Quite possibly, you’ve had the most horrific thing happen to you. I know, because it’s happened to me too. You’ve lost your husband, the father of your children, your best friend, your lover…your person. I get it. It sucks.

I’ll repeat it again. I  get it. It sucks.

But, please hear me when I say this: You can’t move through the grieving process if you’re unwilling to unpack some of that hurt. That anger. That guilt. That pain.That self-hating, self-sabotaging pep talk you insist on having with yourself daily.

I would never tell you to get over it. It’s been five years for me and some days it feels like there is a massive boulder on my heart, threatening my survival. There are times when I still want to reach for the phone to tell him about something amazing that happened.

It’s just that I see far too many widows and widowers who seem to think they aren’t deserving of post-loss happiness. Each of their negative thoughts becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“I can’t do this!”

“I’m old now. Who would love me?”

“No one wants to date a widow.”

“I just want to die.”

“All my dreams died with my husband.”

“I should have been the one who died.”

“My kids hate me!”

“There are no good men left.”

“I have no purpose.”

“No one wants to be around me.”

 “I’m going to be alone forever.”

“The only person who could ever love me is dead.”

STOP! Just stop.

While I don’t necessarily believe that you put these things “into the universe” by saying them, I do believe these thoughts often affect how you handle situations and how you allow others to treat you.

You don’t think you’re worthy so you pick the man or woman who treats you like trash. You complain you have no friends, yet you insist on poisoning anything that remotely looks like a happiness in others. Misery loves company, right?

You’ve heard of beer goggles. There are widow goggles too. Yes, being widowed gives us an interesting view of the world. We’re bold and unapologetic. We know the value of a moment and how to suck the very best from each day. But those same widow goggles can cause us to laser in on negativity and sadness.

As Dr. Phil always says, “What’s worse than being unhappy for one year? Being unhappy for one year and a day”.

So, yes, you can continue to think your life is over and you’ll never be happy again but at some point, those negative days begin to add up. Before you know it, you’ll look back only to discover that your life also ended when your husband’s did, despite the fact you continued to wake up each morning. How does that honor YOUR life though? How does it honor the life your spouse probably fought so hard to live despite the cancer diagnosis? What example does this set for your children?

You can live and still grieve.

You can laugh and still grieve.

You can make plans and still grieve.

You can form friendships and still grieve.

You can take charge of your health and still grieve.

You can go back to school and still grieve.

You can travel and still grieve.

You can adopt a child and still grieve.

You can date and still grieve.

You can get married and still grieve.

You can seek out your joy and still grieve.

Don’t be a martyr to widowhood. It’s taken too much from us already. Too many happily ever afters. Too much innocence. Too many first dances. Too much laughter.Too many retirement plans. Too much light. Too many fathers. Too much hope. Too many mothers. Too much faith. Too many fishing trips. Too much of our heart. Too many Mommy & Me days. Too much ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­peace. Too many forevers.

Don’t let it take you too!

Mom to a feisty preschooler, Kerry Phillips became widowed at age 32. She runs an online support group for young widows and widowers venturing back into the world of dating and is a blogger for The Huffington Post.