Circuit switches, meters, and blind spots

 

Aah.  That welcome "duh" moment.

I'm not sure which comes first.  The circuit switches, the meter, or the blind spot?  If there's one thing widowhood has taught me, it's that other widows and other people are incredibly smart, and I'd best listen to them.  And this: God is incredibly smart, and I'd best listen to Him or Her.  My own risk-reward meter is off.   I draw the wrong conclusions.  About me, about you, about so much.  I need light bulb moments, when a circuit switches on.  

I had that  "aHa!" moment, followed by this "Well....duh" moment recently.  I'm getting older.  Heck, I just turned 60.  The bod isn't up to some tasks I enthusiastically pitch it into.  I feel and look (to myself) like I'm in my thirties, but the bod says "I'm gonna cost ya if you do this".     Heck.  What's a little pain after you do something?  Pain is weakness leaving the body!  Unless it's not leaving the body.
 
Well, after a couple years unsuccessfully rehabbing my shoulders, I finally realize I'm falling apart.   "aHa!"   After that, I realize that my physical therapists really do have my best interests at heart and aren't here to make my life miserable by giving me an impossible number of stretches and exercises to do every day.   "Well....duh" 

Don't you just love denial?  

What does this have to do with widowhood?  Unfortunately, a lot.  I've learned more during widowhood after realizing how dumb I am, than I have proving how smart and competent I am.  New situations feel scarier than they are.  The bully called "death" is gone, and still I'm hyper vigilant.  Former caregivers like me have trouble switching 'vigilance' off.  

Here goes. I'm giving up, or trying to, my lingering guardedness.  Eight years have gone by since I was on call in life and death situations.  The landscape has changed.  I adore the new man in my life.  So...Time to say "Cool it and relax, my love. The sky isn't going to fall in.  Besides, I can handle the sky falling in".   It's time to let pleasure be in all the moments it can be, not just in the stolen ones, with a glass of wine or restaurant meal.  Or in moments off the grid in my garden or on vacation or at a ballgame.

It's time.  Others have my best interests at heart. I can relax.

Have you been nudged to see things a different way?  How has this been for you?

I can start where?

Jules Feiffer  1973

I first saw this cartoon in 1973, and saved it.   I was then  on my way into my big bright future, scared and hopeful.  One thing I liked about this cartoon is its emphasis on facing fear and confusion with determination and humility.  There's always going to be a door behind us and one in front of us.  Challenge, or opportunity?  That cheery platitude of  "When one door closes, a window opens" hasn't been my experience.  For me, when one door closes the room is pitch black  - Jules Feiffer didn't draw that - and full of stuff.  Scary stuff, mean stuff, intriguing stuff, urgent stuff, nostalgic stuff.  It's all there for me to trip over, in its messy, imprecise self-involved way.   Ever since that husband of mine died, I've been groping my way to one door knob after another.  In each room I enter I smell fresher and fresher air.

Finally, my grief has cleared and I'm midwifing my new life.  I've had a busy month.  Major renewal, and minor upheaval.  My goal has been to get my art studio up and running by my sixth decade, which starts next week.  That studio has been the catch all for 'everything I didn't want to review - not now' for nearly two decades.  Photographs, letters, workshop materials, personal journals, posters, clippings,  books, artwork from my professional career, and artwork I created after that.  I felt lost after I retired, but eventually I stopped missing the career's ego gratification.  I loved my retired life more than working.  Then came the long period of my husband's dying, a time for action, not reflection.  I've no regrets for pushing art aside for that purpose.   Here's what I learned from that.

 "One sees clearly only with the heart.  Anything essential is invisible to the eyes."

The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.

Of course, the door of the room he and I shared slammed shut behind me, and the room I then found myself in, the 'grief' room, taught me how important it is to continue seeing with the heart.  That wasn't a room I wanted to stay stuck in, though.  I turned the knob, and surprise of surprises, entered the room my boyfriend is in.  Now together in pitch darkness, he's helped me find the knob for yet another room.

