I went to group tonight. It is the "Young Widows/widowers" support group at hospice. There were supposed to be nine of us and there were, I think, seven. It was good to be in a group of other widows. I secretly hoped there would be a guy or two. But it was good that there were just women. And the facilitator knows someone from another group whose child was coached by John. And again, his life and energy makes me feel a little extra special, just having been connected to him.
He was so magical, in so many ways. Something I always tried to do was to embrace the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because of "Good Will Hunting". Robin Williams' character talks about how it is the little weird, annoying stuff that makes it real: farting so loud you wake yourself up and he accepts the blame for the butt blurt. And you cannot hide from it. Because if you try, it will all come back to bite you.
I still helped make people laugh. I guess I am good at that. Not exactly the "class clown" but sort of. My bear (don't ask, I won't elaborate) might say that is attention getting behavior. Maybe. But it makes me feel good and I like it so....
Someone said tonight that she misses being the most important thing in someone's world. And that is SO RIGHT. That is what I am reaching for. And that is what, in my fairly messed up view of myself and the world, I think I will find through sexting and flirting with these old boyfriends.
And online I read these pieces about how young girls are posting sexy things that make some mothers see them as slutty, nasty, not worthy. And then some friends responded by sharing other pieces about how those girls, they are not slutty and nasty and not worthy. They need someone to pull them aside and talk with them about the amazing things they are worth and have to offer.
And I connect to myself there. I went the route of sleeping around to find love and worth and hope. And mostly all it lead to was shame and hurt and pain. And it was when I shrugged off that shroud that I met John. And nothing was what I thought it was. The difficulty is that I very rarely felt like I was the most important thing in his world. If I think about it, I totally believe I was the most important PERSON in his world...but coaching was his everything. And I wouldn't have wanted or asked him for anything different. Okay, that is a little untrue... I did want it to be different, to some degree. But that drive is what made him so magical. Annoying, hard to talk to, often intimidating, but magical. It was how he connected to others, helped them, inspired them...it gave him his flame, his unique flare.
And then I think about how there is simply no way I can be that woman who existed pre-John no matter what I do. I worry that I will become her, in ways. And there are parts of her I will most definitely need. And I so want to have that physical connection again. And I think I might be able to understand that a few times without working toward that place where I can be everything, or the most special thing, to someone.
I told the group how I read two of the three Shade of Gray novels and the facilitator was all like, "why are you torturing yourself like that??" I don't know....it is moderately better than drinking too much? That was my response. And her counter response was that we hope to grasp for things that are not addictive. Ha....yeah....like that won't happen. At least to some degree...addictions replace, supersede, DEMAND attention, regardless of everything swirling around you....so grabbing one helps not always think about the pain and loss and emptiness. Plus, flirting with old loves has helped me feel sexy and beautiful, which are things I was longing for when John was still alive.
But now, Tuesdays I will have the Building Your Own Theology class at church, Wednesdays I have choir, and then Thursdays I will go to the widows support group. Not much sex in sight, but lots of good ways to help keep my heart and mind and soul nourished and keep things moving...so. Yeah. Still wish I could get some. But I will take what I can get.