In the two and a half years since my husband died, I thought I’d feel better about my life without him. But I don’t. Especially during the holiday season when I feel my loss even more piercingly than usual. And having to say that everything’s going great just makes it worse.

As I approach my third holiday season in Widowland I keep thinking “If things aren’t ok, just say so. Putting on an act feels fake, like I have something to be ashamed of.”

But we’re conditioned to think that if we aren’t happy, we must fix it!

If we could only better organize our lives, or change them in just the right way, we wouldn’t be sad, would we? It’s been over two years, and I’m still unhappy a lot of the time, especially when I’m alone at night. I miss George. I miss the warm, nested life we had together.

A few months ago, thinking I wasn’t really recovering from his death, I tried to figure out what’s wrong with me. How to be stronger, more self-assured. How to be happy being alone. I could lie and say that redecorating, regular exercise, joining a bunch of groups and plunging into online dating made a big difference. But ultimately, they didn’t.

Things might look better, but deep down I still felt the same….


Please, read the rest on the Huffington Post.   It’s right here:   On Being a Widow

If this resonates with out, or you know someone who could relate to it, please share.




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