Welcome to my blog. I have not written in over a year, but this will be my last blog entry in Journeys With Seth. Thank you to everyone that has supported this blog. Thank you to everyone that has supported me. Most of all , thank you to all of the widows and widowers out there that have helped me through this journey for just shy of three and a half years. No one in this universe will ever understand the journey of a young widow(er) unless they have been one.
The hardest moment I have ever had to face in my life is losing my husband of 2.5 years Seth. Albeit significantly less frequently, I am still haunted by that moment when a doctor looked me in the eye and confirmed without words that my 31 year old husband had passed. I screamed and jumped on Seth's body, as if to will it not to be true. If I held onto him long enough it would be reversed and the nightmare would end. But that did not happen. Eventually our families had to pull me off of him and tell me it was time to leave the hospital so that they could work on his body to transport him back home to Pennsylvania. Seth had passed and I was left devastated and wondering if I would feel this intense agony for the rest of my life. Seth went home and I was left in hell.
Almost three and a half years later I find myself incredibly grateful for the life that I have. I have fallen in love with a wonderful man and his two beautiful children. However; I am also the most incredibly anxious I have ever been in my life. Right after Seth died I went into "keep myself busy mode." I traveled, saw friends, made plans, and escaped my house. I convinced myself I was doing well and this lasted for a year. The second year was when I decided I was ready to start dating. I found myself on one of those new fangled dating apps. When Seth and I met smart phones didn't exist so this was an entirely new world for me. I went on two dates with two men that were absolutely not going to be my happily ever after. Despite the lack luster dates, they were critical steps for me to realize I wanted more for myself than to be widowed for the rest of my life.
A few months later I decided to ask a man I had known for a few years out for a date. I didn't know him well, only casually through work, but there was something about him that intrigued me and I wanted to learn more about. To both our surprise we fell in love with each other. This marks when my anxiety became increasingly more inescapable.
I think I could have started seeing someone right after Seth passed, or ten years later, and the anxiety fits and panic attacks would have occurred none the less. To accept loving another man is to accept that I could no longer live in the past. For me this was so conflicting. I was scared to be honest with myself that I wanted to put the past behind me and to move toward my future. I was afraid of letting others down, my loved ones and my friends. I became progressively more anxious and I let myself down and I let others down as well. I could not be for others what I thought they needed of me while also being for me what I needed for me. All the while, there was this wonderful man supporting me though this process more than he would ever be given credit for. I thank God for him daily. Short of my therapist and God, he is the only person who would take witness to this difficult journey I was facing in my head. I can only imagine how he feels being the man that followed my beloved late husband.
The thing about falling in love after losing your spouse is that it is a very complicated situation. It is my observation that the person who dates the widow or widower is a very special person and often the unsung hero. For me, I became incredibly anxious grappling with the conflicting demands of my past and my future. From the outside looking in you may have thought I was sad. You may have missed how happy I am because I was also so tired. The ongoing conflict in my head, of the past life I loved and the future that I yearned for, collided and it exhausted me. I have had panic attacks. I have canceled on family and friends. This is not fair to do to my family or friends. I have frequently taken my anxiety out on my love. This is not fair to do to him. But loving after loss is very complicated and it does take a hero to see you though the emotional rollercoasters.
It has been two years since I have fallen in love with my boyfriend. I have declared to him how much I love him and how I am no longer conflicted by two very different worlds, my past and future. But I have not yet announced this to the world. The truth is, it does not matter what anyone else thinks. The truth is the only opinion that matters is my own. But for me, other people have always mattered. For me, each time I save and publish a blog I have experienced a pivotal transformation that allows me to feel free. Free from the fear of other's opinions. Free of the fear of what I would face. Publishing my blog makes me excited for the future plans I have in front of me. Publishing my blog frees me to pursue what is most important to me.
So it is here that I am publishing this blog to say that I am ready for my future. My past will always be a part of me, and one that I will always cherish and love. I would not be who I am today without my past, without Seth, and without the experience that he and I shared together until death did us part. I will always love him for this reason. However, today I declare to the world that I am ready to battle myself for a future. I am ready to battle my fears to get over my anxiety and to share this life with my partner. I am ready to declare that I will not let an unrelenting fear of loss win. And I am ready to declare that this is hard to do. For those who love a widow or widower, please be patient with them, for they are fighting an internal battle that sometimes makes them feel so alone. For widows and widowers, free yourself of fear. Free yourself from insecurities. Free yourself from worry over others before yourself. Free yourself to be true to yourself. Free yourself to love and to be loved. It is what your former partner would want for you as you would want for them. Free yourself to find what it is that makes you happy. And go to therapy. Go to a lot of therapy. I may need it now more than ever.
For the widow or widowers partner. Thank you for being patient. Thank you for taking on a role that many would be afraid to traverse. Thank you for grappling with the fact that your partner lost a love who will always be special to them and thank you for having the confidence to know that we are so incredibly grateful for you also. Thank you for venturing into unknown territory with us and for your faith to pursue this complicated story.
The fear of the future is shared by everyone, I think? I don't think I am not alone in this matter, am I? The unknown, the fear of rejection, and the fear of loss are all incredibly powerful emotions. But they do not have to take over anyone, regardless of what the past tells us is true. I am reading this book called Fierce Faith written by Alli Worthington and I believe her words ring true. She writes, "I am telling you that you can do it. You can fight, and you will get through this. Don't stay stuck in the messy middle; keep walking into your future. When we spend our lives looking backward, we rob ourselves of the future God has planned for us. When we are walking out of the wilderness and facing a fight, it feels terrible and the safety of the past comes calling. God wants to strengthen us to face the future. He is building each of us to be the person he created us to be. And sometimes, to reach our promised future, we have to fight to get there. It is in the fight we learn to become brave. It's in the fight we learn we really can trust God. It's in the fight we discover who we were created to be. And as we fight, we must remember that God has equipped us for battle." She concludes with, "Because you have not been given the spirit of fear but of power, love, and a sound mind." (2 Timothy 1:7).
Thank you for your support. It is here I end this blog with love to Seth, widows and widowers, my family, my friends. I end this blog with love for my partner. Thank you Seth for blessing me with this freedom before you passed. You will always be loved and never forgotten. Thank you to all and now I will end this blog to go forward into my future confidently.
With Love,
Meredith
#CelebratingSeth
#MeredithStrong
#ICanDoThis
#SethStrong
Saturday, May 18, 2019
Thursday, June 1, 2017
A Widows Pursuit of Happiness
I have not written in a while.
I have been incredibly happy lately.
After mentioning to someone that I have nothing to write about, it was suggested that I have the "Adele effect." Usually my writing is prompted by my anxiety or recent struggles. Lately I have had little anxiety. Like Adele, who writes sad songs, if there is nothing to be sad about there is nothing to write about.
I have been thinking about that "Adele effect" comment and it dawned on me what a travesty that is. It is true, I often find myself writing about my internal conflicts and personal challenges. I do so because it is therapeutic for me to scream it out loud at the top of my lungs, so to speak. I also hope that I might be helping another young (or old) widow(er) when I put into words what I think so many of us are experiencing but are too afraid to say. But then it dawned on me, what about those widows that are doing well?
When Seth first died, and for a few months thereafter, I would read posts on widows pages through social media from women who were "living" again. This would evoke two emotional experiences for me. First, I would wonder if I would ever be happy or ready enough to "live" after losing my husband. Second, I would have hatred and anger towards these woman for disrespecting their husbands and loved ones like so. I conjured up deluded opinions in my mind that to live, to love, and to pursue happiness following the death of a spouse equated to disrespecting the love you had for the departed. The irony of my convoluted thought process was that not one, single person in my life ever suggested to me anything other than the desire for me to find happiness again following the passing of my husband. My opinions were self inflicted and at times they still haunt me today.
