Dating And The Overthinker: Not The Best Combo

Isn’t it interesting how the idea of dating seems to send our little widowed brains into overdrive???

Dating earlier in life...I never gave it a second thought.  I never wondered, “Am I ready?  Can I do this?  What do I have to offer?  What if I say something I shouldn’t and the conversation just...stops????”

Back then I just wondered if I should order Miller High Life or if my date had enough cash in his wallet to spring for a Bud Light.

It seems like as we get older and our experiences change, evolve, and sometimes explode...we get more and more worried about entering the dating world.  I mean, I will admit...after I was married, I debated a little more about whether or not I should date.

That was a joke.

Do you think we overthink it?  I know I do...but I am an overthinker by nature.  I overthink about dishwashing detergent I should use.  It was not a stretch for me to overthink about putting myself “out there.” 

There are obvious concerns about dating as a widow.  Now we don’t care as much about having lipstick on our teeth as much as we worry about starting too many sentences with, “So my late husband...” and making our dinner companion uncomfortable.  We’re not quite as concerned about wearing “the good underwear” as we are about bursting into tears when our date orders the same exact dinner our spouse would have.  And...you know you do this too ladies...there is that moment when the appetizer is served and we’re already starting to wonder where this is going to go.

Even non-widowed people do that.  The problem with our situation is that we can now picture the future wedding, house...and then a long, drawn out illness or the phone call that no one ever wants to get.  Because that’s been our previous experience.

Before we were married or committed, we knew the risks that came with dating.  We knew it was possible to get hurt.  We knew there was a possibility that it just wouldn’t work out.  But in that pre-married, pre-widowed world, we knew we had the confidence and stamina to get right back on that horse.

Most of us had no idea that one of those “bad things” that other people talk about quietly to each other at dinner parties would some day become part of our own personal resume.  That not only would that horse buck us off...it would kick us in the gut and step on us as it walked away.

That makes it a little harder to crawl back up there and ride off into the sunset.

It’s weird, isn’t it?  I know that we all have our own experiences tied up with our late spouses.  We all had our ups and downs.  But for a lot of us...it’s not like our spouses left us because of some normal marital issue.  The hurt runs deeper than that.  They died.

It’s like we were cheated on.  Death cheated us out of life.  And then left us no one here to take it out on.

That’s a lot to overthink.

So...what are our biggest fears about dating?  That we won’t be accepted into someone’s life because we’re widowed?  That it won’t work out with the first person we meet?  Or that it will work out and we will be opening ourselves up to being that vulnerable again?

Okay then. 

Let’s look at this from a practical standpoint.  If for some reason you come across someone who finds you less desirable because you’re widowed...do you really want to have anything to do with them anyway?  That’s not you being rejected...it has nothing to with you.  That’s another person being an ass hole.  And you’ll heal.  He’ll probably be that way for the rest of his life.

See ya.

There is a VERY good possibility that it won’t work out with the first person you meet.  There is a good chance that it didn’t work out with the first person you met the first time around.  And then you kept going.  And eventually you hit paydirt.  If you can...think of it as “networking.”  It may not work out with the first guy...but one of his friends could be exactly who you’re looking for.

Ha ha.

And what if it does work out??  I don’t think there is one widow out there who is not scared of going through the same thing they’ve been through before.  It’s a very real fear.  We’re not the same people we were before we were widowed.  We can’t look at the future with the same rose-colored glasses we wore before.  We’re now looking at the world through scratched up glasses we found in the bargain bin at Kmart.  And the view doesn’t look as pretty as it did before.

And guess what?  There’s a good chance that, because we’re all older and have a little more experience under our belts...the other person’s view of the world isn’t as “rosy” as it once was either. 

Widowed or not, anyone who is taking a chance dating later in life is doing exactly that...taking a chance.  Whether or not they admit it...we’re all a little scared.  We’re all scared of the rejection.  We’re all scared of getting hurt.  We’re all scared of really putting who we are out there.

We’re all overthinking.

What I can’t figure out is...why are we all overthinking about the bad stuff??  Let’s try overthinking about this:

A holiday dinner where someone just leans over and squeezes your hand.

A walk when you’re so comfortable you don’t have to say anything.

Sitting in front of the TV together, blissfully watching The Golden Girls (oh...no...wait.  That was “wishful thinking”).

I don’t know about you.  But overthinking about that stuff makes me a little less nervous about taking the next step to getting there.

Relationships: No One Can Push Them Away Like A Widow Can

Someone posted something on the Facebook page the other day and back then I had no idea how “timely” it would be for me.  But now I’m thinking back to that comment with a complete understanding of what she was talking about.

The fear of investing myself in someone else.  And then going through this loss all over again.

After 3 ½ years, believe me...I’ve wrestled with this fear.  And by now I thought I was over it.  But something happened last night to let me know...I’ve still got a ways to go.

Now, I’ve never been afraid of dating.  Some would say that I started early and that’s okay...we all do these things at our own pace.  I’ve learned by now to really not worry about what other people think.  Back then...anything that gave me something to look forward to on a Friday night and just got me through my week was worth any judgment that may have been passed.

I’ve been through different stages of dating.  When my husband first died, I do think I was trying to replace him in a sense.  I hated having that hole in my life.  It wasn’t necessarily that I was afraid of being alone...I just didn’t know how to do it.  I had never done it.  And then loneliness was there, staring me in the face, daring me to do something about it.

