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di's Insite
Widow's Web
How does an orb web spider make its web?
The most difficult part seems to be the first thread. The solution is simple. The spider releases a sticky thread that is blow away with the wind. If the breeze carries the silken line to a spot where it sticks, the first bridge is formed. The spider cautiously crosses along the thin line reinforcing it with a second line. She enforces the line until it is strong enough.
Our most difficult work towards healing as widows is that first bridge. To DGIs (Don't Get Its) it seems simple, "Just do it," they say. Yet our healing is like that first spider thread thrown in the wind-- if we were lucky, our first tries for help landed on the Internet and we found Widownet where a bridge is formed. We find as widows we can relate to one another, cry, rejoice, and laugh together. Like the web of the spider, we weave between threads, learning, and without really being aware of it, we begin to heal. Spider silk is extremely strong. Perhaps that is why some DGIs call us strong when we feel crushed beneath the heels of grief. We frighten them for they cannot fathom bearing the loss of a spouse, much less going through so many changes. Though we cannot see it in ourselves, we have become stronger, building a web of friends, enabling us to enforce the reconstruction of our torn lives. In time, we will have repaired our homes, our family's damaged emotions, found new jobs, learned more than we wanted to know about ourselves, and though we may still feel our loss, we will look extremely strong to others.
During the first year after my husband died, I kept thinking, "this time next year I will be done with this grieving." It was something that kept me going-- believing I wasn't always going to be a crying mess everywhere I went. Yet after that terrible first anniversary, I felt worse. The pain seemed to be renewed, and sleepless nights plus added financial stress seemed to have no end. Some days are like roller coasters where the ride is anything but fun. As I neared a summit in my life, decisions had to be made that I was unprepared for, nor did I want the changes that would result. Before I could make any decisions, the sudden drop of a racing widowhood ride would begin again, and it wore me out. Exhaustion seemed my fate. Before my husband died, I had energy. Where had it all gone?
At first, I foolishly thought a plateau meant I was over it. How wrong I was! The grief came in waves, some were small, barely rippling around my feet. Others were like tidal waves pulling me under, promising to knock the life out of me. I struggled with the bare necessities-- how to pay utility bills, how to buy groceries. The DGIs seemed to think all I had to do was ask for government help, and all would be taken care of immediately. It doesn't work that way-- countless phone calls and forms to fill out are daunting, much less having more numbers to call as told those were not the ones to talk to, or worse, finding out the forms are difficult to decipher and are constant reminders that he is dead. Widows are in so much distress that things pile up or papers are misplaced, or the mind refuses to tell you just where that information is that is wanted on the forms. Or you have to mail another agency to get information that may be months in coming, only to find out they want more forms to fill out to get the one you need! It is very frustrating, and no wonder many give up as I did. It is hard enough to change names on mail addresses much less see him deleted from your life in so many other ways.
It was the huge spiders that crawled out from hiding into every crevice of our home, including our bed that drove me to near madness that first year. My husband had been my champion spider killer, but those had been small spiders compared to these. I had never seen such big spiders in our home. No matter how much I sprayed or caulked windows and seams, they marched onto everything. I got so scared that I carried large cans of bug spray everywhere I went, and at night my bedroom stank of bug spray as I shook out spiders as large as the palm of my hand from blankets on my bed. I couldn't seem to get rid of them, nor could I afford to call an exterminator. The last straw came in the middle of Texas' August heat when the central air went out for the second and last time, according to the repairman. Without funds for a new one, I called my family, swallowing my pride and admitting defeat. Within days they had moved me out, and though it should have brought me some relief from the stress in my life, it added new ones.
Building a web might be a spider's natural tendencies, but new widows find it hard to reach out for bridges to build, much less trust the walk across such a thin line. However it is her only choice-- she must go across, even while sobbing. Once a bridge to others is built, it does lead to others and soon a web of widow friends is strong enough to build a home, however the sticky situations appear. I received advice from other widows on how to survive, and on days when the Grief Monster appeared to have me trapped, they lovingly helped me pull myself back out. Yes, there are depressions that can be helped with medications, but grief is more than the usual depression. Talking to a counselor does help, and should be sought as soon as possible. Yet for many, just calling around, asking for one with reduced or free rates is too much to bear at the beginning. A good friend could do that for a widow who finds herself lost in the mire of grief. At the beginning, simple solutions are not forthcoming to the widow; we just can't think clearly and often feel like we are losing our minds, so it is hard to ask. I learned from my widow friends that I was not losing my mind-- that all the forgetting, the exhaustion, and the confusion was part of widowhood. Some seemed to be energized at first, only to discover they had used that energy to avoid the grief and it hit like a bomb later. So building a web of friends on WidowNet helped me as it does many other widows. I forgave myself for forgetting things, for being a procrastinator, for being a house slob.
My normal cleaning habits fell by the wayside as I struggled through that first year. It was all I could do that first year just to eat and sleep-- and that I did poorly. My new widow friends made jokes about dust bunnies and piles of papers. We were sure we had a kitchen table somewhere under the piles of papers! It was all I could do to keep myself and my pet clean and get the wash done. I took naps during the day, and reading was impossible.
Building a web of friends on the Internet means reading emails and forum posts. Those are short enough to hold the abbreviated attention span of a widow, but reading a book is different. Our minds wander and we forget from chapter to chapter what happened. I had always loved reading, so that surprised me; I could no longer escape the world by reading. Movies had to be comedies, and if there was any reference to death or any of my spouse's habits, I would be sobbing, so I seldom watched TV or movies.
I found there were others who struggled with grocery shopping. I was relieved to know I wasn't the only one who cried in the canned goods aisle and had to leave her basket to run out to the car. At times I parked the car further away from the store in the parking lot so I could cry without shoppers staring at the sobbing widow. My daughter, on visiting me, insisted on taking me to the store after she saw what little food was in my refrigerator. I didn't care about food much then. She got her first look into grief as I hurried to get through letting her choose the food because I didn't want to walk down certain food aisles. His favorite pizza or baked beans would send me out in tears. It happened anyway as I tried to hurry the purchases and she kept wanting to put more in the basket. I knew it was coming and she looked so sad to see her mother with tears dripping down her face as I begged to be allowed to leave while she paid for the groceries I would probably never eat. In time, talking to my widow friends, I learned to make small trips to the store, late at night when shoppers were few. I did get stronger and now can shop for a week's supply during the day, but there are still some shelves I avoid looking at to keep tears at bay.
My widow's web is getting stronger though I know one good wind will blow it away and I will have to build all over again. I also have learned that I can.
WidowNet is a web site with information for widows and widowers and forums on all stages of grief:
http://www.fortnet.org/WidowNet/
by di
If you are a widow or widower, talk to me.
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© 2003 di
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