I went to, Cape Cod, MA, my home away from home this past weekend. This is my favorite place in the entire world. When I think of Cape Cod I think of family, relaxing, joy, peace, energy, and love. When I brought Seth there after we met he immediately fell in love with it. It quickly became a place that he also considered home and something we fondly shared. Since Seth died, prior to this weekend, I have only been back twice. The first time I went I was alone and in my 32 years I felt the most sadness I have ever experienced in my life being there without Seth. Imagine someone taking your favorite memory in the world and erasing it from your mind for good. All you know now is that at one point in time that place in your mind held your most cherished moments and you can never get those back no matter how hard your beg and plead. It is heart wrenching. That is how I felt last year when I visited my family in Cape Cod. Physically I was present, but emotionally I was far from there. In my mind, I could not imagine ever being happy in a place that now held a hole in my heart.
This past weekend was 10 months since I last went to Cape Cod. 10 months since I had those horribly tragic emotional responses. This past weekend, I had so much fun. I was elated and could not wait to tell my family how well I was doing. I got to play with my nieces and nephews, eat dinners with family, and catch up with old friends. I laughed so hard and drank so much that I even I made drunk phone calls and I would do it again to feel that kind of emotional freedom I was experiencing. I was relaxed. I felt at home again in my favorite place on this earth. There is no greater sense of freedom than beating your mind and being able to enjoy the beautiful things in life, as simple as they may be.
For those of you that have followed my story, you know that nothing can come so easily for my mind. What a wonderful ending this would be if I was simply just happy and content with that. But my mind does not work like that. My mind is constantly going 100 miles per hour. Naturally, when leaving Cape Cod I reflected on my time there and how I finally felt like "me" again. Without fail, I started to wonder what people would think. Would they think that I did not love Seth? Is it okay for me to be happy? Or, am I no better than those other women who I berated early on?
The truth is I am happy and my conclusion is that, that is okay. Actually, my opinion is that it is wonderful. I am not sure why am so hard on myself. I expect nothing short of perfection from myself. Be the perfect daughter, perfect physical therapist, perfect sister, perfect widow. Maybe sometimes it is a good thing. Maybe that is where I get my drive to succeed in life, because I am always pushing for more from myself. But maybe I am my own worst enemy too. Imagine a world where we don't judge ourselves so harshly. Imagine a world where we forgive ourselves and are patient with ourselves. That sounds like an amazing and peaceful world. Now imagine if we have it in our own control to achieve that. To do so we have to stop judging ourselves. We have to stop caring what other people think. And for widows, we have to start believing that our passed loved ones are nothing short of proud of us.
I am happy and I know that Seth would want that for me. I have a therapy appointment next week and I am going to ask my therapist to help me re-frame my mindset. I want to believe in my heart that "living" is to honor Seth, but never to forget. I want to carry him with me and allow his legacy to live on through the lessons he taught me. I want to fight for my chance at life like he fought for his.
"When we struggle to change ourselves we, in fact, only continue the patterns of self-judgement and aggression. We keep the war against ourselves alive." - Jack Kornfield.
I will work on change. I will live, learn to love, and pursue happiness for the both of us. And with time and help, I will end this war against myself. With time and help, I will be happy, and I know that will be exactly what we both want. I am a new widow in the pursuit of happiness.
Love,
Meredith
"Don't give up. Don't ever give up." ~ Jimmy V.
Seth Jacob Budai Caring Bridge Page
I have been incredibly happy lately.
After mentioning to someone that I have nothing to write about, it was suggested that I have the "Adele effect." Usually my writing is prompted by my anxiety or recent struggles. Lately I have had little anxiety. Like Adele, who writes sad songs, if there is nothing to be sad about there is nothing to write about.
I have been thinking about that "Adele effect" comment and it dawned on me what a travesty that is. It is true, I often find myself writing about my internal conflicts and personal challenges. I do so because it is therapeutic for me to scream it out loud at the top of my lungs, so to speak. I also hope that I might be helping another young (or old) widow(er) when I put into words what I think so many of us are experiencing but are too afraid to say. But then it dawned on me, what about those widows that are doing well?
When Seth first died, and for a few months thereafter, I would read posts on widows pages through social media from women who were "living" again. This would evoke two emotional experiences for me. First, I would wonder if I would ever be happy or ready enough to "live" after losing my husband. Second, I would have hatred and anger towards these woman for disrespecting their husbands and loved ones like so. I conjured up deluded opinions in my mind that to live, to love, and to pursue happiness following the death of a spouse equated to disrespecting the love you had for the departed. The irony of my convoluted thought process was that not one, single person in my life ever suggested to me anything other than the desire for me to find happiness again following the passing of my husband. My opinions were self inflicted and at times they still haunt me today.
I went to, Cape Cod, MA, my home away from home this past weekend. This is my favorite place in the entire world. When I think of Cape Cod I think of family, relaxing, joy, peace, energy, and love. When I brought Seth there after we met he immediately fell in love with it. It quickly became a place that he also considered home and something we fondly shared. Since Seth died, prior to this weekend, I have only been back twice. The first time I went I was alone and in my 32 years I felt the most sadness I have ever experienced in my life being there without Seth. Imagine someone taking your favorite memory in the world and erasing it from your mind for good. All you know now is that at one point in time that place in your mind held your most cherished moments and you can never get those back no matter how hard your beg and plead. It is heart wrenching. That is how I felt last year when I visited my family in Cape Cod. Physically I was present, but emotionally I was far from there. In my mind, I could not imagine ever being happy in a place that now held a hole in my heart.
This past weekend was 10 months since I last went to Cape Cod. 10 months since I had those horribly tragic emotional responses. This past weekend, I had so much fun. I was elated and could not wait to tell my family how well I was doing. I got to play with my nieces and nephews, eat dinners with family, and catch up with old friends. I laughed so hard and drank so much that I even I made drunk phone calls and I would do it again to feel that kind of emotional freedom I was experiencing. I was relaxed. I felt at home again in my favorite place on this earth. There is no greater sense of freedom than beating your mind and being able to enjoy the beautiful things in life, as simple as they may be.
For those of you that have followed my story, you know that nothing can come so easily for my mind. What a wonderful ending this would be if I was simply just happy and content with that. But my mind does not work like that. My mind is constantly going 100 miles per hour. Naturally, when leaving Cape Cod I reflected on my time there and how I finally felt like "me" again. Without fail, I started to wonder what people would think. Would they think that I did not love Seth? Is it okay for me to be happy? Or, am I no better than those other women who I berated early on?
The truth is I am happy and my conclusion is that, that is okay. Actually, my opinion is that it is wonderful. I am not sure why am so hard on myself. I expect nothing short of perfection from myself. Be the perfect daughter, perfect physical therapist, perfect sister, perfect widow. Maybe sometimes it is a good thing. Maybe that is where I get my drive to succeed in life, because I am always pushing for more from myself. But maybe I am my own worst enemy too. Imagine a world where we don't judge ourselves so harshly. Imagine a world where we forgive ourselves and are patient with ourselves. That sounds like an amazing and peaceful world. Now imagine if we have it in our own control to achieve that. To do so we have to stop judging ourselves. We have to stop caring what other people think. And for widows, we have to start believing that our passed loved ones are nothing short of proud of us.
I am happy and I know that Seth would want that for me. I have a therapy appointment next week and I am going to ask my therapist to help me re-frame my mindset. I want to believe in my heart that "living" is to honor Seth, but never to forget. I want to carry him with me and allow his legacy to live on through the lessons he taught me. I want to fight for my chance at life like he fought for his.
"When we struggle to change ourselves we, in fact, only continue the patterns of self-judgement and aggression. We keep the war against ourselves alive." - Jack Kornfield.
I will work on change. I will live, learn to love, and pursue happiness for the both of us. And with time and help, I will end this war against myself. With time and help, I will be happy, and I know that will be exactly what we both want. I am a new widow in the pursuit of happiness.
Love,
Meredith
"Don't give up. Don't ever give up." ~ Jimmy V.