The truth is...I’m pretty lucky that I didn’t marry the first guy who came along.  I was definitely in that mindset.  And for me, that would have been a huge mistake.  I still had a lot of things I needed to learn about myself.

Then I went through a phase of just wanting company.  I wasn’t interested in getting married at all.  I didn’t want to be “casual” about it, but a long-term relationship where we met for dinner about twice a week sounded pretty darn good.  The relationship I dreamed about was with a faceless pilot who had an overseas route and was only home a couple of weeks out of the month.

But that seemed impossible to find.

It seemed like most men were either looking for something really casual or to get married within the first few months of dating.  There was really no middle ground.

As everyone says (and I’m not entirely certain of the validity of this claim), I met someone when I was least expecting it.  I met someone who, little did I know, was exactly who I needed, but on paper...was nothing like I was looking for.

This sent me into a new stage of dating in The Widowhood...the TESTING stage.

I had no idea I was doing it at the time, but now I can see that I’m damn lucky that my behavior didn’t just send this person running for the hills.  I would let him in, just enough...and then get completely terrified and push him away as hard as I could.

Now, this, of course, caused arguments and confusion for the both of us.  For me...I had no idea that I was doing it.  And for him...he had no idea why.  I mean, how confusing would it be to have things going really well...only to have the other person just suddenly on a Tuesday morning say, “I’m not sure if this is going to work out.”  To say to someone one minute, “I need you to be here and comfort me now,” only to have him show up and you say, “Wait...I’m not ready.”  To say to someone, “Yes!  I’m completely ready to commit,” and then have an anxiety attack so bad he doesn’t hear from you for a week.

In the battlefield of love...this man has earned his stripes.

It’s taken me a long time and a lot of soul searching to get past this point.  To get to the point where I know that no matter what I do...this person just wants to be with me.  So, now I’m someplace I never thought I would be again.

Completely comfortable in a relationship.

You have no idea what a...well...relief that has been.  And yet terrifying to me at the same time.  I’ve spent the last few years wondering if I would ever be capable of being that open to someone.  I wondered if I would ever be able to invest myself again (not for lack of trying) and know that someone else wanted to be around me...even during the ugly cry.  To come to the realization that I haven’t been holding anything back...this person knows me...the complete me.  And still wants to hang around anyway. 

So this brings me to last night.

Last night I found out that he had a toothache.  A pretty bad one.  He knew he needed to go to the dentist first thing this morning and, at the very least, probably get medicated if not have major dental work done.

After I heard this news, I literally sat up in my bed, worrying about what was getting ready to happen.

Let me ask you this...who else but a widow would get a call from someone about a toothache and 5 minutes later envision that infection running through his body and know, without a doubt, that he would be dead by morning?

In the calm that comes with daylight...I can now recognize how crazy that was.  But in the fearful dark...all I could think was....

He’s never going to make it.

Now, this is a person who actually has a semi-dangerous job.  So any rational person would probably be a little more worried about that and not a toothache.  But my own personal widow experience has had me so afraid of the “every day.”  Because that’s when bad things can happen too.  And when you least expect it.

I know this is because of how my husband died.  I mean...we’re talking about a man who once launched a rocket that had 75 pounds of plutonium on it.  And how did he die?  On his commute to work on a Monday morning when I didn’t see it coming at all.

The truth is...it is a reality.  It could happen.  I could lose all over again.  But I wouldn’t trade any of the time I had with my husband...even if it meant skipping the pain of losing him.  When I think of it that way...why would it make sense for me to shut myself away from possible happiness again...when what I fear may or may not happen?  Where would that leave me?

I know that this is something I will continue to struggle with.  I can’t just make the decision and the fear and anxiety will magically disappear.  It could very well be something I worry about a little for the rest of my life.

But right now I’m just trying to concentrate on what’s here.  In front of me.  Today.

So I guess I should go.  I’ve got to go pick him up at the dentist.


For more blogs and articles from other widow(er) writers, join us at www.theWiddahood.com!  


© Catherine Tidd 2010

Excuse Me? I Wasn't Ready. Can I Get A Restart?

What made me think I could start clean-slated?  The hardest to learn was the least complicated.

                        --The Indigo Girls

Don’t think that I don’t recognize the fact that so many of you are much more advanced in the fine art of grieving than I am.  I’m that kid in the back of the class who urgently raises her hand with an answer when most of the class is thinking, “We already knew that.  Next?”

I know, I know.  I always tell you guys that I’m a work in progress.

It took me forever to grasp the fact that I would always be a widow.  In fact...I still have moments when I think, “Wait...what?” 

For the first few months, I kept thinking, “If I could just make to that year mark, I won’t be widowed anymore!  No one will think of me as widowed!  This loss will not be such a big deal and surely I won’t be as upset as I am now!  People won’t look at me funny and I will be completely back to normal!”

My 31 year old self was in for a huge disappointment.  And since I was, at that time, the only widow I knew, I had no one there saying, “Slow down!  Iceberg ahead!!”

Once I started to understand the concept that this was something that would always be inside me, I was ready to start over.  Start fresh.  Be gone old self!  Replace thyself with a sleeker and more sophisticated model!

