Widows Support, Coaching for Widows

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” Albert Camus

Albert Camus died in 1960. His life was not easy. His father died when he was an infant and he was raised in extreme poverty. Camus’s mother was deaf and according to his writings, she was in a state of almost continuous melancholy. Camus himself contracted tuberculosis at age 17.

There lies all of us an “invincible summer”. We have resources we do not know we have until our lives change in such a way that we must find them.

My life, before I was widowed was a good life no matter how you look at it. (Husband, dog, child, fence, job, friends, etc…) I was grateful.

But something else was true also. Since very early childhood, I struggled with a low-to-medium-to-high grade depression. Sometimes it was hardly noticeable, and other times the struggle consumed me. This depression was the result of both growing up in a very disconnected family and genetics. Regardless of the cause, my life was intimately entwined with depression and I came to see it as my cross to bear.

When Mike died I was afraid I would finally be consumed by this relentless affliction; afraid that my 40-year dance with depression would end with me slowly, quietly disappearing into the black vortex. Ironically, at this lowest of times, I found a strength I did not know I had.

Although there were a good many days when I really was worried for myself, I ultimately discovered deep within me that ‘invincible summer’ that that Camus speaks to; a desire to live that was more powerful that the depression that seemed to want me to disappear.

So, the fact that I am a good mother, that I have good friends, a successful business, brothers and sisters who love me and whom I love, and a blossoming intimate relationship, and the fact that I made it through grieving my husband, and that I experience joy on a regular basis, is nothing short of miraculous.

Through the uninvited experience of widowhood, we really do get to see more of who we are. I found out who I really was and as it turns out, I am far more than depression. I rather like who I am. It is nothing that I can take credit for, any more than I can take credit for my brown hair. It is all God given. Our capacity for joy and humor is directly related to our capacity to grieve. The more I let myself grieve, the more I get to experience joy. I am still watchful for depression but it very rarely shows itself. Amazing.

So, do the work of grieving. Cry. Talk. Cry and Talk. Go to the people who can hear you rather than those who want to fix you. You know who they are. And, be willing to look deep into your heart and see the glimmers of your own invincible summer. Even the most hurting widows among us have an invincible summer. I promise.

How is your ‘Invincible Summer’ showing itself in your life?

Warmly, Mie Elmhirst The Widows Coach Help for Widows

For a sample session email mie@widowsbreathe.com or call 508-540-4421

Ouch.

I was on my back for about 3 weeks last month, nursing an inflamed sacroiliac joint. What a pain! Literally. Every turn and twist, every journey to the bathroom (all of 25 painful feet) and every trek to the kitchen elicited mild and not-so-mild expletives. Thankfully, my daughter was in school and the the walls were my only witness.

Of course, lots of time on one’s back allows for insights, welcome or unwelcome. I do wish these marvelous insights would happen when I was licking, say, a large, double chocolate ice cream cone instead of lying supine on an ice pack.

But no, my insights seem to come to me when I have finally over-done something or other (stacking wood, mowing the lawn… talking…) and have no choice but to cry “uncle” and finally settle down to listen to my body’s teachings.

So I listened from my bed, and this is some of what I am heard.

1. Meditation is not simply a misspelling of medication.
2. Pfish food is not a physician recommended treatment for stress.
3. Meditation is not a four letter word. In fact, it could be my ticket to feeling better.
4. The five minutes I spend each morning saying a quick hello to God is NOT meditation and five minutes of ‘thanks’ at night are also not enough quiet time to relax someone like me with a mind that races faster than a speeding bullet.
5. 15 minutes on the treadmill once a month is not exercise. (Its not???)
6. It is time to make friends with spinach, brocolli, and swiss chard.
7. I have been ignoring my bodies warning signs for a long time now, and I have been running from…

OK – here it is…

8. Missing my husband.
9. Yes, even after 8 years, I missed him. Not all of the time, not every day, not even every month. But right then, I missed him.

I didn’t want to miss him. I am seeing (and really liking very, very much) a good man, a man who I know is good for me, a man who agreed to come to San Diego with me if I wanted him to, (and I do!), a man who thinks I am wonderful, and a man who even my mother would love and that is saying a whole lot.

But the funny thing is, the more I let myself engage with my new man, the more I remember Mike.

As I lay in bed, I saw that I had been sprinting a good 500 miles an hour, trying to run from this truth, the fact that I still had a bit of grieving to do.

But wait. Maybe it was not grieving. Maybe it was just remembering?

I used to think that when I met a new love, that one ‘era’ would end and another would begin. But, from my bed, I discovered that it was not that at all. When we are given the opportunity to love again, we still have our old love. It is not ‘one or the other’. Both loves can live in synchrony.
I imagined them sharing ‘man hugs’, you know, when men briefly slam into each other and then quickly jump apart? And then I cried a bit, either about my back pain or about my heart pain. I don’t know which it was, but I do know when I was done, my back seemed to feel better.

So yes, the signals were clear and I have gotten serious about medication – oops – I mean meditation, I have slowed down, attempted to stop running, and I work hard to appreciate the gifts I have been given. The grass is green, the lilacs are in full bloom and filling the neighborhood with lush aromas, Anneke is headed to final exams feeling competent, and I get to explore my old and new love. I feel luckier than I have any right to be, I am sure.

What, wonderful widows, if anything, are you running from?

Blessings, Mie Elmhirst     The Widows Coach
Help for Widows, Support for Widowhood
Life Coach For Widows