Seth Jacob Budai Caring Bridge Page
Friday, March 10, 2017
Who Would Marry a Widow?
Thirteen and a half months ago if someone would have told me that I would think about dating again I would have stopped talking to them. The day my husband died I swore off ever being with a man again. What did those people know about me? What did they know about Seth and my love for each other? If they knew anything they would know that what Seth and I had was very special. What Seth and I had could not be replaced. Ever.
I remember I was talking to my friend and I was complaining about all of the "bad" widows that exist. The kind of widow that posted on social media groups about sleeping with their husbands best friend or being in love with their husbands brother. I called them sluts. I certainly did not understand them. I believed that those woman did not love their husbands like I loved Seth. I thought that those brothers and friends of the deceased husband were bad people. I judged them harshly.
Fast forward many months later and I actually admitted to myself that I no longer judged those women. In fact I went so far to believe that I could relate to those women. For a period of time the men in Seth's life were the only people, outside of my therapist, that I could talk to about my feelings. Sometimes I could not even articulate to them what my feelings were, but I felt comfortable crying to them when I didn't feel comfortable crying to anyone else. I wanted to be around them. I wanted to talk with them all the time. Although these feelings were platonic, they were also very perplexing to me. I no longer have those confusing thoughts today. I now know that I gravitated to them because they reminded me of Seth. We had connections with Seth that no one else understood. We could relate to each other in a time in my life when I felt very few could relate to me. But they are my friends. Just friends. I am satisfied with that and relieved too.
As I worked through those feelings though, and as more time has passed, I started to experience other confusing emotions. All of a sudden I didn't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I was barely in my 30's when my husband died and I have so much life ahead of me. I have worked incredibly hard for the past 13 months to believe that I can still have a bright future in spite of my past. On a good day, I have genuinely accepted that I am not a bad wife for having this urge. Seth would want me to be happy after all, he told me so. This has not been easy. I have experienced the most incredibly intense guilt that a person can feel without having anything to actually be guilty of. You can imagine the internal conflict I experience when I think about dating again. How can I be in love with Seth and have the desire to find a connection like we had, with a different man? It does not make any sense. Just the thought of dating again makes me feel like I am being deceitful. I believe that am not fulfilling my wedding vows to Seth. I must be minimizing the love that we had for each other. I should be content with what we had, which was beautiful, and yet the thought of not sharing that with someone for the rest of my life is heart wrenching.
I loved being in a marriage with Seth. I would describe our relationship as happy, emotional, spontaneous, fun, frustrating, exciting, funny, relaxing, and exhausting. I feel grateful for our time together and I cannot adequately explain with words the best part of being with him. I was lucky to have someone who I trusted. I was lucky to have someone who I couldn't wait to go to with exciting news and whom I could confide in without judgement. I loved being that person for Seth too. We argued fiercely sometimes. We were not perfect. But we loved even more fiercely and we fought for each other with everything that we had. What we shared cannot be replaced. Ever.
If our love cannot ever be replaced, can I even have a connection with a man again? Am I selfish for wanting to find love again? Shouldn't I be grateful for what we had and leave well enough alone? And if I did fall in love again, would this mean that I didn't love Seth after all? Or, since our love was so precious could another man ever compare? Could another man even be with me without being compared?
I recently had a conversation with a friend who stated that he believed other men would be insecure dating me because they would fear that I am always comparing them to Seth. This got me thinking. Is it possible that he is right? Or, could there be a man who is open to my past? Couldn't another man admire my love for Seth? Doesn't my commitment to Seth show that I am a devoted spouse? Is it possible that I could have two loves in my life? Each love a little different and special in their own unique way? Or is it true, that no man could marry a widow?
For my sake, and for the sake of all of the young and old widow(ers) out there, I hope this is not true. I hope that we can have multiple loves in our life without diminishing our feelings for those who came before. I hope that we can have different love stories with different people so that one does not replace another. I hope that someone will love me fully because of my past. I could not be the person that I am today if not for my past. Seth influenced me. Our marriage shaped me. His death impacted me. A person, a marriage, and a death have all converged to influence my person. Except for Seth living, I would not want to change anything. Why would a man want me any other way?
Last night, I had a very difficult night. Actually, the last few weeks I have been holding on to a lot of stressful thoughts and I couldn't figure out the best way to express myself to relieve me of this anxiety. I kept it to myself. That is what I typically do when I am afraid of how the world will respond to me. On the train yesterday, on my way home from work, I started crying. It was a crowded train cart and yet I felt so alone and isolated. Finally, I reached out and texted my friend. Seth's friend. I did not even express my "secrets." I simply said I was crying and panicking. He did not have much to say, but it felt amazing to say "out loud" that I was not holding it together in that moment. In my last blog I acknowledged that I am trying to be strong. But sometimes even the strongest people fall apart. After finally falling asleep last night I got the best rest that I have had in a few weeks.
Today I sent a text to one of Seth's family members. It read, "I work real hard to move forward and I know I need to create a new life for myself. I don't want to be alone for 60 years and I know one day I will date again. I am beginning to accept it without feeling like a bad person or wife." I know today is a better day because I could finally admit these thoughts to someone that I care very much about. I could finally admit to those feelings to someone who cared very much about Seth. For those widows and widowers out there, only you can know the true angst of acknowledging this out loud to those who you love and who loved your spouse. It is with such trepidation that I even post this today. I chose to because I know that I am not alone.
To the fellow widows and widowers that I am writing for, I believe we will get through this. For me, there have been a lot of changes lately as I make efforts to create a new life for myself. Reality is slapping me in the face. It finally hit me that things will truly never be the same as what I had visioned. Seth and I cannot share with each other the future we planned together. We will not have a family together. But this does not mean that my future is not bright. Our love stories with the deceased will never end. They will never be replaced. Ever. If I am to move forward though, I need to start thinking about a future. A new future. A different life. Maybe even a good life. Maybe even a great life.
I have been thinking more about what my friend said to me. He suggested that other men will experience insecurities when dating me, for fear that I will always be comparing them to Seth. Maybe he is right that I will do that, at least initially, how couldn't I? But isn't that true of anyone dating someone new, even following a breakup? Our past experiences shape us into the people we are today, hopefully for the better. I am proud of my past. I am proud of my relationship with Seth. What an amazing man he was. It must have taken so much courage for him to sit across from me a few days before he passed, look directly into my eyes, and make me promise that I will move forward. He told me to find love again. He told me that he wanted me to have a bright future. My response was that I did not want to talk about it. Then we hugged and kissed. Then I promised him that I would fulfill his wishes, and I genuinely hope that I do. I want to love again. I want to be loved again. I want to give everything that I have to another relationship, because that is what makes love so beautiful. That is what made my love story with Seth so special. My next story will be different. But that love story will be stronger because of my past. It will be our love story. A new love story. And my love for Seth will still never be replaced. Ever.
Love,
Meredith
"Don't give up. Don't ever give up." ~ Jimmy V.
Seth Jacob Budai Caring Bridge Page
I remember I was talking to my friend and I was complaining about all of the "bad" widows that exist. The kind of widow that posted on social media groups about sleeping with their husbands best friend or being in love with their husbands brother. I called them sluts. I certainly did not understand them. I believed that those woman did not love their husbands like I loved Seth. I thought that those brothers and friends of the deceased husband were bad people. I judged them harshly.
Fast forward many months later and I actually admitted to myself that I no longer judged those women. In fact I went so far to believe that I could relate to those women. For a period of time the men in Seth's life were the only people, outside of my therapist, that I could talk to about my feelings. Sometimes I could not even articulate to them what my feelings were, but I felt comfortable crying to them when I didn't feel comfortable crying to anyone else. I wanted to be around them. I wanted to talk with them all the time. Although these feelings were platonic, they were also very perplexing to me. I no longer have those confusing thoughts today. I now know that I gravitated to them because they reminded me of Seth. We had connections with Seth that no one else understood. We could relate to each other in a time in my life when I felt very few could relate to me. But they are my friends. Just friends. I am satisfied with that and relieved too.