I could be perfect.  People would never understand the depths of my perfectness.  I would be studied by people across the world.  I could reinvent myself to become the perfect mom.  The perfect co-worker.  The perfect significant other.

ICEBERG!!!

I’m going to share something with you that I know will shock the hell out of you.

I was not the perfect wife.

No...no...really.  I wasn’t.  I was moody, demanding, and wanted things to be my way.

And guess what?  My husband wasn’t the perfect husband.

Even after he died, I never put him up on a pedestal and thought, “I will never find someone as perfect as he was.”  Because the truth was...he wasn’t perfect.  He was...take a deep breath...

...a guy.

Now, after he passed away and I finally felt ready to date, I spent a good while actually swinging the complete opposite direction from “he was so perfect.”  I was doing my best to start my life over and that meant keeping my memories, but doing my best to erase my own emotional baggage so that I could get down to business and find a life (and a mate) that would make me divinely, and perfectly happy.

I mean, seriously...I’m due, right?

I think in one phase of my life, I actually went so far in the “starting over” direction that I started to think some not so good thoughts about my marriage to my late husband.  All I could think of were the fights we had.  The things we didn’t like to do together.  Every little thing that made us incompatible.

And I became terrified of making the same mistakes all over again.

But here’s something I want you to think about...because I just got it myself.  When you think that way, it paralyzes you just as much as thinking everything about your marriage was perfect.

I went through a long period where every new person I met, I would analyze what was going on more than I can even explain.  I mean, we all know that women tend to “over-think” right?  (There are men reading this right now who are having a good laugh and thinking, “Over-think???  You people are bat-shit crazy!”)  But I was taking it to the extreme.  Every date, every conversation, every little thing about someone, I would wonder, “Was my husband like this?  Did I feel this way on our first date?  Do I like the way he picks out furniture?  Is his car too messy? Hmmm...I don’t think this is going to work.”

When I finally confessed to my therapist that I was doing this, she very calmly told me, “You can’t recreate that relationship.  Good, bad, or otherwise.  You’re not the same person.”

I mean...I can’t make the same decisions now that I made when my husband and I first met.  I’m not a sophmore in college.  I’m a grown woman with kids.  What I’m looking for now is nothing like I was looking for then.  Back then a big requirement for dating someone was if he could sneak me into a bar when I was 19.  My needs have totally changed.

I can get in legally now.

I can’t correct the mistakes that I made with my husband.  And truthfully...they weren’t that big. They were all a part of what we in society call “marriage.”  And I can’t ask someone to correct the mistakes my husband made. 

I mean, if someone new is sitting there watching football, I can’t just throw a hissy fit and yell, “You’ve been ignoring me for years!”

Believe me...that’s a good way to get broken up with in a text.

Part of this journey is figuring out where we are now.  We all know that there are memories we will cherish for a lifetime as well as things we’d rather forget.  That’s true of anyone...widowed or not.  Just as we can’t make our kids live the childhood we wish we had had...we can’t expect someone new to recreate the relationship we might have wished we had had.

We take it all with us.  The bad things we’ve learned from.  The good things we would give anything to have again.  The fights.  The hugs.  The blessings and the opportunities missed.  They’re a part of who we are now.  And we can’t start over.

We can start again.


For more blogs and articles from other widow(er) writers, join us at www.theWiddahood.com!  


© Catherine Tidd 2010

Dating: Why ME?????

I’m going to admit something to you that may sound a little odd, but…when do I not???

The main reason I started dating after my husband died was just to see if I could do it.

I mean, the last time I was “out there” was when I was a freshman in college. Don’t even get me started on the things that had changed since I had been swimming in the dating pool. Now I had to worry about whether or not my date would wonder why I had to take an extra 20 minutes in the bathroom (thank you, Spanx). I had to meet a date in a luxury minivan instead of a cute little beater of a car (although, I did once hear that guys like girls who drive vans. But I think the guy who told me that was envisioning shag carpet and a lava lamp. Not Cheerio crumbs and carseats that would take 2 hours to remove before the party could get started).

And Gravity and I had had a falling out a few years ago when I yelled at her for what she did to me after nursing 3 kids. She can be a real bitch sometimes.

At the time that I started dating, I wasn’t really thinking long-term. I wasn’t thinking that I wanted to get remarried. I wasn’t even thinking about a…let us say…less “shallow” relationship (remember…my mom reads these).

I just wanted to see if this old girl had it in her to get a free drink every once in awhile.

I had no goals when I first started dating, which I actually think was a huge mistake. I hear from a lot of people that they’re unsure of when to start, if they should start, or if they’ll ever start. And the best advice I can give you is…if you think you’d like to start dating…know what you want first and then test the waters. You need ask yourself if you’re looking for something deeper than happy hour…or if you’re more on the “shallow” end.

I did not do that.

I can envision myself now…like Dorothy walking through that scary forest trying to get to the Emerald City, I tip-toed into the world of dating seeking a good conversation and someone who would be at least willing to go dutch. Instead of the Tin Man and Scarecrow by her side, I only had lipstick and a prayer. And instead of meeting up with the Cowardly Lion, I ended up sitting across from a series of finance geeks who never tired of talking about how horrible their ex was/is.

The body hair was about right, though.

