New Year's Day

1/1/11 – A new year. No longer 2010, the year I lost Bobby. It’s supposed to be a time of new beginnings, new starts, and new resolutions.

But I feel exactly the same. Sorry folks, but I just can’t get on board with the whole “new beginnings” thing. I feel pretty much the same today that I felt yesterday. Really, if you think about it, there is not much difference between 12/31/10 – 11:59:59pm and 1/1/11 – 12:00:00am.

Maybe I didn’t want 2010 to end. 2011 is just another piece of evidence that I am moving farther and farther away from the last touch, the last word, the last kiss and the last cuddle. The last time we held hands. So 2010 ending wasn’t necessarily a good thing in my mind.

I woke up this morning in the same bed, in the same house, in the same town, and still the same widow that I was last night. But the “new beginnings” thing that everyone talks about is putting me under too much pressure. So I guess that is what my “new beginning” will be...new pressure.

When I was in my late teens and 20s, I felt a lot of pressure to “have a date” for New Year’s Eve, or, at the very least, “have plans”. Back then, sitting home on New Year’s Eve was like having the word “Loser” written across your forehead in red magic marker. Luckily, when you finally meet the one you want to share your life with, the pressure is gone and you’re happy to eat M&M’s in bed together with your sweatpants on and watch a Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives marathon on New Year’s Eve. But here in “Widow World”, the pressure is no longer on New Year’s Eve; it is on New Year’s Day. There is a tremendous amount of pressure for me to make a “new start,” and New Year’s Day only magnifies it. It’s as though I’m supposed to discover something wonderful about myself in 2011 and if I don’t, I’m just a big fat failure. I’m supposed to “change” and “evolve”. The pressure is daunting, and that red magic marker is quickly approaching my forehead....

Truthfully, I really don’t feel this need to find out anything wonderful about myself. I’m content with who I am, really. (Any woman who can raise two teenage boys alone without them getting in trouble rates pretty high in my book.) I love being the person that Bobby loved, warts and all. I don’t feel a need to make all these changes that I’m “supposed” to make with the New Year. I don’t want to change into someone that he would not love, let alone recognize.

Do I want some things to change? Sure I do. I want to stop being sad. I want to feel joy in my heart once again. I probably should learn how to change a flat. But just because the year changed, it doesn’t mean my grieving has changed. It’s still there, and the flip of a calendar page doesn’t make a difference.