Dear Mitch,

 

I know you are probably looking down at me wondering “what he hell are you DOING?” OR “Don’t! Not him! He’s a moron!”

Don’t worry. I’m not.

Not with him, or with him.

It’s okay. You remember, I like guy friends. I always had more male friends than female friends, growing up.

I think I have an equal amount of guy/girl friends, now.

But I do like dating. I like meeting all the new people, which is weird, but not too weird, since you know me.

I miss you, tremendously. I have this empty spot in my bed, that only you could fill. I prefer not sleeping next to someone, even if we have sex. I send them home, or to the couch. No, I’m not whoring it up. I just have sex every now and then with one guy.

You’re probably laughing at me, or wondering what the fuck is happening in my head because he’s so much younger. But, you also know, I have always said “If he’s old enough to buy me a drink… Legally… then he’s old enough for me!” Of course, back then, I was referring to the celebrities on TV (cough cough Zac Efron cough cough). haha!

I miss talking about the hot guys on TV and having your unnecessary, jealous stare. It was so funny. You would get so offended about the celebrities I would never meet. I would do it on purpose, just to get a rise out of you. Why? Because I LOVED that you were jealous. Your slight jealousy was comforting. I knew I’d never lose you. At least not to another woman.

I appreciate you. I appreciate all of the patience you held when I was freaking out, right after we got married. When I got “cold feet” post wedding vows. When “forever” sounded like a life sentence. You were there, but not all over me. You allowed me the space I needed, to clear my mind and really figure out who I was, and what I wanted.

Can you even believe that I thought I was a lesbian? I still laugh at that! I was REALLY freaking out about being married. Then, I reminded myself, it was you. YOU. The best of the best. No one other human on this planet could handle me. Not like you did. You spoiled me, in so many ways. Not materialistically, either.

You spoiled me with love. You showed me that good men DO exist, and let me tell you, I can spot them. You spoiled me by doing for me. After a long day at work, you made me mixed, fruity drinks, and ran me a bath with epsom salt. Not because you were trying to get in my pants, but because you loved me. You wanted me to be happy and felt that I deserved to relax.

Oh, remember when we gave each-other massages? That was so long ago. Like in our early 20s! haha! it got to a point where you would give me a massage first, then I would fall asleep and never give one back. Big mistake on my part, because you finally quit giving me massages, and I developed carpal tunnel.

Remember the Christmas 2003, when we decided it would be funny to tell everyone that we were having a baby? hahahahaha!! Oh man! That was so hilarious. Then, in January, we were pregnant. Easy as that. We found out March 3rd, but, still. It happened so fast.

I remember the conversation we had. We were on I35 in 75th street exit. It was Christmas, 2003. We decided we were strong enough, together, to handle ANYTHING. We decided to stop PREVENTING pregnancy.

Oh man. It happened so fast. We had the most perfect little baby. Oh,  I bet you’re freaking out, when you see her, now. I do have to say, at least she’s covered! She has a mouth like her mother, and the wit of her father. She will go far in life.

I am so glad you were able to stick around long enough for her to know, and remember how amazing you were. I am so glad that I won the bet that got me a baby before I turned 22 (actually 18 days after my 22nd birthday, but who’s counting?) If you won that bet, I would have been a widowed mom to a 4 year old! It goes to show that my belief in “everything happens for a reason” is real. I needed to have a preteen. I needed a well rounded kiddo. I needed a kid who understands far beyond her years. And that’s what we had. We had the perfect-for-us child. Weren’t we lucky? Aren’t I lucky, in that way?

Everyone always says, “I’m so sorry for you!”

I bite my tongue, because I want to ask why. “Why are you sorry that I was able to spend all that time with the most amazing man on earth?” I got 16.5 years with you! That was half your lifetime!

There are so many women who don’t have the luxury I have, of saying, “I found my perfect match. My perfect love. Someone who loved me unconditionally.” I have that! I had that. I was able to feel that. I was able to live that. I was so fucking lucky!

It’s so weird to say that, though. People are always so good at twisting words to make things sound bad.

I was so fucking lucky in the way that I met you, had you, loved and was loved by you.

I was unlucky that you died.

But the beauty is that I was able to know you. I was able to have and to hold you.

You taught me how a man should treat a woman. Hell, you taught Meg how a woman deserved to be treated.

Amazing.

You will forever live in my mind and heart, and the hearts of so many who knew you, as amazing.

