Widow -
The definition is simple a woman whose husband has died.
But hearing the word I immediately conjure up visions of a black nasty spider or 80+ year old women. Never in a million years would I have thought to call myself this at 42 or even be in the same category. I cannot get myself to even refer to myself as a widow, even though I am. It seems like a negative word. Let me preface by saying I am not fishing for compliments here, just stating how I currently feel. And as I believe feelings are not right or wrong just the way you feel. The last few months have seriously aged me and right now I feel old, overweight, tired, and unattractive. I have and developed more wrinkles then I noticed 3 months ago, or maybe I am just noticing them more. I used to call them character lines. Now they are just wrinkles because my frame of mind is in a different place. The sparkle in my eyes is missing when I smile. I don’t need to age myself 40 years by adding widow to my status on top of how I feel.
I am seriously trying to find joy and happiness in simple things and trying to occupy my mind with as many hopeful future things as I can so I can briefly take a break from my current state of deep sadness. I am looking forward to artificial turf in my front yard to provide relief in some household tasks and flooring in my orchard next week a project that Steve hasn’t quite finished. So if you see my working on projects remodeling my house or buying new boots or planning the best Cookies and Cocoa with Santa at Anthem K-8 no judging as temporary happiness counts as happiness and distracts me right now. I am certain I won’t always feel this way… I hope. So please if you need to refer to me as anything I am still Dani, (even if it takes me awhile to find her again) not married, unmarried, single or divorced I am widowed, but I would rather not be referred to as that.
Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.
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