without wifi. July 27 was the six month anniversary of my husband’s death. Like all of the anniversaries have been, it seems like forever and no time. Suspended time?

I started the next six months with an adventure, in keeping with my travel theme. I took the train to Chicago from my home city – a trip that was scheduled to take 32 hours but in reality took 35 or thereabouts. I didn’t care. Frankly, I would have stayed on the train for days more. I had a private “roomette” which became for awhile my own incubator, cooking up the next part, or at least the beginning of the next part, for me.

Doug and I took the train to New Orleans, Louisiana many years ago and it was, for the most part, disastrous. I became sick right off the bat and vomited my way across the south.  So, I could hear Doug’s voice asking me if I really wanted to chance the train this time around. Yes.  Yes, I did. The idea of 24 + hours of no responsibilities or decisions seemed heavenly to me and, indeed, turned out to be just that.

I’m usually doing something.  Working, knitting, reading – something.  This trip – I mostly looked out the window, took pictures, and thought,with a little bit of knitting thrown in.  Doug would have called it “letting my soul catch up with my body.”  Exactly what I needed.

The train discharged me at Union station in Chicago and I needed to make my way, somehow, to a suburb – Lombard, IL.  What I’ve discovered or perhaps, uncovered, is a fair amount of fear that I carry around.  I guess it’s always been there but Doug’s death uncovered it and without his filter and confidence in me, I feel the affects of fear quite a bit  more than I like.  However, I’m learning to acknowledge and ignore.  I really didn’t have a clue as to how I was going to get from point A to point B.  with the help of the train attendant, a kind red cap,and the hotel who sent a car to the train station in Lombard, I made it to my hotel and the conference without any trouble.  Some confidence returned!

Little by little an updated life is beginning to happen.

I’m now in Maine, thanks to the kindness and generosity of a friend of twenty years.  Hours have stretched by where I’ve forgotten to be sad.

Some days are better or worse than others.  This is one of the not so good days.

Why?  I think the stress is just taking it’s toll on me.  I miss having my companion and I really miss having someone to mull things over with.  Feeling alone is pretty awful, too.

I think of all the women who run their households alone.  Some with children, some without.  Some with husbands who travel, or go to war, or some who have never married.  They manage so well.  What’s wrong with me?

Complacent.  That was me.  I couldn’t imagine a life without Doug so I didn’t.  Now that it’s here, I’m still having trouble wrapping my mind around it.  One of the women in the grief group said that she was just waiting for the nightmare to be over and she’d wake up.  I knew exactly how she felt.

I’ve been thinking about attachment and the Buddhist concept of it.  I certainly was attached to Doug, our marriage, our life together.  And it’s gone.  Or is it?  As I write I realize that the life we had still exists.  It exists in my memories and it exists in the memories of people who knew us.  Can I gather some happiness out of that?  Possibly.  Something to think about as I wonder around trying to maneuver my way alone.

I woke up happy.  It was so unusual that it startled me and I almost immediately went back to my usual state of just surviving.  However, I’ve been thinking of that fleeting moment all day.  I’m hanging onto the feeling with the anticipation that it might stick around for a little longer next time.