Ah

Maze

Ing!

My inspiration to be a better human.

My everything.

I miss you.

I am so glad that I had the opportunity to be graced with your presence.

I am so happy that I had the ability to be loved and spoiled by you.

Thank you.

Thank you for teaching me.

When you died, I thought I was done. I would never get to a point in my life where I could allow feelings for anyone again. It isn’t worth it, I would think to myself. I was mentally crippled by the loss of your presence in my life.

My mind said “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING??? How do I DO this?” I also had thoughts along the lines of “no one will want me.” But I didn’t care. I bought baggy clothes and hid my body so no-one would even WANT to look.

Those thoughts are pointless.

More importantly, I want you to know, that I hope you are proud of who I am, who I have become. I hope you are proud of my strength and ability to find happiness in such an awful experience.

There are days when I wake up in the morning, and really try to wrap my mind around the fact that you’re no longer here.

Every time I have that thought, my entire body reacts. It’s like I KNOW it is true, but my mind and my soul still refuse to believe.

That’s the impact you’ve left in my life.

With that, I must go to bed.

I will love you always.

I will forever cherish the memories we shared.

You will forever be in my mind and heart.

Love you always,

Ms. Tabbie Wood

 

 

 

 

Somebody That I Used To Know.

Just a little over a year ago, I went on my “first first date in 17 years”. Poor guy. He met me when I was clueless.

Anyway, what made me think about him? Well, I was planning on taking Meg to see a movie tonight, but, the restaurant was too far from the theater to make it to that particular theater in time.

So, I had Meg look up Cinetopia showings. There was one for 6:45! We were excited! We hightailed it to Cinetopia and stood in line, only to be informed that only front row was available. 🤦🏼‍♀️

I said “No thank you,” and we left. I was driving down the road, planning to take side streets all the way home, because there is a grocery store (I need coffee) on my way home, that way.

I look left and see B&B theaters. I maneuvered my car into the correct turning lane, and pulled into the parking lot. We hopped out, checked and saw there was a showing for 8pm.

SCORE!

Meg used the bathroom after we purchased our tickets. She was dying to go to Party City, so, I told her we could walk over.

I walked through the parking lot, toward 135th street, and see the place were first first date guy had told me he worked. I mean, I knew he worked/owned/operated that place, but didn’t realize it was RIGHT there.

Anyway. So, that is basically what stimulated my brain, for this blog.

Do you ever wonder if people have moments where *poof* you’re on their mind? Do you wonder what they think, if you are on their mind? I wonder that sometimes. Like, “I wonder if that guy even remembers me.” I mean, How could he not? I looked crazy “EXTRA”! Ha!

Seriously, though, it’s something I’ve noticed myself thinking about sometimes. Not just that guy. That guy was because of where Meg and I ended up, today. But many people I’ve met, on my journey, I think about, and wonder how I left them. What impression did I leave on them? Did I leave a good impression? Did they think I was nuts? Did they think they were going to get lucky, no matter what? (To be clear, the answer was “no” to wayyyyyyy more people, than I have said “yes” to.) Does a thought of me make them smile, or cringe?

Do you do that? Do you wonder those things? I guess, whatever your answer is, that’s it’s okay.

And, on the flip side. When you have thoughts of random people that you’ve dated and/or slept with, do you have moments where you ask yourself, “What the FUCK was I THINKING?!”

I will leave you with this.

I hope, that every person I meet, is left with a good feeling, be it, strength, happiness, confidence, excitement, or anything positive.

Good night, world, but remember. Be a better person, tomorrow, than you were today! ❤️

Why I am Choosing to Leave Social Media. And Random Thoughts…

IMG_6127

 

I made a post on my facebook wall. I told all of my friends, old and new, all of my family, and Mitch’s family.

I’m deleting facebook, snapchat, instagram, and so on. I won’t delete this blog, though.

Here is why:

That Wednesday morning, of January 25th, after my mandatory meeting, at work, and before going to the elementary school to send home flyers inviting moms to come coach Girls On the Run with me, I sat at my desktop (really a tower hooked up to our big screen tv in the man-cave) with the mouse hovering over “delete account”.

I was in that state for a good 5-10 minutes.

During those 5-10 minutes, I thought of all the things I have said, or have discussed with people.

When I was small, like 8-9 years old, I told my dad, “computers are the devil, and are going to ruin families!” Out of the mouths of babes, am I right?