By the end of the first year, I was done. No…I mean D-U-N…DONE. Really…once you’ve exhausted the “ex” topic and they’ve asked you enough insensitive questions about your situation…what’s left to talk about? And why are you making me buy my own wine?

This is when I hit a very bitter patch. Why am I doing this???? I am supposed to be happily married, in bed by 9, listening to my husband snore. Not sitting across from some stranger over cheese fries wondering why in the hell anyone would buy a shirt that looks like that.

But, never the quitter, I decided I wouldn’t join the convent just yet. I would just slow down and take my time.

After that, I noticed a pattern that I seemed to develop. I would not date for about a month, get my bearings, and then go out on ONE date. That was good enough for me for about a month. Then I’d get my bearings and go out on another one.

Not only that, but I decided that I would stop dating what seemed like the same guy, over and over again. I would try something new. If I met someone who had a hobby or profession I knew nothing about, I would agree to a date. My hope was that then we wouldn’t be short on conversation.

I once told a friend of mine that I was doing this, and she replied, “Well, it’s nice that you’re now treating your dating life like trading cards. I don’t have one of those so I guess I’ll go out with him.”

I hate to say it…but she was just about right.

The good news is…I loved it. I really didn’t go on any of these dates expecting anything more than conversation about something new and different. I’d got out, meet new people, and usually have a good time. Not only that…it was a good way to steer clear of the landmines that are the “previous relationships.” This meant that there was less of a chance of someone saying to me, “You are soooo lucky you don’t have an ex to deal with!”

I guess what I’m suggesting is…if you’re thinking about venturing into the wide world of dating…don’t take it too seriously. Look at it as the potential to meet someone new. Suggest a restaurant that you’ve never been to before and that way, if it’s a total bust, you’ll at least have tried something different. And…if it’s completely horrible…you’ll walk away with a funny story to tell your friends (nothing entertains my married friends more than when I start off a story with, “You will not believe the guy I went out with the other night!”).

Not every date has to have you thinking, “Could he be the one??” In my opinion, if you get through dinner and ask for the dessert menu, you’re doing pretty good.

And before I wrap this up, there is one more helpful tip that I’d like to leave you with.

If at any point during the date, you start feeling sorry for the other person’s ex-spouse, just walk away. That’s never a good sign.

Life Goes On...Right???

Does anyone else remember the moment when they realized that life was still going to happen even though we thought it had come to a stand-still? I’ve had several moments like that, but I distinctly remember the first time it happened.

Not long after my husband’s death, my best friend called to tell me that she was pregnant. I was so happy for her…over the moon. But after thinking about it for a bit, I realized that my best friend was going to have a baby. A whole new person. And my husband was never going to meet him. My friend’s son might hear stories and “know” him in an abstract way, but he would never be tickled by him. Never hear him laugh. That child would never get to see my husband act like a jackass with his own dad.

Really…he’s going to miss out on a lot.

I can’t tell you what a disturbing feeling that was for me. Actually, it still is a little. And it’s not that I’m so egocentric that I can’t believe the world doesn’t revolve around me and my needs (okay…maybe I am. But I’m working on it). It was just so unbelievable to me that new things would happen…that my husband would never see.

A lot of us have talked about the movie P.S I Love You (which if you haven’t seen it and you’re new to this journey…caution, caution, warning ahead…possible nervous breakdown inducer). One of the most memorable moments in that movie for me was when the widow was sitting in a little rowboat in Ireland with her 2 best friends. One of the friends lets it slip that she’s pregnant and the other blurts out that she’s engaged. I’ll never forget the crestfallen look on the widow’s face the moment she realizes that life was going to go on…even though she thought it had stopped.

At that point, that character kind of retreats from her friends. And her friends mistake that for her being selfish. But I can relate to that feeling. Knowing that life is going to go on for everyone else whether you like it or not is an overwhelming feeling. And having that moment when you realize you better get on the boat or it’s going to leave without you, is a hard thing to wrap your mind around.

It’s actually the little things that really hit me. Songs that I hear on the radio and think, “He never heard this one. I wonder if it would have gotten on his nerves?” He would never see Modern Family. Never get to meet all of the wonderful people I’ve met since he’s been gone.

One of the most confusing times I’ve had with this was when I started dating someone new…who I just knew my husband would like. How weird is that?? To be dating someone and think, “Awww shoot!  My husband will never meet him! They would have loved each other!”

Now that I think about it…the fact that this guy is dating his wife…that introduction probably wouldn’t have gone over so well.

I know everyone goes through this when they’re dealing with loss and no one knows about it until that day comes. And our friends aren’t being insensitive when they get on with their lives…they just don’t know.

But that time will come for everyone. That same friend who had the baby is now dealing with her mother who has terminal cancer. And one of the first things she said to me was, “My son will never really know her.” And I know that she’s starting to go through the motions of realizing that life will go on…whether she's ready for it or not.

I’m just glad that I can be there, cry with her, and say, “I know. I know.”

Be Patient Love...I'm Trying To Make Some Room In Here

I think there’s a misperception, when we start dating, that we have moved on.

Actually, let me start a little further back.

I hate the phrase “moved on.”

Moved on from what? Our lives? Our memories? Can anyone do that?

