Numb. Distracted. Avoidance.

A Widow’s Self Reflection on Healing.

It’s easy to preach about living in the moment when we’re numbing out or avoiding reality.

When we create false moments through parties, drinking, shopping, drugs, food, gossip, social media, etc. In order to avoid our feelings about our actual reality, it’s so very easy to tell ourself that we live in the moment.

I was numb for a very long time. So numb that I had to seek outside sources of pleasure for myself in order to remind myself that I even had feelings at all. I was not totally dead inside yet, but my soul definitely slipped in and out of a coma-like state for a while.

Pain and trauma do that to a human. Our bodies are hard wired to shut it all down and encase the tender parts of us with iron clad armor.

*Note: before you tell yourself that you haven’t experienced pain or trauma, I challenge you to look honestly at your life. And the truth of it. It may not have been a tragedy that made headlines, but most trauma is quieter than that. It’s quieter than the word itself. So quiet that we tell ourselves it was nothing, dismissing our tender feelings and opting to suit up with the armor instead.

The thing no one could ever truly convey about healing, because you have to live it to know it, is that it gets ugly. The mind and body will literally battle the soul, clinging to the armor that protected the whole of the three so well, for so long.

Living in the moment, truly living in the moment, is actually brutal when you are recovering from something. Peeling off the armor, then removing the distractions that numb us is beyond uncomfortable. It is painful. The truth of our trauma is painful and forcing ourselves to feel it, is counter intuitive to our human nature to survive.

It takes patience and bravery to let the soul take over the mind and body like this… because the soul knows best; it also takes a type of self love that most of us are not nearly as used to giving ourselves as we should be.. (I’m sorry for that… because we all deserve to love ourself.)

If we can get here, if we can force our ourselves to peel away the armor, remove the distractions, look at the truth and feel it for as painful as it is, it will truly suck.

It will truly suck.

This process brings us to a breaking point, and just when we think we will break, we choose something better than the numbing distractions of the past. We call out to Him… and feel the relief.

There’s relief on the other side of that pain. There’s pain on the other side of that numbness. There’s bravery in venturing past those hurdles…. And there’s whole wide life to be lived on the other side of it all.

Remember, life is going to hit you hard with a lot of crappy stuff. Might as well live anyways.

I believe in you,

Meg

Guilty Widow: There is no “It’s over”

Judgmental people exist. It’s part of life, and many of us live in fear of the judgment of others.

However, it’s very rare, as an adult, that we experience judgment in a direct fashion. It usually comes as an undercutting comment or a question disguised as innocent curiosity or as encouragement… but intuition hints at contempt.

Widows know this hint well.

“Do you ever feel guilty for dating? “

“What do your kids think of the new baby?”

“You don’t have to feel guilty about falling in love again.”

As a widow personally speaking, I’ll just go ahead and take the time to answer this now.

I don’t feel guilty.

If I felt guilty, I probably shouldn’t be dating… How could I possibly have a healthy relationship with Mike if every time we did something that mattered, I felt guilty about it?

Answer: I couldn’t.

When we feel guilt, it is either warranted or not.

Sometimes, we feel guilt because we just should… Because we did something wrong or are doing something wrong or because we’re about to do something wrong.

Other times, we feel guilt that’s unwarranted for no reason at all. And when this is the case, we still shouldn’t be doing the thing we’re about to do… Why? Because we will likely sabotage it for ourselves because we feel undeserving.

When we feel guilty for no reason at all that’s an indication that there’s something internal that we need to explore. There’s healing to work through.

So do I feel guilty for meeting and falling in love with Mike and Myles? For getting the opportunity to carry and give birth to another beautiful baby?

No. I don’t.

That series of questions insinuates that my children and I don’t deserve the experience of loving and being loved by new people. Further, it also stems from an archaic notion that the grief we were tossed into is over once new love is introduced. I reject both of these ideals. One because it’s ridiculous to think that we don’t deserve love because we’ve experienced loss. Love is a blessing, and we will take all the blessings that we can get.

And two…

Guess what? I’m still in it here. I’m still working through missing Scott every day, especially the holidays. I’m still sad that I can’t share all of the good things that have happened for us with him. I can’t introduce him to Mike, Myles, or Lukas. He won’t see Sophie progress in cheerleading, clap for Lydia at her first home run, or seeing Jax on the ice as a goalie.

I still wipe their tears after a cemetery visit. I still answer hard questions and hold my daughter in her bed for as long as it takes because she just read her baby book and found a letter that I wrote to her back then, and she can’t understand why there’s not a letter in there from her dad.

“Where’s Dad’s letter?” She asks disappointed, near frantic, “everything’s in your hand writing, Mom.”

So I’m the person who tucks her in from something like that, heads upstairs and cries; because when I wrote that letter 12 years ago, there was so much love in my heart. And hope… so much hope for my infant daughter… that she would read it some day, as a teenager and know how loved she was… but here the time came, and instead all she could think was: where’s Daddy?

