Resilience

I didn't want this blog to start out in a funk, but what can I do? I'm not depressed like this all of the time, or even most of the time. The blues comes and overstays its welcome.

I went to my therapy group for young widows last night. It's a schlep for me. I drive and park, then take a boat, then a bus, then walk a few blocks. It's usually worth it, though, because no matter how bad I'm feeling, I leave with my spirit lifted a little. Listening to the problems of others engages my empathy and that, somehow, makes me feel better and less alone. Last night, though, it didn't do shit.

Lesson: Nothing is going to make you feel better all of the time.

I got a handout about being resilient. It explains that resilient people seek to learn from bad experiences rather than dwelling on them. It lists all sorts of strategies for being more of this type of person, such as building connections with people, seeking out laughter, taking care of yourself, accepting change, working toward goals, etc.

I would like to think that I am resilient. Wouldn't we all? It's an admirable character trait that people look for in others. Reading this handout, though, makes me realize I have not been such a person.

I was--and still am--deeply in love with Wendy. I've carefully maintained those feelings for her because it still makes sense in the grief-destroyed parts of my brain that she might come back in some way, if only in a dream or a whisper on the wind.

Also, I'm somehow hardwired to be nostalgic about everything. I'm the guy sitting in the back of the wagon watching the town we just left fade into the horizon. Humans want what they can't have and, in my case, especially want what they can no longer have.

I've permitted only minor changes in my life since Wendy died. The house still pretty much looks the same, except the weeds are tall. I've joined a church and have done some therapy. I took one class a year ago. I drive her car, sleep in our bed, and keep her pictures up all around. I've cleaned out the closet and the bathroom.

Wendy was the resilient member of our household. I don't know what she would have done had she been the widow, but she would not have avoided change. She was a bold woman.