THAT Guy... THE Guy (?)... I guess not

How many times can I do this? Dating. I don't understand WHY it has to be so hard at this age!!! I have been "dating" on and off since I ended my relationship with Anthony almost a year ago. In that year I have met a handful of guys, I have talked to a lot more, but it never goes anywhere and the conversation eventually just tapers off. I went out with three of them a few times each. Two disappeared (ghosted) without a trace (I found out later that one of them does this habitually to women, it is just beyond my comprehension how you could so easily treat someone like that) and one said he "couldn't give me the time and attention I deserve", I had a couple of "meet and greets" there was just no connection... but the last one... all I can say is WOW... I felt like I had finally met THAT guy... maybe even THE guy...

He messaged me on a dating site on July 4th. I took one look at his smile and knew I had to reply... then I read his profile and I DEFINITELY had to reply. Self employed, flips houses, dad... He said he wanted to know more, I said "you had me at flips houses". We messaged back and forth all day and later that night he gave me his phone number. I rarely give mine out that quickly, but this time I did. He asked if he could call me and we proceeded to talk for over two hours, I think it was 1 am by the time we hung up. That 2 hours went by quickly. There was never a lapse in our conversation or an uncomfortable silence. Before we hung up he asked me if I would like to meet, I said yes and we planned on meeting the next day. I went to bed with a smile on my face that night. This felt different then other men I have talked to. In the course of those two hours we talked about our families (he has 4 kids too and their ages are not a lot different than mine) our pets (he has a dog named Ivy too) our careers, which go hand in hand and past relationships. We definitely have a lot in common.

We met in Lake Geneva (he lives in IL, 2 hours from me) for a late dinner the next day. Again, the conversation flowed as though we had known each other for much longer than a day. After dinner we went to the lake, he had brought chairs with him so we sat in those and talked some more. At the end of the night he gave me an "air hug" because we were both dealing with kids that had been exposed to Covid (both tested negative, but we didn't know that at that time) and we said good night.

The next two weeks consisted of us talking every day for hours. We rarely texted and it was SO NICE to be able to get to know someone this way. He was attentive and often called me just to see what I was doing. At some point during the second week I asked him when I was going to see him again, his response "not soon enough". We met in Lake Geneva again and hung out in a small bar all night. I watched him play pool and we talked all night. It was not the most romantic second date, but it was relaxing and fun. He walked me to my car and when he kissed me good night I have to admit that the thought ran through my head that if that was my last first kiss I was ok with that. He smiled at me and said "you're going to be thinking about that kiss all the way home". He wasn't wrong... As he walked away he turned back to look at me over his shoulder and smiled. I drove home telling myself not to fall for him... but even as I talked to myself I knew that it was too late, I was already there.

The next day I texted him and said I was still thinking about that kiss... no response. I called him that afternoon, he didn't answer. That all too familiar feeling of being ghosted was creeping in and I was pushing it away as hard as I could (that is what happens when guys decide that it is easier to just disappear then to TELL you they aren't interested. It makes it SO hard to trust the next guy) he finally texted me and said that he couldn't stop thinking about how I had been on the dating site we met on, talking to other guys WHILE we were on our date! Wait... WHAT?!? No. I wasn't. I finally met a guy that seemed to check ALL of the boxes and he thought I was talking to other men. Not only was I NOT talking to anyone else (I did answer one text that night and that is what he saw) I had told everyone that I was talking to that I had met someone and I wanted to see where that was going. I hid my profile so I would stop getting messages. I even cancelled a date I had set up earlier in the week because I didn't feel right about meeting anyone else. I tried to call him, he wouldn't answer. I texted him, he responded but it was clear that he had made up his mind. In two short weeks I felt more potential for something real than I have ever felt with anyone since Brian died. I've felt potential before, but this was different, VERY different. 