As I worked through those feelings though, and as more time has passed, I started to experience other confusing emotions. All of a sudden I didn't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I was barely in my 30's when my husband died and I have so much life ahead of me. I have worked incredibly hard for the past 13 months to believe that I can still have a bright future in spite of my past. On a good day, I have genuinely accepted that I am not a bad wife for having this urge. Seth would want me to be happy after all, he told me so. This has not been easy. I have experienced the most incredibly intense guilt that a person can feel without having anything to actually be guilty of. You can imagine the internal conflict I experience when I think about dating again. How can I be in love with Seth and have the desire to find a connection like we had, with a different man? It does not make any sense. Just the thought of dating again makes me feel like I am being deceitful. I believe that am not fulfilling my wedding vows to Seth. I must be minimizing the love that we had for each other. I should be content with what we had, which was beautiful, and yet the thought of not sharing that with someone for the rest of my life is heart wrenching.
I loved being in a marriage with Seth. I would describe our relationship as happy, emotional, spontaneous, fun, frustrating, exciting, funny, relaxing, and exhausting. I feel grateful for our time together and I cannot adequately explain with words the best part of being with him. I was lucky to have someone who I trusted. I was lucky to have someone who I couldn't wait to go to with exciting news and whom I could confide in without judgement. I loved being that person for Seth too. We argued fiercely sometimes. We were not perfect. But we loved even more fiercely and we fought for each other with everything that we had. What we shared cannot be replaced. Ever.
If our love cannot ever be replaced, can I even have a connection with a man again? Am I selfish for wanting to find love again? Shouldn't I be grateful for what we had and leave well enough alone? And if I did fall in love again, would this mean that I didn't love Seth after all? Or, since our love was so precious could another man ever compare? Could another man even be with me without being compared?
I recently had a conversation with a friend who stated that he believed other men would be insecure dating me because they would fear that I am always comparing them to Seth. This got me thinking. Is it possible that he is right? Or, could there be a man who is open to my past? Couldn't another man admire my love for Seth? Doesn't my commitment to Seth show that I am a devoted spouse? Is it possible that I could have two loves in my life? Each love a little different and special in their own unique way? Or is it true, that no man could marry a widow?
For my sake, and for the sake of all of the young and old widow(ers) out there, I hope this is not true. I hope that we can have multiple loves in our life without diminishing our feelings for those who came before. I hope that we can have different love stories with different people so that one does not replace another. I hope that someone will love me fully because of my past. I could not be the person that I am today if not for my past. Seth influenced me. Our marriage shaped me. His death impacted me. A person, a marriage, and a death have all converged to influence my person. Except for Seth living, I would not want to change anything. Why would a man want me any other way?
Last night, I had a very difficult night. Actually, the last few weeks I have been holding on to a lot of stressful thoughts and I couldn't figure out the best way to express myself to relieve me of this anxiety. I kept it to myself. That is what I typically do when I am afraid of how the world will respond to me. On the train yesterday, on my way home from work, I started crying. It was a crowded train cart and yet I felt so alone and isolated. Finally, I reached out and texted my friend. Seth's friend. I did not even express my "secrets." I simply said I was crying and panicking. He did not have much to say, but it felt amazing to say "out loud" that I was not holding it together in that moment. In my last blog I acknowledged that I am trying to be strong. But sometimes even the strongest people fall apart. After finally falling asleep last night I got the best rest that I have had in a few weeks.
Today I sent a text to one of Seth's family members. It read, "I work real hard to move forward and I know I need to create a new life for myself. I don't want to be alone for 60 years and I know one day I will date again. I am beginning to accept it without feeling like a bad person or wife." I know today is a better day because I could finally admit these thoughts to someone that I care very much about. I could finally admit to those feelings to someone who cared very much about Seth. For those widows and widowers out there, only you can know the true angst of acknowledging this out loud to those who you love and who loved your spouse. It is with such trepidation that I even post this today. I chose to because I know that I am not alone.
To the fellow widows and widowers that I am writing for, I believe we will get through this. For me, there have been a lot of changes lately as I make efforts to create a new life for myself. Reality is slapping me in the face. It finally hit me that things will truly never be the same as what I had visioned. Seth and I cannot share with each other the future we planned together. We will not have a family together. But this does not mean that my future is not bright. Our love stories with the deceased will never end. They will never be replaced. Ever. If I am to move forward though, I need to start thinking about a future. A new future. A different life. Maybe even a good life. Maybe even a great life.
I have been thinking more about what my friend said to me. He suggested that other men will experience insecurities when dating me, for fear that I will always be comparing them to Seth. Maybe he is right that I will do that, at least initially, how couldn't I? But isn't that true of anyone dating someone new, even following a breakup? Our past experiences shape us into the people we are today, hopefully for the better. I am proud of my past. I am proud of my relationship with Seth. What an amazing man he was. It must have taken so much courage for him to sit across from me a few days before he passed, look directly into my eyes, and make me promise that I will move forward. He told me to find love again. He told me that he wanted me to have a bright future. My response was that I did not want to talk about it. Then we hugged and kissed. Then I promised him that I would fulfill his wishes, and I genuinely hope that I do. I want to love again. I want to be loved again. I want to give everything that I have to another relationship, because that is what makes love so beautiful. That is what made my love story with Seth so special. My next story will be different. But that love story will be stronger because of my past. It will be our love story. A new love story. And my love for Seth will still never be replaced. Ever.
Love,
Meredith
"Don't give up. Don't ever give up." ~ Jimmy V.
Seth Jacob Budai Caring Bridge Page
Saturday, February 4, 2017
My Husband Died But My Journey Goes On
One year ago today my husband Seth passed away.
Life has a very strange way of teaching people lessons. When Seth got sick at age 30, I thought that we were being taught some of the most important life lessons one could learn. I learned that life is precious. I learned that no one is immune to adversity. I learned to slow down and I learned to appreciate everything, especially the small things. But on that summer day in 2014, when Seth and I were told that there was a tumor on his sacrum and that he would need to be rushed to Boston for further work-up, I could not have imagined that the lessons had only just begun. I would never truly understand how important these lessons were for another 19 months.
One year ago to the day, my favorite person passed away in a cold, sterile, hospital room. The week prior he and I had sat down with his doctor to go over his advanced directives. It was his wish not to be put on life support and to die peacefully in our own home. He never did make it home like he had hoped to. Selfishly, I am so glad that he did not because one year later I am finally beginning to feel at peace inside our four walls. As I sat alone with Seth in the hospital room, and the doctor looked at me with those "I'm sorry..." eyes to tell me Seth had passed, I was in such despair that I never thought I would feel at peace again. A month later I moved back into our house and it felt so cold. It felt painfully quiet, eerie, and especially lonely. Today, as I write this I feel a sense of calmness come over me that I thought I may never experience again. One year later I feel the most at peace when I am home. Inside those four walls I can picture Seth sitting at the bottom of the stairs trying unsuccessfully to put his shoes on while the dog is jumping all over him. I shut my eyes and I can see him sleeping peacefully in bed while I was getting ready to leave for work. I would go over to kiss him on the forehead on my way out. In the basement, I can picture us where we lay sprawled out on the floor, bursting with excitement the very night we closed on our house. We were so proud that we had bought on our very first home together and that it was finally ours! When I am inside my house I feel closest to Seth because I am reminded of a beautiful family that loved each other dearly. It was only Seth, the dog, the cat and I. We never did have children together. But we were happy with our little unit that we called family. Selfishly, I am glad that Seth never made it home. Had he been here when he passed, I am not sure that I could find this sense of peace from being home that I now so desperately try to hold on to.