Never in my nightmares, did I ever think when pouring my heart into that beautiful letter, that it, along with so many other things, would be tainted…

So, yes, yes we will take some new, fresh, and pure love.

These are the types of things that I manage and help three children manage all of the time. The only difference now?

I have help.

We have a wonderful person who lives with us, loves us, supports us through living to the fullest and healthiest and supports us through our evolving grief.

Do I feel guilty for that?

No. And no person should feel guilty for living despite heartache and strife, widowed or not.

I felt guilt when I wasn’t able to get to my husband the minute I knew he was not safe.

I felt guilt I wasn’t able to bring him justice.

I felt guilt that I gave him so much shit when he was alive.

I felt guilt for not doing my part to make myself happy in our marriage, losing myself in a relationship, and putting the pressure on him to make “us” happy. Codependency at its finest.

I felt guilt for loathing traditions like balloon releases and leaving an empty chair at holidays.

I felt guilt that I relied on my kids too much, too early.

I felt guilty for living. Often.

I felt guilt when it was the wrong guy. Definitely.

But not any more and never….

Have I, for once, ever felt guilt for loving Mike.

The other day, we visited the cemetery so the kids could take time to talk to Scott about all that’s happened in their life. Jaxson brought his school stuff to show. The girls talked about the new baby.

Afterwards, there were tears (as there usually is), but the kids were conflicted.

“Mom, I miss Daddy but that means we wish away Mike, Myles, and Luke.” One cried (and another child later expressed similar feelings.)

They feel guilty. I thought. And for a split second, a combination of my empathy, and my own self doubt gave me the residuals of that guilt. I almost took it on.

Was I wrong? Did I curse them with internal conflict by moving forward and asking for more from life?

I quickly reminded myself that they’ve been given a gift. Forever feeling the loss of their father and cursed with grief, they’ve been given the opportunity to love and be loved. Again, here was another situation they needed my guidance on.

“You can feel both,” I said, “You don’t have to choose between hurting and missing Daddy and loving and enjoying our life now. You were made strong enough to handle both.”

And in order to coach my children on this, I have to believe it and live it out myself.

And I do. No guilt here. Just love. Because God made us strong enough to handle it all.

To you: Life is complicated, unpredictable, and really really hard anyway… might as well do what we want and live it. Big love, Meg

What I Wish I Would’ve Known When 1st Becoming Widowed…

To the girl who was married at 22 and widowed at 31:

I forgive you.

◾️Strangers will seek you out. Some of them will cling to you, asking you not leave them lonely. They will want you to sit in misery with them because “now you understand that life isn’t fair”, like they’ve always “known”.

◾️Some of those closest to you will either turn their backs because their own pain is too hard to manage, or they will project their own hopelessness onto you.

“How will you ever get through this?”

“You will never have love like that again”

◾️Others will prey on you and your trusting, naive heart. 🚬

▫️Some… will stay. And they will show you more kindness than you’ve ever known. A type of giving that’s so beyond abundant… You HAVE to thank God.

And you will. Every day. After every beat down. Again and again. You will get up & choose hope, trust, and gratitude.

To the girl who married her 1st boyfriend & lost him over the phone, the one who had entire years of memories blown from her brain, has PTSD flashbacks; the one who went through an excruciating court case that physically aged her in a week’s time… the one who was verbally and physically abused by lovers; the one who went through the sickness of her children, alone, medical procedures, alone, the death of 3 grandparents and a close friend, alone…

I wish you knew that everything that you ever needed was in you, not other’s words, not in accolades or alcohol. You. 💥

For what it’s worth though, I forgive you.

And I love you 💕

Photo credit: c.2017 Six months in, wondering if it’s ok to dress sexy. I now know that there’s a time & a place for how we dress; that time is whenever and that place is wherever. I pay my bills. I manage my pain. I tuck my kids in bed at night. I cringe at this photo, but if you’re widowed (and still reading 😆) My hope is you give yourself permission to do what you want & not what you think you should be doing. No one should ever have to relinquish hope, lay down, & wait to die. You’re going to grieve anyways, so you might as well do it your way. 🌅🧡

I’m starting a podcast this year!

What should I talk about? Interview? I also need a name! Comment or DM me your questions/thoughts! 🎙🥰

Saying Your Name.

