Today Is Friday, and I actually am remembering to write in here, instead of rushing around last minute the next day or 2 days later, because I forgot again. So thats something I guess. This whole “widow brain” thing has really melted into more of a “getting older brain” thing, as well as a “pandemic brain” thing, and also sort of a “20,000 things on my mind at all times brain” thing. Plus, I’m 49 years old, and for the past year or more, I’ve been slowly going through peri-menopause, or menopause, or whatever the hell this is, and it’s really messing with my body and my mind and definitely my emotions. Right now, for example, I have a pounding headache, feel like I want to cry for no apparent reason really, and all of my joints hurt. So there’s that.
There is one thing Im pretty thrilled about today. At noon, I will be the guest on Christina Rasmussen’s incredibly insightful podcast, “Dear Life.” We are taping it and recording it today, and then it goes into editing, so I’ll be sure to let you all know when it will be available and where/how you can find it. I’m really excited to talk with her about grief, loss, life, love after loss, and about a zillion other relevant things floating around. We have about an hour, and it feels as though an hour will barely scratch the surface.
In the coming months, I will be doing more podcast guest spots, more zoom talks, and anything else that comes my way as part of the mission to help people walk through this. It is things such as this that fuel me, and that remind me why my story matters. Sometimes I need reminding of that myself, and these bonds and connections I have made through loss are the perfect evidence of always being in active stages of healing. It is also evidence that we bond and feel comfortable around those who really SEE and hear us. I feel the most seen and heard, in general, by my friends in the widowed community. Of course, I also have other non-widowed friends whom I love and adore and who I feel great around – comedy friends, acting friends, childhood friends, work friends, and others – but when Im with my widowed friends, it feels as if ALL of those pieces of me are able to exist and be brought out and nothing has to be explained or justified, and all those parts of me can be there and sometimes be silent and sometimes be louder, and it’s all okay. It’s like a sigh, or like something I don’t even really have to think about. It just is. And now Im babbling …
More thoughts from my brain will appear here next week – as long as I remember.
