Just kidding! There’s no manual!




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…


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.

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