I'm turning the door knob.  New life.  Cleaning out my art studio is my way of walking through that door.  Everything is out of there except for my favorite books and clippings.  It's a clean slate.  It has a new linoleum floor and new 5' x 5' table.  Soon it will have a new display area.  The guest room has been converted into my art material storage room. Somehow, I managed to squeeze a bed back in there. 

Might I have something in me that needs visual language to express?  I don't know. Why does it feel like this next 'room' will teach me to live with no self-importance, with only my heart?   I'd be one lucky person, wouldn't I?



What am I to do?

I'm torn, confused about my future with a man I love.  Here I sit, talking to myself.   Can you help? 

~~~~

"Dear self. Be happy.  This is just a fancy way of saying..."

"What do I want to do with the days I have left?"

"Envision life is supporting your happiness".   

"Support for my happiness?" 

"You have a little say in this, you know." 

"Look, I'm happy if the sky isn't falling in. "

 

"Widowhood happens. You actually have it a lot better than most widows. You got to say good bye." 

 

.......................

"Look in the mirror."

 

 

 

~ ~ ~P ~E ~S ~S ~I ~M ~I ~S ~T ~ ~ ~ 

"Wow.  This post sure is a downer."  

 

"Life is what happens to you whether you believe in it or not."

"Will life bring me happiness?

"Do you need it to?"

"More than ever."
 

"Dare to be an optimist."

"But I had this experience."

 

"Chicken Little"

 "....The sky is not falling?"

 

"I'm sure I can find a fox who agrees it is."

 

.......................

 

"Be happy."

 "And when the does sky fall in?"

 

"Add another acorn to your collection."

 

 "Look , wise guy.  If an acorn falls far and fast enough it can kill you.  That's what losing a spouse is like."

 

"Did it?"

"Yes.  It killed part of me."

 

"Then don't sit under an acorn tree." 

 

 

               
Link to the story of Chicken Little: http://eleaston.com/chicken.html

 

Widowhood: Part 2

I've edited this page, and added what I failed to tell you my first post:

Widowhood.  It's like a scarlet "A", only it's a black "W".  Who wants it?  Where does it lead?

Our wedding vows said: "Until death do us part".   I guess one can quibble that we haven't proof "God" directs that show, but let's assume He (or She) does. Why does God sever a wife's obligation and commitment to her husband when he dies?   God's rather intelligent.  

The former 'wife' is given permission to move on.  She is instructed to move on.  Let the past be past, and all that.  Widowhood is a passage, not a destination.  Why then, is it so darn hard?

For me, the term 'widow' felt like a warm blankie the first two years.  I was numb, angry, wretchedly sad, but being a 'widow' would elicit sympathy and that consoled me somewhat.  Following that period, in what I'm calling my 'Widowhood Part 2', widowhood felt less consoling.  More like a corset stuck in 'autotight' mode, slowly crushing me.  Life was just about putting one step in front of the other, never getting a good lungful of air.  I had to free myself from that damn corset!  Was that corset my lingering connection to the man who loved me so much?  I so want to form a genuine new connection with my new circumstances, and want what I have now.

I surprised myself when I wrote in my January 3rd post "I'd finally let him belong to the past."  Was I happy?  Happier.  I guess my job was to put him in the past, to shed that corset, and live free or die inside it.

Now back to my original  writing in this, 'Widowhood, Part 2'.

So, God, I've a new set of wants, since I've been released from my old ones.  What do You think of these?

• I want to be female. 
• I want to be pliant and not compliant
• I want to answer to You
• I want to pursue creativity
• I want to pursue wonder
• I want to be an idiot
• I want to be valued
• I want empowerment
• I want to sink my hands into new soil
• I want to love
• I want to connect with the new 'he'
• I want to see life through other people's eyes
• I want them to see life through mine
• I want to be deliberate and not put off life 
• I want to live outside normal parameters 
• Outside 'married'
• Outside 'widow' 
• Outside 'single'
• But not outside this big, beautiful 'me'

Have you noticed the stirring of new wants?
  

Inserting our Lives

 These are some of the words I've applied to widow:

• Irrelevant Woman
• Misplaced Wife
• Has Been
• Leftover from a Couple
• There, There my Dear
• Misfit
• Nice Old Lady
• Threatening Cougar
• Stray Cat
• Whiner
• Loony Little Lady
• Wallflower
• Desperado
• Sage but Sexless Woman
• Burden