Mitch and I discussed our social media obsessions, and how we were addicts, through and through. I was worse than him, but we were both bad.  We used to get pissed at each-other because he would be trying to talk to me, but my phone was in my face, or I would say something to him, and he would “acknowledge” it, but not remember what I had said. Any time Meg wanted to show me something, I would be like “hold on I’m doing something!” Know what I was doing? Reading a meme, or someone’s post on Facebook, or something that was definitely less important than what my DAUGHTER was trying to show me. And, we wonder why the kids of that generation seem to seek attention, regardless of what kind of attention it is. So many think that the responses you get on social media is more important, because look at how most of us react when our kids talk to us. I see it happen every day. I even catch myself doing it. We act annoyed that our kids want to talk to us, or show us something, that they’ve shown us at least 450 times, already. We, as parents, should make it a point to make everything our kids show or tell us, seem important. It may be the 900th time they’ve shown you, but when they’re teenagers, and NEED to tell you something that IS important, they won’t, because they will believe they are a bother, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. So many reasons exist that you should WANT your kid to talk openly with you.

When it comes to being with your friends, in person, it’s annoying when social media interrupts.

When I am sitting in a living room, restaurant, or out with friends in general, and they all have their faces stuck in their phones, I feel like I am unimportant. I was SOOOOOO guilty of “hold on!” so I could finish a status update, or respond to a silly comment on my post.

I want to reconnect with PEOPLE. Real people. I don’t want to live my life watching photos of friends who live down the street. I want to make time, and visit, in real life, and hug them. Human interaction is healing, and my experience shows me that actual interaction, rather than virtual interaction can ward off depression. It is great for our souls, to surround ourselves with people who love us, and who we love, and enjoy being around.

I don’t want to post whatever I post, and feel expectant of discussion. I would rather call my best friend, and talk to her on the phone.

I really feel like social media has made people socially awkward. Really though.

I went on a date with a guy, last week. He was so worried about his “shitty” car, that he didn’t want me to meet him outside. I don’t care about your car. When we met, inside the restaurant, he couldn’t look me in the face. He dodged my eye contact, like it was flames. Once he started acting all weird like that, I started talking about how I’m not looking for a boyfriend, and how my expectations in a man are really high, because my husband was amazing, and it will be hard for a guy to meet those standards.

I mean, really? When I told my friends about how he wouldn’t look at me when we were talking, and how it made me feel odd. Really odd. I deleted the dating apps first.

Bye, Tinder!

Bye, Bumble!

There’s nothing like meeting someone, in a good, face to face manner. I always felt like those apps were weird. You swipe though still photos of people, and you’re supposed to determine if you like them or not, based on photos and a tiny bio? I tried it. I met some pretty rad people. Back in the beginning, I met a lawyer, so I can ask lawyer-type questions to, if I need to. I met the couple, who are awesome, and I still chat with, once in a while.

But, to determine dating qualities? Nah, not so much. There is a connection that can only happen, standing right in front of another human. There is a spark, or there isn’t a spark. I can stand in front of the sexiest guy I know, and I have no desire to mess with him. And yes, I am talking about a real person, and he is gorgeous, but he isn’t “my type”. Hell, when I really first met Mitch, he was not my “type” physically. When he opened his mouth and started talking to me, he quickly became my type. His smile. The way he spoke with confidence, without being cocky. The way he walked. And his sense of humor, that I missed a lot of jokes from, in the beginning. All of those played a huge role in my attraction to him. Y’all think I have a dirty mind? Guess who taught me? Yeah, you got that right. HA! And when I found out that Meg had stumbled upon it, naturally, dear goddess, help me! She is her father’s daughter.

I’m a firm believer in spirit-people. There are people who are meant to be in your life. I’ve said it a million times. When you meet them, you just know. They could be meant to be a friend, significant other, or a shoulder. they could simply be there, just to help you through a short phase of your life.

I also believe, with all of my heart, and deep, deep into my soul, that everything happens for a reason. Everything.

Mitch dying so young, from something that would be considered an old person’s death, made a bunch of people go to the doctor, and many found out they had issues that they were unaware of. It even, possibly, saved a few lives.

Mitch passing, oddly enough, has shown me how independent I really am. I used to always say, “Mitch, you can’t leave me! I wouldn’t know what to do, without someone making sure our bills are paid, regularly!” Mitch also cooked, and did most of the laundry. When I tell people he was perfect, I do not exaggerate.

