Widows Support, Coaching for Widows

I have always felt like a flunky on the dance floor. At my college roommate’s wedding an elderly man (he was probably the age I am now) asked me to dance. I politely said that I did not know how to dance but he insisted that it was simple and all that I needed was to follow his lead.  Ignoring my protests, he grabbed me, leaving me little choice. The next five minutes were horribly awkward and embarrassing. I clung to him for dear life as he shuffled me around the dance floor, flinging me left and then right, trying to get me to twirl. I resisted him mightily and I am sure he had no fun. Served him right.

So when I decided to make a concerted effort to cure my loneliness, dancing lessons seemed a reasonable answer. The way I figured it, dancing lessons would allow me to rest in man’s arms without actually being in a relationship, smell a few pheromones, and breathe in a little testosterone. And perhaps I might learn to dance, and maybe live a little, or whatever it was that I was supposed to be doing when I was really at home watching Fraiser reruns. I was tired of pretending that I had a life and was instead ready to have one.

My worst fears were realized when I walked in and saw that the class was filled with couples. They arrived together and they planned to dance together. Half of them were young, preparing for their wedding dance, and the other half were 50-somethings, preparing for their children’s wedding dance. I was pretty sure that they were not interested in tripping the light fantastic with some 48 year-old widow looking for her life.

Anyway, I would have cut my losses and run except that the teacher had already spotted me, and to leave would have been even more humiliating. Plus, I really did want to learn to dance.

For the next 8-10 weeks, the instructor was my partner, the Female instructor. Every Monday night I dragged my sorry feet to class, and every Monday night I danced with Helen. She called out instructions to the class, made sure they understood, and then took me in her arms, and off we went, dancing the Rumba, the Waltz or the Foxtrot.

Sometimes Helen had the class rotate partners. This was not helpful. I was secretly convinced that she did this just to get me off her hands, and I could tell that the men were not thrilled to let go of their wives and dance with the other female students. We all pretended that we were fine with it however, smiling embarrassed smiles. But the experience was not pleasurable and I would have rather just stuck with Helen. She was a born leader, didn’t grumble when I stepped on her feet, and I didn’t mind her frequent commands, (shoulders down, head back!); at least she talked to me.

One night Helen announced that she had made some phone calls and a man, a single man, was to arrive any moment! I practically vibrated with excitement. A real man. What good fortune. Sure enough, in walked Thomas. Thomas was lovely and gracious and he knew how to dance. He was fun and funny and he had pheromones and testosterone. He even looked into my eyes every now and again. He was the perfect dance partner.

The next week Helen materialized yet another man, an embarrassment of riches. I began to look forward to Monday nights in a way that I had not looked forward to anything since before Mike died. I purchased real dance shoes, I wore flouncy skirts and I put on make-up. There were evenings when I changed my outfit three times before class. I felt feminine. I learned to move my hips in a manner that would have made my Dutch-New England mother faint, may she rest in peace. I smiled a lot. I was happy.

Dancing lessons were the beginning of my waking up.

I believe in dancing lessons.

Mie Elmhirst

Widows Breathe Coaching

Life Coaching for Widows. Call 508-540-4421 for a sample (free) coaching  session.

Love.

Isn’t that what we all want?

Eventually, that is.

Many of my clients at first declare “oh no, never again” when I suggest they think about a relationship. They are very clear that they had it once and that that was enough. And for a long while, it is enough. All of their energy goes in to showing up on a daily basis. Just getting through a day requires enormous effort.

(I was among this group. I announced to anyone who cared to hear, Never Again. I am solidly single and expect to remain that way. But, as my friends will attest, that lasted a very short while as my heart again yearned for closeness.)

So, we grieve and attend to ourselves, our children and our responsibilities, doing the best we can.

But, eventually it is time to pose the question.

So. What do you REALLY want from your life? And sooner or later, we end up talking about relationship.

There really is a small percentage of women who truly have no interest in connecting on a heart level again. They are closed to the possibility of love. It is an honest, clear and valid choice. They fashion fulfilling lives around this choice.

That is not true, however, for most of us. Oh, we may think we don’t want it, but behind those thoughts are beliefs. These beliefs need deconstructing.

For instance.

Sometimes a client will say ‘no’ to relationship because she believes that she had the best marriage and best relationship possible and anybody other than her late husband would  never measure up. This is a belief. Not factual.  The belief is so strong that it closes her to possibility of loving again.

Or, it she will say ‘no’ because her marriage was a disappointment and she does not want to take the risk of a second disappointment. She believes that she could never really have or deserve they kind of relationship she dreams of. This is also a belief. Not a fact.

Or, she is afraid of connecting on a heart level and then losing him. “I never want to feel this bad again so I am not willing to risk.” Fear. Not fact. Again, fear closes us to love.