Over the last year I have have been told over and over again how strong of a woman that I am. It is hard for me to believe that because it has been a long, very exhausting, journey. For days after Seth died I only ate pizza and drank coffee. I slept a lot and quite honestly I don't even remember planning the funeral or the memorial services. Somehow I managed to go back to work, to move back home, and I took care of all of the business needs that are required after someone dies. Looking back, I have no idea how I was capable of doing all of that. The process after someone dies is exhausting, and there is not much help that anyone can give you. When I reflect on all that I accomplished I understand why people consider me strong. But when you are going through this you feel nothing short of a failure. There is a constant feeling that something has been forgotten. Every piece of paperwork that needs to be completed and the accounts that need to be closed take multiple phone calls and multiple attempts to near completion. You begin to wonder why you are so stupid. You cannot understand why things are so difficult and why you don't do them right the first time. For the first year, every action that I took made me feel a tremendous amount of guilt. You wonder, am I honoring Seth right? Does Seth know that I loved him? If I do this, or go there, will other people think that I have moved on? Will people think that I have forgotten my husband? If I feel lonely and think about a day when I might find new love, does this mean I am cheating on my husband? What will our friends and family think of me just for thinking that I am saddened by the loss of sharing my life with someone? Why do I care so much what other people think? Do I really care what other people think or am I just judging myself for my thoughts because I don't want to have them? And so on. The first year has been a very long year filled with worries that I desperately wanted to get out of my head all the while trying to honor my husband while living my own life.
When I started this blog I called it Journeys with Seth. Over time my entries stopped being letters to Seth and opportunities for me to work through my own personal journey. Twelve months ago I thought my journey with Seth had just started, but in reality our journey had just ended and a new path began for me. Despite the anxiety that my inner monologue created, I am so proud of myself for working hard to push forward despite it. And although this is my own life I am paving for myself, I am without a doubt that Seth has been by my side throughout it all. In 2014 when Seth got Sick he handled the circumstances he was given gracefully. He was grateful for our family, friends, and jobs. He found purpose through the students that he worked with daily. He laughed, he cried, he was stubborn, he got angry, and he fought hard for his life. He fought hard for the people that he loved. He fought hard for me. When I look back on the last 12 months, I realize that I have been strong. I have made mistakes. I have been blindsided by grief. I thought that I figured my feelings out only to find out I don't understand my feelings at all. But I have lived. I have laughed. I have honored Seth. I have loved. And, I have been strong (or so they tell me). Seth taught me what it is to fight for your life, and I have fought.
On this one year anniversary I am deeply saddened by the loss of my best friend. I cannot believe one year of my life has passed without him by my side. He is still my best friend, how can it be possible that he is gone? After one year, how can this still be so shocking? And yet I am also so amazed by myself. I made it one year and people tell me that I did well. Maybe I did? Maybe these lessons that I have learned have been invaluable. I know that I am lucky for every day that I have been given. I know there are real problems in this world that are worth spending time on and others which are not really problems at all. Seth showed me that we are not always dealt the best hand, but we should fight through it anyway. We should do our best to enjoy the ride because we are only given one life. We are only given one chance to leave an imprint on this world. I hope one day that I can leave half the imprint that my husband left on this world.
I have read that year two is harder than year one for widows and widowers. I expect that this year will bring me new challenges. But I am done identifying myself as a widow. My husband died one year ago and as we rode in the ambulance to the hospital I promised him that I would be alright. I promised him that I would live my life fully. I promised him that I would be happy again. The term widow is sad. It is a name indicating that I have been hurt. I don't want this challenge to label me. I want it to empower me just as my husband used his challenges to empower him. I want to live my life fully because of my husband. I want to enjoy life for my husband. In this way, I will honor my husband. I imagine that the next year will still be difficult. I am certain I will have my set-backs. But I am also certain that I will get up every single day, put my feet on the ground, and take steps forward to find out who the new Meredith is and what my life has in store for me. In 2014 I learned that life is precious and one year ago my husband reminded me of this tough lesson.
I am so lucky to have had the marriage that I did with Seth. He was kind, sweet, goofy, stubborn as hell, always right (or so he said), smart, loving, and generous. Seth cared about others more than he did of himself. He devoted his life to helping others and to being a wonderful son, brother, husband, etc. He will never go forgotten by me no matter where I go on this journey we call life. Because of my husband I will remain strong. Because of my husband, I know that it is okay to not be okay. But because of my husband, I know that I will be okay. I love you Seth.
Love,
Meredith
"Don't give up. Don't ever give up." ~ Jimmy V.
Seth Jacob Budai Caring Bridge Page
Life has a very strange way of teaching people lessons. When Seth got sick at age 30, I thought that we were being taught some of the most important life lessons one could learn. I learned that life is precious. I learned that no one is immune to adversity. I learned to slow down and I learned to appreciate everything, especially the small things. But on that summer day in 2014, when Seth and I were told that there was a tumor on his sacrum and that he would need to be rushed to Boston for further work-up, I could not have imagined that the lessons had only just begun. I would never truly understand how important these lessons were for another 19 months.
One year ago to the day, my favorite person passed away in a cold, sterile, hospital room. The week prior he and I had sat down with his doctor to go over his advanced directives. It was his wish not to be put on life support and to die peacefully in our own home. He never did make it home like he had hoped to. Selfishly, I am so glad that he did not because one year later I am finally beginning to feel at peace inside our four walls. As I sat alone with Seth in the hospital room, and the doctor looked at me with those "I'm sorry..." eyes to tell me Seth had passed, I was in such despair that I never thought I would feel at peace again. A month later I moved back into our house and it felt so cold. It felt painfully quiet, eerie, and especially lonely. Today, as I write this I feel a sense of calmness come over me that I thought I may never experience again. One year later I feel the most at peace when I am home. Inside those four walls I can picture Seth sitting at the bottom of the stairs trying unsuccessfully to put his shoes on while the dog is jumping all over him. I shut my eyes and I can see him sleeping peacefully in bed while I was getting ready to leave for work. I would go over to kiss him on the forehead on my way out. In the basement, I can picture us where we lay sprawled out on the floor, bursting with excitement the very night we closed on our house. We were so proud that we had bought on our very first home together and that it was finally ours! When I am inside my house I feel closest to Seth because I am reminded of a beautiful family that loved each other dearly. It was only Seth, the dog, the cat and I. We never did have children together. But we were happy with our little unit that we called family. Selfishly, I am glad that Seth never made it home. Had he been here when he passed, I am not sure that I could find this sense of peace from being home that I now so desperately try to hold on to.
Over the last year I have have been told over and over again how strong of a woman that I am. It is hard for me to believe that because it has been a long, very exhausting, journey. For days after Seth died I only ate pizza and drank coffee. I slept a lot and quite honestly I don't even remember planning the funeral or the memorial services. Somehow I managed to go back to work, to move back home, and I took care of all of the business needs that are required after someone dies. Looking back, I have no idea how I was capable of doing all of that. The process after someone dies is exhausting, and there is not much help that anyone can give you. When I reflect on all that I accomplished I understand why people consider me strong. But when you are going through this you feel nothing short of a failure. There is a constant feeling that something has been forgotten. Every piece of paperwork that needs to be completed and the accounts that need to be closed take multiple phone calls and multiple attempts to near completion. You begin to wonder why you are so stupid. You cannot understand why things are so difficult and why you don't do them right the first time. For the first year, every action that I took made me feel a tremendous amount of guilt. You wonder, am I honoring Seth right? Does Seth know that I loved him? If I do this, or go there, will other people think that I have moved on? Will people think that I have forgotten my husband? If I feel lonely and think about a day when I might find new love, does this mean I am cheating on my husband? What will our friends and family think of me just for thinking that I am saddened by the loss of sharing my life with someone? Why do I care so much what other people think? Do I really care what other people think or am I just judging myself for my thoughts because I don't want to have them? And so on. The first year has been a very long year filled with worries that I desperately wanted to get out of my head all the while trying to honor my husband while living my own life.
