Woman To Woman

 

I occasionally visit with a young (approximately 40) married woman who works hard, gives her family all the love she can muster and show them, and with determination and focus, keeping her family together.  She practices her chosen profession part time.  Two exceptional teenage girls, two adorable dogs and a needy (her word) husband complete the family.  We’ve known each other for approximately 16 years.

We’ve had many conversations about life, love, children, the trials and tribulations of young motherhood, loss of loved ones, and getting older, to name a few topics.

Yesterday, the topics were hormones, maturity, marriage and frustrations of daily living.  A seemingly incongruous combination.  Or is it?  I will call her Ellen for the purpose of this post.

It all began when, as usual, in her caring voice, Ellen asked me how I was.  That’s all the impetus needed to get me started.  I began by telling her I was feeling very good for a senior citizen – no complaints – good health.  I have interests and social friends that keep me busy and intellectually engaged.  I continued by saying, “I’m satisfied with my life the way it is now – I wouldn’t say I’m happy all of the time – happiness is a fleeting thing – emotions come and go – ups and downs – it’s impossible to feel happy all the time.”  This seemed to have hit a nerve with her.

Ellen unburdened herself to me.  Her life was in a state of flux:  Her girls were the most important part of her life, and she expends so much love, time and energy to make sure they are receiving the best start in life she and her husband could give them; all the while planning for their further education.  There is a “however.”  She feels her life is missing things that would make her happy – she wants more than “satisfied.”

Ellen believes she has three children, not two.  Husband is the third.  Not to say that he doesn’t work hard and has assumed a tremendous responsibility in supporting his family; he works long hours and expends much energy in his work.  However, there is a disconnect.  He is not the partner she would prefer – he is not really a partner in the marriage – she feels like she is carrying the whole marriage on her shoulders and there isn’t that total dependency she would like to have with him.  Dependency for emotional support and dependency for being able to rely on him as a full partner in the relationship – which she believes he isn’t.  He is distant and absorbed in his own thoughts.

I suggested counseling.  They did have some, years ago, when there was some problems (probably same ones she is talking about).

I suggested having a “date night” once a week or every two weeks, to get “back on track.”  Ellen didn’t have a positive attitude about that, and gave me a response that she didn’t think it would help.

I suggested that hormones could be helping to make her feel less satisfied with her life as it is now.  She was at a time when menopause comes into the picture.

Ellen was clearly despondent about her situation.  She would love to be “fulfilled.”  She would like to work more hours, now that the girls are not babies, and she believes she can depend upon them to be responsible for a short time alone at home.

After leaving Ellen and on my way home, I was shaking my head mentally.  She sounded like me when I was in the throes of the demands upon me when my children were young.  Unlike her, though, and luckily for me, I had a husband who was a true partner in the relationship.  I could depend upon him for anything – emotionally, physically, intellectually; he was supportive in all ways.

I will be visiting Ellen again within a couple of weeks, and I hope she will be feeling better.  We all suffer lows – as mentioned above – life is a succession of highs and lows.  We do not stagnate, for sure, and if anyone says they’re happy all the time, they’re full of crap.  Just my opinion.

 

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December Represents Mixed Emotions

December has different meanings for different people.  Excitement, happiness, celebration, life expectations, new beginnings, and end of a life (lives) as we knew it.

What does the month of December represent to me?

Going back to the year 1958, December was great cause for celebration, life expectations, and a new beginning.  I married my first husband, Danny – my best friend, the father of my children.  My soul mate.  Yes, it is real.  There really is such a thing.

December means the birth of my son.  I was totally prepared for his arrival, and was joyous at his birth.

December means the month in which my now deceased granddaughter was born.

December means celebration of Hanukkah.  A time to be close to family and light the Menorah and remember the discovery of one day’s oil in the biblical temple which, miraculously, lasted eight days, to keep the temple’s light burning until more oil was found.

December means the loss of my soul mate.  It was expected, after many months’ illness, but when it happened, I had to cope with the great emptiness that his death left after 34 years of deep love.

