There is a piece of popular advice out there for
widows/bereaved:
"Don't make any big life decisions for at least a
year."
Why is everything always a freakin' year? What magical
thing happens to a widow(er) a year after their spouse dies? What makes
life safe to resume after the one-year mark?
I'm still waiting to find out, because whatever it is; it
didn't happen to me.
In all fairness, this warning sounds like it should be
right. Your partner died. Your world has been turned upside
down. The answer must be to freeze and not make any sudden moves. But for
how long? And wait to be, what, "done" grieving? I'll never be
done; I know that now. Grief doesn't end, and in so many ways it doesn't
even get better, it just gets different. It's like a 300-pound gorilla on
your back that you just learn to carry. Maybe your legs and lungs get
stronger in order to hold it, but the gorilla will always be there.
But there might come a time that you want to make a
change. You will be compelled to make a change, to dip a toe back in the land of the living. It might be something as
seemingly small as going through your bathroom vanity and throwing out his
shaving cream. (Side note, that feels big. It all feels big).
But it also might be something others perceive as a major decision like selling
your home or quitting your job, and some well-meaning individual will tell you you're doing (fill in the blank) too hastily. Their answer is to
sit tight and lock down. Like removing that final Jenga piece, the rest of your
life could come crashing down the moment you take one step, and none of the
onlookers are prepared to handle that.
Here's how I see it...
Joe's death set off an atom bomb that blew life up into a
million pieces. That bomb left the dust of our former life in its
aftermath. Something completely beyond our control happened. In an
instant, life as I knew it was obliterated. It happened physically,
emotionally, financially, mentally, spiritually, and it all happened without my
consent. There was no choice given in the matter. Joe wasn't given
a choice. I wasn't given a choice. No life change I initiate going forward is going to compare to that...it just won't.
Huge shifts happen in life. Some we assume we're ready
for, maybe even planned, like having a baby. Some happen in a moment and
leave you wondering what the hell happened to your life: your future, your
mind, your sanity... (I suppose also like having a baby😉). Either way, those
shifts can leave your skin crawling with the need to make changes that you initiate, to take some small power back after feeling powerless.
There is a reason new moms chop off their
hair after having a baby, or cancer survivors get a tattoo when they finish chemo, or divorcees sleep around after their divorce. In our most pivotal
moments, when there is a life altering shift, pushing back against that feeling
of powerlessness can be a step towards healing from trauma.
Because here's the kicker...freezing in place after loss, won't protect you from suffering another one. Please read that again.
Five months after Joe died, my dad was diagnosed with cancer,
and I was thrown right back into the depths of being a primary caregiver. No
hunkering down, no holding back, no putting off major decisions would have kept
me safe from that. Life is going to happen, whether we're rested and
ready or not.
If you aren't throwing yourself into financial ruin, or
risking your personal safety, I don't think you need to hold off on change, when you are
ready. Buy the car. Quit your job. Go on a date. Sell your home. Move cross country.
Being bold can be a strategic move to take back a small piece of the power
you've lost, to catapult yourself into something completely new, to remind
yourself that you are still alive. Because, if you're like me, most days you'll
feel lost somewhere between Earth and the Afterlife, stuck in some middle ground between
life and death. Remembering that you're alive won't always be obvious.
I have said it before...you don't have to be an expert in
grief to be an expert in your grief. Don't let anyone
try to put a timeline on your process, or judge it, or comment on it at
all. You have the right to grieve in your own way and in your own time.
And mark my words, if you wait "too long" to make a move, people will also start commenting on that. It's a lose-lose situation.
I must have missed the memo from the elusive
"Department of Socially Acceptable Grieving;" the one that dictates the proper timeline for all this stuff:
I imagine those memos would go something like this...
First Notice: "Your husband just died. Sorry, that must suck. Don't move, don't breathe, don't make any big decisions. Just stay home and don't come out until you're done being sad."
Second Notice - "One year
has passed since your husband's death. Congratulations! You have grieved
sufficiently. You're done! Feel free to commence living. You can
stop being so sad now. Maybe
go on a date."
Third Notice One Week Later: "You
should have received a Second Notice in the mail alerting you to the end of your grieving period. You
are now past the appropriate deadline. Everything happens for a reason. Buck up!"
Yeah....
You can't win. So, to hell with it.
There is no invisible finish line, over which your
grief magically dissipates. There is no one moment that will make you
want to live again. You just wake up, put one foot in front of the other,
breathe in and out, and do your best. Some days your best will be getting
out of bed; other days you will be able to experience real joy and laughter
without the immediate guilt that your person isn't there to experience it with you, and that will be a good day.
Here's to more good days. Go out and grab them!
