Telling him about my year - 2025

 Year three of a re-cap of my widowed life.  Previously I wrote this like I was talking to Mark.  But now I am writing to myself, as encouragement and a way to look back with pride at all that I have accomplished, big and small.  Was it a better year?  In some ways, yes.  But it also had challenges.

And a few tears here and there.

courtesy of my "new" therapist

January - took Christmas down, worked New Year's Day, decided I would start going and doing, continued meeting with therapist, saw dentist for teeth cleaning, took myself to a movie, started meeting with dietician, spiffed and re-stocked the kitchen pantry and added long term food storage, Spencer turned 35, started taking mental health days and using my PTO once or twice a month, saw my doc and got some lab work done, set up a puzzle table in the den, bought a smaller file cabinet and purged all the household files, thought about Mark on his birthday. Off to a strong start.

     February -  did some blog post purging, tossed ALL of my old planners, Grayson and I helped Dylan move out, set up a sewing room, had a heart CT on Valentine's Day, started going to a coffee shop to journal once a week, went to the "Mesmerize" art installation, had the house ducts cleaned, therapist started flaking out on me by cancelling and rescheduling appointments, spent a week painting and cleaning the garage.  So proud of myself!

     March - sporadic calls with therapist (no more video calls for some reason), stopped meeting with dietician, visited Umlauf Sculpture Garden, started a paint by number, took myself to a movie, worked on the taxes, volunteered with TXIWC in Buda, gave a co-worker the propane tank - the last big thing in the garage to get rid of.   Finding my way on my own.

      April - saw Chicago in concert at ACL Live, hung some heavy art in the garage (by myself!), created an art collage wall in the office, worked on the yards a bunch, sold some albums to Half Price Books, followed-up with dermatologist about hair, came home to smashed glass/broken broom courtesy of Grayson, planted some shrubs, treated the crepe myrtle, replaced the sink disposal, started meeting with a friend once a month for coffee or beer, started regular walking. Looking forward to the empty nest and creating a home just for me.

     May -  saw a science film at the Rollins Theater, had a switch in the kitchen replaced, had a yearly physical, got rid of the Baja, had a bone density test, attended Hospice Austin webinar, saw "Summertime" movie/symphony, did another paint by number, went twice to Drop-In concerts downtown, cleaned the gutters, got an oil change, worked on Memorial Day. Adding in more creativity and entertainment, handling issues.

     June - saw the eye doc, attended grief webinar, painted and repaired garage screen door, scrubbed and sealed the deck, listed some things for sale on Ebay, got a haircut, sewed some hearts for IFAQH, worked some extra hours, took photo for certification wall at work and attended tranquility luncheon, saw Stick Figure in concert. I feel confident.

     July - Saw ortho doc for right shoulder issue, saw "Waitress" at Zach Theater, bought a ladder, attended gin tasting at TW, painted sewing room, started PT for my shoulder, started weaning off antidepressant, saw dentist for teeth cleaning, started looking for new therapist, got a mammo, had leaky washer repaired, remembered Mark. Feeling the burn this month.

     August - replaced dryer duct, applied for Medicare, took dinner to Dylan, went to first book club meeting, replaced one of Brigid's tires, attended grief webinar, graduated from PT, took dinner to Spencer, Dylan and Chloe and I helped Grayson move out, reached 32 years as XR tech, neighbor's tree fell near fence with no damage (whew!), painted laundry nook, ordered a couch, major clean of guest room and bath.  Handling things - GO ME.

     September - painted guest room, painted the den, saw Jeff Goldblum at Bass Concert Hall, had hearing appt., Chloe turned 34 - took her birthday treats and decided to stop pestering her about visits, went to book club meeting, got my flu shot, saw a chiropractor for shoulder.  By now the therapist had "dropped" his clients, including me, so I started with a new therapist. I will not be defeated by change.

     October - sold some stuff on Ebay, moved leather couch to garage with Dylan's help, new couch arrived, power washed the back patio, follow-up with dermatologist and ortho doc, met with Edward Jones guy, attended book club meeting, got a haircut, attended grief zoom, saw "Star Wars" movie/symphony, attended grief webinar, took myself to another movie, cashed out some PTO, Dylan turned 30, saw Black Violin in concert, sold the black and white chairs, got Grayson off my car insurance. Tying up loose ends and it feels so great.