It has been almost 2 weeks since I have heard from him. I have sent him a couple of texts trying to open that communication up again, but he has not responded. Even though this is over, I deleted my dating profile. I just do not want to meet anyone else. I met someone that I really wanted to get to know, a guy that when I told my daughter a little about him said "Mom! He is YOU in male form" LOL. This one stings, I saw something different and a lot of what I have been looking for in a man. We had a connection, I KNOW it was not one sided...There has not been a day in the last two weeks that I have not thought about him. Every day I hope that my phone rings with the ringtone I have just for him... but it doesn't. Today was particularly hard though. This morning that image of him looking over his shoulder at me as he walked away popped into my head. It brought tears to my eyes, and for the rest of the day I was on the verge of tears. I finally went to a park by a lake to watch the sunset and let myself cry. Tears for the hurt this has caused. Tears for the "alone" feeling I have. Tears for realization that I may NEVER find THAT guy. Tears simply because I REALLY like this one... My friends tell me that it is his loss, but I feel like we are both losing out on something that could be amazing and it makes me sad.

As I left the park tonight there was an elderly couple sitting in lawn chairs watching the sunset. I thought how lucky they are to have each other. I want that. After all I have been through I DESERVE that. Brian wanted that for me. I want something just like this was starting to be...

😢😢😢😢

 

 

"Alone"

The winding path of widowhood is never ending. Brian's death 8 years and 8 months ago put me on this path that I will be on in one way or another for the rest of my life. The one thing that never even crossed my mind 8 years and 8 months ago is that I would still be on this path "alone". When I say I alone, I don't mean that literally, I have four beautiful kids that have been my sidekicks on this journey. I have parents that have been here for me every step of the way. I have friends that I cherish beyond measure. When I say "alone" I mean that I never thought that I would be single over 8 years after Brian died.

Before Brian was diagnosed with his cancer he was at a pre-op appointment with my dad. We knew he had pancreas cancer, but every test that had been done up to that point had not come back with cancer cells. They couldn't treat what they didn't know, so he had to have laparoscopic surgery to type his cancer. My dad went with him for support because he didn't want to be alone.  He told my dad that day that if he died from this that he wanted me to find someone that would love me and love my kids as much as he did. He told my dad that it was his job to make sure that I NEVER felt guilty about doing that. There sat my 38 year old husband, knowing the likelihood of him dying from this was extremely high and he was thinking about ME and MY future happiness. At some point during our cancer journey he told me the same thing. He told me that he wanted me to find someone to be in my life. He said that I was too beautiful of a person to spend my life alone. He will never know what an incredible gift those words were.

I have been in two relationships since he died. The first was a colossal mistake, one made by a widow that had zero idea how to date and had no thought that people could be so awful. It was an abusive relationship, not physically, and not emotionally in the typical way, but he was narcissistic and manipulative and he drew me in in a way that even when I wanted to be out of the relationship I didn't know how. The only good thing that came of that relationship was that I learned that I had the capacity and the ability to love someone besides Brian. That was a powerful thing.

Relationship number two started out much more cautiously. It took me a long time to let him in. One day I realized that I was holding back and I finally gave in to the feelings. I loved him. I thought I would marry him, but he just never seemed to be what I needed. At first he was, but then at one point it just changed. He stopped helping around the house. He didn't spend a lot of time with me. I kept waiting and hoping for things to get better and they just didn't. I finally ended that relationship just over 3 years into it. That sent him into "self correction" mode and he started doing things to improve his life. I chose to give him another chance a few months later, but, for me it was too late. I was going through the motions but the feelings were different. I wanted more for my life than I was getting, so I ended it again in August of last year.

Dating since then has been... ugly. I do not have a job that I go to every day, I don't go to church or belong to any clubs or organizations. There is not a lot of opportunity in my life to meet men... so, online "dating" it is... Online dating does not really include much "dating". It includes a lot of talking that never leads anywhere. I've met 3 men in the last 7 months, 2 of which disappeared without a trace (known as ghosting in the dating world) after 3 and 4 dates, and let me tell you, that SUCKS! It fills you with self doubt and makes you question what you did wrong... when in reality it is an immature move by someone who would rather take the easy way  (for THEM) out.

