Widow In Revolt By Laura Lis

i am not lost. i was. i’m not anymore. i felt weakened and frightened. That isn’t who i am. And i couldn’t stand feeling that way. i am so strong and the only things i’ve ever been frightened of are frogs and failing.

My grieving self turned me into someone i didn’t like. Didn’t even recognize. And after a lifetime of writing about how i felt about every single thing in the universe, do you understand how jarring it is to not recognize yourself? i was always extremely, uncomfortably, self-aware. i knew the reason for every single thing i had ever done, as if i were preparing to go to court with it and defend my very existence. Every word carefully examined and considered. Air-tight defense of my soul and absolute understanding of who i was. If i was certain of nothing else in the world, i was certain of who i was and how i had become her.

And then suddenly, i was falling and failing and confused and unsure and unable to decide….anything. i was so, so lost. And it became what i knew about myself. How i identified myself. The thing that separated me from everyone else and the only thing that made me noticeable. My adorable awkwardness, always quite at home, was suddenly ill-fitting and garish. Not even a scarlet letter branded into my cheek could have been louder than my walking anguish and defeat. And do not doubt, i was defeated. i felt it more than i’ve ever felt anything before. i feel things deeply, it is my nature, but the sudden thudding of the end of my life was too loud to argue with, even for me.

i gave in. i had been taught…Widows never recover. i watched it in movies, i saw it in my family, i didn’t understand it but it was accepted. “You’ll never be the same.” Well, i was happy and now i’ll never be that. Ok. We can go with it. It’s the easiest thing to do. One less decision to try to make. So easy. The grief and the confusion is here, waiting for me to wallow around in it like my favorite hoodie. i don’t have to walk outside to look for it. It’s always waiting for me. It’s welcoming and becoming my entire life, so i should probably just live here. It’s familiar now. It’s the only thing that understands my brokenness. And do not doubt, i was broken in half and everything i knew about myself had poured out and pooled around my feet like a very, very cold vein had thawed and spilled. Unrecognizable. Nothing was left inside of me.

It was dark. i am a joyful girl and not used to living in darkness. i couldn’t see anything, but that was ok as long as no one could see me, either.

And i hated it. It was terrifying in it’s comfort and safety. This is not a life. This is not a life that someone who loves you would ever wish on you. i was failing. On purpose. Because i thought it was my damn job to be a mess, to be sad-faced and unsure. Grief told me that was who i was now. And then i got angry.
i don’t like it here. i don’t like me now. This can be a thing that happened to be, but it can’t be who i am. How do i get out? And when i do, where do i go? Who am i?
It turns out, i am still a very fearless girl. It turns out, i am still a very joyful girl. It turns out, i am still a very stubborn, determined and impatient girl. And i am so grateful to be accepted for exactly who i am by the people who truly matter and don’t need me to walk around with my eyes on the ground and my shoulders rounded under the immeasurable weight of that thing they can’t imagine but saw in a movie once. For them.
i am glad i was raised with the understanding that i was never going to fit into a box.

i am not my grief, i am not my sadness. i will stand on my tip-toes, and climb over everything i own to be able to see the moon coming up again, but i am through laying down with that awfulness that was trying to kill me. i won’t do it for anyone who thinks i should and i won’t do it because it’s safe and easy and “just the way things are”. i will decide what my loss and my life mean to me. And i will not let anyone else tell me i am wrong.

i’m not going to fail. Because i do not want to. And that is all that matters, now.