I used to be really confident. I didn’t care a hoot what others thought of me or the things I did. I made a choice early on that I could worry about what others thought or I could just do as I please and let others either be with me or get the hell over it. Sounds simple right? Feels simple enough.
I always just did things my way and others, not being as confident or as sure of themselves and who they were, would have an opinion on it. Hell, I’d judge myself sometimes too but I was comfortable enough in myself to be able to brush it off. Did I do it because I wanted to? Did it make me happy at the time? Did I affect anyone else? Is it really a big deal? Yes, Yes, No, No.
Then I lost Husband and the last section of my life has been filled with dread. I no longer felt comfortable in my own skin, I was constantly watching what I was saying and doing, I was judging myself quite harshly too.
I worried about what I was doing that would affect others. Had I said something wrong, was someone else hurting as a result or me, was I doing this grieving thing wrong, Was I too happy/too sad/too blah?
I know my life has been in the spotlight more than it has ever been, because I see people watching me – waiting for me to do something. They follow my cue.
It’s taken a while for me to get back to where I was in my head prior to all of this and that is that I have always and will always proudly dance to the beat of my own drum. I don’t go out of my way to hurt people unnecessarily, I just do whatever I feel like in my moment for my needs and hope that others around me aren’t too sensitive. Because I’m not and so I refuse to walk on eggshells.
This post has come about because I spend a lot of time nowadays thinking about my future, rather than being completely stuck in my past. I still talk about and love my Husband but I’m looking at getting back into life planning mode and what I see for my future without him.
I think about my career and where I want to go. I think about moving on in relationships. I think about the things I want to do to make my life more enjoyable.
This doesn’t mean I’m over it, it just means I’m a realist and I don’t enjoy this grieving caper. I’ve given myself the time to be broken, I’ve grieved hard, I’ve not been ok. But I don’t want to be that person. I want to laugh and love and feel real joy. We’re here for a good time, not a long time.
I know one of the things that Husband loved most about me (and it used to piss him off too, sometimes) was that I was vivacious and out there. I would make a go of things, fight for what worked for us, stand my ground and say what I thought without questioning myself. Knowing that has helped me get back to this point, where I can comfortably say – I think I might be ready to live again, whatever that looks like to me.