Widows Support, Coaching for Widows

This morning a friend of mine, who is also a widow, told me no matter what happened in her life, even if she got married to her new boyfriend, she would always be a widow. “I have a pretty good life, I love my boyfriend, but Frank (late husband) will always be my first love, my true love, my best love, my soul mate. I will love him forever.”

At first glimpse this sounds romantic and loyal, right??? After all, she is probably correct. Once a widow, always a widow.

Technically speaking I am sure that this very definitive statement, for her, is true. However, these claims uttered in love, respect and yearning for our lost husbands conspire to keep us alone and lonely. The more earnestly we insist that what we had was irreplaceable and un-top-able, the deeper we dig ourselves into a hole of loneliness and aloneness. The more stringently we hold on to the belief that we could never again be as happy as we were, the less of a chance at happiness we have.
I have yet to meet even one widow who would not like to love and be loved. Who doesn’t want to be held, to laugh with someone, to cry with someone, or to build a life with a new love? Yes, you might be scared, and yes, it may be too early, or yes, if you are very, very old it might be too late, but we ALL want love.

And when we (widows) use words such as always and never, we decrease our chances of finding new love. We close the door on possibility.
If it is true that my husband Mike was “one of a kind”, meaning he was the best that there was/is, then is it true that I will now have to settle for second best? Who wants that? Not me, that is for sure.

If it is true that “I could never have what I had with him” then am I saying that any relationship I might have in the future will never measure up?
If the “really good men are all taken”, well, why bother trying? Why even date for fun?

When I make such proclamations I limit God. (Spirit of the Universe, Higher power, etc). With such statements, I decide what is and isn’t possible, instead of leaving it to a greater power than I. With such statements, I am letting you know that I believe that what I had was as good as it gets and I should expect only less than that in the future.
I am not suggesting that you and I did not have a gem of a man. We did. We all did. Seriously, when I was first married I was surprised that hordes of women were not banging down my door, trying to get my man. (Ah yes, young and naive.) During our marriage I cultivated appreciation for this very good man. I loved, admired and respected him.

But do you mean to tell me that God (Spirit of the Universe, Higher Power) only makes a finite number of good men? And once you have had one chance at happiness you don’t get to have a 2nd chance? Does this really make sense?
What kind of a God is that? I would have a very hard time praying to a God that parceled out happiness that way.

The Universe is generous to those who are willing to receive. Getting ourselves to that place where although we may still be a widow in name, we are also open to courageous and abundant living, willing to receive; that is the challenge for all of us. It is not as easy as it sounds. How about you? Are you ready?

Please visit www.widowsbreathe.com or click on ‘contact’ for more information about one-on-one coaching.

Mie Elmhirst, The Widow’s Coach

Early widowhood was really the first time in my life that I gave myself permission to just let it all hang out, to stop worrying about what everyone else thought.

I gave myself permission for two reasons; the first was that even if I hadn’t given myself permission I would have blubbered all over the place anyway, so why not just make it OK.

The second reason was that I knew deep inside, if I tried to hold in my tears to prevent either others or myself from feeling bad, the opposite would happen. I would feel worse. Healing cannot be sped up but it most assuredly can be slowed. And this was one experience I did not want to slow.

So, I cried and I cried and I cried. I thought I would never stop. I cried at the grocery store, the lumber store, and the dog groomer, with my neighbors, my daughters principal, and the dishwasher fix-it man. I cried everywhere and with anyone. There were many days when I applied and re-applied my make up at least five times before lunch. Eventually, I just gave up and looked bad.
Who cared?

My coach assured me that every tear I shed was one less tear I would need to shed in the future so I welcomed them all.  My tears gave my daughter Anneke permission to do the same. She was seven years old, so her grieving was done in short, 2-3 minute segments, but grieve she did. The second reason was that I knew deep inside, if I tried to hold in my tears to prevent either others or myself from feeling bad, the opposite would happen. I would feel worse. Healing cannot be sped up but it most assuredly can be slowed. And this was one experience I did not want to slow.

One day, her best friend Timmy followed her into the house right after I had had my 10:00 AM melt down. He looked at me, horrified, as I lay flopped on the couch, in my nightgown, eyes read and swollen, copious amounts of snot coming out of my nose; at least 20 used Kleenex at my feet. Yes, grief is messy. Messy in every way.

Anneke, having seen much worse from me, said to her young friend, “Oh, don’t worry, that’s just my mom crying about my Dad. Wanna make a tent under the table?”

I mean really. What’s not to love? Anneke did her grieving in the early evenings, in my arms, when she was secure in the fact that I could be present to her tears, not lost in mine.

I was sure, in the very beginning, that someone/something must have invented the 10:00 PM – 2:00 AM hours as a special torture for new widows. I was my most hopeless late at night and I prayed for early mornings and a coffee machine that worked. Caffeine, (only one cup but I drank it in minutes like a full-blown addict) helped me forget the terrors of the night before and look on the new day with less fear, forgetting momentarily that 10:00 PM would come again, as it did every night. The daytime hours were not easy either but Anneke, my work, meditation (and Oprah!) gave me enough structure to make it through one day at a time until eventually I could see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel and realize that joy was again going to be a daily companion.

If you are a new widow, keep in mind that it ALL PASSES. Eventually you will feel better.

Please visit www.widowsbreathe.com or click on ‘contact’ for more information about one-on-one coaching.

Mie Elmhirst, The Widow’s Coach