Self-preservation.
Our bodies are trained that the brain has top-priority when it comes to our blood supply. Even if other organs need blood, our body will direct the flow to our brain.
Self-preservation.
Since becoming a widow seven years ago, I have been in a state of self-preservation.
Many widows are afraid of loving post-loss. They don’t know if the risk of losing another partner is worth it. They’re unsure if getting another late-night phone call, dealing with more grim news from a doctor, or coping with a second suicide should be the price they pay for opening their heart to love again.
That’s not my story. My greatest fear isn’t about losing another partner. It’s losing myself.
Self-preservation.
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I don’t know how the broken, incomplete, angry, bitter, cynical, fearful, sad, depressed, wounded, pained, grief-stricken, abandoned, gloomy, broken-hearted, woebegone, grief-stricken and despondent 32-year-old version of myself made it out of the darkest parts of grief. I have to believe it was the prayers of my family and friends.
My husband’s unexpected death shook me beyond my core. But, even in my place of brokenness, I was afraid to fall apart completely. I knew if I allowed my grief to take to the “unknown,” there may be no coming back.
The rebuilding process took years. It was becoming my own biggest cheerleader. It was trusting my decisions when my husband had been my sounding board for many years. It was marching to my own drumbeat even when the rhythm made no sense.
That 32-year-old who was battered by the sea of grief has emerged on the other side as a new and improved version of her pre-loss self.
Somewhere along the line – through the tears, sadness, suicidal thoughts and uncertainty – I found myself.
We often think widowhood is about loss, and to a great extent, it is. Widowhood can rob the very best parts of you. But, it can also lay the foundation for the person you want to become…the person you may not have thought you had the courage to be….the person you were before your spouse died.
Self-preservation.
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Some widows boldly love with all they have left. They embrace the fragility of life and love with a fierceness that can only come from someone who has loved and lost.
That’s not me.
Self-preservation.
I’m afraid to lose me again. I’m afraid that in loving wholly and completely, I put part of that fierce, wild independent soul at risk. Taming her cannot be the price I pay for love.
Don’t get me wrong. I love and I love hard. I just don’t love with reckless abandonment. Not the way I was with my husband. I know that with one phone call, the person I have become post-loss can be threatened…or even worse.
Some may probably think I’m not being fair to my new partner….that I’m not as committed to our love…that he is getting “less than.”
The truth is, he met this version of me. He didn’t know me before my world was shattered. He didn’t know the rainbows and unicorns. He only knows the me that I am now. And, he loves her.
Self-preservation.
Until I learn how to keep this part of me protected, I will always calculate the risks. I will always make her a top-priority even as other things demand my attention. It’s a delicate balance giving of myself while ensuring enough of me is left back. But if the scales ever tip, it will always be in her favor.
I cannot lose me again.
Maybe over time, I’ll become less protective. But for now, it’s all about self-preservation…
Mom to a feisty kindergartener, Kerry runs a support group for young widows and widowers venturing back into the world of dating and is a contributor to Open to Hope. She is the author of “The One Thing: 100 Widows Share Lessons on Love, Loss, and Life” and her articles on widowhood and grief have been featured in HuffPost and Love What Matters. She was recently featured on the podcast, Moments of Clarity.
Although I am a young Widower, I found this very relevant. I lost my 35 year old Wife to cancer, I was 46. Now going on 48 I just now finding Peace, but also finding myself. A version of myself that also follows their own map in life. Trusting my own decisions has been a major task. What I seek in other people now is entirely different than before. It is a journey. Thank you for writing this.
I lost my husband two years ago. Year one was completed in autopilot. Year two I am coming out of a daze angry, scared, sad, with zero of the foundational faith in anything to include my religion which was what I thought to be strong as a rock. I am now 39, I have been a mother for 22 years, a wife just as long. I had those parts of me down to an art form. What I didn’t expect was having to learn who I am all over again. Still a work in progress but I know most days I am moving forward. This article hit my emotions right on about what I have to give to others and what’s left for me.
So true and so sad.
So happy to find this blog. I’m 54 widowed 4 months ago after being married to my best friend, lover and soulmate for 35 years. We have no children by choice. I’m still struggling with anger. He died suddenly and without warning. I feel robbed and guilty. I’m trying to meet new people, etc.but still trying to figure out who I am now, sometimes I feel like I am 18 again and sometimes I feel 75. I long for a person to hug and cuddle with and other times I want to throw up at the thought. HELP
It’s still so fresh so give yourself some grace. We can be all over the place with our emotions – even years after. I recommend finding a widow group – in person or online. Soaring Spirits International and Hope for Widows Foundation are great resources., especially for the early stages of loss.