I put it off for two years. Not because it was hard. But because it meant becoming someone I'd never been before. Just Monica. And I didn't know if I knew how to be her yet.
Another thought and emotion-provoking post today Monica!
How can a perfect stranger, thousands of miles away in another hemisphere, different upbringing, vastly different experiences, interests and talents write stuff every day that resonates with my deepest thoughts and emotions?
Seven years after being widowed, I still identify as "Mrs Ashley Hobson III". I was his 3rd wife, he, my 3rd husband. We were destined to be together, until fate took him away. I was totally happy being his 2IC! We had a wonderful life together and I'd have him back today in a heartbeat. Some of his clothes still hang in the wardrobe. His precious classic cars still reside in the garage. I still proudly bear his name. But, after running his business for 6 years to keep him "alive" and close, I sold up and retired. I am slowly morphing into someone I hardly recognise. Resilient, confident, compassionate, calm and totally "at home" with this new "me". I have been somebody's wife or girlfriend since I was 18. I'm nearly 66. I answer to nobody (except two hungry felines) and love my own space. But! That space is still largely inhabited by my missing husband and I still don't know how (or even if I should) let him go. I would love to be in that wonderful place of love and companionship with another “significant other”, someone to share travel, social events and new experiences, but the thought of letting another human being into the sanctity of my home, my bed, my bathroom and my heart fills me with trepidation! I feel like I'm a living paradox. That's normal, right??
Totallyl normal. I felt that same pull- initially - but I was onced asked if I'd ever be interested in dating or marriage again - I answered - emphatically - " hell no, it took me a long time to develop this peace, I am not giving that up for anyone, unless they prove to me they can edify my life. I did not know I felt that until I answered his question. That was a year ago, about the time I began writing on substack........ It was a contributing factor to my intention for my substack. I never ever felt the whole goodness in my being until I began to nurture me. And nope. I don't wanta share with a dude.
I guess what brought up all these feelings is recent events. My Mother-in-law had a fairly serious stroke 3 months ago. She has made small improvements and been able to go home. Her husband (number 4 I might add!!!) has been her rock, her rehab buddy, her staunchest supporter both emotionally and physically. To see the love between them and the gratitude she has for him being there for her has made me reflect on what my life would look like if that had been me! Sure, I could hook up with someone and have them fall ill (as did my husband) and become their carer! But at least it would be a shared experience, an expression of love. We are genetically predisposed to "mating for life" are we not?
This captures something many women recognize but rarely name. The hardest part is not the paperwork, it is crossing the invisible line where an identity finally closes. That moment where freedom does not feel expansive yet, it feels quiet, final, and unfamiliar. The way you describe sitting with that silence, and realizing no one is coming to interrupt or define you anymore, is powerful. That is not loss. That is orientation.
There is nothing in the caterpillar that shows you what the butterfly will be like 🦋🫂🌅
Another thought and emotion-provoking post today Monica!
How can a perfect stranger, thousands of miles away in another hemisphere, different upbringing, vastly different experiences, interests and talents write stuff every day that resonates with my deepest thoughts and emotions?
Seven years after being widowed, I still identify as "Mrs Ashley Hobson III". I was his 3rd wife, he, my 3rd husband. We were destined to be together, until fate took him away. I was totally happy being his 2IC! We had a wonderful life together and I'd have him back today in a heartbeat. Some of his clothes still hang in the wardrobe. His precious classic cars still reside in the garage. I still proudly bear his name. But, after running his business for 6 years to keep him "alive" and close, I sold up and retired. I am slowly morphing into someone I hardly recognise. Resilient, confident, compassionate, calm and totally "at home" with this new "me". I have been somebody's wife or girlfriend since I was 18. I'm nearly 66. I answer to nobody (except two hungry felines) and love my own space. But! That space is still largely inhabited by my missing husband and I still don't know how (or even if I should) let him go. I would love to be in that wonderful place of love and companionship with another “significant other”, someone to share travel, social events and new experiences, but the thought of letting another human being into the sanctity of my home, my bed, my bathroom and my heart fills me with trepidation! I feel like I'm a living paradox. That's normal, right??
Totallyl normal. I felt that same pull- initially - but I was onced asked if I'd ever be interested in dating or marriage again - I answered - emphatically - " hell no, it took me a long time to develop this peace, I am not giving that up for anyone, unless they prove to me they can edify my life. I did not know I felt that until I answered his question. That was a year ago, about the time I began writing on substack........ It was a contributing factor to my intention for my substack. I never ever felt the whole goodness in my being until I began to nurture me. And nope. I don't wanta share with a dude.
I guess what brought up all these feelings is recent events. My Mother-in-law had a fairly serious stroke 3 months ago. She has made small improvements and been able to go home. Her husband (number 4 I might add!!!) has been her rock, her rehab buddy, her staunchest supporter both emotionally and physically. To see the love between them and the gratitude she has for him being there for her has made me reflect on what my life would look like if that had been me! Sure, I could hook up with someone and have them fall ill (as did my husband) and become their carer! But at least it would be a shared experience, an expression of love. We are genetically predisposed to "mating for life" are we not?
This captures something many women recognize but rarely name. The hardest part is not the paperwork, it is crossing the invisible line where an identity finally closes. That moment where freedom does not feel expansive yet, it feels quiet, final, and unfamiliar. The way you describe sitting with that silence, and realizing no one is coming to interrupt or define you anymore, is powerful. That is not loss. That is orientation.
Bravo Monica Hebert 👏
this sounds like the kind of peace I need… one day…
Love this! I am at that same stage in my life for the moment and it feels like ownership!!!
And once you begin releasing your true self, it gets easier and easier to just keep going. Congratulations, Monica.