I once heard a phrase that if all the world’s problems were in a bag you would be trying to pick back your own. At the time I thought well of course, my problems are miniscule. Now I think that clearly wasn’t written by a young widow. I know there are still worse problems than mine; people who deal with major issues on top of being widowed and not to mention people living in third world countries. However, if I was offered a bag of possible problems mine would certainly not be at the top of the list of problems I would want.

I know it’s not particularly helpful to myself but today I’m feeling envious of other people. I’m envious of the people who got to be married to their person for their life. I’m envious of the people who got to celebrate their first or even second wedding anniversary. I’m envious of people who got to get married and have a baby, not a funeral, a year or two later. People that get to live seemingly “normal” lives with their spouses and families.

And I’m mad. I’m mad that I was able to plan a life with Mike that I never got to live. I’m mad that happiness does not just come naturally to me anymore. It’s something I have to be conscious of and work for so I don’t slip back into my dark hole. I’m mad that I can’t just relax into happiness. That I know that I need to do certain things consistently, like exercise and get outside, even when I’m busy or want to do other things so that I can keep myself in balance.

I’m upset that I have to do so much thinking all the time. That I have to be conscious of my grief monster in all my decisions and make decisions based on either keeping him calm or knowing I can handle it when it rears its ugly head. I’m tired of thinking and planning for myself. I’m tired of having to be so aware all the time. I’m envious of people that just get to be. People that can decide that they’re just going to get up and go somewhere not having to think about if that place will be a trigger because of either memories or even the lack of them. People who can put themselves in different situations and not have to be anxious, depressed, or just plain uncomfortable.

I’m envious of the people on the outside, who no matter how hard they try or how good their intentions are, they just don’t get it or me. I don’t want them to be in my place but I’m jealous that I’m not also in theirs. People that have the luxury of sitting with their spouse scrolling through my Instagram and discussing how nice it is that I found someone new while then checking back to see how long it’s been since Mike died and (accidentally?) liking that picture too. I want to be those people who know nothing about being a young widow but want to see how I’m doing and give me advice. Not that I would do it, knowing what I know now, but isn’t it nice to have that option? To be a person who thinks they know what you “should” do, how you might feel, or what is right without ever having lived it would be a nice spot to be in. Or even to be a person that can just listen, be supportive and say to do what’s best for me. That’s a better position to be in. Today, I wish that was me.

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  • Antonella Totino
    commented 2018-07-30 14:01:08 -0700
    I’m envious too.
    Grieving is such hard work every day and every second. I may smile at something and the grief monster is back, reminding me. Always reminding me.
    Why me? Why not me I guess. Others have it worse but I can’t see beyond my grief. I feel sorry for their losses bc I know of the ensuing sorrow but I can’t get it of my head.
    Unfortunately, everyone will experience death and loss but Im envious off those who haven’t had to experience it yet.
  • Jessica Jessica
    commented 2018-05-24 07:02:21 -0700
    Hello, here’s your sister. Yes to all of that.