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to move on. Do I want to have a happy life? Yes. Do I think that it’s possible? Yes. Do I think I can have a happy life and carry the memories (both good and bad) of my husband with me?

Absolutely.

So…I’m sorry for all of those people who have been patiently waiting for me to “move on” these last 3 years. It ain’t happening. Because wherever I’m moving to, my husband’s going right along with me. It’s just annoying that he’s not here to help me pack.

Okay. Back to my original topic. I’m feeling a little ADD today.

Depending on when you start dating, those around you are somewhat happy to see that you’re getting on with things. It makes them uncomfortable for awhile, but then most people start looking at you like you’re normal again. After all, you talking about the latest date you went on is a hell of a lot more normal than you talking about the urn you just bought. And if they haven’t been through a loss themselves, you dating looks like you’re starting from scratch. Like you’re ready to dump that old life and “move on.”

Yeah. Not so much.

I think that it’s the idea of “moving on” that has a lot of us nervous about dating again. We’re worried that if we find someone new, we’ll have to give up the person we loved. That to find love again means that we have to keep the grieving part of us to ourselves and not let a potentially new significant other see how we will carry this with us always. That in order to be ready to love again, we have to give up the relationship we had with our spouse, otherwise someone new might feel threatened.

Lemme ask you this: If you met a widow and you were interested in dating them, wouldn’t it worry you a little if they didn’t ever talk about their deceased spouse? I mean, I’d want someone who is honest with their feelings. I know that’s very girly, but what can I say? If I met someone who never really talked about how much he missed his deceased wife, I’d wonder about what kind of person he is.

And keep in mind…if you’re not honest about it from the beginning, all it takes is one well-timed glass of chardonnay before you start spilling your guts and you really shock the hell out of them.

Well…maybe that’s just me.

We need to stop thinking of the idea of dating as “replacing.” We need to start thinking of it as “adding.” We’re not trying to replace the person who’s gone. We are trying to add another person who can be comfortable with the idea that it is possible for us to love more than one person. We’re trying to find someone who doesn’t mind sharing our heart with someone who’s not here. It’s just up to us to tell our lost spouse to shove over and make a little room.

I like to think of it as a very spiritual 3-way.

(Sorry, Mom.)

There is no way that we can successfully “get rid of” the person we have lost. That would be like asking us to get rid of a part of us. And I hate to tell you this…but that’s just not possible. And it’s not necessary. There are people out there who can understand that just because you still love your spouse, doesn’t mean that you can’t love them.

It just means that they recognize that you are capable of more love than probably anyone else they know.

Those of us who are widowed do have a unique challenge when it comes to dating. It’s up to us to find someone who not only understands our struggle with the memories of who we’ve lost, but welcomes them into the relationship. To find someone who laughs at our happy memories with us. Who hugs us when we’re feeling blue. Who knows that the person we’ve lost, has helped shape us into the person they love.

The bonus is…when we find that person…we know beyond a shadow of a doubt…we’ve got the pick of the litter.

And so do they.



© Catherine Tidd 2010

Dating: It’s Time To Cast Your Line and Come Up With A Keeper

Ooooo, golly. Another dating post. You know you love these. I just can’t help it. We’re all in such different places with this. Some who have moved on. Some who can’t. And some who “move on” several times a week thanks to internet dating and quarter pitchers.

I’m not judging. I’m just stating the facts.

This is directed more towards my friends who feel as though they can’t move on. Now…don’t get me wrong. I understand all of the stages I have listed above. But through all of these support sites, blogs, and what-have-yous, I have “met” some amazing people…who deserve to meet some amazing people. Because…and this is a shot in the dark…since you were married (or in a long-term relationship) before and you didn’t want to be alone then, there’s a big chance you really might not want to be alone now.

Hmmmm….

Don’t you think dating is kind of like standing on a ledge? You sweat, hoping that that bungee cord we call karma is gonna hold? Now, some of us aren’t afraid of heights and we’re ready to take the plunge. Some of us take one look at the view (which looks just fine without the addition of our innards splattered below, thank you very much) and step away. And some of us are standing on the ledge, with the cord on, but need a friendly push from a well-intentioned friend who we may be mad at while we’re swinging but once we’re on firm ground we’ll give them a big ol’ hug.

Push.

I don’t want anyone reading this post to think that I am insensitive to the fact that some people just aren’t ready. I know that and I completely respect it. But sometimes I just think that many people don’t think there are any other good fish in the sea.

So, let’s think of it like this: If you’ve cast your line before…what are the chances you caught the only good fish?

I won’t deny that during the dating process sometimes we just come up with that smelly boot. But every once in awhile, we hook on to a keeper. I understand that some people don’t want to put themselves out there, don’t want to invest themselves anymore. They don’t feel like there is anyone who will understand what they’ve been through and accept them for it. Shoot…I remember thinking, “What if I meet someone and we’re talking and I…start crying???”

Well, given the number of people in the world…what’re the chances of you dating that one person who has led a perfect life?

Being where we are…it’s been hurtful. We’ve all been through transitions with relationships in our lives. Our friendships have changed…how we interact with our families has changed. But I’m betting that most of these changes really haven’t been so bad. Oh sure, the transition from who you thought your friends were to who you really bond with was excruciating.

But now that you’ve been through it…isn’t it better?