• Lady in Waiting
• Cat or Dog Lady
• Brave Woman Battered by Fate
• Calamity
• Infection I better not Catch
• Histrionic Loony tune
• Example
• Charity Case
• Therapy Client
• Mystery
• Inspiration

Instead of feeling anything like these, let's show up and show 'em how it really is

Whatever we were, or are, or are becoming, let's insert ourselves into life.  Maybe this means we've finished rebuilding a life, maybe it means we're still gaining freedom from that master named 'Grief", maybe it means we simply like seeing our own reflection. 

In any case, let's do it on our own terms, not on a 'widow's' terms.

How do you see yourself today?

Sincerely yours

One quality has marked my life: Sincerely Seeking.

I was born lost and clueless. I don't know about you, but I didn't particularly enjoy these feelings. Marriage and its commitment, settled my fears; it  felt orderly and natural. How can I express the enormous 'settledness' of union with a beloved?    Strong wills aside, my husband and I figured things out.  Love knit us together. 

Then he died, setting me adrift in a sea of widows and widowers, lost and clueless like myself.   I found great comfort and hope knowing how common widowhood was.   Some how this made it less scary.   Though there is no 'one size fits all' course for widows, seeing some navigate with courage and fortitude through that sea gave me hope.   We all know there is no going back; death wipes out the familiar landscape.   One must carry on.  The tools I first used, impatience and pluck, helped, but  weren't enough to bring me out of the sea of grief.  Many widows and widowers were making it to another side, establishing a happy, new life.   They were getting there.  Could I?  How could I?

I've come to believe the key to getting to shore is sincerely seeking a new life.  Sincerely letting go of the old.  Sincerity opens the way to

• what is real, what is true
• our wounds, so they can heal
• our unmet needs, so we can find ways to meeting them
• having our life mean something to somebody else 
• kindness from others
• kindness in ourselves to deal with callousness in others
• lessons, and more lessons
• our sheer grit - You Go Girl!
• courage to experiment, fail, and succeed 
• appreciation for our own very special qualities 
• facing our future even though death is in it
• facing our future, with love in it

Widowhood gave me two choices if I wanted to move on.  One: Desperation, okay in the beginning, but really tiring, like going around in circles.  Two: Sincerity, which can lead to something real: firm new ground.

It took me a while, a great while, but I resorted to the second one.  I'm going to stick with it.  I have crossed over, to a new life.   It's pretty darn good.    Seven and a half years out, my heart is bigger. My interests have grown and changed, and are satisfying.   My days are happier, on balance.  I enter this holiday season without dread.   I don't look back to the old life, wishing I could go back.   I've opened my heart to a new person.  Two new people, actually.  Me, and a new 'he'.

I hope this helps, if you're lost.

the safety net

 

What does Bruce Springsteen have to do with a safety net?  A lot, in my case.  I went to a Springsteen concert recently, by myself, late at night, in a big city, but I wouldn't have gone without somebody waiting for me when I got home.  I can honestly say I wouldn't have gone without that safety net.  After all, it was just entertainment.  I didn't need to go.

There are certain things I don't do by myself.  I don't go out alone at night to movies or plays or concerts or ball games.  Olden days, I had my buddy to do these things with.  Now, if a friend isn't available, I don't go.  I can travel alone, go to workshops alone, but unless an entertainment venue is right down the street, I am in my hotel or RV before dark.  In my mind, I'm thinking "Better to be safe, than sorry."  After all, no one's watching my back.

Any of you widows relate?   Certainly other single women living alone travel at night to entertainment venues.  No one checks up on them to make sure they arrived back home safely.  I could use a dose of their bravery.  I simply don't have confidence to head out for an evening's entertainment on my own.

Life is so fragile; I feel so fragile.  What am I to do?  Maybe I should do what I do when I go up on my roof to clean out the gutters.  I call someone first and ask them to expect a call from me in two hours when I am through.  If they don't hear from me, come looking for me.  I may be on the ground. 

Somehow it feels babyish for a 59 year old to ask someone to wait for my call when I return from a concert on my own.  What do you think?

