I’ve been thinking a lot about breakups lately, which I guess is super strange since I’m also wedding planning. Let me be clear – I’m not thinking about my own relationship breaking up! But I think being in love (and knowing that I have a future with someone new) has made me reflect on all the times when it didn’t work out.
And there were a lot of times when it didn’t work out.
I wrote very little about it at the time. I told some of my friends that I was dating, but I was shy about it with most people. I felt judged by everyone, even though the worst judgement came from my own head. Was it too soon to date? What did it say about me that I didn’t even wait a year after Shawn died? Why couldn’t I just find someone wonderful, now that I was “ready”?
I could write an entire book about the dating I did over the (almost) two-year period when I was doing it. I realize most people date for much longer than that after widowhood, but even still, I’ve got a number of stories from that time period. There was the guy who ghosted me after a series of dates (people still do that, even in the age of the internet!), the guy who took me to the most romantic spots but wouldn’t kiss me because he wasn’t sure either of us were ready, and the guy who I wanted so badly to fall for – but I just didn’t feel that way about him, no matter how hard I tried.
And then there was the guy who broke my heart.
I didn’t even love him – that I knew for sure. I was simply happy to be in a real relationship since Shawn’s death. I was simply happy to have someone paying attention to me. I was simply happy that I could imagine a future, even if it was pretty hard to imagine it with him.
When we broke up, I was so sad. I remember telling my sister, “I didn’t even love him! Why am I so heartbroken?”
At the time, I wrote about it in my diary. It took four months for me to put it out on my blog. Here’s a portion of what I wrote, from the blog post (with one of my favorite titles), “Happiness Is For Other People“:
It was over. That brief affair, the one that had helped you through the darkest days of winter, was fading as the spring approached.
And you were heartbroken.
Your friends tried to console you. “You will find love again,” they said.
But they didn’t know. They didn’t know what it felt like to try again after tragic loss. They didn’t know the bravery it took to look into someone else’s eyes and say, “I will let you in, at least a little.” They didn’t know what it feels like to be so terribly alone and then to get a tiny reprieve from that horror….only to have it taken away.
I’ve talked to many other widows – both on this blog and in my regular life – about their breakups after loss, and I seem to see a similar pattern. It’s really, really painful. Of course, most breakups are painful for most people. But I think it’s a bit different for widows, or at least it was for me. It got easier (there were a few other heartbreaks in there, before I met Chris) and I did eventually build up my resiliency. But the first major one was brutal.
And there was little closure with that first major breakup, which made it worse. We broke up over text message, which is to say he broke up with me over text message (for real – you can’t make this shit up) and I was left to try and pick myself up with no real explanation of why things had ended the way they ended.
It was messy. And every single day for over a month, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, “maybe there’s something wrong with me.”
I mean, it was a logical conclusion. Maybe I was too badly wounded to have a real relationship. Maybe I didn’t know how to do it. Maybe I was destined to just have failed relationships.
But that conclusion was wrong. Yes, the breakup was ugly, and none of the relationships I tried to have after it were really that great, either. But slowly, I started to realize something: it wasn’t about me. I was a perfectly fine person. I might meet someone great, or I might not. But I wasn’t going to keep thinking that I was fundamentally flawed just because I didn’t meet someone – or just because I had a messy relationship or a messy breakup.
I remember the day I looked at myself in the mirror, sometime in the late summer of 2019, I believe, and actually thought this: “It’s not me. I’m a widow, yes, and I’ve had some bad luck. I may not find anyone. But I am a perfectly good human being.”
I am not totally sure if this is helpful information for anyone who’s currently navigating a breakup post-widowhood. I can’t comment on every relationship and I know it takes two people to break up. But I’ll say this: being a widow doesn’t mean you deserve a shitty breakup, or somehow can’t ever be expected to navigate a new relationship.
Yes, you’ve had some bad luck in your life. But there’s nothing wrong with you.