     November - book club, Brigid oil change, ordered wood delivery, repainted master bedroom, visited with Dylan, spoke to Pete about Mom's estate, decided to stop with the grief books and webinars, attended tranquility lunch at work, bought Thanksgiving tobacco for Mark's pipes, attended 2 book club meetings, went to a Georgian wine tasting at Total Wine, saw science movie at Rollins theater, donated blood, picked up Turkey Trot packet, got Tiff's Treats, visit from Chloe with birthday treats, did a bunch of food prep, had busy and fun Thanksgiving. Feeling happier than I have in a long time.

     December - saw my PCP for blood pressure follow-up, saw a movie out, moved all my plants to the garage (by myself!), had lunch with a friend at a brewery, mailed two Christmas cards, went to a spirits class at Total Wine, saw "Home Alone" movie/symphony, started photo project, mailed box of photos to MK, filled stockings, attended Christmas Eve services at St. Luke's, worked Christmas morning and spent time with peeps, Grayson turned 27, had last appointment with "new" therapist after much progress.  Looking forward to a new year, new goals.

I'm ready to keep this momentum going!

What lights the fire?

This post is very similar to the previous post - it weighs heavily on my mind, I guess.      

I had a conversation with someone and told her I was drawing a big blank where the answer in my mind should live: what do I want to do in my future?  So we talked about all of the things I enjoyed when I was young and unmarried - writing, reading, word puzzles, sewing.  But my overriding wish when I was a child was to be a mom.  This seemed like a natural choice to me.  But it turns out, it probably was a deep-seated desire to do something differently and better than my mother did.   To provide a home that was loving and clean, with fresh food and decent clothes, opportunity, tradition, and hope. Something I always wanted for myself.  Seems odd to say, but with all of the children she had, turns out she wasn't really a fan of children.

     Ironically, I eventually went into the same field she did - Radiography.  I knew I needed a skill and good job to help raise the family Mark and I were building. I hunkered down and did the work, making it through school with good grades while battling financial hardships, working part-time, and raising two small children.  I have been doing it longer than Mom did (32 years) at this point. 

     It was never a "calling" for me; it was a way to help provide my family with what we needed  I was able to attain health insurance, a retirement account, and income.  My hours made it possible for me to be at home with my kids during the week for summers and school breaks, eliminating the need for daycare. It was a means to an end, and I do a good job at it, but it doesn't light a fire under me. I thought that as soon as the last one left home, I would be really and truly free to retire.

Then Mark died.

That was 4 years ago.  But is that a reason to stay put?

And now, how do I discover something that does light that fire?  

Just over here on Widow Island...

...mulling over life and the future.

 

I popped into Hobby Lobby, intending to get some supplies to make a Pottery Barn knockoff ornament, but instead bought Christmas cards and an ornament for my bedroom tree.  While I was standing in line, a woman recognized me and called over from another waiting line.  She and I used to work at the same hospital and were work buddies for a short time.  She asked how my family was - not sure if she knew about Mark - and if I had retired. (doing well, and no)  Then told me that she and her hubby have been traveling a lot.  They had down-sized to a smaller place = no yardwork, retired, and are enjoying trips to Costa Rica as well as RV traveling.  I'm glad for them - grab life while you can.  Meanwhile, here I sit on Widow Island.  No partner, working full-time, no grandchildren, no plans to travel.  It kinda made me feel like I am doing Life all wrong.  And I feel like fate got to decide that for me because I was clueless.  As much as I want any of those things, they are not happening for me right now.  So here I sit, just before Christmas, contemplating things while I stare at the sky.  And it has me wondering: If I wanted to be somewhere else, doing something else, with someone else, how would I do that?  

So that's what I'm working on, over here on Widow Island.  If you are a widow - how did you figure out where to start?

What story does this ornament tell?

Christmas ornaments can be very sentimental and hold our memories.

I have always loved Pottery Barn Christmas ornaments - they are so beautiful.  And usually, they aren't super expensive - some of the ones I have were less than $9 each and came with free shipping.  Sometimes Mark and I would get them as a gift at his office Christmas party since the boss's wife was really into PB.  And sometimes I ordered them as Christmas gifts - especially for Chloe, as a mother/daughter Christmas tradition. They were sometimes also a once-a-year splurge for the family tree which was always styled elegantly, compared to the kid's tree.  But quite literally, I was the only one who it mattered to, and I bet my kids wouldn't even remember them.

Sometimes that's how it is with such things at your house - not every thing is meaningful to everyone who lives there.

