First & most important for friends & regular readers, the number of folks who reached out with care, concern, support, and offers of getaways after my last post touched me deeply. And probably saved me in ways I don’t even fully appreciate.
Second, even so, this has been a rough period. I can distill why it has felt ‘worse’ for three reasons: 1. I have - until now - struggled to understand what was driving my sorrow; 2. Some of my behavior that resulted from my feelings was out of character and extreme and hurtful as well as worrisome to those closest to me; and 3. I felt guilty about all of it and particularly that with all the support and resources I have that I could not just fix it.
With a little patience (mostly with myself), so many good friends who put up with unhinged texts and walks, more tears over the last month than I probably shed in the first 18 months, some travel, and just a lot of trial and error I have gotten to a place where I know what is causing my stomach to hurt so much that I can’t eat (yes, that is why I look good in the pictures) and my brain to race so fast that some of my emails arrive in the middle of the night and are a bit …. wordy … and I am back to needing sleep aids. And yes, the cause was right in front of me.
For those who work in education, you will know there is a strong movement toward creating a Sense of Belonging in schools. There is emerging research on its importance as an underlying condition to being ready to learn. LearnLaunch, the Boston-based non-profit that I have been privileged to serve as President since Summer 2019 just finished running an awesome year-long professional learning community series for education leaders on this topic. And, not surprisingly given my desire to leverage knowledge across multiple verticals, the summer learning program launched on our farm this summer for middle school students had as its sole goal to create a sense of belonging. And anyone who knows me realizes that my greatest pleasure and pride has come from creating strong teams of colleagues in the public, private and non-profit sectors - all of which have created a strong sense of belonging for me and I hope, them. It is also true that Chuck and I cherished the sense of belonging that we created at our homes (because it was replicated in Vermont even when we weren’t on the farm) for family and friends - ours and our daughters, and frankly, anyone who needed it.
As I struggled after the twins’ graduations, I considered and was offered a number of helpful theories from friends and yes, the therapist, (and even my own exercise-induced thoughts):
Empty nest syndrome: even without Chuck’s death this is a big time of transition
You were in shock/denial/numbness/disbelief working through milestones till you got through the last one Chuck had on his calendar and now it is reality
You tried to take on everything Chuck was doing and do your work, and you have way too much to do and are beyond your stress point (true probably)
This is how grief goes
And this, that came from a not very sensitive but obviously insightful colleague very soon after Chuck’s death: “Yeah, my mother felt like this. Once you have grandchildren, you will feel better. She did. But then, once they all graduated from high school and didn’t need her anymore, she died.” Did I mention not really sensitive?
A few weeks ago I realized that for me having connections and human interaction and people who like having me around - both at work and at home - has always been important to me. Empty nest! Working largely remotely! Doing mostly advisory and board work! None of these things lead to strong teams and connections. (Yeah, I know - you are thinking: no sense of belonging - but it took me a little longer to get there).
So I started actively looking for opportunities to connect: more travel to in-person meetings and walks with friends. It definitely helped.
But there were still too many times I was acting like a needy, insecure 13-year-old girl. Telling too many funny (to me) stories at the beginning of work Zoom calls (although the Itasca Spa weekend is a laugher), sending too many edgy texts & emails to colleagues - even if my points were right. Sending too many texts, period. Telling anyone who maybe half asked how much weight I had lost while feeling totally insecure about my weight … of all the things I wanted to be again and all the places I would go back to in my life 8th grade is NOT on the list. But here I was. For all of you who got some or all of a dose of this - and I have apologized to most already - again, I am sorry.
It was a few unwanted thoughts that were popping into my head that helped lead to the eventual breakthrough: “I don’t belong on the farm without the girls or grandkids.” “I really don’t want to go to parties;” “I really don’t want to be the only widow at my High School reunion.”
Another thing I tried was more widow self-help audio books. They didn’t help but they did get me further on the path to the breakthrough. At least the two I listened to put widows in two categories: young widows (defined as still having children living at home) and elderly widows (defined as retired). Ummm …. On one of my walk-rants Jenn started to zero in on my feelings. She asked me if I felt like no one else had my shared experience. She gently reminded me of the many people I know who had, including her mother. Of course, I knew this to be true - many are reading this blog right now. But what I realized was: it wasn’t so much I thought I was the only empty-nest widow — it’s that I don’t feel like I really belong anywhere.
As has happened throughout this journey, as I’ve begun to find words for the powerful feelings and discussed my thoughts with E, Lauren and Sarah, we have discovered that we have some similar experiences we are working through. Obviously facing change and new beginnings in your 20s without your Dad is different than facing down 60 without your husband. But the pervasive anxiety that you cannot quite name (until you can) seems similar.
It seems weird for someone like me who has too many jobs and is blessed with so many wonderful friends to say I am struggling to figure out where I belong. Before the next wave of invitations is unleashed (but please, invite me to all the places) this is not so much about “who wants me around” as “where do I want to be” with a pedestrian and existential meaning to “be.”
In the middle of a sleepless night I realized I am really good at helping other people work through complicated problems but I wasn’t using the same tools I recommend. Break down the problem. Set some priorities. And fix one thing at a time - and during the pandemic I picked up a tip from a brilliant leader: look for the high leverage moves.
I have a couple high leverage moves teed up. And a week of sun on the Cape has also made a world of difference.
How true and starkly honest. The first year is all about grief fog, walking wherever the day leads, not really focused unless it’s to think:”How do you think I am doing”! Then comes the second year and reality hits like a nuclear bomb. I get it. So sorry that the “empty nest” is upon you. Very sorry. God help us all. Linda 🌹
Please send me names of those audios for me at 78 going through widowhood after 54 years and that empty nest again w/grandchildren all grown up. Thank you Jane.
The empty nest is hard period. I have no answers for you. You’ll find your way I have no doubt. Hugs. Keep writing!!