When I started this blog I called it Journeys with Seth. Over time my entries stopped being letters to Seth and opportunities for me to work through my own personal journey. Twelve months ago I thought my journey with Seth had just started, but in reality our journey had just ended and a new path began for me. Despite the anxiety that my inner monologue created, I am so proud of myself for working hard to push forward despite it. And although this is my own life I am paving for myself, I am without a doubt that Seth has been by my side throughout it all. In 2014 when Seth got Sick he handled the circumstances he was given gracefully. He was grateful for our family, friends, and jobs. He found purpose through the students that he worked with daily. He laughed, he cried, he was stubborn, he got angry, and he fought hard for his life. He fought hard for the people that he loved. He fought hard for me. When I look back on the last 12 months, I realize that I have been strong. I have made mistakes. I have been blindsided by grief. I thought that I figured my feelings out only to find out I don't understand my feelings at all. But I have lived. I have laughed. I have honored Seth. I have loved. And, I have been strong (or so they tell me). Seth taught me what it is to fight for your life, and I have fought.
On this one year anniversary I am deeply saddened by the loss of my best friend. I cannot believe one year of my life has passed without him by my side. He is still my best friend, how can it be possible that he is gone? After one year, how can this still be so shocking? And yet I am also so amazed by myself. I made it one year and people tell me that I did well. Maybe I did? Maybe these lessons that I have learned have been invaluable. I know that I am lucky for every day that I have been given. I know there are real problems in this world that are worth spending time on and others which are not really problems at all. Seth showed me that we are not always dealt the best hand, but we should fight through it anyway. We should do our best to enjoy the ride because we are only given one life. We are only given one chance to leave an imprint on this world. I hope one day that I can leave half the imprint that my husband left on this world.
I have read that year two is harder than year one for widows and widowers. I expect that this year will bring me new challenges. But I am done identifying myself as a widow. My husband died one year ago and as we rode in the ambulance to the hospital I promised him that I would be alright. I promised him that I would live my life fully. I promised him that I would be happy again. The term widow is sad. It is a name indicating that I have been hurt. I don't want this challenge to label me. I want it to empower me just as my husband used his challenges to empower him. I want to live my life fully because of my husband. I want to enjoy life for my husband. In this way, I will honor my husband. I imagine that the next year will still be difficult. I am certain I will have my set-backs. But I am also certain that I will get up every single day, put my feet on the ground, and take steps forward to find out who the new Meredith is and what my life has in store for me. In 2014 I learned that life is precious and one year ago my husband reminded me of this tough lesson.
I am so lucky to have had the marriage that I did with Seth. He was kind, sweet, goofy, stubborn as hell, always right (or so he said), smart, loving, and generous. Seth cared about others more than he did of himself. He devoted his life to helping others and to being a wonderful son, brother, husband, etc. He will never go forgotten by me no matter where I go on this journey we call life. Because of my husband I will remain strong. Because of my husband, I know that it is okay to not be okay. But because of my husband, I know that I will be okay. I love you Seth.
Love,
Meredith
"Don't give up. Don't ever give up." ~ Jimmy V.
Seth Jacob Budai Caring Bridge Page
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Journeys With Seth: Can Widows Be Happy?
Journeys With Seth: Can Widows Be Happy?: I started reading a book recently, it is called The Happiness Project. The book, written by Gretchen Rubin, "chronicles her adventures ...
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Can Widows Be Happy?
I started reading a book recently, it is called The Happiness Project. The book, written by Gretchen Rubin, "chronicles her adventures during the twelve months she spent test-driving the wisdom of the ages, current scientific research, and lessons from popular culture about how to be happier." I was at a friends house when I saw the book on her desk and it intrigued me. Only days prior I was in a work meeting and it was asked of me what my personal resolutions were for the upcoming year. The answer that I gave was that I wanted to be content with the unknown, content with the here and now, and to stop looking for who I am but to trust that with time I would figure it out. Or to put it more simply, I just want to be happy. Can a widow be happy? It seems like an oxymoron to use the words happy and widow in the same sentence.
I have read a lot of self-help and grief books recently. I regularly attend therapy and I just completed a 13 week grief support group series (www.griefshare.org). My personal endeavors have taught me that everyone can be happy, even a widow. The question is how to find happiness. For me that is the most challenging part. I want all of the answers now. I want to know what my happiness looks like. I want to know what my happiness will bring me in the future. And, as silly as this sounds, I want to know that my husband will be happy for me. My entire life I have always looked ten steps ahead. My husband would plead with me to slow down and to just enjoy the moment. I would argue that it was impossible. I was wrong.
In the new year my goal is to calm down, relax, de-clutter, and to enjoy the moment(s) that each day has to offer. In the new year I want to embrace the life I have been given, whatever that may be for me. I want to stop looking ten steps ahead. I want to stop identifying myself as a widow so that I can start to explore my new identity and to be content with not knowing what that may be. But most importantly, in the new year I just want to be happy.
It is a huge step for me to suggest that I want to be happy. For a long while I experienced a lot of guilt for wanting to move forward with my life when Seth was denied his own. I have spent countless hours speaking with my therapist about the need to find happiness, the need to give love and to be loved again, and to find meaning out my circumstances so that I could use it to push me forward and to shape who I will become. We have also spent countless hours questioning why I judge myself so harshly for wanting these things for myself. She commends me for having the courage to want to find a new meaning for myself. She reminds me that the life I chose to accept moving forward is because of the life I shared with my husband. She encourages me to believe that a bright future can be possible without forgetting my husband. These concepts are very difficult for me. For me it is very black and white. If I move forward, my husband will be forgotten. If I find happiness my husband will assume, as he looks down on me, that I don't love him anymore.
I realize those thoughts are irrational, but C.S. Lewis wrote it best when he said, "Sorrow...turns out to be not a state but a process...There is something new to be chronicled every day. Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape. As I've already noted, not every bend does. Sometimes the surprise is the opposite one; you are presented with exactly the same sort of country you thought you had left behind miles ago. That is when you wonder whether the valley isn't a circular trench. But it isn't. There are partial recurrences, but the sequence doesn't repeat. Here, for instance, is a new phase, a new loss. I do all the walking I can, for I'd be a fool to go to bed no tired. Today I have been revisiting old haunts, taking one of the long rambles that made me so happy in my bachelor days. And this time the face of nature was not emptied of its beauty and the world didn't look like a mean street. On the contrary, every horizon, every stile or clump of trees, summoned me into a past kind of happiness, my pre-widower happiness. But the invitation seemed to me horrible. The happiness into which it invited me was insipid. I find that I don't want to go back again and be happy in that way. It frightens me to think that a mere going back should even be possible. For this fate would seem to me the worst of all, to reach a state in which my years of love and marriage should appear in retrospect a charming episode - like a holiday - that had briefly interrupted my interminable life and returned me to normal, unchanged...Thus my wife would die to me a second time; a worse bereavement than the first. Anything but that."
When I read this passage I felt relieved. That being happy would mean my husband is forgotten or has "died a second time," is incredibly wrong. But to be validated that I was not alone in thinking this gives me comfort. However, in the new year I do not want to think that anymore. In the new year I want to embrace happiness as something positive. I truly believe, despite the circumstances, that everyone deserves happiness. I deserve to be happy even if this means I have to do so without my husband by my side. I should find happiness because of my past husband. And above all, in order to find happiness, I need to rid myself of irrational thoughts. When my time comes I don't want to look back on my life and have regrets. In her book Gretchen Rubin quoted the writer Colette who said, "What a wonderful life I've had! I only wish I realized it sooner." My husband fought too hard to live through his struggle for me not to embrace such a sentiment.
So how do you find happiness? That I am not quite yet sure. However, for me it is a step in the right direction just to know that I deserve to be happy. This year, I will spend time on me. Some may call it selfish, but I disagree. In order for me to offer the best version of myself to the world I need to allow myself to find the best version of me. I will probably make mistakes along the way, but I cannot grow without failures. And in 2017 I aspire to grow. I will learn to be happy because of my past. I read a quote recently that I really liked. It said, "The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything they have." This year I chose to make the best of everything that I have. Happy new year.