I came across an ornament that I dubbed "the magical tree".  The year it came out, bottle brush trees were having a major moment.  They sold out pretty fast, and I remember sending a photo of this one to a friend with an excited "look what I got!" message.  Over the years I have babied the storage of this ornament, wrapping it carefully in bubble wrap and tissue paper, setting it at the top of the box so I wouldn't set something else on top of it.  I never hung it on the tree because it was "special", so it tended to live behind the glass of the china cabinet.  But what was so special about an ornament I couldn't even hang on our tree?

I feel like this ornament tells a story of valuing things over experiences and people.  Over making Christmas into a pursuit and accumulation of more stuff that is pretty, but not necessarily useful or even memorable.  It made me feel nothing when I saw it, so I wasn't going to set it out anywhere this year.  Then I decided to just hang it on the tree, stop prizing it so much (if it breaks, it breaks), and think about what I truly want to feel and experience this Christmas.

Maybe this tree was a literal message to me in a bottle.

You don't have to invite him to your holidays

 This was a Big Realization.

{I had this conversation with the therapist, too.}

I asked Chloe what she would think about me hanging Dad's stocking along with everyone else's this year.  She asked me if I were "in crisis".  So that got me to thinking: she is probably in a healthy place, allowing grief to live within the Christmas season.  Why shouldn't I?  Its impossible to include someone who is no longer here.

So why would I hang a stocking?

For years, Mark was central to my Christmas. But I do not have to continue to include some homage to him -  a sentimental "Dad" gift (a mug with his picture on it, for example), a dish he would have wanted (no more ham balls!), a tradition he insisted upon (a real tree we all cut down).  And I can honor him any way I choose.  Although I could be somewhat snarky about this and say that I am doing so by living my fu*king life, I will do these things to remember him at this time of year as he was part of 40 of my Christmases:

*put a framed photo of him on my tree

*continue the Christmas traditions we set as new parents (stockings, for example)

*keep using the 1972 tree

*go to the church we married in and say a prayer for him

*hug my children which are the four best things we ever did

But the rest of whatever I do for Christmas will be based on what Gina wants.  It doesn't have to be complicated and I feel like this prolonged grief has made it so.  So as I work to untangle that, its a good idea to keep moving on with life.  And its Ok not to invite him to my Christmas this year.

Happy things for Winter, 2025

Well, I definitely do not want to have to wait until June to enjoy some abundance!

And I agree that a positive attitude will attract good luck.

I did, after all, have "expect the best" tattooed on my arm...so here is the current list of happy things as we go into winter:

*I have done all of my Christmas gift shopping, and any last minute gifts will come from the candy store aka liquor store. Decorating will be pretty simple, as will be meal planning. 

*I am done with indoor painting for the year and I have made more progress in making my home reflect who I am and what I need.  I have zero guilt about getting rid of things that don't serve me. (looking at you, black and white chairs)

*I have had a busy year getting out and about to movies, concerts, and events.  I am looking forward to a couple of other "date nights" with myself, but also lots of reading on my new couch.  I want to catch up on all the books I have on my 'to read' list.

Going in to this season I am protecting my peace of mind and free time, and I am feeling more gratitude each day.  The goal is to simplify and enjoy what I have, putting a hold on big projects until next year.  Setting up new traditions and honoring the old.  And making plans for all that may come in 2026 - attracting abundance!

What I'm into now and what I'm not

This is a post topic I borrowed from another blog - written by Kari at A Grace Full Life.  And I gave some thought about this because, whoa, my life is so different now from what it once was.

And hitting a milestone birthday yesterday makes it all more current!

Things I used to be into:

a lot more sewing 

writing/typing letters

talking on the phone

decorating my house for the seasons

visiting wineries

filling up photo albums

coloring my hair

needlecrafts

cooking

Things I am into now:

meditation

journaling and blogging

texting friends

purging what I own, often

sitting on my back deck and listening to the birds

working jigsaw puzzles

reading

not cooking

simplifying life

With age I have discovered a new authentic me. This is a season of discovery for me and I am excited to see where it leads me.  The life I used to live is no more, and maybe this is exactly where I were supposed to end up.  I don't know, but I am OK with changing my focus as the years have gone by. What about you?  Any discoveries on life now vs. life then?

Embracing heartache

 When I was having dinner with Firstborn a while back, he mentioned he needed a wall calendar to stay better organized.  I find that amusing as I know I've given him plenty of those in the past and thought he wasn't really using them!  But I took advantage of a sale and create a photo calendar for all of my peeps as a gift for Christmas.  My idea was to use printed photos from our family photo albums - the funny and cute ones that they probably don't remember ever seeing.  I probably have enough photos to make calendars for years to come!  On the cover is this gem from 1990:

Which cracks me up every time.