You’ve found the people you can most be yourself with. You can let your “freak flag fly” as they say in The Family Stone (I love that movie). And because of that, even if your friendships are fewer, they’re more meaningful. They’re deeper. Those friends who have weathered the storm with you will always be there. Those friends who couldn’t…well…I hope you’ve come to the level of acceptance that that’s their problem, not your’s. And if (heaven forbid) anything catastrophic should happen in their lives, I’m sure they'll think back and realize that they should’ve been more “Oprah” with you and less “Jerry Springer.”

And those new friends you have made…they know who you really are and accept you for all of it. And they love you even though you’re yourself (sorry…there’s laughing in my head right now).

So…what makes you think it would be different in a new romantic (at least, we hope it is at least a few times a week) relationship? Who’s to say that the new you might find something even more meaningful and even deeper than what you had before? Because you’re there…that’s you now.

And if you hook something you don’t want…throw it back and cast again.

I hear so many people say that what they had was perfect. That they lost their soulmates and that they will never find that again. And you know what? I’m not going to argue with that. If that’s the relationship you had, you’re right. That’s rare. But it was rare before you found it. And you still found it.

Here’s a thought.

If that person was your soulmate then and now you’re a different person (I think most of us have agreed on that)…who’s to say you won’t find the soulmate for the person you’ve become?

I think that’s the closest to Algebra I’ve ever come in my adult life. I’ll let you digest that one for a minute.

The truth is, I’ve changed so much that even if my husband met me NOW I don’t know if he’d even ask me out. I’m more independent. I’m more direct. And my sense of humor has taken a downward turn into the land of Sick and Wrong.

So…if I’m different…why would I expect to find the same relationship? Shouldn’t I expect to find someone who can handle the “new” me? Why would I want to find the exact same man, who was perfect for who I was, but may not fit the person I’ve become? And couldn’t that person just be floating out there…waiting for a hook?

Waiting…for me.


© Catherine Tidd 2010

Who Knew the Monster Lurking in the Closet Was…Love?

There’s a fear that lies deep in the heart of every widow. It’s not something we talk about a lot. Most of us probably don’t even realize how scared of it we are, but if you can show me one widow who’s not afraid of it, I’ll buy you the winning lottery ticket. Are you ready? Deep breath….

We don’t want to do this again.

I would imagine that most of us, at some point or another, have had a fear of dating. Some widows got over it early and some will never get over it. We talk about how we know we’ll never replace the person who is gone, we don’t have the energy to get out there, and, frankly, how we’re just worried about all the nutjobs that are in the world and would rather not sit down and have a beer with one.

But we don’t often talk about how scared we are of going through a loss again.

One of the hardest parts about losing your spouse is realizing how fragile life is. And that just because something like this has happened once, doesn’t mean it won’t happen again. I often wish, if the universe were a fair place, that once you hit your quota of bad luck, it wouldn’t happen to you anymore. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Not that it would have made losing my husband any easier, but in the end, I could have at least taken a deep breath and thought, “Whew, got that over with.”

But life doesn’t work that way.

Now I’m worried that it’s possible to earn the nickname “Black Widow” before I turn 40. I already can’t stand the idea of chin waxing and I can’t figure out the mysterious popping noise coming out of my right knee. I don’t need another dead spouse.

I’ll never forget talking to a friend of mine a couple of years after my husband died. What started out as a normal conversation about the new house she had rented, slowly turned into her verbalizing a nightmare I’d had since taking the plunge into the dating world.

“Yeah, our landlord lived in this house until her husband died. Then she started dating her neighbor, married him, moved into his house, and then he died. But she just decided to stay over there and rent this house out.”

You may insert your own expletive here.

It takes a lot of guts to get out there and take this risk all over again. And kind of like divorcees…it’s learning to trust again. But it’s not a matter of trusting someone else. It’s being able to trust fate not to send you up you-know-what creek without a paddle again. ‘Cause this time your boat’s a little leaky.

I mean…can you imagine? What if something happens and you’re at the hospital with you second spouse as a doctor is trying to explain what’s going on? Do you just put your hand up in his face and say, “Yeah. I’ve seen this before. You can go about your business”?

You would think they would at least give you a punch card or something at that point.

Now, I didn’t mean to write this to promote this insecurity that we all have. And I certainly didn’t mean to make light of it. This is a real fear. And I’m just as worried about it as any of you. Humor is just my defense mechanism and the only way I can keep myself from going completely around the bend. I think.

Guess we’ll see.

But what I hear from most widows is that the times we had with our spouses were the best times in our lives. We wouldn’t trade them for anything. All of the pain and sadness we have been through cannot equal the amazing experiences we've had.

You cannot love without taking a risk. But if you had shut yourself into a box years ago, you would have never met the person who gave you all of those great times in the first place. I know that getting back out there, after losing someone, is a huge risk. But what if…what if…those good times are not gone? After all, marriage was a 50/50 deal so that means we had to be at least half of the good times. What if we could get to the point, look past the fear, and know that the other half just might be out there again?

We are all people who are capable of great love. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t have lost so much. It’s there. It’s in us. Those people who have decided not to take the risk again…that’s okay. But it’s not because you can’t. You’ve already proven once that you can. We are all in different stages of getting past that fear and, honestly, we’ll probably be working through that for the rest of our lives.