EVERYTHING happens for a reason.

My mind is swirling with thoughts right now. I am having memories flash to the front of my mind, like when Mitch was laying in bed with me, and Meg was only 2-3 months old, and she woke up, hungry. He gently shook my shoulders, and asked if he could do anything to help me. He was upset that he couldn’t be of more help, since I was breast feeing, and not pumping or using bottles.

Little things like that bombard my brain every once in a while.

We were talking about how I planned to rid myself of social medias, and a coworker said “I could never do that! The things my kids said, when they were little, I posted about, and it pops up in my memories.”

That’s why I wanted to hang onto social medias. I was terrified of losing Mitch. But, the reality is this. I will never LOSE the memories of Mitch. I will forever have those, stowed in my mind, and deep in my heart. There are memories from everyone else, that can be talked about. I have lost Mitch’s physical form, but his ideas, and his love, and everything he ever was, will, forever, be with me, and with everyone else, who was truly a part of his life.

I actually tried to delete facebook, and it kept giving me an error code. So, instead, I have logged off, and removed the apps from my phone. I haven’t been on Since 6 o’clock, yesterday, and don’t plan on using the account, until I need to create an event, to send invites through. (I wish there was a separate type of event app, like how messenger is a separate entity.) Basically, I feel trapped in facebook. It’ll be okay. If I can quit smoking, and quit drinking soda, I can quit social media, too. (except this blog!)

Oh! I touched briefly on why I think social media has made people socially awkward, in real life, but I really think its made conversations strange, too. I think the “listening to respond” is so much worse than it has ever been before. I can say something, and no one actually hears it. Back to that ridiculous date I had, I said “Oh yeah! I am racing this weekend.” When he asked, for the 4th time, what my plans were, coming up. We had discussed my obsession for OCR, and I had mentioned the 3-Race weekend, and most importantly, how I never do Spartan or Tough Mudder.

He asked, “So, any big plans coming up?” And I responded “Yeah. Next weekend is a 3-Race weekend!”

And he asks, “Oh. What is it? A Tough Mudder?” Did he listen? His body was there, but his brain was elsewhere. I felt like I did a lot of repeating myself, and if you know me, you know I can’t stand that. I can’t stand it so much, that if I don’t hear you the first 2 times you say something, I say “never mind” and leave it at that. If it was important, you’ll ask me why I didn’t listen, and I will tell you how I am going deaf.

 

How-to: For Widows and Widowers, Everywhere!

Just kidding! There’s no manual!

It.

Is.

Life!

Or death, in our situations.

But here’s what I’ve learned.

You have 2 options, really.

Be bitter and unhappy your entire life, and complain, whine, bitch and moan and live a generally unhappy life…

Orrrrrrrr….

Put ONE foot in front of the other, taking steps forward, and remembering that our significant others wanted us happy, and healthy, and the way we were when they fell in love with us.

I guess, if you were a bitter old bastard when they fell in love with you, keep on, keeping on, brother.

Really though. It’s okay to be pissed, sad, upset, horrified, etc, that you lost your person. It’s really not okay to be a complete dick to everyone you encounter, though. It’s not their fault. And if you aren’t like me, and don’t announce that you’re a widow, right off the bat, how does anyone know?

You can’t expect the world to read your mind. Most of the world doesn’t give a damn. Harsh, harsh fact. They don’t know you, they have their own worries, their lives are “worse”, etc etc etc. I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer, at all. Your real people care. But the random people you encounter don’t know you enough to care, and don’t want to know you, if you’re being an ass hole.

I have code for my work family. It’s not really “code”. It’s very straight forward. I have days where I’m inexplicably sad. Just overwhelmed with everything that life has thrown at me. I never had that before I became a widow. So, the term widow-day, was born.

I say “hi, Good morning,” then follow it up with “I’m having a terrible widow-day”. They know, and understand that I am extra sensitive that day. (PS: I am blessed with the best work family I could have!) it doesn’t make anything excusable, or okay. I am just very open, and if I have, what comes off as, a snotty attitude, I probably don’t mean it that way.

I have less and less of these days, but they still come, and they still fuck me up, every time.

