I’ve written about finding coins before and there was a long time I didn’t find any. This week it seemed everywhere I turned there was a penny. I think I found 8 total and 3 in just one day. They go in my pocket, I forget until later and it’s like I’ve found them all over again.

Year 1 of widowed and dropped coins brought falling tears. Year 2 with similar circumstances like finding coins had a different effect. Instead of getting upset, they were reminders to keep picking up lost pieces and reinvest them. I kept my head down in hopes I’d find pennies telling me I was on the right path. I was missing everything around me because I did not trust my own steps through the sorrow.

Year 3 of widowed, I had a huge crash in my “self stock”. I became extremely depressed and anxiety attacks hit. It was official, Clayton wasn’t coming back and I was a tarnished, tossed aside shell of myself. I didn’t think anyone would find value in me and want to pick me up. So I gave up. I ate too much, drank too much, slept too much and exchanged excuses for myself too much. I had no worth to myself.

In December, I saw a photo of myself and was shocked. I couldn’t recognize whom I was seeing. I had a poverty mindset about me. I was outwardly wearing what I felt was my widowed worth. I realized I was “self broke”. I made a decision right there that I couldn’t let myself give up. So after three years of trying to salvage the old Bryan, I declared “self bankruptcy”. I forgave myself for the self-doubt that created “self debt”. I had to rebuild self-credit. No one could find me and pick me up except for me. So I stood up, polished myself off and started reinvesting one foot in front of the other.

This year has held a lot of personal revelations. I’ve started to pour more of my energy back into myself and I’m seeing huge growth in the return. Thursday night I put on shorts and there were pennies in the pocket. I smiled, took them out and went to sleep. Yesterday, I woke up and stood up out of bed. Like most mornings, I looked back in hopes the past three years were a dream and Clayton would be in bed still sleeping. Of course he wasn’t there but in the bed where I had slept was a penny right next to Clayton’s penguin blanket. I swear I emptied my pockets the night before. Maybe I missed one? Either way, 1 year ago, 2 years ago, 3 years ago seeing a penny in my bed would have made me crash hard.

I’ve noticed, along my grief journey, my experience has come with less emotional expense. The grief doesn’t go but I am growing with it. I have been investing more in my “self savings account”. So what do all these pennies mean? Good luck? Angel messages? Heavenly hellos? Or just lost coins? I don’t know for sure. All I do know is it seems I’m being sent signs that I am surrounded by change…