I think I have turned a corner in adjusting to my “new normal”. I think time has a lot to do with it. Frankly, I am not sure exactly what the trigger was and at this point I don’t care. What I do know is that I am happy and for now that is all that matters.

In the beginning, I felt powerless to let go of the life TJ and I shared. I felt as though I needed to carry it with me forever. I let it dictate my daily life, at least on some level. By doing this I was stuck and as I have said before, I am tired of being stuck and it is time for me to let go and be free again. I know this isn’t as easy as it sounds but it is a choice I have to make for myself.

I was overwhelmed with options for my future and I have weeded many of them out. I found I was reading too much into the future, yet still dwelling on the past. I will never have what I had with TJ; the good and the bad. I am capable though, of having a beautiful day today and a beautiful tomorrow. To me, this means letting go of who I have been and do something differently.

There is no such thing as “normal” and there is not a specific way I “should” be or anything I am “supposed” to do.  It is up to me to determine what will make my life meaningful and joyful.  I have to walk the path that is right for me.  Most importantly I believe I have discovered that path. At this point it is more like an unmaintained trail but I know it will lead me to something great and wonderful.

”No matter how hard the past, you can always begin again.” ~ Buddha

Even though the title is cliche and many of us hear it from time to time, I am going to guess that the majority of us don’t actually do it. I know I don’t, or at least I haven’t in the past.

A while back I took some time off work to get some home improvement projects done around the house and clean out and organize my garage.  On my way home from work on Wednesday I stopped and got all the materials I would need for the weekend so I wouldn’t have to take the time to drive to town for anything.  Once home I made a list of all the projects I wanted to complete and divided them into 3 days; planning to rest on Sunday.  I packed the majority of the projects into Thursday and Friday.  My plan was to work 12 to 16 hour days on both of those days and then have a light day on Saturday.

By Saturday morning I was completely exhausted.  I had managed to stick to my schedule by working feverishly.  While I somewhat enjoyed accomplishing things but it was mostly about sticking to my schedule.  The first thing on my list for Saturday morning was to repair the goat pen fence.  As I was drinking coffee I was getting worked up knowing this was a time consuming project, but one that really needed to get done.  I was cursing the fact that it was going to take up so much of my morning.

As I was sitting uncomfortably on rocks, surrounded by goat poo and chasing the girls away from my tools I looked up and realized the sun had just popped over the top of the Superstition Mountains.  What a beautiful sight, I thought to myself. I paused for a few minutes to enjoy the beauty of the mountain that made me fall in love with Arizona back in the early 80′s. I smiled. I remembered how much TJ loved those mountains also. I smiled again. I went back to fixing fence.  A bit later I heard some rustling coming from the wash that runs through my property. It was a group of coyotes.  I paused as they passed a mere 15 feet from me, looking at me warily.  I then watched them wander off into the desert. I smiled again. It wasn’t long before a covey of quail ran by cooing ever so softly and then a very small rabbit hopped up and just stared at me. I once again paused and focused on his deep eyes and his soft fur.  Before I knew it I was done fixing fence. One more time I paused and looked around me.  I thought about how lucky I am to live where I live. I thought about how grateful I am and how many things I have to be grateful for. I said out loud “I have a pretty damn good life!”

Yes, it took me longer to fix the fence than I had anticipated, but it was worth it.  Down the road I won’t remember that I fixed the fence in my self imposed time frame. I will remember the sun coming over the Superstitions, the coyotes and the other wildlife that stopped by.  The rest of my Saturday was better for it.

“Every day brings a choice: to practice stress or to practice peace.” ~ Joan Borysenko

This is a blog post I put on my personal blog in September of 2011.

My birthday is Saturday.

This will be my second birthday without TJ. The fact that I will be celebrating my birthday without TJ doesn’t bother me as much as the fact that I take note that it is my second birthday without TJ.  When will this counting stop! Every major and even minor holiday I think of TJ and how many he has not been here for.  This is common among widows/widowers.  We even have a made up name for some of the more specific dates, “sadiversary”.  I really don’t want to think like that….always counting.  Who wants to celebrate a sadiversary? I don’t and frankly I am quite tired of them.

When TJ died I never questioned whether or not I “could do this”. The question I asked myself was “Do I want to do this?”  From the very beginning I said “Yes!” Not only can I do it, but I want to do it well. In good times we all grow and thrive, it is not until things get tough that we truly learn what we have inside of us.  TJ’s death is a part of my life now.  It is but a single chapter in my life.  My life that is composed of many, many chapters. Many past chapters and many more to come. We never stay the same person, we change as we grow older and it is the things that happen to us that make up the story of our life. In my years with TJ he made me a better woman.  When I am sad or unsure, I simply see myself through TJ’s eyes.  In his eyes I can do anything.