When I wrote my last blog about “it”, it wasn’t a person or a place, or even a thing. It was a feeling. I was overcome with the realization, that I COULD fall in love again. WHAT?! Yeah. That isn’t something I even THINK about. And, no, I’m not in love or falling in love with anyone. Hell, when I go out on dates, I tell them, straight-up, “I’m a broken human, and I can’t handle an actual relationship”. I usually never see them again. Oh well. I guess I should quit saying that I’m broken, and change that term to “healing”.

I cried myself to sleep, and again, for an hour when I woke up, the night and day after the realization struck me.

There was this surreal feeling that washed over me, when I had this “coming to.” It was a feeling in my chest. ALMOST like a breaking heart, but light and airy, instead. It hurt, but it wasn’t a crushing pain, I guess. It’s like a healing pain. Sometimes I feel like a crazy person, but I’m okay with it. My “feelings” have never truly led me astray, since my hormonal teen years.

I won’t be the woman who goes out, and goes all in immediately, either. That’s asking for more pain.

Remember that Bar Mitch set? It’s REALLY high. It’ll take an extremely special human, to get close enough to my standards, and I will not settle. Mitch would haunt me, and try to kill me, if I EVER settled. We used to talk about that all the time. “Settling is for the weak!” He’d say. Followed by “I sure am glad I didn’t settle.” I’d always call bullshit, because he was so much better than me, in my mind.

When It Happens

When it happens, it’ll be scary. It’ll be something that hurts, to do. It WILL take great strength, mentally.

But, it’ll be natural.

It will take great strength because I will fight the natural flow of it happening.

I know I will.

I won’t want it, and it’ll slam into me, without a care for what I think I want.

It.

Something I know I would never search for, or try to replicate, again.

I’ve already had it.

I can’t expect it again.

But when it comes. It’s going to come full force.

It.

Only time will tell, if it even happens.

When your whole body vibrates. When your insides feel like they are floating, hovering, rather than tightly nestled inside. When all you can do is think, imagine, wonder, and hope.

It’s bad.

It’s good.

It’s new.

It’s old.

It’s trouble.

It’s savior.

It’s happiness

It’s sadness.

It’s maddening.

It’s enlightening.

It’s mine to know, and never to share.

It…

Photos

So, I find myself unconsciously avoiding pictures of Mitch, posted by our friends or family on social media.

Please don’t get me wrong. I miss the FUCK out of that man. But, those who know us, know that we weren’t the oooey-gooey, mushy kind of social media couple. We didn’t need to be. We were always confident in our love for one another, and didn’t care who knew or didn’t know.

That being said, I am still the same. I’m not posting sad, mushy, posts, not because I don’t feel those feels, because good god I do!

It’s just that I’m sure you all know I hurt, in my own way, and that I miss him, horribly, from the time I wake up, until I go to bed at night.

Now, with all of that said, I can share with you, why I think I avoid the photos, or what really happens to my brain, when someone posts a pic of Mitch, that I may or may not have seen before.

For a blink, I think “OMG! MITCH!” Like he is alive.

But I know that’s not true.

The sense of loss crashes over me, with such force that it causes temporary paralysis. I’m stuck, for a split second, that feels like forever. The pain starts low in my belly, and, like lava, it pushes upward, into and throughout my heart and mind, until I am snot-crying in my car, in front of work.

I forget things, like football (Thanks for reminding me, Chuckles), because I don’t have Mitch constantly talking about football, all day, every day. I mean, he talked about football so much, I started to automatically block his voice, during football season.

I think this month is harder than any other months, for me. On the 18th, he would have been 36. On the 22nd we would have celebrated 18 years, together. That would have been whole adult worth of time!

The thing that I really want to say is this. Do not stop posting your pics of Mitch, when the feeling strikes.

This sense of loss will always be here for me, and sometimes, it’s really good to feel human. A lot of the time, my mind is numb. I race, I workout (when I’m NOT injured), I work, and take care of Meg.

Maybe I keep myself too busy to acknowledge the pain? Sounds like something I would do, without even realizing I am doing it.

Here’s to fantasy football. 2018/2019!

Toxic Humans and Me.

Today, I did something. I deleted and blocked a person from my life, that was toxic, to me. I decided to test the person first. I was right with my suspicions. Even though I know there’s no respect for me from said person, I will respect their privacy, and not share their name. But here goes!

Hello? Who the hell would come at me, expecting to have even the slightest chance at mentally abusing me? Who. The FUCK. do you think I am? Let me spell it out…

I’m the woman who had a rough start at life, being pulled from my parents and put into foster care, in first grade.