Recently I started talking to someone who is widowed, someone I have had some very in depth conversations with about life, death, love and widowhood. It has been open, honest and real. I wanted to meet him... but... we are not in the same place. He says that he is broken, that he doesn't know if he will ever be able to be with someone else again and that I can do better. I said "maybe... maybe not"... but, I guess we will never know. I understand that feeling all too well, but I know that our hearts are capable of loving again... if we let it. I didn't meet him, and I can't help but feel disappointed that I won't get the chance to. Unfortunately this is an all too familiar feeling.

8 years and 8 months. It feels like forever and yesterday all at once. The longer I remain "alone" the more I get the feeling that maybe Brian was my one and only chance. I've always thought that Brian was the first love of my life... but I'm starting to wonder if maybe he was the only love I will ever truly have (que tears at the thought of this). Maybe I am broken too. Maybe it just isn't meant to be. I try to remain optimistic and hopeful, but the hurt that comes along with "dating" can easily drag someone with a huge heart down.

Brian's words echo in my head... "You are too beautiful of a person to spend your life alone." It hurts, and I don't like it, but I know that there is nothing I can do if someone is not willing to take the steps, do the work, or take the chance. So, for now... and for the foreseeable future... I will continue to wind down this path of widowhood "alone"...

Resilience

8 years ago life as I knew it was coming to a screeching halt. Brian had fallen in our room and in that fall he fractured his neck and had a brain bleed. I was sure he was going to die on our bedroom floor as I watched mini-strokes go across his face. The next 7 weeks were a blur of fighting for his comfort and survival... comfort came to some extent, but survival did not.

The years since his death (almost 8) have held different challenges.

The Chiropractor that we had employed literally picked up and moved her practice down the street (telling me the LAST day we were open before being closed for 2 weeks over Christmas and New Years that she wasn't coming back), taking ALL of our patients with her and tanking the sale price of the business Brian and I had spent our entire adult life working towards. We had no life insurance, so that money was crucial to our well being. I worked with Brian, so not only did I lose my husband and best friend, I lost my job and my business.

I became involved with a man that was an emotionally abusive, narcissistic, pathological liar. It took me a LONG time to untangle from that. In my widowed brain I thought I had found love again, but none of it was real. He was not capable of love. I all but severed my relationship with my parents whom I love dearly because of him. Thankfully, they loved me enough to stick with me and our relationship is just as close today as it always was.

I was let go from a job that I really liked because I "seemed too busy" to work (yep, only parent and my kids came first) and I didn't seem to be "catching on" fast enough. In other words, my widow brain (yes, it is a real thing) was not allowing me to retain everything I needed to. Having never been fired in my life this was a huge blow to my ego.

My mother-in-law (who called me the Devil after Brian died) took me to court for grandparent visitation rights, even though I was NOT withholding or keeping the kids from her. I spent well over $10,000 (again, money that was crucial to our survival) defending my children's rights to CHOOSE if and when they wanted to spend time with her. In the end she got visitation. Brian, who KNEW she would do something like this had it in his will that she was to get no visitation or placement of our kids unless it was deemed in their best interest by me or their guardian if I was no longer alive. She didn't care that he had put this in writing and went against his wishes. This lasted a year, and when she filed for "make up" time if one of the kids couldn't make it I said no... and back to court we went. The guardian ad litem ruled in the kids favor and said that it was not in their best interest to be forced to spend time with her.

Most recently, I lost my very best friend, the best friend I've ever had and I don't even know why. She was my rock, my soul mate in female form and the loss of our friendship has been soul crushing. It has created a new form of grief for me. I used to tell her that if anything ever happened to her I would feel widowed again. I wasn't wrong.