I've felt mad for various reasons these past four years.  I think my brain was trying to protect my heart by allowing me to live in the anger.  It was easier (although not pleasant) to be mad than heartbroken.  Anger gives you energy to purge your garage and get shit done whereas heartbreak gives you tears and wasted days spent on the couch.

I want so much to move through this time in my life and emerge in a good place.  And I thought I was making good progress (sloooowly) until I was told I probably have complicated grief. So, there's more work to be done, for sure.  But I am determined.

All it took was going through the photo albums to see, really see, all of the losses - parents, in-laws, spouse.  Kids growing up and moving out.  The loss of me, too - the progression of sweet young thing to overworked and frustrated mom and wife to widow.  Its a lot to process.

I don't look through them all that often but every time I think "I wish Mark were here to talk to about this", which is ironic, no?

So my goal for these photos is to embrace the heartache and look through them with an open mind. Pull the photos out to look at them, but put the anger back into the box, and open up the possibility of more happy.  Because, there was a lot of happy back then and there can be more ahead, too.

Another Dumb thing, exhibit B

I bought a four pack of symphony tickets, thinking that it would be a great way to entertain myself and Get Out There.  All four tickets reserve the same seat for four shows spread out from now thru May of next year.  I didn't realize that the symphony would be playing the score along with a screening of the movie, but whatever, the music is so good and you almost forget that a live symphony is playing along to it!  The four shows are Return of the Jedi, Home Alone, Pirates of The Caribbean, and Video Games Live! (think Final Fantasy)
 

Got ready to go, drove downtown, secured parking, found my ticket on my phone, got a drink, then settled into my seat to people watch.  The lights go down and we are 5 minutes into the show when someone comes up to my seat saying its their seat.  Nope.  I pulled up a picture on my phone of my ticket to show to him. Both of us are confused.  He and his wife finagled myself and the two guys sitting on my right to scoot down 1 seat, so we agreed for the sake of minimizing the interruption.

Do you see where this is going?

I had the right row, right seat number, WRONG SECTION OF THE CONCERT HALL.

I was supposed to be in the upper balcony.

At intermission, the woman who asked me to move made small talk with me, asking me if I were there alone.  Perhaps she thought my group of nursing home seniors had lost one of their own.  I excused myself to go potty and asked a very nice usher about my ticket, and he pointed that that I was supposed to be in the balcony section, but told me to "sit anywhere there is a vacant seat because the view is better in this section".  So I did and enjoyed the rest of the show, having annoyed basically everyone on either side of me.

Ooops.

I will not repeat that mistake for the next three shows in this ticket pack...and I hope no one remembers me!

How I spend weekends now

Back then: I prepped all the weekend food and gathered supplies/gear/cargo on Friday. We packed up and left early on Saturday (no matter how tough the week was) and traveled to Burnet.  Breakfast at a favorite Mexican restaurant, then straight to Highlands. We worked on whatever projects we had going - anything from yardwork to building to painting to clearing out trash.  Hard stop at noon.  We showered, then traveled to a winery/brewery, picking up lunch on the way. We normally headed back to Highlands in the late afternoon to shower and nap.  We enjoyed a bottle of wine while we admired the sunset, building a good firepit.  I made dinner, we drank more wine, stargazed, and listened to coyotes, sometimes falling asleep in our chairs.  Next morning, I got up early to make coffee and watch the deer until Mark woke up, then I made breakfast. Normally we finished up a project or chore... in the afternoon, we either visited another winery/brewery, or stayed close to Highlands listening to music and sunbathing in our lounge chairs, always with adult bevvies. We ate snacks, did more napping, returned back to Austin in the late afternoon.  At home we unloaded the truck, I got dinner made and cleaned the kitchen, we ate and went directly to bed. I started my 40 hour work week the next day dehydrated, with bug bites, sunburn, and muscle aches.

 Life felt exhausting.

Highlands was lovely, but not the Shangri La for me that it was for Mark.

It felt like a punishment to have to work so hard on the weekends after a week of being on my feet running around at a busy trauma hospital.

Now:  I prep myself for the "workweek" on Friday afternoon, fixing three breakfasts, three lunches, vitamins and snacks.  I clean the bathroom, make sure the kitchen is in order and get to bed on time.  I wake at 5:30 a.m. to get dressed and ready to go by 6:30, clock in at 7 a.m.  Home usually around 7:45 p.m. and Sunday follows the same schedule as Saturday.  Clock in time is 8 a.m. on Mondays, and by 8:30 p.m. I am home eating a snack and throwing a load of laundry in - I feel very ready for a day off, but not exhausted or overwhelmed.  Tuesday through Friday is spent taking care of my home, getting exercise, appointments for self care and health care, and sewing/reading/errands, or sitting outside on my deck. Cooking is minimal, as is housework. No one gives me grief for wanting time at home. I don't drink all that much. Headaches are rare.  The job situation is much improved.

