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

The Uselessness of Emotional Clutter

I have come to a very annoying realization. After 3 years of widowhood, my house is still filled with crap that I don’t know how to use.

I realized this when I was walking into my garage and I spied a horseshoe set. Now, this was not my deal. I’ve played it a handful of times in my life, but I never set it up. That was my husband’s job. I don’t know how far the stakes are supposed to be set apart. How to get them in the ground so they don’t fall over on the very small chance I should happen to get a horseshoe even close to them. I don’t even know if I really know how to play. And if there is a possibility of throwing a horseshoe like a girl…well…I just hope my neighbors aren’t watching.

Those people should just wait for me to mow my lawn if they really want some entertainment.

That little game caused me to stop, take a look around my garage, and really check out all of the things I have taking up room that I wouldn’t even know how to plug in, much less turn on and use.

My husband was a handy guy. And, actually, I have gone through and cleaned out my garage about 3 different times, hoping to create some space. I’ve had friends of his come over and really help me weed out what they think I will never be able to figure out and what I could maybe use some day. Or hire someone to maybe use.

But I still have a lot of crap in there that, should I meet Mr. Right, will impress the hell out of anyone who braves my garage. I mean, what guy wouldn’t want a woman who owned a chainsaw? I just hope he never actually asks me how to use it. That would be an abrupt end to any fantasy he might have of me, standing in a bikini with safety glasses on.

Actually, if he ever saw me in a bikini that would pretty much end the fantasy right there.

I’ve got an air compressor that takes up a fair amount of space and should probably be my requirement for finding Mr. Right. On a first date, I should just come out and ask, “So…what do you know about blowing out your own sprinklers?”

And if he replies, “Oh, I could do it. If I had an air compressor” then I would know that this guy has possibilities.

I have power tools and non-power tools. I have a welding helmet and I pipe-bender, should I ever run into a pipe-bending emergency. I have manly remote controlled toys that cruelly tease my children every time they go in there to dig out their scooters. I have one of those tandem bike things that can hook on to the back of a big bike so that a little kid could pedal right behind me.

Only problem is, I also have horrible balance, so my 4 year old would probably be better off just trying to ride a 2-wheeler on her own, rather than have a large person attached who would completely throw her off.

Is this symbolic? The junk I have in my garage? Is this all a bunch of stuff that I’m scared to get rid of, but is just taking up space? Do I have an air compressor and a shelf full of power tools within me, taking up room and not doing me any good?

It’s quite possible. But what I can’t figure out is…unlike the stuff in my garage, I can’t get rid of it as easily. I can’t stick a sign on the corner, pointing to my house, that says, “Guilt and confusion for sale! Buy one get one half off on occasional useless feelings of anger! Sadness is free!”

In reality, I can recognize what I’ve got going on is emotional clutter. And if that’s taking up so much room, there’s not enough space to fit in something else. If I got rid of the air compressor, would I be able to get something that I could actually use? If I got rid of the anger, would it create space for something better?

Just like my emotions, there are some tools I can’t get rid of. I mean, a set of screwdrivers is kind of a necessity. And just like my tools, there are some emotions that are here to stay. It would be unrealistic to think that I could get rid of all of the sadness.

But I’m about ready to have a fire sale on the rest of it. Time to make some room.


© Catherine Tidd 2010