For so long my life was bound to someone else. When I married, I vowed to love another “in sickness and in health”. What they don’t tell you (and I hope you never have to know) is how that vow can consume you and make you lose yourself. How, sometimes, the focus of your life is shaped and changed by circumstances beyond your control. How love is sometimes so strong that you don’t even realize that you are somehow slipping away. This is not to say you will regret your past, just that it’s a journey to find yourself again.
I’ve learned a lot this past year.
I’ve learned that losing someone you love doesn’t mean you lost yourself. I didn’t realize that right away, it took some time. At first, a huge part of my being was missing. A hole the size of a grapefruit was where my heart used to be and it was a struggle to move on. Getting out of bed was an effort comparable to running a marathon. I grew adept at hiding my feelings and showing everyone how “strong” I was.
I learned what being strong really means. It means leaning on the people who love you and asking for help when it’s needed. Strength is something you feel within yourself and not something anyone can give you or even define for you. It’s the confidence to say “not today, I need to be alone” or “can you please come have some wine with me? I need company” and knowing when you need each one. It’s knowing who and what you want to be, even if you aren’t sure how to get there.
I’ve learned that it’s okay to change your mind. If you choose a path and it doesn’t work out, it’s okay to change direction and head another way. You don’t have to explain yourself or make excuses, just being you should be enough. Which is easier said than done. We all want to be accepted, and changing paths can feel like we are letting others down. I’ve learned not letting myself down needs to come first.
I learned that being alone is okay. Crying is okay. Feeling is okay. None of this means loneliness. It means you’re grieving and healing and it is a process. There are no timelines and no rules, and you do not have to apologize, ever. You can’t predict or control grief, it can and will hit you whenever it feels like it. People won’t always understand that and if they don’t, I’ve learned they are the lucky ones and to just forgive them. It is also okay to be happy. This doesn’t mean you didn’t love the one you lost. It means they added valuable memories to your history and enabled you to move forward with the knowledge that you were loved. People always say, “they’d want you to be happy”. I’ve learned this is true.
More than anything, I’ve learned how truly important family and friends are to my happiness. Not just the support, which is critical, but the connections, the laughter, the love, the comfort in the silences. I’ve accepted the fact that not everyone will be my friend. There are choices I need to make about my personal joy. If a relationship doesn’t hold joy or further my journey in some way, I may need to let it go. New friendships will be formed, and I may find them in the oddest of places; old friendships may wither and die as I forge a new future, a future different than ever imagined. I’ve learned the meaning of true friendship from those that have stood by my side, watched my cry, watched me laugh and held my hand the entire time without judgment.
It may not seem like much, but I have learned a lot in the past year.
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