Life feels good.

My home sweet home is my sanctuary

When I think back on it, I realize that the weekends weren't as fun as I remembered.  But today Life is peaceful, even as I sometimes feel lonely.  All the naps in the world didn't fix the exhaustion of trying to "go and do" as well as care for two homes, 7 days a week. I miss the beauty of Highlands and the Texas hill country, but I love the beauty of this life now, right where I am.

I am The Dumb, exhibit A

Recently I affirmed for myself that I am, in fact, The Dumb. Its not like I've never done dumb stuff before, but I thought I would start documenting it.  To take the sting out of it, I guess, and to make me laugh!

I signed up for the latest "Books and Brews" book club meeting but then hit a snag as the book I ordered for it never arrived.  So I thought I would attend the meeting anyway, just to listen in on the discussion and drink a beer with other adults out in public.  I made my way to the brewery on the scheduled day and time, found a table with a book club reserved sign on it, and sat down.

As people started to arrive, I thought, well, this is a different group of people than normally come, but everyone was so friendly.  And it wasn't until I had been sitting there almost an hour before I realized it was a completely different book club, reading a completely different book that I had never heard of, and at a different brewery than my group was meeting at. 

 What.

  So basically, I gatecrashed the other clubs' meeting and didn't even have anything to contribute to the conversation.  And no one there even questioned it.  But I did have a good beer.

And just to make up for my nonsense, I ordered the next book that this group is reading and signed up to legitimately attend the November meeting.

But I probably won't remind them I did that!

 

Not just a couch

Scout came over to help me move the brown leather sectional ca. 2005 out into the garage, in preparation for the new couch being delivered.

What. A. Beast.

Besides being a supremely uncomfortable couch, it was super heavy, bulky and difficult to get through the front door.  As it's last act of vengeance, one of its connecting posts managed to scrape the hell out of my knee.  I guess that was a small price to pay.  A couple of days later, I was able to slide it out onto the driveway by myself...

..where a group of what looked like 4 frat boys in a pick-up truck loaded it up and out of my life forever.  That was the second couch we had bought together, Mark and I.  I think we paid $1600 for it on sale and it did actually work for it's intended use for 20 years.  It was a beautiful chocolate brown and the leather was high quality.  But it was so big, and gave me back pain every time I sat on it, and I hated it about as much as he loved it.

Fast forward to the new couch being set up.

I have never bought a big piece of furniture by myself.  It felt weird, and maybe a little scary to not have someone to consult with on this purchase. No one else to help me figure out how long it should be, what color, what style, how to pay for it, etc.  In the end, I think I did a good job.  And maybe what this teaches me about myself is that I can do these things, like the adult that I am.

Its not just a couch.

Its a way to reaffirm for myself several things.

I am capable of managing the things in my home, making choices about how I want it to look, and deciding how to manage all of the specifics.  It would be so great to have him here to help me along the way.  But that's not possible.  So the next best thing is to move forward with clarity, determination, and faith in myself.  I hope he would be proud of me, but I am making myself proud, too.

Shoulder woe

...otherwise known as me documenting this problem.

The starting point was scrubbing the back deck this summer.  But I did plenty of other things in my burst of summer energy.

The pain progressed as I did more and more around the house.  Mowing, painting, lifting heavy things...all did me no favors.  I saw the ortho doc for a Kenalog shot and got referral for physical therapy in July, followed by PT for a month, then chiropractic and massage care.  At this point, I think I will need to scale back on activities until my shoulder pain settles down.  Maybe use my non-dominant arm more, as suggested by the masseuse.  The pain from this is awful - feels like bone on bone.  My entire arm and lower neck hurts - the aching going all the way down my arm, which I assume is referred pain.  My neck muscles on the right side ache.

My plan:

*take it easy on home painting projects for awhile

*use tylenol and motrin

*use cold and heat packs

*get back into home PT exercises

I'm going to drop the chiropractor because pain = inflammation.

  I would love to avoid a surgical solution, but I'm not sure that's possible.

This getting old thing....its not for the weak.

Hi, I miss you

Do you miss me, too?

what was he contemplating, I wonder?