For me, I’m just trying not to take it personally that one guy I know uses the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” as his ring tone when I call.

For more blogs and articles from other widow(er) writers, join us at www.theWiddahood.com!  


© Catherine Tidd 2010

Understanding the Widow Mind. Yeah. Even We Don't Get It.

I posted this question on the Widow Chick Facebook page and after I did, it got me to thinking. I love it when I do that to myself!

The question was, “Do you ever run into times when it seems like other WIDOWS don’t understand you?” And after I thought about for awhile, I realized yes. Yes I have. Actually a lot.

I think a lot of times we assume, since we have all had this experience, that anyone who has shared it automatically knows what we have been through. But when you really think about it…that’s pretty unrealistic. Even though we have all experienced loss, there is no way we have all gone through it the same way. It would be like assuming that even though you have a license, you automatically know how to parallel park my semi.

I remember attending my first young widows support group a few months after my husband died and getting a glimpse as to how we all go through this differently. I will admit, since the loss was pretty fresh at the time, I was kind of surprised that I wasn’t able to walk into this group and that everyone there would completely understand how I felt.

It’s kind of like, the bones are there, but when you really dig deep, you start to see where the similarities end.

An obvious difference I think we have is when it comes to dating and the right time to date. One of the first people I met in that group had lost her husband years earlier and hadn’t even considered dating. Another went on a date a few months after her spouse died. You could just see the wordless exchange between those two people. One thinking, “You’re going to date? Is he even cold yet?” And the other one thinking, “You haven’t gotten any in five years??”

Then there’s the financial differences. When one person has been fiscally devastated by this loss and the other finds herself in the awkward position of being set up for life. The one who’s a little better off can’t quite understand why the other one can’t take a weekend at a hotel to get her head together and the one who sweats every time she looks at her bank balance can’t understand why the other one’s toes look so great all of the time.

And…ah yes. The biggie. The whopper.

The ones who have kids and the ones who don’t.

I don’t think anything divides a widow group more than kids. Actually…that’s probably true of most social situations. Because those of us who have kids, can’t help but link everything back to them. We really shouldn’t be blamed for it. I mean, they’re our joys, our whole world, and the reason we’ll end up in assisted living before the people who don’t have kids. But I often put myself in the shoes of someone who doesn’t have children. We have to be an annoying bunch.

Sooner or later the crowd at Happy Hour gets divided down the bar. With those of us sweating out how we are going to get through this experience without raising potential pyro-klepto-maniacs and those who are either disappointed that they weren’t able to have kids before their spouse died or happily decided that that option just wasn’t for them.

Either way…it’s a big difference.

I think what we all share is a general understanding. But to tap into a widow who completely understands everything you’ve done based on your own timeline and thinks, “Wow! I’ve done the exact same thing” …that’s a pretty rare find.

What it should do, after awhile and a little distance from our own loss, is give us an extra dose of compassion. We may not understand why she’s allowing her mother-in-law to live with her, years after her spouse died, but that’s based on our own relationship with our mother-in-law. We may not get why someone decided to bury ashes right away when we can’t imagine taking them off the mantel, but that’s a very personal decision. We can’t figure out why someone wouldn’t move from a house that is so completely wrong for them and this new life that’s been handed to them, but we may not have all the facts as to why they’ve decided to do that.

Losing a spouse, or just loss in general, is personal and charged with emotions and strong feelings. Most of us spend entire days just pent up with the tornado of feelings we have inside of us. It would be wrong if those emotions turned into intolerance just because we don’t 100% get why other widows are making the decisions they are. And just remember…if you completely lose it on another widow…well…you can’t pull the widow card on another widow. So you better watch it if you want to get invited back to Happy Hour.

Personally, I would direct them at my mother-in-law if she lived with me. But…again…that’s my decision.


© Catherine Tidd 2010

Love: It's Out There...But Are YOU?

Whether you’re widowed or not, love is a tricky business. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never been married, been messily married, or have gotten involuntarily unmarried (I think that’s a better term than “widowed,” don’t you?).

The big question is…do we ever know when it’s the right time to fall in love?

Now, I personally think falling in love is like having a baby…there is no right time. You can wait until your career takes off. You can wait until you feel like you’ve finally sown your last oat. You can wait until that hideous color you died your hair last month finally washes out.

But Mr. Right could still come along while you’re working at Burger King, regretting your “oat” from the night before, and he just might find those purple streaks in your hair endearing.

The point is, you never know.

I hear a lot of people ask the question, “Is it possible for you to love someone else before you learn to love yourself?” But I think that question is more complicated than it seems. Because to truly love yourself, you have to know yourself. And that’s where we run into problems.

I think it’s a very rare thing for people to be able to really look at themselves, with all of their problems and quirks and really love themselves for who they are. How many people do you know just sit around saying with a sigh, “I just love that nail-biting problem I have. I think it makes me so cute.”

For those of us who are widowed, or even those of us who have found and lost love, it’s a time consuming task to figure out who we are. I think a lot of us know who we were. But a lot has changed since some of us said “I do” for the first time.

I’m not the same person I was before my husband died. In the last three years I’ve dealt with loss, raising children, and running a family all on my own. I’ve figured out that I’m moody. I’ve figured out that even though 95% of the time I like to be around people, sometimes I like being alone. I’ve figured out that, when I’m caught between a rock and hard place, I have the ability to dig my way out.