Something's gotta give

I'll start with a list of what's NOT going to give.

My self worth.  My spirit must be free to soar.  Crushing is not allowed.
My fun.  Why do they call it 'down' time?  It's 'up' time.
My needs.  Barbra Streisand is right. People who need people... 
My health.  Comfort food with no nutritional value is not comfort food.
My bills.  First things first.
My cats.  Fabulous company, but I did stop at two.
My friends.  People who lift my spirit, and want me to lift theirs.
My goals.  Even little ones I celebrate.
My coffee.  It's good for us. At least that's what they say this year.
My wine.  Ditto.
My family.  Constant motivation and inspiration on how to get along.
My laptop.  And, for the well dressed PC, virus, spy, trojan, malware protection.
My color.  I don't care if black, white and gray is in fashion.  It's not for me.
My garden.  My labor of love, and cheap therapy.
My faith. Couldn't breathe without it.
My hair color.  Enough said.
My New York Times.  This is not a paid endorsement.

What's gonna give.

A clean house.
Sales of any kind.  Well, ideally.
Expensive entertainment.
Facebook.  Once a week is enough.
Home cooked meals every night.
Magazine subscriptions.
Saving the world.
Keeping up with the Joneses.
Self sufficiency.
________________
________________
________________
I know I should add more.

What's on your lists?

Generally I have a title for a post before I write.  Today I don't.  One will emerge. 

..................................

A man I used to be friends with has re entered my life via Facebook.  Facebook has connected me with several old friends, but this man immediately reached beyond its pages.  We've exchanged a couple e-mails and his intentions appear sincere and trustworthy.  He wants to get to know the woman behind the photos on Facebook. 

I welcome the connection.  Since he lives hundreds of miles away, it appears we'll be pen pals.  But in some ways we're two peas in a pod.  Both introverts, both presently unmarried, both thoughtful, and both writers.  Well, he's an author of seven nonfiction books, so his league is, well, different.

My hope is that I can find a true friend, one I can relate to and care about.

That's all I wanted to say.  I welcome a new chapter in my life, and love that I can contribute to it by writing.

I think God has good intentions for me.  "Where love is, there is God also."

..........................................

I just looked up this quote. It is the title of a story by Leo Tolstoy.  I just read the story.  Now I know why this post doesn't have a title.  The 'love' has to be filled in by me.

Where _____ is, there is God also.

 



Why let go?

 

 

 

 

   My list of  reasons to let go.

• Our late husbands' love is encoded in our DNA and can never to be lost
• Fulfillment is ours to access inside, not for someone to give us or take away
• God's larger love story for us is being written
• We can mature in ways we didn't have to when our late husbands offered us shelter
• We inhabit our own psyches fully, now that he's not around to inhabit them
• Living without his second opinion is fine because our own and God's is ample
• The fear "But I'm alone" can't stop us from traveling, or stepping out to have a good time
• We have more sex with the person who gets all our hot spots, every time - us!
• We blow our own minds when we realize how powerful we've become on our own
• We blow other wives' minds when they learn all we've been doing

The past isn't firm ground.  It has vanished.  I feel shaky.  The present is shifting under my feet constantly, yet I trust there's solid rock underneath.  This rock is God and the 'me' beneath all my shifting identities.  'Wife' is gone.  My husband's eyes don't mirror mine anymore.  'Widow' is a but a passage, and cold comfort.  

God remains.  The sky remains.  The water, the earth and all their inhabitants remain.  And their eyes mirror my intention and deepest self.  What message am I sending out?  Love?  Gratitude? Anticipation?  I need to be held accountable.

What benefits have you found in letting go of your late husband and the life you once had?

I choose...

Every moment of every day I can live without shame and pain from being alone.  I just had an exquisite lobster meal on a restaurant's deck, overlooking the international ferry that transports travellers to/from Canada.   Earlier today I feared a rainy mood on a rainy day.  But morning yielded to a sunny day and magnificent meal. 

That's my lesson for this day. 