Tomorrow would have been our 40th wedding anniversary, and almost 44 years together.  Its weird to me that we began so long ago, because I remember it well.  It somehow seems more recent than 44 years, and I feel like I do a better job of recalling those memories than I can of last week!  I wonder if Mark ever thought about everything we had weathered and marveled at it.  We hit year 35 and I thought we would be in it for The Long Haul, death do us part and all that.  Just not at age 60.  That plot twist snuck up on me.

I treasure the independent life I have built, but would gladly give that up to have him back.  No amount of closet space is worth it.

I think about him often, and I'm just now to the point where it doesn't make me yell.  That wasn't doing me any good anyway.

I'm still mad at him for not taking care of himself, and I often think how tragic it is that he was so obstinate at the end.  Didn't want me nagging him.  And it is 100% not my fault, but I shouldn't have backed down.

If there is a heaven (and I do think there is *something*), is he there, waiting for me?  Will he come right up to me, kiss my cheek, and welcome me?  Is he there now, waiting?  All philosophical questions, with no answers - I get that.

But how I would love to get a message to him:

I love and miss you, and so do your kids.  And we hope to see you again someday.

Happy Anniversary, Honey.

 

Dream feelings #17 - Mom's house

 We are coming up on the 2nd anniversary of Mom's death - tomorrow.  What a terrible time that was in  September of 2023.  My sister and I talk about it every now and then - still processing and debriefing.  And I'm sure that's where this latest dream came from.

I was standing in a shabby house with wooden floors, trying to tie the string on my scrub pants, which were very faded, just like my scrub top.  I really need new scrubs, I thought.  I stepped away from the front door, just in case someone came in while I was tying them.  Immediately, my sister and mother (wearing a nightgown) burst into the house.  My sister said nothing, just stood there with her keys.  Mother rushed from room to room checking it all out, and it was then that I recognized it as her house.  I offered to show her the back yard.  The door to it was through the kitchen which was filthy and had stacks of garbage and recycles sitting by the door.   Mixed in with empty containers of something was also trash.  I said, "I'll take care of those", and cleared it all away to open the door.  Then Mother stepped out from the house and braced herself against the doorway and the side of her house on a small ledge.  I was horrified at how dangerous that seemed.  To the right of the backdoor, in the yard, there was an excavated square of dirt that had tarps laying across it and some broken posts or planks of wood.  She said "oh, I did that".  It was almost like she had to assure herself that this was really her house.  Then the dream ended.

*****

Mother's house was always so dirty, so cluttered, so full of trash or recycles that needed attending to, and dirt everywhere from where she tracked it in after being in the garden.  I used to tell my kids not to take their shoes off at Grandma's.  She lived like she was out in the country, though her house was smack dab in the middle of town.   Even though Brenham had trash and recycle services, Mom regularly left things right where she set them - plastic soil bags and pots, broken furniture, empty Bluebell ice cream containers.

It never didn't stress me out, and I was always trying to help her put order to it, only to discover it was back to being a mess the next time I visited.  It seemed like she should have or would have wanted her home to be clean and tidy, but that was never the actual case.  For someone like me, that made visits stressful and confusing.  I'm going to file this one in the nightmare category.

My independent life

Looks like I'm on a roll with blog posts.  Who knew I had so much to say?

(pretty much everyone, Gina)

Instead of a "happy things" post I made a list of how life has improved for me over the last four years.  I bet few widows can process that while they are in the throes of grieving.  It has certainly taken me awhile to realize it for myself.  But there are some things that I can say are better in 2025:

*My home is no longer stuffed and cluttered with crap I don't want or use.  This includes the outside spaces, too.  I have done much work on it.  Sadly, Mark was waiting on putting the house on the market and had lost interest in spiffing it up for us.

*I don't have a hangover every Monday from drinking all weekend.  And I don't feel resentful that the weekend actually created more work for me to catch up on before Monday began.  I don't have the added burden of taking care of planning/cleaning/organizing/food prep/laundry from weekends at Highlands.

*I decide what to cook and what time to eat.  My grocery list is shorter, so it's faster and easier to shop.

*My chore list is much smaller.  I do laundry for me only, and I don't iron for anyone.  I'm not changing sheets on two beds. The house pretty much stays neat and clean, without stacks of things sitting there waiting to be dealt with. The kitchen stays clean.

*I am no longer exhausted daily because I only answer to myself and I make sure I have time to rest.  I realize that I have limits and I am OK saying no to things that zap my peace and energy.

