My Latest Guest Post
I am excited to announce that I have been published on a great new depression site called SadRunner. It’s a passion project for Adam Weitz a freelance writer and designer who suffered through his own depression. He decided that he wanted to try to use his skills to help people and started this website.
His site is filled with all kinds of helpful articles about positive ways to deal with depression and anxiety. There is helpful advice, validation and just a place to feel like you’re not alone. I highly recommend the site to everybody who has or is suffering from depression and those who have loved ones touched by this terrible disease.
That Second Year
So, this second year of being a widow. It has been challenging so far, I’ll admit it. Settling into a new life is not easy. There is definitely something to the theory that the second year is when the shock wears off.
Is it harder than the first year? It has its own feel to it and there is an emptiness to it that is difficult but no, it’s not harder. Not to me. I remember the unending pain and misery in those first six months. I am able to laugh and enjoy life sometimes now. How is that not better?
I remember that yearning that never stopped. That feeling of wanting to crawl out of my skin. That wish that I could be with Steven. Now, I want to live. Even with these new challenges I’m facing, I want to live. I know how beautiful life can still be. And these new layers of depth that are there make it even more exciting…and yes, also sadder. But also, beautiful.
But wow, what a mixture. What a cocktail, this grief and emptiness and joy and zest for life. I’m ready. I’m ready to face all of these challenges head on. I’m ready to not let these things get me down. I won’t forget how short life is. Steven taught me that in so many ways.
That second year. Does it suck? Oh my god, yes. Is it full of hope and new life? Absolutely.
I think I figured it out. The reason that second year is so difficult is because this is when we start to break out of our cocoon. This is the pain of transformation.
We are leaving so much behind us and spreading our wings. But before we can do that, we have to morph ourselves in such a way that the cocoon doesn’t hold us back anymore. It served it’s purpose and I don’t need it anymore.
But it’s a painful process and pushing through that pain is what is going to lead to more life and more joy. Boy do I want those. I want as much of those as I can get in the short time I have left.
Steven will go with me wherever I am. He was with me in the cocoon and he’s cheering me on as I break out of it. That’s what keeps me going. And I will keep going.
“Nevertheless, she persisted.”
I love you, Steven. Thank you.