If I live expectantly, willingly, and gratefully, abandoning my regret and embarrassment at my aloneness in a world of couples, families and groups, great joy and innocent delight emerges.  I share that freely, with waitresses, with other diners, and it is returned in kind. 

It's not the families and groups I miss being part of.  It's the best male friend, united in body, soul and mind that I miss.  Not my husband.  It's the unknown lover who is at this moment traveling, active yet lonely, lover and friend of the earth and sky, and ready to reach out.  In his absence I have my own dear friendship.  Today is so welcome, so loved.  I draw nourishment from the sky and the sea, in this quiet place where land changes name from United States to Canada, if one but takes a ferry with a wish for more.

In over my head, again

I know that feeling.  Fear.  Perplexity.  Being leagues beyond my comfort zone.  Aware that abyss of  abandonment is only too happy to welcome me back.

Soon I head out in my small RV for a trial run of a couple hundred miles.  I'm starting to load it and test its systems.  Once upon a time my late husband and I headed out in it, to cherished places only campers go.  This year marks the eighth annual trip I've made on my own since he died.  However, before I head out, a few things need fixing.  Easy fixes.  Yeah, for a welder or a plumber.

Uh, oh.  I see my little pity party coming.  Get out of here!  OVER MY DEAD BODY will I give up RV'ing to avoid a difficulty or three.

Fear.  Perplexity. I know you well. Sometimes I try shake you off, with liquor, or shopping or procrastination.  Pretty stupid.  Prayer can work OK on fear, but I've yet to master miracles that fix problems.  Better to try to master the task.  And lighten up!  

Last year, hopeful that learning to swim would help me with fears beyond the water's edge, I began a DVD course called "Total Immersion".  I'm up to lesson 7 out of 10, and yes, learning to swim is actually teaching me life lessons.  For instance, a body will float if it just relaxes.   Water is friendly.  Keep any muscle not needed for forward propulsion relaxed.   (Actually very few muscles are needed for forward propulsion.)  Conserve energy, breath efficiently, and maintain focus for the long haul.  Trust the process of learning one drill at a time.  The joy of swimming will result.

So I'm trying to hang in there, learning what I need to live a joyous life.   Yes, I'm in over my head.   But, every once in a while, when I 'get' how to do something and actually get it done, my head breaks free above the surface and my heart breaks free with a joy I can't contain.   Initiating that flip from fear to 'I get it!' takes a surprisingly small amount of energy.  Now the flip itself takes a bit of time...

"It's OK.  Just start where you are. Just try....,  OK, try again.... OK....try AGAIN... You go, girl!!!"

How do you deal with being in over your head?

Growing into my own skin

I've been away this past month, traveling in Ireland and France.   Sounds wonderful, was wonderful, but I was way out of my comfort zone.  I'd have it no other way.  I travel to learn, not only about the culture and terrain of another country, but about myself.

I went to Ireland by myself, knowing no one, for a bicycle tour on its west coast.  I added a pre-trip extension to the cycling portion, to explore Ireland a little first, and get over jet lag.  Six other people had decided to do this as well, in the form of three married couples.  Two of the couples had come together.  I felt my single status acutely; once I was part of a happy couple like them.  How was I going to fit in?

Until this trip, I have played my 'widow' card in new circumstances with couples.   I have found my identity as widow comforting.  It presents a status that is neither single nor married, but in a way both.   The shadow of the missing husband always exists. Since I'm really trying to move on now, I didn't explain myself as a widow to these couples.   As a result I felt intensely disoriented.   Remember your first days of college, when you didn't know anybody and they didn't know you?  Did you wonder if you'd fit in?   I felt like that with these couples.  I was me as simply me.  Would they like 'simply me'?  Who is 'simply me'?

I met her, well, me, in their feedback.  I met a lively yet self contained woman, sometimes animated, sometimes quiet, with a gutsy and peaceful spirit.   Much to my surprise and delight, I as 'simply me' was welcomed and appreciated.   I was scared I wouldn't be enough.   I needn't have worried.  