Scotty,

It’s nice to just say your name.
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After two years, the expectation is for me to slide your name into a photo album, tuck it on a shelf in between the baby books, and not take it out again until my guests have left. Until I’m an old woman, riddled with dementia, rocking in my chair. With grand kids asking, “Who is Grandma talking about?”, it will be ok to say your name then.
.
But to use it now, for some, is like using a curse word.
.
Two years ago, a faceless demon reached its arm through a sunlit sky, plucked me from my happy, delusional life, and by the wrist, threw me like a fidget spinner into treacherous waters. Bobbing in the ocean, I didn’t have time to cry. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I had to save those emotions for when I built a stable enough boat. Gathering our children (who were flung into these waters too), keeping my head above water, I had to build myself a fucking boat, while on the verge of drowning.
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And it’s occurred to me that I must have something built now…
Because all I can do is finally cry.
.
You loved to talk about our second date when I told you, “It’s not where you’re at, but who you’re with.” Well, I’m sitting in this boat, Scott, and I’m looking for you.
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I would have lost myself in the ocean to be with you. I would have struggled through every horrific thing this world has. With you.
.
Instead, I’m doing it FOR you.
In your honor.
Alone.
.
Navigating in solitude,
I’ve seen ugliness.
And I thank you for shielding me from the monsters.
I’ve made hard decisions.
And I thank you for always being my partner.
I’ve experienced others’ selfishness.
And I thank you for valuing me in a world of users.
.
To spend 12 years building something, in a world that only knows how to destroy things, I refuse to let this destroy what you and I started. I will row on with this disfigured heart of mine. I will find our family an island, and I will say your name to everyone there.
.
Scott Lawrence Bajorek – you made me so proud, and I don’t care who it intimidates. I will never be quiet about that. In fact, I think I’ll paint it on this boat.
.
.
I love you.
-Me

How Music Worked Within Me this Year

I love starting my day by hearing a song that is 100% from Scotty.

Chili Peppers, Hall & Oats, Cake, Metallica, Bell Big Devoe, John Legend, Earth, Wind, and Fire.

This morning it was Gap Band…

Music was hard initially after losing him.

He and I found so much enjoyment from cutting it up at a wedding/event or just dancing around the house with each other and later, with our children. Something that bonded two people in such a way; brought them both so much joy… Remove one of those people,and there’s just gaping, salty pain. Through nausea, I’d ask myself during those days: How can I possibly find joy in music again? How can I ever dance again?

And I began to mourn these pleasures of life while mourning him.

All in silence.

A few months into grief, I was introduced to new artists. I allowed myself to listen to them, and I did so on repeat. These were different types of musicians. Ones that never played in the background of any of our memories together. Music to which I couldn’t dance. Eventually, I began to enjoy music in a different way. A darker but absolutely necessary way

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The magic of music is that it has the same properties as water. What do I mean by this? Walk into your kitchen right now, fill up a glass with water, and set it on the counter. Then, grab a single piece of paper towel and gingerly dip a corner of your paper towel into the glass of water that you poured. Just the corner. What happens? You watch the water rise up furt4BlogPostJan9her than your dipping point.Water creeps. It’s polar, which means at a molecular level, it attaches to itself…the molecules climb one other to reach further.

I can tell you this is how music worked within me this year. I let just a little bit of it in. Just a corner of the symbolic paper towel into the glass of water; At first, it was one depressing song on repeat. Then, it was several angry ones (on repeat). The angry songs gave me energy to listen to upbeat stuff… and before I realized it, music was in my life again.

Don’t get me wrong. To this day, there are still songs that could take me to my knees, but I refuse to let that happen now. And strangely, I feel like it’s him, laughing over my left shoulder, bobbing his head and saying: Girl, don’t you deny this beat!

I’m happy to say that my kids and I have honorary dance parties in our kitchen again,

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and we know it’s probably a joyful moment for Daddy too. He speaks to me through music, and what once was something too painful to accept, is now something I deeply cherish.

I’m here to tell you, whoever you are, whatever you’re going through, I know you’re in pain, and I’m so sorry that you carry it. I know that some pain just never heals, and I’m sorry for this fact of life as well. My heart hurts all of the time. It’s not going to go away. I know this.

Of all these things that ‘I know’ though, the one I know for sure: not any of this is a reason to stop listening to the music, to stop dancing, to deny yourself the beat.

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Pain is no excuse to stop seeking joy.

Big Love,

Megan

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Use Those Leftovers: Holiday Breakfast Cakes

Irony within Facebook memories; This was two year ago today. 

And now, for the recipe…

(Leftover) Holiday Breakfast Cakes

Ingredients:

5 cups Leftover broccoli casserole

1 c. Leftover ham, diced or shredded

1 c. Almond flour

1/4 c. Green onion, chopped

3 eggs, beaten 

2 tsp. Garlic salt

Cooking spray  

  1. Mixed all the ingredients together.
  2. Heat griddle or frying pan to med-high heat, spray cooking surface
  3. Using a measuring cup (or your eyeball), scoop 1/2 c. Increments of the mixture onto the griddle
  4. Use a spatula to mold them into a “pancake”-like shape *spray your spatula with cooking spray as well, to prevent sticking.
  5. Cook your breakfast cake for about 2-2 1/2 minutes per side or until they’re browned on the outside  and cooked through.
  6. Excellent when served with sour cream.

Enjoy!

 *Makes about 10 cakes. 

**Most of my measurements are rough estimates, so I hereby relinquish any responsibility for them. This recipe is very forgiving. Add more. Replace the ham for turkey or (the broccoli casserole for potatoes casserole). Leave things out (except the egg). And you will probably be ok. 

***Low carb/Keto friendly. 

Let me know if you try it out and how you make it your own!

Big love, 

Megan

#liveforthereunion

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