Why am I writing all of this? Because I SURVIVED. Not only have I survived, I'm... HAPPY. I'm sitting in a Starbucks drinking an iced chai tea latte in CALIFORNIA and I'm LOVING my life. I walked here, by myself... something I never would have done 8 years ago. I started my own business and I ROCK at what I do. I am strong. I am loving. I am kind. I am generous. I am creative. I am LIVING. I. Am. Enough.

The Winding Road of Widowhood takes many turns, but today it has me in sunny California with a smile on my face.

#longlivelove

#widowedlife

#creatingalifeILOVE

#Iamresilient

#Stager

#Stagingmylife

#InsideStoryStaging

I deserve...

I've said it again and again... being widowed is painful. In fact, it is the single most painful thing I've ever been through, and I've given birth 4 times, twice with no pain meds. It is a different kind of pain than childbirth, though there is definitely a physical component to it. The emotional pain that comes in waves at the most random times even years after Brian's death can still reduce me to instant tears. It has been 7 years since I held him in my arms as he took his last breath. It was time, he had no more fight in him, his life was no where near what he deserved. In that moment, though family was in the room, it was just us. His death was as it needed to be. I laid next to him in his bed at Hospice as he took his last breath, my eyes were squeezed shut tight because I couldn't bare to watch the love of my life leave me. When I opened my eyes his eyes were open, for the first time in 3 days his eyes were open and he was looking at my face. A single tear was on his cheek. He loved me... I loved him. Death doesn't change that, sometimes I actually think it makes it stronger. He didn't deserve to die at 43. I didn't deserve to be widowed at 41... but, what DO I deserve?

I had an incredible love. We had a life plan. All of that changed in an instant. I have had to recreate myself over and over since that day. I had to learn to be Sheryl without Brian. After 25 years I wasn't sure who that was or how to be anyone or anything but a wife and mother. Since that day I have worked hard to learn who I am as a person, as a widowed person. I know that Brian would be proud of the mother I have been and the direction I'm going with my life. Our kids are great, my business is growing, but I am missing a huge part of what is important to me. Things are good, but, I'm not completely happy. I've been in a relationship for 2 years now, but the longer we are together instead of feeling content and happy I still feel like something is missing. I feel like I am trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Don't get me wrong, I'm with someone who loves me, but the truth is he doesn't take care of me the way I need. I constantly have this feeling of "this isn't quite right, but it COULD be... IF..." There is a huge lack of physical intimacy in our relationship. Financially he has nothing, which means I am supporting him. I have a lot invested in this relationship. My heart is invested, my kids hearts are invested. Truth be told though, I keep thinking what do I DESERVE? Because I'm not getting what I need or what I deserve.

I deserve to be happy again, unquestionably happy. I deserve to have a man in my life that wants to take care of me. That may sound old fashioned, and I'm ok with that. I have been a "caretaker" my whole life. If you look at my closest relationships starting in high school my friends were always the ones that "needed" something. I've always been the one who is there for everyone. It can be tiring. I am SO ready for someone to take care of ME. Someone where I never have to question if I am in or if I'm out. Brian took care of me as much as I took care of him. I want that again. I DESERVE to have that again... I think that any widowed person deserves that chance... the chance to be happy again... to feel that sense of security that being with someone who loves you brings. I miss that. I miss being part of a relationship that just works naturally. He is out there... I KNOW he is... he has to be. My happy. My safe place. The next love of my life... I will come across him as I travel down my winding path of widowhood...

7 years... and another first...

It is a hard time of year... the "countdown" to the 7th anniversary of Brian's death has begun. My body knew it before I did. I'm tired, sad, and just not myself. As stupid as it is to say, I wish Brian had NOT died over Labor Day weekend. Not that there is a good time, and it goes without saying that I wish he hadn't died AT ALL... but he did. The beginning of school is also around Labor Day. Each school year brings excitement for what is to come and sadness for what was, all at once. It is not an easy balance. This year it brought something new, something that I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around. Something I didn't want to happen. Something I wasn't ready for. Something that has me crying non-stop... Hannah, my first born, my high school graduate, my college Freshman has moved out. I feel more broken now than I have in a long time...