TJ and I had a plan.  I don’t have a plan.  TJ’s death left me at a fork in the road, not knowing which path to take.  I am still standing at the fork weighing all my options.  I try to not spend too much time worrying about which fork to travel because I am afraid of missing happy times. So, here I stand, not moving forward. I am stagnant. There are no ripples in my pond of life, just stagnant water.  Stagnant water stinks and being stuck at this fork is getting old…just like counting the sadiversaries.  Alone or not I must walk ahead.

My birthday present to myself is to choose a path, to set some goals, to make some plans.  Nobody is going to do it for me; they can’t.  This is going to be a very difficult task because when I think of life goals I only think of the goals we had.  Some may still be obtainable, albeit alone. Others though are dead, they died right along side TJ.  Our dreams and goals are no longer achievable.  I have to focus on my dreams and goals.  Dreams and goals that I can achieve on my own.  They must be mine and all mine.

Last summer I was summoned for Jury Duty.  While, I wasn’t thrilled to be going, I took the day off work to perform my civic duty.  Turned out there were approximately 50 to 60 of us there.  I found that to be an unusually large number.  After a brief orientation we were all directed to an upstairs courtroom wherein was the Judge, Prosecutor, Defense Lawyer and the Defendant.  The Defendant was a fairly young man and just above his collared shirt I could see he had some sort of tattoo on his neck.  I am not against tattoos, I just think on your neck is a little extreme and, yes, in my preconceived notion, indicates trouble. The Judge read the synopsis of the case.  It was a murder case.  This young man was accused of murdering another man.

My mind began to wonder.  How old was the man he allegedly murdered?  Was the murder victim married?  Is there as widow hoping and praying for some sort of justice? Although, I know, justice will not stop her pain or the grief she is feeling.  Did the victim leave behind children? Did the victim have siblings who are now grieving the loss of their brother?  Are the victim’s parents still alive and if so, how awful for them to have to bury their son.

I then looked at the Defendant and thought how could you? Did you not realize the pain and grief you would inflict on so many people? What about the daughter that won’t have her father to give her away at her wedding or the elderly parent who won’t have their son to help them as they age? What about the sibling who will forever be changed by the death of their brother.  The widow.  I couldn’t get the thought of another widow, forever changed, and struggling to once again gain just a pebble of normalcy to her life.  I was disgusted by the sight of him there in dress slacks, dress shirt and tie; a style of clothing I was sure he had never worn in his life.

My thoughts were interrupted by the Judge saying they had preselected 27 jurors, and of those 16 would be hearing the case.  He began calling names and one by one they were directed to the juror box to be seated.  “Juror #4, Sandra Webb.”  Oh hell!  They obviously don’t know what has been going through my head.  I had already convicted this “kid”. I was already sympathetic to the victim’s family. Rather, the family that I had created in my head.

I must say that I believe in our justice system.  I believe everyone deserves a fair trial by a jury of their peers.  It pains me when I hear of people wrongly accused and convicted only to, years later, be found not guilty.  Although, I felt like I was not his peer nor was I in a place to be fair and without bias in this case. When the judge questioned me I explained my accident to him and my physical therapy schedule and that there was no way I could be to court on time on my therapy days.  I was dismissed.  I was pleased I did not have to explain the thoughts in my head in order to be dismissed.

While I have no doubt that everyone brings their own baggage to a trial, I do wonder how many can actually be impartial and take only the evidence presented into account. Could you set aside your first impressions and your life experiences to be completely impartial?

Justice cannot be for one side alone, but must be for both. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

I hear those questions daily, actually many times a day it seems.  I don’t hear them in the usual small talk, passing conversation way.  When I hear them there is pity in the voices. Sometimes it is with genuine concern and I appreciate that, but is the ones that ask with pity and really don’t want to know that bother me. It is when they ask because they feel it is the right thing to say, but after asking either move on to something else very quickly or mentally shrink away hoping I say nothing more than “I am fine”.

In order to protect my friends and family I always answer, “I am fine”.  It is easier for me and easier for them.  It is not a lie every time I answer that way, sometimes I truly am “fine”.  If I am not fine I generally don’t want to talk about it anyway.  If I don’t talk about my problems it is much safer for me.  By not talking I don’t reveal my vulnerabilities and it keeps people at a distance, it keeps them from getting too close to me.  I do have a few select friends that I confide in and I value their friendship deeply.