I went to 13 different schools, and didn’t graduate.

Lived on my own from age 15-17, couch surfing, and working, trying my damndest to stay alive.

I am the woman who met the man of her dreams, married him, had a baby, and Created a BEAUTIFUL family.

I took my adult ass to get my GED, then went to college, so I could set a better example for my baby girl.

I never gave up on my career. When I wasn’t being respected and given the pay I knew I was worth, for my position, I left.

When I felt as though I wasn’t getting paid my worth at my next job, I applied elsewhere to see what I could be making, and fought for it. I got it.

I am the woman who lost her husband, unexpectedly, on a Wednesday morning, while he was at work, my child at school, and myself too busy to realize he never read my text that morning.

I have been through hell. I walk through hell regularly. I don’t need toxic people in my life, and I WILL remove you.

I am a positive, uplifting, forgiving human. I love people. I love my family, my friends and my career. I believe everyone deserves a second chance.

I ALSO believe my opinion matters. Your opinions matter. Even if I disagree with them, they matter, because they are YOURS!

But know, I don’t fucking play.

“You’re Not Allowed to Forget!”

I dreamt about Mitch Wood in a very interesting way the other night. I had a dream that someone was banging on my front door, then came busting in! It was some guy, I’ve never seen before. Late twenties, early 30s maybe. Dark hair, blue eyes. BIG eyes. He ran into my bedroom and flopped on my bed. I was freaking out. I didn’t know who his guy was, and he just burst into my apartment and shoved me aside to get to my bed.

He had an album. He kept saying “You can’t forget! Never forget. Have you already forgotten?”

I was in tears, I was wailing and fiercely shaking my head, as he accused me of forgetting. I assumed he was talking about Mitch, but I never saw the album.

He sat himself up, and said “good. You’re not allowed to forget!”

Then I woke up, I’ve been overflowing with thoughts and memories of Mitch, since. Much welcomed memories and thoughts.

My heart and soul are aching for him, again.

I was driving home from work, today. I cried.

I booked a flight to California to meet my cyber bestie. I cried.

I looked at hotels and rental cars and flights to Florida. I nearly cried.

All of these things, all of them, we should be doing together.

I

Miss

Him.

And, this life hurts!

My Life, In a Nutshell. The Blog that Took Two Days.

If you know me, you know the title of this blog is deceiving. I can’t do “in a nutshell”. ha! But here I go.

I haven’t written in a while, and I feel like my blogs are a bit, lacking, actually. I have feelings, and I share them, and I miss my husband, more than anyone can understand, if they haven’t lost their spouse, before. It’s hard to see that, on the exterior of my being, but, I miss him. Every single day, I miss him. It’s okay to miss him. It’s okay to have 3-5 bags of his ash in my car, at any given time. It’s okay that I no longer wear the Urn Necklace with our wedding rings on it. It’s okay. All of it is okay.

This blog is going to bounce all over. Sorry.

I haven’t posted much, recently, because, I will sit down, start to type, because something huge strikes me in that very moment, then POOF! I am distracted. I am up, remembering something that I need to pack, or making Megan do some chore, going to the gym, or cooking. It’s nonstop, and if I get distracted during writing, I lose all momentum. I will read it back and think “good lord! I really talk a lot about myself, don’t I?” and end up deleting the blog. In reality, this blog IS about me. It’s about my surviving the loss of the best thing that ever came into my life. It’s about the things I do, or don’t do, that I would have never imagined myself doing, in my very recent past. It’s about my confessions since becoming widowed on January 25th, 2017. It’s about all of that.

It’s also about letting other men and women know that they aren’t alone, out there.

You miss sex? FIND SOMEONE AND HAVE SEX! Just fucking do it! Be honest with yourself, and with your partner, but do not deny yourself the things you want to have.

You want to travel? FUCKING DO IT! It costs nearly nothing to drive 8 hours away, stay a weekend, and head home. It’s fun. It’s a stress relief. It’s what you want to do!

Wanna date, but not have sex. FUCKING DO IT! Go out, meet people, have a good time. Be HONEST. Don’t lead anyone on.

Wanna be a hermit? DON’T DO IT! BAAAAAAAD! ha! Just kidding. Do it, but limit your hermit time. It’s a dangerous thing to commit to. It becomes so easy to avoid everything and everyone. Social interaction is good for widows and widowers. It’s important, even if everyone you encounter pisses you off. You FEEL, and that’s what’s important.