A few days later a man with similar qualities joined the cycling portion of the tour.   A lovely self assurance emanated from him.   He was quiet yet warm.  I've feared that quiet is read as aloof.  Not so.  I will think of him when I'm judging myself as too quiet among people, and remember that even quiet people like me and him can have a powerful and positive effect on others.

Thank you, God, for giving me this opportunity to learn.  Now I will unpack my clothes and souvenirs.  Unpacking my experiences and memories will be even more fun.

It's a beautiful day

I just can't see it.

I saw a dead deer by the side of the road, and an official town truck stopped alongside.  Two men in their fluorescent orange vests had wrapped a towel around her and were about to heave her into the bed of the truck.  "That could be me!" I wailed.

Life gets bleak when I look ahead, if it's love I'm looking for. 

I finished the bike ride for our local cancer center.  53 miles in under 4 hours.  3649 feet ascending and 3649 feet descending.  Slower than the racers half my age, but faster than I rode it two years ago.  Fast down some hills - 35 mph - and la dee da slow up some hills - 5 mph.  I was easily the oldest woman cycling the route.  I did feel tired afterward, but I didn't feel sore, not even the tiniest little bit.

Five years ago I couldn't have done this.   I was out of shape and grieving.   I weighed 149 and wore size 12.   Then I saw someone cycling in the mountains of Tuscany. What freedom!   What gorgeous landscape!   What vitality!   I want that!  So with that in mind, I put myself on a weight training regimen.    When I wanted to quit I held out my carrot - that cyclist in Tuscany was me.  I bought a bicycle and bribed myself to go 4 1/2 miles.  Then more. Then more.   I found an auction site offering a discount bike trip for two to Tuscany, and I bid my birth year.   Wouldn't you know, I won?   Guess I was meant to go.
That was five years ago.  I need to believe I can see a beautiful day, today.

What's the big deal about fitting in, anyway?

Fitting in smacks of rooting oneself, and I prefer wings to roots.  I don't want to fit in and be stuck.  I want to leave my own trail.  And connect with others who leave their own trail.  

I'm especially uncomfortable fitting in to widowhood.  Maybe it's the age I was when he died.  52.  Maybe it's the brevity of time we had together. 23 years.   Why not make this my opportunity for reinvention?   Take those paths not taken while married?  Create and enjoy my own bucket list before my own end?   I'm here, outside coupledom, outside family life, looking in, yes, and also looking on.  Outside the most substantive and fulfilling relationship I've ever known.   Not living a life I thought I'd have.  No male cheer leader, no live in helpmate, no seat mate.   But... I have lust, for life.

That lust came back.  Still, I have felt rather insubstantial without him, like a 'better half' marking time.  Insubstantial unless I fit in to coupledom.  Then yesterday, like a bolt of lightning, I sensed the words: I am substantive.  I am substantial without him.  And without another him.

Tomorrow morning I ride my bicycle 53 miles to raise funds for the local cancer center.  This nearby facility provided my late husband the nuts and bolts care his distant treatment centers couldn't.   I'll likely see familiar faces.  I'll see a lot of determined people.  I made my first ride on its behalf two years ago.  It's long and it's grueling.  That first time, I rode it in memory of him.  This time I'm cycling for all of us.  I'm riding for all of us who feel crippled and scared.   I'm riding for all of us who want our strength and our lust for life.  We are substantial. 

Make our own trail!

Roots or Wings?

I draw my nourishment from the sky.  Give me wings!!!
This quote from Laurie Helgoe, PhD., author of Introvert Power means a great deal to me:

"One day, when I was carrying my daily load of clutter, I heard a voice from beyond.  Now, with piles so high, I'd never heard from the beyond.  But Beyond called, "I am sky.  I am wide."  I said,  "Shh, you can't say wide.  You'll get arrested."  Sky replied,  "I can't be held."  I said, "Can you hold me?"  Sky replied,  "I have plenty of room,"  and her gusting winds took me up and away."

God, I love the sky.

Still heading...somewhere

In an earlier post I mourned my lack of relevance to anyone on a daily basis.   Who cares what I'm eating, thinking, feeling, doing?  It doesn't impact their lives.  No one else lives under this roof with me.  No devoted man's got my back. I'm unhitched.  God, I'm lonely.

