So I Don't Fade~

I do love writing for Widows Voice.  It's my saving grace each week.

But I also struggle, many weeks, to come up with something to write here.

Not because I have nothing to write about. 

But because there is so much to write about that words and sentences fail me.

Each time I sit down to write, here or on my personal blog, or on my Happily Homeless page, I struggle with how honest I should be, need to be, want to be.

Not because I'm concerned about being honest, really, but how many times can you say the same thing in different, interesting ways?  And how honest can I be without people worrying that I'm suicidal or depressed or any of the other judgements waiting out in the atmosphere?

Do I write about how I'm figuring out this widowhood, bravely marching through and on and forward?  Building and creating a life for myself, doing Chuck proud, all of which is true...

But, honestly, doesn't mean a thing to me.

And I know you understand what I mean when I write that.

Or, do I write honestly, from deep in my heart, about what a battle it is to not let despair take over, and exhaustion.

When I was first given the opportunity to write here, I seized on it as a responsibility that would ensure that I had at least one thing that required me to show up each week.

It is still my saving grace each week, whether I stare at the empty page with a blank mind or not.

This past weekend I stepped out in public to share my story officially, for the first time.  Presentations and workshops around the country…that’s what I’m doing with this next part of my life.  And it was wonderful and beautiful and I felt powerful and sure and certain.  Who knows my story better than I, right?

But, at the end of the day, as I drove my rig back to where I’m currently housesitting, I felt so fucking alone.  No matter how amazing it was, I still sat down in the house with a bowl of cereal for supper, and watched a show on my laptop.  Yes, I spoke to my kids, I spoke to friends, because I can’t give in to the loneliness and I know I’m the only one who can change the energy, blah, blah, blah.

But…you know…still alone, and silence was everywhere around me.  Most especially, in my heart.

It would be so very easy to fade away.  Take my rig and drive off into the wilderness somewhere and just be there until...I don’t have a clue.

But I don’t want to worry my kids, or those who love me, so I don’t.  And I fight the despair and loneliness and broken shreds of my being.

And every Tuesday evening, I write my blog here.

So I don’t fade away.

Showing 5 reactions

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  • Jose Adams
    commented 2016-09-01 02:30:25 -0700
    That feeling of being so utterly fucking alone is brutal. I’ve never felt anything like this. It overwhelms you. It consumes you. It takes every ounce of will power to not let it just take over. The new normal is shit. I liked my old normal, loved it even.

    Life just has no meaning any more and if you add in the soul crushing feeling of being completely alone in the universe all you can do is cry until the tears run out.
  • Sharon Wall
    commented 2016-08-31 19:04:35 -0700
    Yep – doing the stuff, working hard, looking good to others. Doesn’t mean a thing. Yep. Me too.
  • Janice Hart
    commented 2016-08-31 09:08:59 -0700
    You won’t fade away. I know you carry on your story to tell of the immense love that Chuck left for you. And I get that, and understand that. But I see another story. One you probably didn’t set out to write. It’s a story of how someone who has lost the love of her life finds the courage to make a new life. A story of how a widow, although in the depths of grief, finds the strength to put one foot in front of the other to make a totally different life for herself. Most of us sit in our comfortable homes, surrounded by things that our husbands loved, touched, used, and filled with walls full of memories. You are showing us all that we can be fearless and make different choices. You show us that you are a survivor and sometimes people need to look outside the box and then the possibilities are endless. By sharing your story, we get to see hope for a new tomorrow. Thank you for taking us along for the ride, Alison.
  • Marybeth Hotaling
    commented 2016-08-31 08:56:08 -0700
    So real and raw and absolutely true for many of us. It helps to know iothers get it.
  • Lisa Richardson
    commented 2016-08-31 07:57:10 -0700
    ….And every night I read this blog for the very same reason. The nights are just the worst aren’t they? I can be busy and happy all day. But in the evening, when the rest of the world slows down and connects to each other I’m left wondering why I’m here….what’s the point. Life just has no real meaning in those moments. Don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that, but it is oh so good knowing everyone is here with me. Thank you for bringing this up Alison. It goes unsaid far too often.