Being numb is no way to live life.

Get raging pissed. Fall madly in love. Get obsessed with something (never someone, unless it’s yourself), make new friends, cut ties with “friends” who don’t make you priority.  Make time for the ones you love. Take your grandpa or grandma to a movie.  Be present.

About dating and meeting people. I have met a fun variety of people this last year. I really love people. Most of you know, without a shadow of a doubt, I am a full on extrovert, in every sense of the way. I love meeting new people, and making friends. I love going to the movies with friends/dates/family/etc. It’s fun.

I have written about some of my experiences. Most recently, I went on a date, for Thai food, with a man that I met on *GASP* a dating app. No big deal. I show up and thought “holy shit! He looks like a young, very handsome Pre-presidential Barack Obama!” That was my first thought. ha! I always thought Barack was the sexiest president we ever had.

Anyway, we talked, had Thai, and still talk. He’s nice. Not weird, or ass-hole-like. He’s interesting. Easy to talk to, most of the time. That’s as much as I am going to talk about him.

So, I was writing this blog last night, and of course I got distracted, and stopped writing. I nearly deleted the last 2 paragraphs. See? I need designated writing time,

1: Sit

2: Type

3: Post

I have to quit getting distracted. I need to make it 100% clear that I am busy and shut off my phone, and lock myself in my bedroom.

If I filter too much, this blog will be boring to read.

Not that that is what is the important thing. I want to be honest. I want to share with you the things that I am SCARED to share with people. If I overthink about the blogs, I start to worry about what readers will think. That’s what I am FIGHTING against!

There is a stigma that is associated with being a widow. I’ve touched on it, lightly, before, but I will mention it until I am blue in the face, if it helps get the stigma removed.

A widow should not feel ashamed, or like she is doing anything wrong, for dating, or having sex. I LOVE going to dinner, or playing pool with new people. It’s conversation. It’s enjoying the company of another human being.

Most widows will tell you, it’s not for comfort, so much as being social, or having someone around who thinks your beautiful, again. Its nice when someone finds you attractive. That’s no lie. I know, my momma thinks I’m pretty, and friends call me hot. It’s not the same as seeing the eyes of someone who WANTS you. I think that sounds way worse that it should. ha! I was with Mitch for all those years, and he looked at me with that look in his eyes, every fucking day of our life, together. Every day, you could see the hunger in his eyes. It feels good. Do I NEED it from other men? No way! But is it still flattering? AbsoFUCKINGlutely!!

When I go out on dates with anyone, there is a 100% up-front, completely honest approach. “Hey, just so you know, I am not having sex with you.” It’s that simple. Now, I HAVE had sex on a first date, but, it’s not something that’s always happening. That’s just too risky.

I am also very up front that I am not looking for a replacement husband, or even a boyfriend, because I don’t have the ability to put some guy before my daughter, or racing. My daughter comes first. Period. I am not going to pawn her off, to have sex. I can’t do that, in good conscience. I will go on a short dinner date or whatever, AFTER I feed her, but nothing more. Most guys are only looking for sex. Period. So, they don’t believe how serious I am about not giving it up, right away. They don’t think I am serious when I tell them my daughter is my number 1. They talk for a couple days, realize I’m not a booty call, and go on with their lives. I’m okay with that. I don’t need people in my life, that don’t listen to what I say.

I don’t beat around the bush. I don’t lead people on. I DEFINITELY treat people the way I want to be treated.

I am honest, please, be honest with me. It’s that simple, right?

So, moving on from that topic, to another. You. all know I am a racing machine. I am always out of town, doing one race or another. I have this weekend off, so I am taking Mitch’s grandpa to a movie, and out for lunch. He was widowed right around this time, last year. I am excited to do this. I hardly ever have free time, so this is my weekend to get that man to a funny movie. I love him like he is my grandpa.

I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I didn’t talk to him right after grandma died. I was afraid I was going to say the wrong thing. Then when I started to really think about it, I felt stupid, then it got to be such a long time, and I became embarrassed. What the fuck was my problem? I’m a fucking widow, too! I know all I wanted was for friends and family to treat me normal. To not walk on eggshells around me, to be themselves. It was so important to me. I feared the look of pity in peoples’ eyes. It is still something I hate. I will start talking about Mitch, as if he is alive, but I realize that sometimes the people I am talking to don’t know that he passed away, so I say it really fast, “Oh by the way, I’m not cheating on my husband, he passed away January of 2017.” When I say that, people are like, “Oh my god! I am so sorry!” And I just wave the apology away, and say thank you.