December means the discovery of a new love, and a decision to devote myself to another.  It was a very good decision.  Bob was a special guy and very devoted to me, and I was happy with him.  We had a loving relationship and there was respect for one another.

December means the loss of my Bob after more than a year’s illness.  We were married for 18 1/2 years, and they were very good years.  They went very fast.

December is a time for remembering:  Taking stock of the past and looking forward to another year of whatever life brings.  It brings surprises – the unexpected; that’s for sure.

What does December mean to you?

Widowhood: Staying Emotionally Healthy

So, here I am, a second-time widow.  It’s been a year and a half.  Has it been that long a passage of time?

Time doesn’t heal; it only smooths out the scars just a little.  If someone tells you “time heals,” they haven’t experienced the loss.  And we have to move forward.  Keeping time in place, like a soldier’s cadence:  left, right; left, right, is not emotionally healthy.  I am not one to sulk, cry, despair or pull out my hair figuratively.  I am still alive!  That, in itself, is cause to be happy – to celebrate.  Well, maybe celebrate is too strong a word right now.

I am very much alone when Bob’s not here to speak to, laugh with, discuss current events in our nation and in the world at large, share a TV program, laugh at the funny sitcoms, scream and shout at the TV about the unfairness in the nation and world, reported by newscasters.

He was a very warm, relaxed man, and enjoyed his life with me. We enjoyed each other.  He was a happy man, and it was my pleasure to keep him that way.

Bob was a very relaxed man. He loved to be comfortable. I always teased him that his middle name should be “comfort.”

Geographically, I’m not entirely alone:  my sister lives close by and my daughter lives only 15 minutes away, and my son lives 35 minutes away in the next county.  And my three cats have me laughing or succumbing to their affectionate antics so much of the time.

Bob and I came down to Florida at different times.  He moved from New Jersey a year and a half after his first wife died; I moved from New York about 2 years before, with my first husband, Dan.  Bob and I ended up in the same condo development after losing our spouses, and were forced to accept our station in life:  widowhood.

It was almost like a storybook way in which we met; actually, we didn’t meet in the strict sense.  We were introduced.

I lived in one building; he lived in another.  Condo living suited our single life at the time.

Sunrise Lakes Phase 4 – The Fairways in Sunrise, FL

 

Overlooking lake and golf course.

Bob was retired; I was working full time, and saved my cleaning for the weekend as most people do who work.  I developed the habit of going to the pool on Saturday afternoons.  There were lots of people in and around the pool and I befriended some nice women.  Conversation was struck up and, after a couple of months, they told me about “this nice single man” who lived in their building.  “Would you like to meet him?  We think the two of you would hit it off.”

I turned them down; my widowhood was still too fresh.  I couldn’t think of meeting anyone at that time.  After my refusal, they stopped talking about “him.”

Many months passed and, every so often, they brought up the subject again – I kept refusing.  I couldn’t take them seriously.  But one day, just to shut their mouths finally, I said, “OK.”

So, it was arranged.  I was to be at the pool at my usual time one Saturday, and they convinced Bob to be there, too.  Well, that particular Saturday, I had long phone calls from sister and daughter who were still living in New York, so I was delayed in getting over to the pool.  I was just getting ready to go over to the pool, when the phone rang again.  It was the two women.  “Carol, are you coming?  He’s here!”

“The pool.”

I finally got there, and the introductions took place.  Bob was a nice-looking man and his voice was smoothly masculine – nice to listen to.  The women had arranged the chairs just so:  we were facing each other.  (They were having a blast!)  They made themselves comfortable on their lounges next to the chairs, and we all chatted a bit.  In a couple of minutes, they stood up, held up little brown paper bags, announced they were going into the clubhouse to have their lunch, and left!!

Boy!  Talk about being left in the lurch.  Well, we made the best of it.  The usual chatter.  “Where are you from?  Do you have family?”  Etc.

During the long and enjoyable conversation (more than 2 hours), Bob mentioned that he cooked.  He suggested that he would cook dinner for me sometime(!).  Before I knew what was happening, words tumbled out of my mouth.  “I’m not doing anything this evening.”

He didn’t cook that night, but he did take me out for a nice dinner.  And so it began…