Three years ago, I didn’t know that.

I feel like I’ve been on a journey of self discovery that I didn’t sign up for but has not necessarily been a bad thing. And, ultimately, these discoveries will make me a better partner for someone. And until that someone comes along, they just make me a better person.

I think a lot of us widows go through a time when we worry that we may not find anyone else. If you’ve made it through this transition knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you will be able to meet Mr. Right, Round II then I applaud you. Because most of us wonder if it’s possible to get struck by lightening twice in one life. And some of us wonder if we have the courage to get out there in the storm.

We wonder if we have what it takes to date, to meet a stranger, to invest ourselves again. And some of us wonder, after life has dealt us such a crippling blow, if we will ever make a good partner for someone else. We are plagued with self doubt and insecurities brought about by the past and lose confidence in what we might bring to the table in the future.

But I think that we’re looking at it backwards. We sit around and wonder who would want to take us on. We wonder who would want to date someone with kids and enough baggage to sink a ship. We wonder who would want to supplement the three pedicure a week habit we sometimes have when things get rough (okay…I know that just applies to me, but you get my point).

In reality we should looking at it in a different way. Who is lucky enough to enter our lives and be a part of a great family? Who is fortunate enough to meet us, people who know what love is and how to work on a relationship even through the toughest times? Who wouldn’t appreciate a woman with stunning toes?

We should look at ourselves as people who really know who we are and what we want. What we are and our experiences are a gift to someone else. And instead of saying, “I’ve been in love before, it will never happen a second time,” we should know that because we recognized love when we saw it and were willing to take the risk before, there’s a very good chance it will happen again.

We just have to have enough courage to get out into the rain.

For more blogs and articles from other widow(er) writers, join us at www.theWiddahood.com!  

© Catherine Tidd 2010

All the Single Ladies...Do We WANT To Put A Ring On It?

Ahhh…dating. Sooner or later this becomes every widow’s favorite topic with other widows. And there is a very good reason for this: Because we feel like it’s unacceptable to talk about it outside of the herd.

But I can guarantee you that, for most widows, it’s one of the first things we think about after our husbands die. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s human nature to wonder what comes next. And for those of us who suddenly find ourselves involuntarily single, we want to know: Am I supposed to start dating? When is it too soon to start dating? What will people say if I start dating? What will they say if I don’t?

It’s very natural to find a mate, settle down, and have kids in our twenties. That’s why hormones were invented and why birth control is not 100% effective. I often say that I miss the stupidity of my twenties when I really didn’t know what marriage meant. I just thought it would be fun to use one of those price guns at Target. I really didn’t think the whole thing through and it didn’t occur to me that by marrying my husband when I turned 20, there was a good chance that I would be with him for 70 years.

But fate is a tricky bitch and things didn’t quite turn out that way.

Now, in my 30s and having taken the vows once before, I know full well what it means to be married and smell the same gas, watch the same do-it-yourself shows, and wake up to the same morning breath (which means that he didn’t get up with the kids so that you could sleep in) every day for the rest of my life. So, forgive me if I pause before making that leap once again.

And dating isn’t as easy as it was in my twenties. I know I’m hitting the age where 49% of all the males I know will start to get divorced thereby flooding the market, but it’s still no picnic. They all come with kids, mortgages, and potentially crazy in-laws to deal with.

Now, funny enough to the male population, I seem to come with more baggage than they do. I’ve never quite understood that. Sure, I’m dealing with a loss, but I think widows and divorcees are pretty much tied in the bitterness and “it’s not fair” department. Believe me, it’s just as hard for me to accept you with your 3 children from 3 different wives as it is you to deal with me and my deceased husband. Let it go.

And now that I’m older, I’m pickier. I mean, in my twenties I was looking for a nice rear and a decent car. Now I’m grilling my potential dates on their benefits packages and the state of their health. ‘Cause let’s face it…I don’t want to lose another one.

And finally and most importantly…after you’ve been single for awhile and you start to understand that you can handle most things on your own, you start asking yourself, “Do I want to get married again?”

Don’t get me wrong. Marriage is great. But once you get used to sleeping right smack in the middle of your bed with no one to poke because he’s snoring so loud, it’s hard to go back. It would be nice to have someone to bounce the big decisions off of, but on the flip side, you don’t have to ask anyone their opinion on anything. You don’t have to shave. You don’t have to wonder when he’s going to notice that huge-ass dent in your car. If you gain 500 lbs. no one else is going to be irritated about that other than you.

Now, I know this sounds cynical and I really don’t mean for it to. But for those of us who got married in our twenties and had only the slightest taste of independence…well, that’s pretty hard to give up now. And the problem is that we’d be giving it up to start all over again. I mean, it took me 11 years to mold my husband into the man I knew he would want to be. And now, when I go out on a date, I can say within the first 20 minutes, “Nope. I don’t have the energy to train that one.” And then I go home and flop myself right smack in the middle of my bed with hairy legs and a box of chocolate.

Hey…it’s not perfect. But in my experience, Russell Stover has never snored.


For more blogs and articles from other widow(er) writers, join us at www.theWiddahood.com!  


© Catherine Tidd 2010