 Are there drawbacks to this level of independence?  No one is coming to rescue me, so I have to do those things for myself, anyway.  The "empty nest" thing is real, though.

A lot of times I am worried about a particular home repair, or how I will manage a health issue in the future, loneliness of course, and managing my money.  But I am doing my best to live in the present moment and enjoy my life, making the smartest choices I can. 

I didn't choose this life, it chose me.

Is it that way for most widows, I wonder?

Something I have gained in grief

 This is a journal prompt that I was given in a recent grief webinar and I thought it interesting as it has occurred to me before.  Something I have gained: the strength to persevere.

I never felt particularly strong.  My mother told me shortly after Mark died that I was a "strong woman".  But I didn't ask for that and I resented having to be strong about something I had no choice in.  I wanted to crumble, but there was much at stake I really didn't have that choice.  I have heard stories of grievers who had a hard time getting out of bed, feeding themselves, not leaving their house, letting laundry and bills and dirty things pile up*.  I would say I was the opposite of that.  I became laser-focused on getting my house in order, managing my bills, following through with all of my appointments, maintaining self-care as best I could, and trying to keep the lines of communication open with family and friends.  At times it seemed like an unreasonable amount of work for someone who was grieving.  And I had my full share of anxiety attacks, meltdowns, and loss of appetite.  Plus, depression hit me rather hard.  So its not like I've been a role model on How to Widow Peacefully.

For the 40 years previously, Mark was by my side for whatever trouble I was facing.

A partner to help figure out solutions to problems.

Someone I could lean on when I felt unable to stand alone.

And now I've had to figure out to keep going and draw on new inner strength. 

So, yay for me in doing so?

But what a shitty way to discover a new life skill.

*complicated grief, which I have also been told I have and I'm not totally sure about that...

What it was like where I grew up

 One of the blogs I read has a series of prompts called 99 Questions to Ask Your Grandparents and this  question hit home for me, pun intended.  What was like where you grew up? Can you describe the neighborhood in detail?

the house I grew up in until age 10, pictured in 2007

     My sister claims that my memory is poor for our childhood, but I think its truer to say that I have managed to forget a lot of negative things. However, I do remember our house in Lubbock and probably could navigate it to this day.  As a child, I thought the house and yards to be quite big.  The back yard was divided into two halves by a wire fence  - one side had a big Mimosa tree, a clothesline, and irises planted against the house. My father had nailed an armchair up into the tree, with steps leading up, as a sort of makeshift treehouse where we would sit and read.  Around the base of the tree was a built in picnic table where we enjoyed watermelon in the summer, throwing the seeds and rims over the fence into the alley where they became a watermelon patch.   Grapevines were planted against the gated wire fence.  The other side of the yard had a built-in sandbox, a swing set, two dogs with a doghouse, and the backdoor to the house which was in constant motion.

     We had no garage, but a carport for shade.  There was a built in brick planter near the front door where we regularly tried our hand at growing marigolds.  Three trees planted in a circle in the front yard represented my sister, brother, and myself.  For the longest time, the lot next to us was vacant and we rode our bikes all through it.  We would cross the road to the neighboring cotton field and have dirt clod wars.  Someone was always getting injured (sometimes in a terrible way) and my mother had Mercurochrome on hand for everything. The yards, driveways, and sidewalks in our neighborhood were always full of kids of all ages - on bikes or on foot, playing various games until dark when we were all called in for the day.  We drank from the yard hose, ran in briefly to eat lunch or use the potty, and basically wore ourselves out.  Summers were hot as hell, winters brought snow.  We were outside constantly, mostly barefoot. Catching horned toads and running the neighborhood. 

     The house had 3 bedrooms and two bathrooms, and my father had finished out the garage into a living space where he slept and had a desk.  Previous to that, there were bunkbeds in there where several of my older siblings slept.  We had a very small eat-in kitchen and a small living room. Although there was no fireplace, I remember there being a cut out space in the wall connecting the kitchen to the living room, and a small child could have crawled into it, and did.  My mother did all of the cooking and laundry and cleaning.  She also sewed our clothes.  We rarely ate out. 

     We knew our neighbors and they knew us.  The Hadaways, the Lassaters, the Prichards, the Fosters, Mr. Haney.  We were within walking distance of our school and church. We had one TV and watched the evening news, Gunsmoke, Gilligan's Island, Captain Kangaroo, and Saturday cartoons. We listened to records on my father's stereo system that had a speaker in each room.

     My childhood home is with me and part of me always, of course.  Not all of my childhood was joyous, but our house in Lubbock was a formative place in my life that shaped me for everything to come, including raising my children and creating my home.  

