Widowhood has changed me in many ways. Losing someone you love is so traumatic and life-altering, it’s impossible to stay the same person you were before. It’s a journey and a metamorphosis. A long, painful quest to find your post-loss identity and to be at peace with your loss, at least enough to be able to “live” again. I’m a different person now, with new perspectives and priorities.
I have changed from being very quiet and shy to being a lot more outspoken and assertive. I suppose it’s because I had no choice but to change and adapt. There’s no one there anymore to look out for me, defend me and protect me. No one to deal with difficult situations for me. I have to speak out for myself and assert my wishes. The old me, the pushover, the one who was always afraid to say “no” to anything, had to go.
The New Me: I Don’t Give a Shit What People Think
In my life before my husband passed away, I was always so worried about what people thought about me. I was terrified of saying something stupid or doing something stupid or embarrassing. I constantly worried about people not liking me for whatever reason. When my husband was in the hospital and then hospice before he died, everything changed. It didn’t matter anymore what I looked like, it didn’t matter if I said something dumb or if people thought I was weird. All that mattered was my husband, and me being there for him.
My husband’s gruesome fight with cancer, his suffering and his death gave me new perspectives and priorities. The things I thought were so important had suddenly become irrelevant. On your deathbed, it doesn’t matter how rich, perfect, or accomplished and smart you are. We are born into this world with nothing and we leave this world with nothing. The body, merely a used-up empty shell from which the soul ascends. All that matters in those last moments is our family and loved ones, and the legacy of kindness and love we leave behind.
And so I no longer worry about what other people think. I’ve done plenty of stupid, embarrassing things since my husband’s passing (and widow brain/griever’s fog, especially early on, didn’t help). But guess what? I really don’t care. I have this one life to live. And life is too precious and too short to worry about this crap.