But, back to grandpa. I’m going to make more effort to be around him. To be around family.

I am very talkative, so why should it be hard to talk to him? It isn’t!

OH! And my talkative, open nature makes people think I am needy. I think that’s hilarious! I try to explain how NOT needy I am, but, I only try to explain once. If they don’t get it, I stop talking altogether. My LACK of neediness is probably my best “feature”. lol!

This weekend, I am in town. Then I go to Oklahoma City, OK, for a race, and can’t wait to have all the fun! I see all my OCR friends, and race the race, and have a blast. Meg is going to take over the Merchandise tent with a friend’s mom. It’s always fun!

Then, I have a COUPLE weeks off! A COUPLE!! That’s great! I have one week to get together with family and friends, then I have one week to possibly have a date. Who knows, though?

I guess only time will tell.

Until next time, friends!

Have a good night.

Love yas!

Tabbie

 

#TheBlogThatTookTwoDays

 

 

 

Loneliness

Have you heard people say “you can be surrounded by a lot of people, and still feel lonely.”?

It’s a thing. It really is. I am always surrounded by people, whether I’m at work, a weekly workout, or the races I love to do. I am surrounded by friends, family, and work family, all the time.

Loneliness is something that is felt deep in your soul.

It’s at the base of who you are. I’m not sure if I am explaining this right.

Imagine this. You meet the person of your dreams, at age 17. You fall into LIFE with them. (Yes, “life”!) You grow INTO each-other, rather than away from each other, in every possible way. You are never alone. Even if they go out of town for work, you are never alone. You have them. For 16.5 years, you have them. For almost half of your life, there you are, growing, and thriving together, loving, and living, teaching and learning.

Then one day, they’re gone.

Poof.

Nothing.

No more.

Not by choice.

Not because they moved on, and left you, while they live happily ever after with someone else.

But gone.

Really gone.

Now, just try to imagine how easy loneliness comes.

Imagine making a connection with someone, even if it’s just briefly. A connection that makes you feel a little human again, even if just for 30 minutes.

I’ll be the first to say this, and please… no. Just bare with me, here. I won’t ask you to forgive me. I won’t ask you not to judge me. I won’t ask you to keep your comments to yourself.

I’ll be the first to say, I doubt I’ll ever marry again. I doubt I’ll ever meet a man worthy enough, after Mitch.

That doesn’t mean I don’t like to have sex. (PS, Meg might read this, and for anyone who doesn’t know, Meg and I talk very openly, without crossing boundaries.) I like sex. I love people, and going out. I like to mingle, and I am also perfectly fine coming home alone. I am so very very picky, that it’s easy to come home alone.

No matter what I do, or who I do it with, I will be lonely, so I will continue to be extremely picky, in my choices.

I just had DeJaVu, while typing this, followed by my memory of making breakfast one Saturday morning, for Mitch and Meg, while I told Mitch about this awful dream I had. In this dream, I was writing about how lonely I was. And I knew it was because he died.

Now that I think about it, Meg and I were both “prepped” for the death of one of us. Meg dreamed a LOT about me dying. She only ever had one dream of Mitch passing. I dreamed of Mitch Dying, but not of his death. I dreamed of the little things that came after. Like my kitchen, my apartment, writing this fucking blog.

I have had dreams of Meg dying, but those were different. They were almost like a desensitizing kind of dream. The ones of Meg were in color, and very vivid, and horrible.

I would wake up, heart racing, tears falling, and I’d go kiss my little girl, and thank the stars that she was still alive. The dreams of Meg, I’d see her die, right in front of me, and the ones of Mitch were the aftermath.

The feelings I would come to endure. The overwhelming, unpredictable moments of complete weakness. (I’m okay with being weak, sometimes. I accept it.)

So, as you read this, just know, even the people who look to be surrounded by many, can still be lonely.

Don’t take your spouse for granted. Cherish every moment, even if that moment is you shoving their leg off of your legs, because your feet are falling asleep. Even if it’s their beard hair being left in the sink, every time he shaves, or the toothpaste in the sink, or dirty dishes in the kitchen, the dirty socks on the living room floor.

All of these things are precious.

All of them.