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Relationship Advice From A Widow
It's coming up on a year since my husband died. A heart attack out of the clear blue sky on a random Tuesday. I've been reflecting on our marriage and am filled with gratitude or regret depending on the day and my blood sugar level.
Are you there, God? It’s me, Kelly.
I've been joking that God hates me, what with my husband dropping dead and other challenges that hit close to 10 on my personal richter scale.
Warning: Foul Language
I have a tendency to put lipstick on pigs. The new lingo is "toxic positivity". In general, positivity is positive. But occasionally, I need some good old-fashioned negativity. Some righteous indignation. Some anger.
Witchy Woman
Saying "my first two husbands" in the same breath as contemplating a third makes me think of taking up smoking and wearing diamonds and furs. And that I should come with a warning label.
My Full, Broken Heart
The price of joy is pain. Because everything comes to an end one way or another. So bring on the fucking pain.
The Wild Side
I'm free. I have no husband, my girls are independent of my daily care, and work is a want instead of a need. There were times when I longed for this freedom.
What Now?!
Seven months as a widow. The longest stretch that I've been single since I was 16 years old.
The Waiting Place
I’ve spent years in the waiting place. Waiting in a career that no longer inspires me, waiting in an unhealthy relationship, waiting until I have more money.
More Soft Curves
Reconnecting with my femininity. Funny. Passionate. Intuitive. Sexy. Nurturing. Comforting. Provider of soul food. Loving. Creative. Less hard edges. More soft curves.
Money Matters
When I was 12 years old, I wanted to be rich. Other little girls had posters of boybands in their room and I had posters of Porsches. I didn't grow up poor, but we weren't rolling in dough. Road trips and camping instead of flights and hotels. Relative to the rest of the world, super lucky. But I wanted more.
Object and Subject
I have treated my body like an object, a thing. A life-sized doll to shape, pluck, wax, exfoliate, moisturize.
Girl Gone Wild
When I was a kid, I associated anger with losing control. People gone wild. I did not like wild. I liked predictable, safe, and secure. I decided that I could achieve a predictable, safe, and secure life if I was in complete control.
Tough Times
I have defined my current life circumstances as tough times. The people in my life have defined my circumstances as tough times. And it's as though it requires a certain decorum, a seriousness, a sadness. I am worn out. Heavy-hearted. Tired of tough times.
Screw The Number
I was having lunch with a girlfriend and we were discussing our "number". You know the number I'm talking about. She leaned in and whispered hers with some shame. It was in the double-digits.
Damaged Goods
I am damaged goods. Sort of like the Velveteen Rabbit except not as sweet. I am battered, ripped and stained. And real. I am damaged goods and I mean that in the nicest possible way.
Heart Broke
I am heart broken. I have nothing to tell you. No thoughts or observations to share.
Tiny House
What the hell is the appeal of the tiny house? Every time I turn on HGTV, there is a new show about living in 200 square feet. And I watch. And I fantasize about tiny living.