Love,
Meredith
"Don't give up. Don't ever give up."
Seth Jacob Budai Caring Bridge Page
Dear Seth,
I love you and miss you dearly. This morning I woke up crying and really missing you. I could have used a hug and one more "I love you Mere." Only you were not here to give this to me. When I finished crying I thought about what you would tell me to do and I realized I just needed to calm down. I got up, went for coffee and brought a book, and then decided to come home and write. Right now I am relaxed. And even if I am not always okay, I know that I will be. That is the first lesson of my happiness project. It is okay to not be okay, because one day soon I will be. Thank you for teaching me that. Thank you for being there for me this morning, even if only in my mind. I love you.
Love,
Meredith
I have read a lot of self-help and grief books recently. I regularly attend therapy and I just completed a 13 week grief support group series (www.griefshare.org). My personal endeavors have taught me that everyone can be happy, even a widow. The question is how to find happiness. For me that is the most challenging part. I want all of the answers now. I want to know what my happiness looks like. I want to know what my happiness will bring me in the future. And, as silly as this sounds, I want to know that my husband will be happy for me. My entire life I have always looked ten steps ahead. My husband would plead with me to slow down and to just enjoy the moment. I would argue that it was impossible. I was wrong.
In the new year my goal is to calm down, relax, de-clutter, and to enjoy the moment(s) that each day has to offer. In the new year I want to embrace the life I have been given, whatever that may be for me. I want to stop looking ten steps ahead. I want to stop identifying myself as a widow so that I can start to explore my new identity and to be content with not knowing what that may be. But most importantly, in the new year I just want to be happy.
It is a huge step for me to suggest that I want to be happy. For a long while I experienced a lot of guilt for wanting to move forward with my life when Seth was denied his own. I have spent countless hours speaking with my therapist about the need to find happiness, the need to give love and to be loved again, and to find meaning out my circumstances so that I could use it to push me forward and to shape who I will become. We have also spent countless hours questioning why I judge myself so harshly for wanting these things for myself. She commends me for having the courage to want to find a new meaning for myself. She reminds me that the life I chose to accept moving forward is because of the life I shared with my husband. She encourages me to believe that a bright future can be possible without forgetting my husband. These concepts are very difficult for me. For me it is very black and white. If I move forward, my husband will be forgotten. If I find happiness my husband will assume, as he looks down on me, that I don't love him anymore.
I realize those thoughts are irrational, but C.S. Lewis wrote it best when he said, "Sorrow...turns out to be not a state but a process...There is something new to be chronicled every day. Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape. As I've already noted, not every bend does. Sometimes the surprise is the opposite one; you are presented with exactly the same sort of country you thought you had left behind miles ago. That is when you wonder whether the valley isn't a circular trench. But it isn't. There are partial recurrences, but the sequence doesn't repeat. Here, for instance, is a new phase, a new loss. I do all the walking I can, for I'd be a fool to go to bed no tired. Today I have been revisiting old haunts, taking one of the long rambles that made me so happy in my bachelor days. And this time the face of nature was not emptied of its beauty and the world didn't look like a mean street. On the contrary, every horizon, every stile or clump of trees, summoned me into a past kind of happiness, my pre-widower happiness. But the invitation seemed to me horrible. The happiness into which it invited me was insipid. I find that I don't want to go back again and be happy in that way. It frightens me to think that a mere going back should even be possible. For this fate would seem to me the worst of all, to reach a state in which my years of love and marriage should appear in retrospect a charming episode - like a holiday - that had briefly interrupted my interminable life and returned me to normal, unchanged...Thus my wife would die to me a second time; a worse bereavement than the first. Anything but that."
When I read this passage I felt relieved. That being happy would mean my husband is forgotten or has "died a second time," is incredibly wrong. But to be validated that I was not alone in thinking this gives me comfort. However, in the new year I do not want to think that anymore. In the new year I want to embrace happiness as something positive. I truly believe, despite the circumstances, that everyone deserves happiness. I deserve to be happy even if this means I have to do so without my husband by my side. I should find happiness because of my past husband. And above all, in order to find happiness, I need to rid myself of irrational thoughts. When my time comes I don't want to look back on my life and have regrets. In her book Gretchen Rubin quoted the writer Colette who said, "What a wonderful life I've had! I only wish I realized it sooner." My husband fought too hard to live through his struggle for me not to embrace such a sentiment.
So how do you find happiness? That I am not quite yet sure. However, for me it is a step in the right direction just to know that I deserve to be happy. This year, I will spend time on me. Some may call it selfish, but I disagree. In order for me to offer the best version of myself to the world I need to allow myself to find the best version of me. I will probably make mistakes along the way, but I cannot grow without failures. And in 2017 I aspire to grow. I will learn to be happy because of my past. I read a quote recently that I really liked. It said, "The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything they have." This year I chose to make the best of everything that I have. Happy new year.
Love,
Meredith
"Don't give up. Don't ever give up."
Seth Jacob Budai Caring Bridge Page
Dear Seth,
I love you and miss you dearly. This morning I woke up crying and really missing you. I could have used a hug and one more "I love you Mere." Only you were not here to give this to me. When I finished crying I thought about what you would tell me to do and I realized I just needed to calm down. I got up, went for coffee and brought a book, and then decided to come home and write. Right now I am relaxed. And even if I am not always okay, I know that I will be. That is the first lesson of my happiness project. It is okay to not be okay, because one day soon I will be. Thank you for teaching me that. Thank you for being there for me this morning, even if only in my mind. I love you.
Love,
Meredith
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| #SethStrong in California (Photo courtesy of Shannon Corbey) |
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| #SethStrong in California (Photo courtesy of Shannon Corbey) |
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| #SethStrong in Maui (Photo courtesy of Shannon Corbey) |
Sunday, November 6, 2016
My 31 Year Old Husband Died: This is Me
To Whomever Wants to Listen,
My husband died nine months ago this past week. Typically I write to him, but today I am writing for me and for other young widows. In the last nine months I have had many periods of clarity and moments of uncertainty. I have written that there is no greater truth than grief is a roller coaster and I genuinely believe that. And yet, every time I am living intense grief it is as though I am genuinely perplexed that this would happen to me again. It is true that these moments are further apart. For that reason I think I am taken by even greater surprise when I just cannot seem to pull myself together.
When my husband first died, I was living with his brother and my sister in-law. After the funeral I bounced around to his parents house, my parents, my siblings, and back to his brothers for another week while I returned to work. After a week of working I went back home to the house that I shared with my husband. I have wonderful people in my life who stayed with me until I was ready to be alone. I knew when I was ready because I was sick of "hosting." Not a single person made me feel as though I needed to host them, in fact they were all there to please me and not the other way around. But after some time it becomes exhausting sharing your home with other people. Shortly after becoming a widow everything seems exhausting. So I thanked them and sent them on their way. I was ready to be alone in the house where I once lived with my husband, or so I thought.
Since becoming a widow I have learned that I have no idea what I am ready for or what I want out of my life. The only thing I am sure of is that I miss my husband. The uncertainty is the infuriating part of this journey. When my friends stopped staying with me and I thought I was ready to figure out my life, I went crazy planning out the next six months. I signed up for every athletic event that I could, much of which was for charities raising money for cancer or my husbands scholarship fund, and I traveled all over the US to visit family and friends. During the week I would stay at work late to avoid going home or I would train for the athletic events with my friends, spending as little time home alone as possible. It was about two months ago that I learned that I was avoiding life rather than trying to figure life out. I was doing what I needed to do for myself to get through the first year without my husband. But for the last two months I have been exhausted and counting down the day until I would be done traveling out of state for a prolonged period of time. That day is today and I could not be more relieved.
