When Cindy died, I set 3 rules for myself. My rules were so simple that I am slightly embarrassed to list them. But, here they are, in order of importance.
1. Don't get fat.
2. Don‘t become selfish.
3. Don't kill yourself.
I unintentionally came upon the first rule. Even before becoming a widow, I’ve always said that grief and mono are two of the world’s best diets. I dropped almost twenty pounds in the weeks that Cindy was in the ICU. If not for all the different kinds of pudding in the hospital cafeteria, I most certainly would have fasted the entire time. But, once the weight was off, I knew that I could not allow myself to put it back on.
Believe me when I tell you that when you lose the love of your life, you will need to draw upon every single ounce of strength and energy to not break rule #3 from above. To battle a grief as deep as widowhood, you need to be in tip-top shape both physically and mentally. Everyday your mind wants to trick you into thinking life ain’t worth living. People talk at you, but it’s so hard to focus because all you can do is see the face of the person you are grieving over. Your alarm clock goes off at 7am, but your body doesn’t want to move. Food is put in front of you, but even the thought of chewing tires you out. Negative thoughts come at you from every direction. I swear, since Cindy‘s death, I’ve been in a never-ending bereavement video game jumping over despondency, swinging above despair, and judo-kicking misery in the face.
One of the things that I’ve always found really infuriating about depression is the inherent selfishness that comes along with it. So, I knew going into this that I would need a way to combat those self-centered tendencies. I sought out places to volunteer in my community. To be honest, a homeless women’s shelter was not my first choice. I actually tried to volunteer at hospitals, hospices, and places like that, but none of them would take me on account of me being a recent widow. The only place that took me without question was the shelter.
I’d love to tell you some Hollywood story about how I got through my grief working with those less fortunate than me. Or weave you some yarn about how the women at the shelter taught me how to appreciate my life. But, none of that happened. I’m no Michelle Pfeiffer from “Dangerous Minds.” The shelter is under-funded, there are holes in the wall, and bedbugs in the dorm. Many of the women battle addiction problems, struggle with diabetes, and have inherited serious financial burdens. I used to think that if a person worked super hard, then eventually they’d be able to support themselves and get out of poverty. But, I know women in this shelter who work three jobs a day from 6am until 10pm at night and it is still not enough to rise above their economic situation.
Last month, the DC government slashed the homeless services budget, which boggles my mind since job rates are frighteningly low and the shelters are packed. In particular, Calvary Women's Services, where I volunteer, will face a $75,000 loss to its existing contract. This amount astounds me because Calvary already runs a super lean operation and trust me when I tell you that it‘s no-frills there. In an attempt to battle this shortfall, Calvary is hoping to raise some funds through the Help the Homeless Walkathon taking place this Saturday, November 21st at 9am. I will be marching on Saturday and I was hoping that you would consider making a small donation and earmarking it for Calvary specifically. To sponsor me, click here.
As for rule #3, I don’t have much to say. I loved Cindy with all my heart. I fell in love with her the moment I met her (my friend Rocky can attest to that, she was there) and I expected to spend my life with her. She made me laugh, she inspired me to do good things in my life, and she taught me everything I needed to know about this wonderful thing called empathy.
I’m still trying to figure it out. But hey, I’m still here. So, maybe there is one thing I am learning at the shelter: resilience.
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