The Awful Truth

The awful, embarrassing truth that is. I looked at my recent posts and went back to read posts I wrote 2 years ago. I was griping about the same things, the same situations, frustrations and the same conclusions. Unfortunately none of it has improved, I’m not smarter or better off than before. I’m in a rut and apparently I’ve gotten so comfortable here, decorated the place with cushions so it looks different but it’s still the same rut. The cushions make the hard floors and sharp corners less painful but I know they are still there. 

I  haven’t grown any. I am not able to look back, see changes and be grateful for my new self. I am a little embarrassed but not as embarrassed as I should be. Two years, woman, you had two years and what did you do? Gripe, whine, complain and say the same old things but do nothing. No change, still fretting about what you can’t change and not moving forward. Am I afraid?  If I’m the badass I like to think I am the answer should be no. But I know I am a fraud.

What serious problem has plagued me isn’t global warming, the economy or anything relevant. It’s that I’m a lonely middle-aged widow who doesn’t want to date or get married but wants, uh, the benefits of being married, to put it politely. Not just the physical benefits but the emotional ones, I miss them. And I don’t want to lose my autonomy, identity or settle for someone. To be honest I haven’t had to worry about it, I am not turning away suitors, which is a relief in one way but a blow to the old ego. I’ve been going over this for two years, declaring I enjoy being alone,  which I do overall, then admitting it can be lonely. 

I should be used to this. I should have dealt with it, faced the reality of being a widow and accepted it with grace and wisdom, resigned myself to my situation. Then just got on with life, making the most of that independence. 

I have, a little. I ‘ve traveled, and I started walking in the evenings but that’s about it. I feel like I should be further along the road, ignoring those fits of loneliness when they come and flick them away. I’m hoping I can get there and finally make peace with myself and my life. 

This July will be three years Jerry has been gone. The first year was mostly numb, then it was weird, getting used to this new reality. I think of older widows I knew and how serene and content they seemed. I’m hoping I can get to that place. 


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