Armchair therapists really have no idea

“You’re doing so much better.” “Wow, you’re really doing well.”“You look so happy.” “Look at you.” “Good for you for moving on."

It’s always interesting hearing opinions on how I’m doing after the death of My Favourite Husband (MFH). Armchair therapists who look me up and down and issue their prognosis based on the smile on my face and the fact I’m not crumpled like a discarded paper bag tangled in a wire fence. They might also include social media posts in their assessment; posts that show me working, socializing, living.

Rarely do these 'therapists' ask how I’m feeling and thinking, so when they issue their proclamation, I simply smile to confirm what they think they know. But if you’re not going to take the time to dig deeper, then I’ll let you comfort yourself in looking at me and thinking you’re right. To quote Tina Turner: “What you get is what you see; there ain’t nothing more to it."

The people who know me best because they’ve seen me at my worst never, ever have told me how good I’m doing. They don’t need to. They know those words mean nothing to me. They understand I’m not better because I was never sick. They know I’m changed. They know there are days and moments when sadness creeps in like a fog and covers the sunlight. On those days, we all know there are safe, sunny shores if I need them, or I can choose to let the sadness envelope me, and feel and remember only the heartbreaking pain of the death of MFH and the unrealized happily ever after that is no longer mine. 

The people who know me best and love me the most understand that, although I’ve worked hard to find the flow in my life between the chapters of my story, there will always be times the flow is interrupted. There will always be times when — without notice — something will trigger tears. Something will trigger anger. Something will trigger a feeling of hopelessness within me. Something will make me un-OK, even though I’m not always sure what OK is or should look like.

With Christmas season here, I find people who don’t know me well are watching me closer, looking for signs — clues, if you will — as to how I will act or respond to things such as Christmas carols or festivities. Will I break down? Cry?  How do I know? I’m not sure how I’ll respond. All I know is this: I’ve travelled enough of a distance down my new road to know the only way I’ll be OK is by being true to myself and my feelings.

If I’m right in my own world, that’s OK with me.

Sending you all peace, love and balance in your worlds.

❤️