I am really a very private person.  This doesn’t mean I am not social.  I love getting together with my friends. I spend a large part of my day socializing on twitter. I enjoy my Wednesday dinner out with the girls and as much as I hate to admit it, I love hearing the gossip. I am not a gossiper myself, but I am a listener. I can listen to people talk for hours. I will join in the conversation, but my preference is listening.  If one truly listens to people talk you will learn many things about that person.

I think this is what attracts me to blogging.  I can put my thoughts, feelings, ideas out for everyone to see without having to discuss it.  I get positive feedback through comments here or on Twitter and I am sure there have been some who come to visit and click off because they don’t like what I have to say and I am good with that.  If we all agreed what a boring place this world would be.

So next time you ask me how I am doing and my answer is “Fine” I may or may not be telling the truth. Often times the true answer can be found in my blog or my twitter timeline.  With me, instead of listening closely you just might need to read between the lines.  The answer is here.

Often people ask me if I am OK living alone.  This surprises me, as I really don’t think about it much until I am asked the question.  I have always been one that enjoyed my alone time.  In the past I would look forward to TJ going away on a hunting trip without me.  Sure, I missed him as I was used to him being around, but the time away from each other was good for the both of us. So, my answer is always, “Yes, I love it”.

I enjoy doing things on my schedule.  I get to do what I want to do, with whom I want to do it with and when I want to do it.  I no longer have to “compromise”.  Compromise is what good relationships are made of and while I didn’t mind it with TJ, I sure don’t miss it.  I tell people, “it is all about me now”.  I say yes to the things I want to do and no to those things I do not want to do.  Other than those first few months after TJ’s passing I don’t feel lonely.  I miss TJ, yes, but I would not say I am lonely.  I have a very strong network of friends and there is always something to do should I choose.

I enjoy planning weekends to just stay home and do chores and/or projects around the house. To complete a project on my own is very rewarding and affirming that yes, I can make it without TJ. It is also on those weekends that I am able to really plan my future and set goals for myself. TJ & I pretty much had our life planned out, but now, I have to go in a different direction. I admit that I really do not have my new direction figured out completely yet, but when I am alone is when I can brainstorm different ideas.

About a year ago I started frequenting a small neighborhood coffee shop.  Often  I stop there on my way to work or on a Saturday morning early.  In the winter it is filled with retired men waiting for their women who are next door at Curves.  I tend to be very chatty with strangers (not sure if that is good or bad) and have developed a few friendships with some of the regulars in there.  They know about TJ, my Mom, my dogs and just miscellaneous stuff in my life.  I share my dating adventures with them and they share dating adventures with me from their younger years.  This is my little place.  I have yet to take any of my friends there and don’t plan to in the near future.  It is a separate part of my life that I enjoy immensely and I know not everyone would understand the friendships that I have developed there. So, even if I wake up on a Saturday or Sunday morning missing TJ and not wanting to be alone, I have a place to go.

Society tends to look at someone alone as pitiful.  I couldn’t disagree more!  Alone is a choice.  It is one of the many options we have about how we live our daily lives.  I am sure there are many Mothers out there who would love to have the opportunity to get up on a Saturday morning and go to a coffee shop alone like I do.  Alone does not equal lonely.  If you are comfortable being alone then you are able to be comfortable with other people.

So yes, I really do love living alone….especially when I want to run the vacuum at 3:00 in the morning!

I had a conversation a while back with a widower friend of mine on twitter. We started out by talking about the insomnia that so many of us have, but it quickly turned to a discussion of moving on. What he said to me has stuck in my head and I wanted to share. His series of tweets was as follows:

It changed for me, when I changed my thinking from the “moving forward” to the ability “letting go”. I know it sounds strange, but inside of me I always had a dislike for “moving forward”. It was like betrayal for me. Then I realized, that I was afraid to let her go, because I thought I would loose her. I was so wrong, because one never looses the loved one in memories and heart. That started the change.

I thought about the difference between moving forward and letting go. I, like my friend, am afraid to let TJ go. He was a part of my life for 16 years and I am not willing to let him go. Moving forward though, to me, means leaving TJ behind. I can’t do that either, he will always be in my heart. So, instead of always thinking I need to move forward/on I am going to try to change my thinking to letting go.

I feel I need to make room in my life for the new and let go of the old. I believe that if I stay open to new experiences and relationships I have much to gain after my loss. Happiness turned to sadness, but sadness will turn to happiness again. Every day I become more and more optimistic about my future and I can’t let what has happened in the past close my mind to the possibilities of the new. I will not move forward, leaving TJ behind, instead, I will try to begin to let go of the past and carry him with me, in my heart, as I experience the many good things that are still to come in my life.