I'M BEGINNING TO FLOURISH IN THIS ENVIRONMENT.  Is something wrong with me?   Is this self care?  Enjoying my own company again?  I'll be up a creek without a paddle if I get physically injured.  But I like living alone.  Eating whenever I'm hungry.  Watching whatever I want to on TV.   I'm beginning to feel like I did in my twenties, no, even better.  I've no pressure to please anyone or take care of anyone.  I can't bite off as much.  I need more sleep.   So I bite off less.

Now I ditch the meaningless activities, and savor the meaningful ones.   I'm happy with 'good enough'.  I'm tired of being the strong, amazing, superwoman who is doing so well.    Seven years in and I'm still struggling.  It is what it is.  I keep the property in decent enough shape.  Feed the cats.   Hug the cats.  Write this blog, because it's helping me get a handle on life post widowhood.

Less and less am I looking for somebody to take over the tasks I don't want to do.  I've forgotten what it's like for me to cook dinner and for him wash the dishes.  I've forgotten what it's like for me to do the laundry and for him take care of the oil changes and trash.  I've forgotten what it's like to have a live-in handyman.  I've forgotten what it's like to share the bed night after night.  I do really miss the last one.

Still, I'm afraid that if I put me first I'll push away anybody that could love me.  I don't know the answer.  Is it OK to put me first?

Pleasure, anyone?

I'm talking pleasure, that wonderful sensory experience in the here and now.  My very own measure of pleasure.  The pleasure of one's hand on life's throttle.  What am we waiting for?  You and I have the power of ONE.   Every uphill in life has to have a downhill, so let's go for it!

First.  Love the fingers, the toes, and everything in between.  Throw out something that's holding us back.  Tear off the last sheet of the to-do list.  Let somebody else save the world today.

Now.  Make a certain somebody laugh.  Make that certain somebody very welcome in your home.  Hug that certain somebody very firmly.  Squeeze hard, because I'll wager that that glum face has a smile tucked inside.  I'm talking about you and me.

Sure, we suffered, and had setback after setback.   All the more reason for Project Pleasure to come to our house.

Are you still reading this?  Get out of here and do the Pleasure project!

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HOPE

Hope springs eternal?  If it did, there would be no suicides. Hope is rare, and precious, and pops up when we least expect it. 

Like this morning.  Out of nowhere, my thought:  I would be happy if I had a vibrant online presence.  Probably came from writing my hundredth online dating profile. Well, maybe my thirtieth.   I absolutely love writing them, fashioning a presence out of thin air.  They are all 'me' but 'me' is a moving target as I grow.  I am having fun popping up on screens and getting feedback.  Some of it is weird, but when it is, it ends up in the trash bin.

After playing such a consequential role aiding my late husband, I like being loved, or appreciated, for simply who I am, not what I will do for someone.  I know each one of us has something unique to contribute, and I think mine may be the 'get away from it all' variety, though I'm still trying to figure that out.  I've always wanted to provide a sanctuary for people, where they can return to themselves refreshed and re energized.  I do it with little interference, much color, and hopefully grace.  HOPEfully, I will invite more people into my life.

I'm a single person now, reinventing my life.  It's tiring, it feels terrifyingly hopeless, it's draining.  But it isn't impossible.  And if it isn't impossible, it's worth doing.   Even if this is the last chapter of our lives, it can be our finest.

Never, ever forget

Are you the most important person in some one's life?   I read this question recently and immediately rewrote it to say  "Are you the most important person in a Beloved's life?   Once we all could answer "Yes!" and reach out to him.  Now he's gone.  Have we moved on?   Come on,  girls, what are we waiting for?  Let the future begin!

You know we don't stop being lovable as women, when we stop being loved by our man. 

He died.  We didn't.  New love isn't here for me at the moment.  I hope it is for you.  In the meantime, I want to feel my feelings, and I mean ALL my feelings.   Especially my longing for comfort, for touch, for being the most important person to a 'him'.   Why wait and pine?  I play certain music when I want to feel my sensuality.   I sometimes force myself to play it, because before feeling all the wonder of my womanhood, I first feel the pain of my loss. Yet for me, this pain is fleeting.  What follows is the most tender embrace! 

Never, ever forget how are precious you are.   Even if 'he' isn't around to remind you.