Or, “I am too old, or I am too heavy, I am damaged goods, I don’t have much money, I have 5 kids”, or “I have too much money, I could never find anyone whose status matched mine”. All fears. Not facts.

Just fill in the bank. I don’t want a heart connection because_________________. And then ask yourself. Belief? Fear? or fact.

It is not that fear isn’t real or that it isn’t legitimate. It is. But if it rules us, preventing us from having the lives we want, it needs to be examined.

I had/have my own collection of fears and beliefs. I had to do the same work all widows need to do – careful deconstruction of my belief systems.

Falling in love and opening my heart not only to the joys of love but also to the possibility of  hurt, was like jumping off of a cliff. I was terrified. Sometimes I still am.

But eventually I had to admit to myself that I wanted deep connection more than I was  afraid of getting it. Hmmm.

What about you?

Call me at 508-540-4421 for a sample coaching session.

Mie Elmhirst

The widows Coach

Surviving Early Widowhood

There is a lot of advice out there for new widows, some useful and some not. Much of it is common sense.

And some of it is counter intuitive.

The most helpful thing anyone said to me was from my coach, who said, “Stop trying to get better, and stop trying to be better.” Stop trying so darn hard.

I was a worker. I still am. At times in my life this really paid off. I worked hard at my education, and I worked hard at making a good safe home. As safe as a home can be when cancer has made an entrance. I worked hard at motherhood.

So I tried to work hard at recovering from the loss of my husband. I tried so hard. But the harder I tried, it seemed the “behinder I got”. It was exhausting.

I was instructed to do the one thing I wanted no part of – to simply be. To let grief have its way with me, to stop fighting, and to stop trying to be a good widow. My job was to “be with my grief” for as long as it needed me to be with it.

The phrase “what we resist persists” was true about me. The more I worked at feeling good the worse I felt. When I stopped working so hard, and was willing to be IN my grief, when I  stopped trying to chase it away, that was when I finally began to get a little relief.

What are you resisting? What do you just need to “be with”? Could you use support?

Blessings, Mie

The Widows Coach

For a sample coaching session call me at 508-540-4421.

Yep – there I was, at the steering thingy, or tiller, or rudder? Anyhow we were getting ready to park the boat. I mean moor it or anchor it or whatever it was that we were doing.

And, it finally happened. Our first fight. On the boat. Our first honest-to-goodness fight. He told me to do something, and I didn’t do it. Yikes.

After it was over, and we had both listened, (at least I think I listened), I said to him “Wasn’t that great? We had our first fight!”

He looked at me like I was from Neptune, rolled his eyes, shook his head.

My man has no idea what a real, fair, argument means to me, an argument where we don’t injure each other, an argument during which we get mad, state our case, talk and listen. As far as I am concerned, it is OK that he doesn’t know. But I know.

This is how it really went.

He was wrong and I was right. (Of course!)

OK, OK, maybe that doesn’t tell the whole story.

We were on the boat and…. for those of who whose husband had a boat, I am sure you already know the story… a man and his boat, and all…

Before we even went on this trip he promised “what ever goes wrong on the boat, I promise right now it is not your fault. No matter what I say when it happens.” Hmmmm.
So you know already he has a certain amount of self-awareness. And he understands that on his boat he is a changed man.

Anyhow something did happen, a mis-communication under during a state of duress, and he got mad…and we had our fight. (I swear you don’t really know a man until his boat breaks down in the middle of the Pacific.) (OK, maybe it was not the middle of the Pacific, maybe it was 30 minutes from shore, but for this landlubber it might as well have been half way to Japan.)

Now deep down, I am a make-love-not-war kind of person. I will do anything to keep the peace. Or at least that used to be me. I didn’t fight when I was married because Mike was trying to stay alive and to argue with him felt like hitting a man when he was down.

This time, however, he is not sick and I am willing. Willing to really get to know someone, even the not-so-fun stuff and I am willing to be seen. Even the icky parts.

So, sometimes, I wish I had done it differently in my marriage…I wish that I had dug in with Mike and fought just a little. I wish that I had been willing to risk more for the sake of intimacy. But I also understand why I didn’t.

I was at Quaker Meeting about six months ago and an elder spoke about her belief that our loved ones continue to mature after they die just like we do here on earth. I would like to think that this is true and that as I grow in understanding and compassion for Mike and I, and our marriage, so does he. I feel, somehow, that this might be true.

It has been almost 9 years and strange as it sounds even to me, I feel even closer to Mike now than I did right after he died, like he might be loving me and cheering me on as I learn the lessons I missed with him.

Mie Elmhirst

The Widows Coach

If you are a widow or widower please call 508-540-4421 for a sample (free) coaching session