There is a sense of peace in knowing that I am not going anywhere for a while. I am satisfied that I can stay in my own home and start figuring out my life as it is now without my husband. The last nine months are not a true reflection of my new life as a widow. They were sad and fun and filled with many good and challenging times, but it was not a realistic long term plan. I am really looking forward to finally being alone in my house to figure out my life. I am aware that the phrase "looking forward to" is odd to use. But the fact is, no matter how much I miss my husband, he is not coming back to life on earth and things will never be as they once were. I am no longer the same person. I started changing the day he was diagnosed with cancer and even more so since the day that the doctor looked me in the eyes and confirmed my worst fears without even saying anything at all. I am ready to find out who the new me is and where this journey will take me. I think?
Two months ago when I realized the end of my planned chaos was in sight, I began to feel hopeful again about my life. I started believing that I could have a bright future and all the while still remember and honor my husband and what we shared together. I was looking forward to the opportunity to be lonely in my house, to miss my husband, and to grow from these experiences. I believed that I have to experience my feelings and stop avoiding them if I am to move forward from them. I was excited for this opportunity because it seemed to me that there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. I was fearless and ready to work on my own personal growth as a single, widowed, adult. That is, I was ready, until two weeks ago.
All of a sudden two weeks ago it hit me that the end of the chaos was quickly approaching. I was so excited and yet this incredible fear also took over. Suddenly I could not sleep at night, just like when my husband first died. Lack of sleep resulted in exhaustion and I started forgetting to take my anxiety medication. I was having trouble concentrating at work and relying on others to keep me sane. This caused me intense grief. I had been so proud of myself for "doing so well," and yet I was starting to crumble right before my own eyes. A good friend assured me that this was "normal." He asked me why I put too much pressure on myself to "do a good job," and he reminded me that I could successfully move forward all the while still missing my husband. But I was still scared and disappointed in myself. I wondered if I would ever really be ready to move forward. Six days ago, when I saw the headstone for my husband was put up at the cemetery, I felt hopeless. All of my hard work to "move forward" seemed for nothing. In a moment of panic I truly wondered if I would ever be happy again.
For the last six days, I have been taking my anxiety medication religiously. My friends, including one who is a psychologist, told me I should consider taking it for a full year following my husbands death. I expect I will need it for longer, but I have no shame in that. I feel so much better than I did six days ago. I feel happy again and I feel ready to take on this challenge we call life. I anticipate that I will have times of grief, some days more than others, and I know that this does not mean I am "crazy," or "regressing." At a support group I go to the leader told us we have grief because we had love. Maybe grief is not such a bad thing. Maybe I am lucky to grieve because this means that I was lucky to love and to be loved. Maybe this is a tumultuous process that I will continue to go through. But maybe in the end I will truly believe that it was better to have loved than to not have loved at all. I think that I will. Tomorrow is a new day and I am ready for it. I am feeling so much better than I was a week ago and I am proud of myself for making it through these rough times. I know they will happen again, but I hope that as I move forward I learn that this too shall pass. I believe that the new me will find peace in knowing that one day. Until then I will simply do the best that I can at being me, whomever that is.
Love,
Meredith
My husband died nine months ago this past week. Typically I write to him, but today I am writing for me and for other young widows. In the last nine months I have had many periods of clarity and moments of uncertainty. I have written that there is no greater truth than grief is a roller coaster and I genuinely believe that. And yet, every time I am living intense grief it is as though I am genuinely perplexed that this would happen to me again. It is true that these moments are further apart. For that reason I think I am taken by even greater surprise when I just cannot seem to pull myself together.
When my husband first died, I was living with his brother and my sister in-law. After the funeral I bounced around to his parents house, my parents, my siblings, and back to his brothers for another week while I returned to work. After a week of working I went back home to the house that I shared with my husband. I have wonderful people in my life who stayed with me until I was ready to be alone. I knew when I was ready because I was sick of "hosting." Not a single person made me feel as though I needed to host them, in fact they were all there to please me and not the other way around. But after some time it becomes exhausting sharing your home with other people. Shortly after becoming a widow everything seems exhausting. So I thanked them and sent them on their way. I was ready to be alone in the house where I once lived with my husband, or so I thought.
Since becoming a widow I have learned that I have no idea what I am ready for or what I want out of my life. The only thing I am sure of is that I miss my husband. The uncertainty is the infuriating part of this journey. When my friends stopped staying with me and I thought I was ready to figure out my life, I went crazy planning out the next six months. I signed up for every athletic event that I could, much of which was for charities raising money for cancer or my husbands scholarship fund, and I traveled all over the US to visit family and friends. During the week I would stay at work late to avoid going home or I would train for the athletic events with my friends, spending as little time home alone as possible. It was about two months ago that I learned that I was avoiding life rather than trying to figure life out. I was doing what I needed to do for myself to get through the first year without my husband. But for the last two months I have been exhausted and counting down the day until I would be done traveling out of state for a prolonged period of time. That day is today and I could not be more relieved.
There is a sense of peace in knowing that I am not going anywhere for a while. I am satisfied that I can stay in my own home and start figuring out my life as it is now without my husband. The last nine months are not a true reflection of my new life as a widow. They were sad and fun and filled with many good and challenging times, but it was not a realistic long term plan. I am really looking forward to finally being alone in my house to figure out my life. I am aware that the phrase "looking forward to" is odd to use. But the fact is, no matter how much I miss my husband, he is not coming back to life on earth and things will never be as they once were. I am no longer the same person. I started changing the day he was diagnosed with cancer and even more so since the day that the doctor looked me in the eyes and confirmed my worst fears without even saying anything at all. I am ready to find out who the new me is and where this journey will take me. I think?
Two months ago when I realized the end of my planned chaos was in sight, I began to feel hopeful again about my life. I started believing that I could have a bright future and all the while still remember and honor my husband and what we shared together. I was looking forward to the opportunity to be lonely in my house, to miss my husband, and to grow from these experiences. I believed that I have to experience my feelings and stop avoiding them if I am to move forward from them. I was excited for this opportunity because it seemed to me that there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. I was fearless and ready to work on my own personal growth as a single, widowed, adult. That is, I was ready, until two weeks ago.
All of a sudden two weeks ago it hit me that the end of the chaos was quickly approaching. I was so excited and yet this incredible fear also took over. Suddenly I could not sleep at night, just like when my husband first died. Lack of sleep resulted in exhaustion and I started forgetting to take my anxiety medication. I was having trouble concentrating at work and relying on others to keep me sane. This caused me intense grief. I had been so proud of myself for "doing so well," and yet I was starting to crumble right before my own eyes. A good friend assured me that this was "normal." He asked me why I put too much pressure on myself to "do a good job," and he reminded me that I could successfully move forward all the while still missing my husband. But I was still scared and disappointed in myself. I wondered if I would ever really be ready to move forward. Six days ago, when I saw the headstone for my husband was put up at the cemetery, I felt hopeless. All of my hard work to "move forward" seemed for nothing. In a moment of panic I truly wondered if I would ever be happy again.
For the last six days, I have been taking my anxiety medication religiously. My friends, including one who is a psychologist, told me I should consider taking it for a full year following my husbands death. I expect I will need it for longer, but I have no shame in that. I feel so much better than I did six days ago. I feel happy again and I feel ready to take on this challenge we call life. I anticipate that I will have times of grief, some days more than others, and I know that this does not mean I am "crazy," or "regressing." At a support group I go to the leader told us we have grief because we had love. Maybe grief is not such a bad thing. Maybe I am lucky to grieve because this means that I was lucky to love and to be loved. Maybe this is a tumultuous process that I will continue to go through. But maybe in the end I will truly believe that it was better to have loved than to not have loved at all. I think that I will. Tomorrow is a new day and I am ready for it. I am feeling so much better than I was a week ago and I am proud of myself for making it through these rough times. I know they will happen again, but I hope that as I move forward I learn that this too shall pass. I believe that the new me will find peace in knowing that one day. Until then I will simply do the best that I can at being me, whomever that is.
Love,
Meredith
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