Anxiety, Insecurities and Learning to Grow

Here’s the deal… I’m supposed to be doing my taxes right now ( hold your shorts Revenue Canada it’s not April 30 yet) but instead, I’m thinking about the secrets I’ve kept as I’m writing the next chapter in my story. Not the secrets I’ve been asked to keep by others but the ones I’ve asked myself to keep about myself. The secrets of my biggest challenges since becoming a widow.

This came up today in a coffee visit with a heart sister (HS). We were conversing about grief and goodbyes, hurt and healing. For a year or two after My Favourite Husband died I suffered from anxiety, the kind that made my nerves chatter at the thought of getting together with groups of friends. The kind of anxiety that made me no show and cancel plans last minute. It was a weird dichotomy- being a Flight Attendant and having no anxiety with strangers  and wanting to hide from friends. It made no sense. This HS knew about my anxiety - she had called me out on it when she didn’t understand it- but what I didn’t admit to is my feelings of insecurity that also went with the anxiety. 

For almost half my life I was part of WE. I knew my place and my role. Although MFH and I had a wonderful companionship and were partners, there were defined roles. With his death and the revert back to ME I floundered. Badly. The first year I was given grace - by others and myself- but the subsequent years I felt like I needed to have it “all” figured out, whatever “all” was. 

And while I began to take steps forward I was also deeply insecure. Deeply. The insecurity manifested outwardly as an anxiety and as scattered, forgetful, flighty. The doubts I had about myself and my abilities were core deep. I could and did take care of my basic needs. I could and did successfully train for and have a career as a Flight Attendant. I could and did complete my first long distance flight alone when I flew to Portugal to see another HS. So I could do things alone but I doubted my abilities to do them. Why? Because I didn’t know who I was as a woman my age alone in the world. I didn’t think I was so linked to MFH that separating those ties would lead me to have an identity crisis. 

But it did. 

My grief counselling helped me find stable ground as I mourned. It helped me understand grief, stages of grief and how to navigate a path through grief. But what it didn’t do - what it couldn’t do- was tell me who I am now that I’m a widow. It couldn’t help me discover who I am as an individual. It couldn’t give me a guidebook telling me who I am. 

Only I could do it. Only I could figure it out. 

I was so fucked. 

With his passing, MFH had left a legacy for me about love. About partnership. About compromise. All strong building blocks. My friends and family taught me about support. About love. About growing as I bobbed and weaved with every step. But as for figuring out WHO I am, that was up to me. 

And because I had no idea, the insecurity grew. I thought myself to be uninteresting. Worthless. I felt I had little of value to add to friendships. I felt like a burden, felt like I was being included as a kindness in events not because I was a desirable addition. Was I made to feel this way? Absolutely not. But because I didn’t know my self worth I thought that others didn’t as well,  even though I was reassured time and time again. 

The insecurity and anxiety intertwined. The less I liked myself, the less I knew myself the more anxious I became. The more I felt like a fraud- a shell of a person. Hollow. 

And yet, I wasn’t. I knew there was a strong, confident woman waiting to be unearthed. I knew all of this to be true as well. I just needed to believe it.

I buried much of what I was feeling inside. The anxiety came out but the insecurities I did my best to hide. I really didn’t want to appear to be bat shit crazy if I admitted the feelings that roiled in my gut to anyone although I knew anyone close to me would understand. 

I thought about seeing a counsellor again. I didn’t. I decided to buckle down and push myself past the imaginary limits I had set for myself. Push myself past the negative words I’d hidden behind and used as an excuse. I knew that if wanted to change and grow it would up to me and only me to self reflect and take action. If I could do other things to build my new life, I could and would “take out my trash talk” and work towards finding me. To begin, I figured out a few realizations :

• I need to start doing things alone to figure out what I like and don’t like
• I need to start accepting invitations with friends and follow through with them
• I don’t need to prove I have value to anyone but myself
• Some reactions ARE personal and some ARE NOT by others and both are fine
• Set solid boundaries based on whatever my needs are at the time
• No is an acceptable answer. Yes is an acceptable answer.

The other thing that came out with my insecurities is a realization that I can “cling”. It comes from a fear of feeling abandoned. That’s how I felt when MFH died. Abandoned. His death was abrupt, sudden, unexpected. And although I know that life can be -  and often is - like that everyone in my inner circle I sometimes  hold on to fiercely and sometimes too tightly. While I can navigate change and am better at it now, for a long time I wanted my world to either stay the same or only have positive changes to it.

So, almost four years into this widowhood gig, how am I doing? 

I can say that this last year and a half has been the biggest improvement. My hospitalization with sepsis, my first big solo adventure and all the smaller activities I’ve pushed myself to try have instilled in me a peace ,a sense of identity, a sense of capability and worth. I’m very comfortable on my own and discovering my self worth and building my confidence has led me to being comfortable with my friends. I’ve accepted that I’m quirky and a bit of a free spirit. I’ve accepted that as long as I have peace with myself the rest of the world can accept or expel me from theirs as they see fit. I can do the same. 

 I don’t hold people as tightly and accept that some people are here for a moment and some people for good. I’ve built walls around me that are high. Not insurmountable but high enough that being part of my heart and my peace are something that needs to be worked for. I’ve placed a high value on myself. 

I love myself and my world. And, as I get closer to 60, my insecurities are fewer. What I’ve worked for, fought for and gained is what I didn’t have a couple years ago…. I have an identity. I’m me. 

Now, time to get my taxes done….