I should be happy and proud that I have raised a daughter that is independent, mature, and is working hard for what she wants. I AM happy and proud, but, I am also devastated that she is gone. I literally can't stop crying. I've watched on Facebook as her friends parents are dropping their kids off at colleges hours away and I have NO idea how they are doing it. Hannah is going to school in Madison, and her apartment is no more than 20 minutes away. Still, not having her HERE is incredibly painful. More so than I would have imagined. My heart hurts in a way that I didn't expect.

Hannah was born on Feb 5, 2000. She was born on my grandpa's birthday and named after my grandma. She was my third pregnancy and first born. I had her name picked out long before she was a true thought, and I bought her nursery bedding years before she was born. For as long as I can remember I wanted nothing more than to be a wife and a mother, so Hannah was my dream come true. After she was born I would hold her for hours...
         

I never wanted to put her down, and this is a lot like that. I wasn't (am not) ready to let her go, but, this is what she wants. Hannah is mature beyond her years and has been for a long time. Losing your dad at the age of 11, after watching him die from cancer will do that to a kid. I'm IMMENSELY proud of who she is and I know that because of who she is she will be able to accomplish whatever she sets her mind to. She is like her dad that way. I always knew that Hannah would be my child to spread her wings and fly, not because she is the oldest, but because of her drive and determination. Again, she gets that from her dad.


This morning as I was texting with my best friend Jane and telling her how broken I feel she said this: "Things are changing and they are going to keep changing because that's how life is. It doesn't have to be a bad thing though. Kids grow up and have to go out on their own. I know your heart is breaking, but it is what Hannah wants. She is happy to be moving out. So... you just have to support her and try to be ok with this. And you will be in time. You just have to get used to her being gone. She's not gone forever like Brian. Hannah is still here. She's just minutes away from you. She's not in another state. You gave her the wings to fly... now you have to let her use them. It will be ok. It won't be the same, but it will be ok." True words from one widowed mother to another. I know she is right, but I can't help but wonder how this would feel if Brian were alive and well. I know it would still be hard, but I suspect it wouldn't feel like as big of a loss.

Fly my little dragonfly, go far in this big beautiful world. Just know that home is where your heart is, and YOU are my heart. You have been my constant companion on my winding path of widowhood and I made it to the sunny place in part because of you. I love you Hannah Kathryn.

The story of Tink

This car is a 1992 VW Cabriolet. Her name is Tink. It literally is my dream car, and I had wanted one since high school. In 2007 I started looking for one. Brian was doing better (his cancer at that point was no evidence of disease) and things felt like they were getting back to normal. I told him that I was looking and his response was "Your sister is getting married in Costa Rica... do you want the car or to go to her wedding?" Well, of course I picked the wedding! Fast forward several months to 2008... Brian had been diagnosed with a brain tumor, had it removed and underwent radiation... then a week later we flew to Costa Rica for my sister's wedding.

Later that summer he met a woman who had lost her husband to pancreas cancer. Her car? A VW Cabrio, the newer model of mine. He asked her if I had seen her car and she told him yes. She then said " My one regret is that I didn't buy it while my husband was still alive. He would have loved to see me drive it!" Brian came home that day and said "If you can find a car you like and we can afford it you can get one." The search began immediately!

I ended up finding my car in Michigan. We drove to Milwaukee, took the ferry over to Michigan, took the car for a test drive and brought it home. It was my 15th wedding anniversary present. This Sept I will have had Tink for 10 years. It is my most prized possession. I love it just as much now as I did then, maybe even more. I get compliments on her every time I drive her anywhere.