Dream feelings #16 - Grayson moving out

this sat in the hallway for 2 weeks

In the dream, I have a very big house with very big yards that seemed to be inside of the house.  Another adult was observing me as I disciplined Grayson over breaking something in my bedroom a year ago and not telling me - and why was he even in there to begin with?  It was a sort of blue thermostat/light switch on the wall.  I told him that if he had told me it was broken I could have fixed it already.  Dylan and Chloe were also nearby, but not saying anything.  They all became young children.  I started yelling at all of them, but they were not really paying attention and getting further away.  Grayson hopped on his bike and started riding off and I had to call him back to continue discussing with him.  That's where the dream ended.

I fully expect that I will have some sadness over the last one leaving home.  I have a lot of angst over how the last couple of years have played out, particularly with Grayson.  I'm not sure I was able to really help him, but I did provide a safe place for him to be while he figured out what he wanted and was ready to leave.  All while doing my best at living my own adult life, with all of its struggles.  None of them are "kids" anymore and its time for all of us to move on.

Just a dream - but this empty nest thing - its so real.

The question is: what would I retire TO?

Recently my sister told me that my niece, who is 55 is going to be retiring soon and moving to the coast.  Which, great - whatever blows her skirt up.  The sister said it made her "feel old" - I guess because of my niece's age.  To me, whatever anyone else does with their own life doesn't make me feel any sort of age and I'm Ok being almost 65.  And working actually makes me feel vital and a little younger.  But its just like Ozzy said "you have to have something to retire to" and maybe my niece has that figured out, but I for sure don't.  On paper you could be worth enough money to do so, but money is not a substitute for creating a life you enjoy.  So while I am working on that and figuring it out, I will keep working since I like what I do.  And anything could happen.  You could have a major health issue that could wipe out your savings and put a big dent in your early retirement - so it can't just be about the money.  Meanwhile I don't want my skills to lapse.

Do I want to garden? No. Travel? Again, no - at least not alone.

I have no grandchildren, and even when I do, I don't plan on raising them!

Volunteering would be a good way to fill my days, but right now I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing than going to my job and taking care of my home.  I am happy in my house, my hours/ responsibilities/commute to work are all good, and I'm not in a relationship that holds me anywhere.  So what do I retire TO?

It will all come to me eventually.

I could work on developing my hobbies, adding new ones in, I guess.

I feel like I have time to decide what exactly I want to do.  Maybe what I'm doing is what I'm supposed to be doing.  Who knows.  And I'm all for others retiring whenever they want to. 

Its just not for me right now.  What are YOUR thoughts about it?

"I've never stopped loving you, but sometimes I don't like you"

I fully realize that there are some things about my relationship with Mark that will never get resolved.  And now it's up to me to process them so that I can have peace with them.

This is one of them.

scuplture at Zach Theater

Sometimes Mark said things to me that were not well-thought out.  I know all of us have done that from time to time.  Were he here now, I might have a discussion with him about this one thing he said and how it made me feel.  Maybe he could have just said "I've never stopped loving you" or "I've always loved you" without qualifying it.  It always seemed backhanded to me, even when I know in my heart that he did love me.  But those two sentences seemed mutually exclusive.

Because how do you say "Sometimes I don't like you" and not have it perceived in a negative way?  Being likeable to your spouse is something we take as granted.  Otherwise, why would they have even married us to begin with, right?  How do you build a life with someone that you sometimes don't like?  How do you merge your financial life with them? Raise a family with them?  Have intimacy with them? Live with them day and and day out for 36 years?

To me, if you love someone, you necessarily like them.  At the very least you don't dislike them.  And you'd never say "I don't like you"* - you might instead say "I don't like what you did/do".  But saying he sometimes didn't like me?  His life partner?  That really cut deep.

He could have said: 

*have more patience with me

*make more time for me

*praise and thank me 

*don't nag/thwart/question me

And that might have opened a discussion where I asked him to:

*share the home load with me so that I am not so exhausted

*listen to me

*praise and thank me, too

Because didn't both of us want to be more likeable to the other?  I would hope so.  And handing someone "sometimes I don't like you" only hurts; it doesn't suggest ways they can do better.  Just my post mortem marriage counseling at work in my brain.

*I was guilty of saying "I hate you" in two very heated arguments.  I didn't hate him.  I hated the situation, the feeling of helplessness, the thing he was doing, or the way I felt.  I should never have said that to him, no matter how I was feeling. And he did call me out on it. I feel terrible about it still.