Until last Saturday, I had never been to a Camp Widow event. I watched as a team of dedicated, compassionate and talented people created a space for the LGBTQ widowed. Held at the beautiful Los Angeles LGBTQ center, was the first ever event for my subgroup in the widowed population. If you’ve attended an event, […]
Widowed Therapy
Scared
On March 15th, I will be moving into an apartment with my boyfriend of 2.5 years, Nick. We signed the lease on Valentines Day. (which was just a coincidence, but ended up feeling somewhat romantic and sweet). Over the past 8 years since Don’s death, I have moved 3 different times, finally ending up back […]
Self-Care, Help, and Letting in Comfort
I have been pondering comfort, self-care, and help – what each of them is, to me, and what makes one or other easier and/or more accessible than another. Here is where I am at. And no, I have done no Googling or other research into what each of them is. Just research in my own life and experience. They are oft-used terms in Griefland – wobbly…
Death Becomes Me
I never would have pictured myself being so ecstatic and thrilled and jazzed up to talk about death and loss and grief. I never would have thought my heart would beat faster at the thought of making another widowed person laugh at something dark, through their tears. I never saw it coming that my life would consist of comforting people and…
My Annual Milestone
We lost my wife about a month after my daughter’s second birthday and I was so distraught in the early days that I was having panic attacks. The thought of being a single father was incredibly terrifying, how am I going to raise a little girl on my own?! Luckily, psychotherapy and a detailed wellness plan have helped me leave those feelings…
Maybe this will Help – What I know about Grief and Support
I wish I had better guidance to give people early on when they tried to help me. People were making heartfelt efforts to comfort me – most armed without experience. Two years later, these helpers have almost all disappeared. And, I understand. People have lives of their own to live. I understand.I understand that they simply can not understand…
Helpers
Dear Helpers, One of the most powerful things anyone can say to me is “Yes, this is __________”. *Insert: awful, terrible, horrible, sad, unfair, gutting… Any word that acknowledges that Mike’s death sucks will complete this simple sentence. The fact is Mike being dead is hard for me. And, yes, it still continues to be…
Widow’s Roast
How about something a little light hearted? Instead of writing morosely and trying to explain metaphors, I’ll look around the room and just take stock of where I am, nearing 4 years since Megan’s death? I don’t feel like “finding meaning” today. Not every day has to have “meaning” when it comes to widowerhood. Sometimes, funny…
Taking the Lead
There were so many reasons for Megan to be proud of Shelby. From her sheer intelligence, to her love for reading, to even her quirky weirdness. She appreciated that Shelby had a love for nature, at least tiny animals and flowers. We would take Shelby camping at least once a year, but due to Megan’s condition, that was the limit. We took one…
I (Still) Go To Therapy
When Mike first died, everyone asked me if I was going to therapy. When I said that I was it was somehow a relief to them. “Good for you,” they’d say. I didn’t get it. I was so fresh into it that I mostly just sat there and cried at my sessions. I mean, it was good to cry and talk and hear an outsider’s perspective but it was still very…
Weightless
I just returned from my 500 billionth Camp Widow. Okay, I’m exagerating, but not by much. Besides, I lost count long ago on how many times I have been honored to be a presenter at this amazing healing place called Camp Widow. July 13th was the 7-year mark of Don’s death. Camp Widow began on July 13th. Friday the 13th. Nothing incredibly weird…
Get Along, Grief Shamers
Along about the second year, definitely going into the third and then the fourth…I just wanted to scream at people. Not in anger, but in shredded grief and pain… Why can’t you just let me be sad? Why does it feel like I must defend myself against you? Why does it then feel like I have to defend my grief even to myself? Why does it feel like I…