Letting go isn’t the end of the world; it is the beginning of a new life. ~ Unknown

Yep, I use drugs.  I blame it on TJ.  It is always the fault of someone else isn’t it?  As a matter of fact he was the one that started me on them.  It was completely his idea and I had nothing to do with it.  Although I was hesitant at first I quickly settled into the “user” mode.

Two days after TJ’s diagnosis one of his doctors told me I needed drugs to help me cope with all that was happening and I didn’t believe him at the time.  I never told TJ about that conversation but he took the initiative less than a week after his diagnosis and called our family physician to let him know I was not dealing with it well and he should prescribe me something.  We were just told he had less than a year to live, of course I wasn’t dealing with it very well.  He loved me and knew I needed to be at the top of my game so he did what he thought was right.  As was normal, he was right. I was given Xanax.  I took it periodically during his illness, but I was always afraid of being asleep or not 100% mentally when he needed me so I rarely took them.

After TJ passed was when I really began with the drugs.  Antidepressants along with the occasional Xanax.  I think it just made the first year go by in a blur.  Looking back I know I was depressed but I can’t imagine how I would have been without the antidepressants.  I was able to wean off of them with no side effects.  I have talked to many widows who had terrible side effects coming off antidepressants so I guess I was pretty lucky in that sense.

After some time passed I went back on Xanax at my doctor’s instruction.  I have never been a good sleeper, but since TJ died it had really gotten out of control.  I was only sleeping 3 to 4 hours a night and physically I was beginning to feel the effects.  I had no idea how much the lack of sleep was affecting my health.  I knew I was feeling pretty bad, but I did not relate it to lack of sleep.  If you aren’t getting enough sleep please go see your doctor, it can cause serious health problems.  I have always been a fairly healthy person and now I am not.  It is nothing serious, but it does make a difference in my day to day life.

Now I am on a very strict schedule in the evenings.  I have a wind down time, a get in bed and read time and a lights out time.  I will admit that I don’t always stick to it precisely but I am trying.  My doctor and I decided that since I have always been an early riser we would not fight that and instead to try to get me to stop doing stuff in the evening earlier and get to bed earlier.  Since I don’t really watch much TV I would do chores or play with my animals until exhaustion took over and then go right to bed.  Now I quit going full speed ahead and relax on the computer or read for an hour each night.  My body has learned to expect that wind down time.  The good news is that I am now sleeping for 5 to 6 hours a night and I feel much better.  I have also added exercise back into my routine.  I quit when TJ got diagnosed and was feeling so bad I didn’t have the energy to exercise.

I used to think that people who needed drugs to deal with life were weak.  I don’t feel that way any longer.  I never thought I would blog about this, but I want people to know they are not alone and there is no shame in needing a little help.  I have a wonderful doctor and I know he truly cares about me.  He has told me I won’t be like this forever and he will be there for me every step of the way, even when I take a few steps backwards.  He was there for me both times I broke my back and helped me through it so I know he will get me through this.

He once said to me, “You don’t have to be a victim of your anxiety”.  I won’t be, at least not forever.

Don’t let your mind bully your body into believing it must carry the burden of its worries ~ Astrid Alauda

If you cook then, like me, you probably have a plethora of cookbooks.  I have 3 cookbooks that are my “go to” books for recipes.  It is those books that I turn to when I am searching for an old family recipe or just want to make some good ole’ comfort food like Mom used to make.  The first one I turn to is the book my Mom put together for me with all of her recipes in it.  Most things she made out of her head so some of the recipes are a little sketchy.

The second cookbook I turn to is the one my Mom’s sister made for her children and grandchildren.  After much whining (well, not that much) I received one also.  My Aunt Dorothy was a wonderful cook just like my Mom, but they did make some different things.  My Mom didn’t make candy, mostly because she was horrible at it, but Aunt Dorothy made some wonderful candy.  Her divinity was to die for and to this day I have failed at divinity every time I have tried to make it.  That non-candy making blood was passed on to me I guess.  My cousin, Leslie, put this book together and it is a work of art without a doubt.  The cabin on the front was built by Uncle Roy.

When all else fails I turn to an old Betty Crocker book that my Mom gave me.  It is worn and tattered, but still has great recipes.

I always have somewhere to turn for just the right recipe for the occasion to make a wonderful meal to be proud of.

It would be so much easier if they made a cookbook for life with recipes telling us exactly what to do.  Maybe I could have found the recipe to cure TJ’s cancer in that book.  If not, then maybe I could find the recipe to expedite the grief process.  Throughout my life I have had so many problems that possibly could have been better dealt with had I been able to find the perfect recipe.

But, as many cooks know…It is the recipes you create yourself that are the best.

The discovery of a new dish does more for the happiness of mankind than the discovery of a star. ~ Anthelme Brillat-Savarin