About Me

My wonderful husband died when I was 44 years old. Being widowed this young happens to less than 3% of married people. Writing through this loss one word at time helps me understand what I've lost and helps me continue to grow. It is how I have gradually recovered from such a severe loss. Research shows that you can benefit from taking just 15 minutes a day to write out your deepest feelings as a way of healing. On the right side of this blog, you'll see a tag for Exercises to Try. If you need some help knowing how to use writing to help heal yourself, I suggest you start there.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

No More Boyfriends. Now I've Got a Manamine.

Ken died when I was 44 years old. This led to some early and compulsive dating caused by my initial grief impulse that went something like this: HELP. I CAN"T MAKE IT ON MY OWN. MUST HAVE NEW HUSBAND AND FATHER FOR MY KIDS AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE.

After about two years or so that included many, many nights spent on Match.com, EHarmony, Green Singles, and J-Date, (Yes, I used them all, sometimes all at once) many hopeful yet ultimately fruitless meetings with men in coffee shops, a couple of very weird and not particularly satisfying attempts at an intimate life, and a couple of actual, though brief relationships, I got over the fantasy. First of all, my kids, who were 10 and 6 when he died, didn't share it. They weren't looking for a new daddy, they were still getting over losing theirs, one of the best men and fathers I have ever known. And I realized, in fact, that I was making it on my own. I didn't need to be SAVED.

This doesn't mean that I don't want a partner, that I like being widowed, that I've decided to give up on men, or even that I never want to get married again. Now, 5+ years after Ken's death, I've finally settled down into the life I have. This life, as of today, includes being with a man for the last 10 months. He's divorced, has two young kids, and we both have our own households that won't be merging any time in the foreseeable future. So what is he to me? The classic term is boyfriend. But come on. I'm going to turn 50 this year. Boyfriend sounds so high school. Lover sounds simply ridiculous. Partner is OK, but Mark isn't exactly my partner because a lot of our lives are lived kind of separately. 

Mark is my manamine. He's no boy. He's my man.

4 comments:

Joey Brown said...

I enjoyed your blog, as I am a divorced widow and there are very few women I can find who relate to that. He was bi polar and had neck cancer and divorced me, then regretted it. He married out of loneliness and that went sour and he got very sick. I saw him on his deathbed and he was too comatose to talk to me. It tore me up and still is hard. It's been four year since we split and two since he died and I have done the serial dating scene, too. Oh, how tiring that gets. I think I am settling into my singleness at 56. Whatever will be is in God's hands. God bless and thanks for sharing.

kidmagnet said...

Manamine....I love it!

Jill Schacter said...

Hi Joey: You've been through a lot. Have you checked out Widowed Village, the new online community for widows and widowers? There is even a group there for divorced widows like yourself. It's a wonderful resource for comraderie, discussion, chats and information.
Thanks for reading!

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