I’ve been in my apartment now for about 2 months. Selling our home and going through this divorce has been challenging, emotional, and difficult, to say the least. The emotions are very complex, and they tend to change a lot, depending on how life is going that day, how tired I am, and how I’m feeling. In the end, the word that keeps coming back in my mind is adjusting.
There is a lot of adjusting going on. Some of it is internal and some of it is external. The external stuff would be adjusting to a new parking situation at my apartment, adjusting to cooking food for one (which Ive done before when I was first widowed so Im a whiz at that one), adjusting to a new budget and financial situation, (also done that one before, not so much a whiz at that one yet), adjusting to having no gorgeous property and no pool to swim in, and nowhere to “hang out” outdoors in the immediate surroundings of where I live. Those are just a few examples of external adjustments.
The internal ones are a bit more subtle to the outside world, and definitely feel much harder for me. Some of these include adjusting to not immediately sharing every good or bad thing that happens with my husband (now ex-husband), adjusting to us no longer being partners, but instead being something that has not yet been defined and that we are working on (friends?), adjusting to going from having very little privacy to having all the privacy I want, adjusting to not hanging out with the friends that were our friends but really more HIS friends, or members of his family that Im still in touch with but will definitely see way less of, adjusting to finding the line between caring about my ex-husband, but not over-stepping into the place where a spouse can go, but maybe not an ex-spouse. Those are a few examples of the inner struggle. It’s a lot, but I’m doing okay, generally speaking. I’m trying to find my way, and I honestly believe that I’m having an easier time with it because of my widowed experience. A lot of this feels familiar. A lot of this post-divorce stuff is me saying: “well this sucks, but I’ve been here before, and I can handle it.”
One of the things that has been nice, in a comforting way, is having my 20 year old cat Autumn with me a lot more. In our home, she pretty much lived downstairs, because we didnt want to deal with her scratching furniture or getting sick in the main part of the house. Now, I have a rather small apartment, and so she is of course here with me. Sometimes she curls up with me in the bed, other times she sleeps in her little kitty bed right next to my bed. She often naps on my chest while Im sitting in my recliner chair, or she loves Don’s old recliner chair, where she spends a lot of time snoring loudly. Her favorite spot lately has been on the back of the couch, curled up on a burgundy colored blanket, where she gets just a little pocket of sunlight to shine on her through the window. This apartment has good sunlight, and the windows have treatments on them so they dont open all the way, but the sunlight still finds its way through. Its a lovely thing seeing my kitty feeling the warmth of the sun, and searching for the places inside the apartment where she can find it.
It reminds me of a time in my early grief of widowhood where I didnt want anything at all to do with sunshine. How could the sun still exist and dare to shine so brightly when my sweet Don was dead forever? How could people enjoy anything, and how could nature be of any comfort, when I could never hug him or laugh with him again? And as time went on, I started to see that it was perfectly okay to feel this way, and even healthy to not let the sunshine in for awhile. Sometimes, the darkness needs to be felt and honored, and the pain and hurt need to marinate for awhile, before you can be ready to welcome in the sun. This process might take a few months, or even a few years. Its really different for everyone, and being pushed or rushed through grief never helped anyone. The amount of sunlight you decide to let in, and when, is completely up to you. As it should be. Always.
These days, I feel a bit like my old lady cat – trying to find the little bits of sunlight to sit in, to rest in, and to spend some time in. At the same time, the moments I am here alone in my apartment, in the dark days of upcoming winter, with the upcoming cold, somehow feel just as important and meaningful. In times of great change and adjustment, friends are so vital. And also equally vital are times spent in solitude, sitting with the thoughts inside your head and heart. More and more, I am reminded that the thing I require most in my life right now, is a sense of peace.
