Fair warning, the curse words are not bleeped in this episode, haha.
Why is being a widow a thousand times more tiring than being a single, pre-married woman was? I mean, some of the troubles are the same. Will I be able to afford to put gas in the car? Did I remember to schedule the cat the appointment it needs at the vet? Why aren’t there any Five Star Pizza delivery places near me? Are there any good new movies out?
Some of the troubles are ones that never came around again after I became widowed. I don’t have to worry about guys hitting on me in bars on Friday nights. First off, I’m not IN bars on Friday nights, and second, if you want to become invisible, turn 50 and gain some weight. I also no longer really give any kind of a fuck what people think about me. So-called friends who treat me badly? If you were really my friend you wouldn’t treat me worse than I treat you, so go fuck yourself. Strangers in the grocery store who want to chide me for using reusable bags from a different store? Go fuck yourself, it’s a fucking bag. People at a bank who are giving me a runaround? Shut the fuck up and do your fucking job and I’ll get out of your face a lot faster. You get the idea. I gave my last fuck years ago so come at me. So I guess not everything is sad drama about being a widow, haha.
But – and some of this I know I’ve talked about before, so I’m sorry if I sound like I’m repeating myself – everything else is harder. Nobody else to take the garbage a quarter mile out to the curb. Nobody else to do the grocery shopping or pick something up at CVS for me on their way home. Nobody else to feed the pets. Nobody else to cook, clean, mow, shop, pay bills, water the plants, run the errands, do the dishes, clean the cat boxes, change out light bulbs, find where I put the broom, take the dogs for a walk, fill up the car with gas, check the mail every day, any of that.
And yes, I did all of that myself when I was single. I did all of that myself after I got divorced from my first marriage, before I met and married Tim. The difference is, I have discovered after a lot of deep thinking, is that those times, it was my choice. It was my choice to be single. It was my choice to get divorced. It was my choice to be the only one in the house responsible for everything. Widowhood? That was not my choice. That was thrust upon me. I didn’t want it, I didn’t plan for it, I didn’t expect it, I didn’t CHOOSE it. All my choices were taken away the moment Tim died. I didn’t choose to be a widow. I didn’t choose to be the only one running this circus. But I am. And I’m doing the best I can, although I’m still a little mad at Tim about it sometimes, and I’m definitely tired by the end of every day. I don’t have anybody to bounce ideas off of on a regular basis. I don’t have anyone to go to to say “is this a bad idea” or “is there an easier way to fix this” or “please I am so tired can you please please please do some grocery shopping and make dinner this week because otherwise I am eating shredded cheese out of a bag.” (Don’t judge me, the bag is RIGHT THERE staring at me!)
And let’s not forget the physical changes that come from trauma and grief; sleeping disruptions, cortisol levels, eating habits, ability to practice self-care, memory issues, irritability, migraines or getting sick more easily… those can also hamper the decision making processes, and can wear you down. So will having Septicemia, with a long recovery time from that and the bad round of Covid I got soon after that. Physically I am not at my best, either, and that can take a toll.
Because of how tired I am from making decisions all day* I’ve made some unfortunate choices in the last few years, involving hiring people to help me around the house. And because of that I have a lot more things I need to face that are in worse shape than they were four years ago, and have to find people to fix those things. I’ll have at least one blog post later this week on that entire subject.
* Because in addition to the household decisions, I run my own business… so I’m the only one thinking up the products, making the products, photographing the products, writing the product listings, doing social media, boxing up packages and mailing them, doing inventory for shipping supplies, inventory for office supplies, inventory for supplies I need to make things, cleaning the studio, doing the accounting, doing the quarterly sales tax, and so on and so on and so on.
Here’s an article about how many decisions people make in a day, and jeez louise it’s no wonder we’re all so tired all the time. I’m definitely not saying I’m the only one with oatmeal for brains by about 3 in the afternoon… it’s just that this is my blog so I write what I know.
Decisions are tiring, is what I’m saying. I’m sure most of you know about the Spoon Theory. I’m definitely running at a spoon deficit right now. May has been particularly difficult, and I do plan on blogging about that in the coming days so that y’all don’t think I’m just being a giant fucking whiny baby.
So, to recap, a lot of the exhaustion from and how-consistently-hard it is to be a widow comes from not choosing to be living like this in the first place. I’m not saying I don’t find beauty in the day, and I’m not saying that I don’t have great days and genuinely love my life…. it’s just that it’s tiring, and both of those things can be true at the same time. I can be becoming happy where I am, but also be made tired by it.
People contain multitudes.
We’re here and listening.