One of the things I'm struggling to get used to is the changes in my identity. I'm a widow. I'm the head of my household. I'm single. I'm independent. I'm strong (who knew?!). These things can be kind of confusing and sometimes I feel like I have to re-learn how to interact with other humans.
I wanted to share a sample of German coffee with a co-worker, because I thought it was something he would enjoy. I put it in an air tight glass jar and in order to keep it in the dark, I put the jar in a recycled gift bag with red polka-dots. I had the matching red tissue paper handy and decided I'd go ahead and present it like a gift. The next day I asked what he thought of the flavor and we had a nice conversation about coffee snobbery. He seemed to make a point of sharing that his girlfriend appreciated good coffee too. I doubt that my co-worker mistook my kind gesture as a come on, but it's entirely possible and it's just something I've never had to consider before.
As another example, I have a friend with whom I've had a million and one candid conversations on a variety of interesting, hypothetical and sometimes inappropriate topics. I've known this person for over a decade and for the first time ever, I felt the need to clarify that I'm not interested in romance. It probably wasn't necessary, but it felt like there might have been confusion about the nature and direction of the questions I had for him that day.
And it's not just weirdness within existing relationships. I've met a new person who is interesting and with whom I have a quite few things in common. I'd like an opportunity to hang out and perhaps become friends, but because he's a man, I don't know how to go about it. I'm not in a place where I'd want to pursue a romantic relationship and I don't want to give the wrong impression.
As time passes it also becomes increasingly awkward to know how to reveal the whole my-husband-got-sick-and-died-in-the-course-of-a-month-and-I've-been-devastated-ever-since element of my life to people who don't already know. I also don't know how to deal with the conversation that typically follows such a revelation. Keeping it to myself is a viable option for people with whom I expect to have limited interactions, but anyone who has to work with me or interact with me on a regular basis deserves a heads up.
I'm also struggling to gauge how much I can get away with talking about Brian, our relationship, our stories, his death, my feelings and the grief process. I think if I were a 3rd party in this experience - a friend or co-worker, for example - I might be tired of it by now.
I'm the first to admit that I'm not a very good person, and I think if it weren't happening directly to me, I'd be completely bored of the conversations. I can totally hear myself saying something like, "Oh lord, here we go again with the dead husband stories..." or something equally selfish and horrible.
I am painfully aware of how taxing it must be on the people who have decided to stick through this with me. I don't want to be one-dimensional, but at the moment and for the foreseeable future, the experience of this loss is the first thing on my mind in all circumstances and so it's what I tend to talk about.
I recognize that some of this is my own insecurity and inexperience with single adulthood and I have confidence that I'll get it worked out. In the meantime, if I accidentally flirt with you or your significant other, please disregard it. There's almost no chance it was intentional.
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Brian telling what I'm sure was an entertaining story at the Eastmark wine club event we hosted. |
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