Our 25th anniversary is this August, and it will be my 7th without Brian, but EVERY TIME I drive my car he is there with me, joining me as I continue to wind my way through widowhood.

#longlivelove
#windingmywaythroughwidowhood

The Only One...

You know, I'm tired. Physically and mentally tired. It has been almost 6 years since Brian died. 6 years. I remember feeling like time just stopped 6 years ago... I have no idea how I made it to this point, but I did... and I'm tired.  One of the hardest thing about being widowed is instantly becoming an only parent. Not a single parent... an only parent, and it is exhausting. Having to make Every. Single. Decision... by myself. Knowing that if I screw something up there is no co-parent to help fix it. Keeping track of appointments, school schedules, weekend activities and every other coming and going of four kids is a lot to do. On a regular basis I feel like a failure as a parent because I wasn't there for this kid or didn't get something done for that kid. It happens... a LOT more than I would like to admit.

Tonight was one of those moments and it had me in internal tears, I felt like my soul was screaming for help and, right or wrong, I was angry that Brian is dead. As I sat with all four of my kids, having a discussion that I have had with them umpteen times just this summer alone, I felt that feeling of despair creep in. I just want a clean house. I'm not asking for a miracle (though I guess that is relative, if you saw my house you may think I am asking for a miracle!) I just simply want my house to not constantly look like a tornado has gone through it. The mess stresses me out more than I want to admit.  It blocks me from doing things I want to do and stops me from doing things I need to do. It creates an inactivity and anxiety within me that I can't seem to overcome. So, as I'm having this conversation AGAIN about how I need HELP to get the house clean, most of what I get back is static and bickering between them. This, I will admit sends me over the edge and my anxiety level reaches a point where I feel like I can't breathe... and again I am overcome with the fact that I am alone in this thing called parenting.  How being alone makes me feel guilty I because I can't provide the things for my kids that I want to. How I struggle financially to make ends meet and  still make sure that everyone has what they need. Guilt because I can't be everything for everyone. All of this guilt because something happened to our family that I had no control over.

This conversation led to my oldest daughter telling me how stressed out she is about going to college. How she wants OUT of our house because she can't stand being here, with us. How she feels like her grades aren't good enough to get into a good college, and even if they were we have no money for her to go to college. She brought up how we JUST had her tested for a learning disability (which she has, the same as her dad) and I STILL haven't contacted the school psychologist to help her get accommodations for the ACT test... and I think to myself how I failed her. How I should have gotten her tested sooner. How I should have already contacted the school psychologist. How SAD I am that she hates it here so much... how I screwed up and I can't fix it. I know that if Brian were alive he would have had this stuff done. He knew she was like him, he would not have let her struggle and in my grief and my aloneness I failed her... and all of this came about because I just simply asked for help to get and keep our house clean. It hurts to feel like I have not done everything I could as a parent, even though I know I have done the best I could given the circumstances.

I'm thinking that part of it is the time of year, no matter how long it has been the memories of 6 years ago creep in, and those memories are hard and painful. Unfortunately, I'm not the only one who hurts. My kids hurt too and it comes out in different ways. Today it came out in anger, fear and frustration all directed towards me (because, you know, they can't yell at their dad because he's not here!) and making me feel like my best isn't even close to good enough. It is really hard to be an only parent...

So tonight, as I wind my way through a darker part of my path of widowhood, I am still wallowing in self pity and wishing I could do more for my kids to make their life feel safer and more complete. I have to say, widowhood is NOT for sissys, and no matter how long it has been these moments of incredible self doubt and sadness creep in and sit for a while, and given that the anniversary of Brian's death is less than two weeks away I'm sure this feeling will unfortunately linger.  I used to think that my winding path of widowhood would eventually come to an end, however in the last almost 6 years I have come to realize that it will NEVER end. I will grieve Brian for as long as he is dead. Grief. It is the price we pay for love...