Slob

Leave me alone. I won’t pick up the phone. And I won’t listen to messages.

I have been acting as if the challenge is dating as a suicide widow, but the truth is that it is even more frustrating talking to norms (non-widowed folk) about my dating life. Simply put, and I understand this is a generalization, y’all just don’t get it. I’m clear that the issue isn’t you; it’s me. I’m the one who hasn’t been saying what it is I need and have been allowing people’s words to upset me. So in the spirit of saying what it is I need, here’s a whole bunch of words that my people-pleasing self has been worried might upset other people if I said them.

If at any point you don’t like the following, just stop reading. I won’t be offended. The last thing I want is to inhibit anybody from being open with me. That said, I’m not a doormat for people to walk all over or someone at whom y’all can just toss your opinions. Some of this needs to be expressed before I explode on someone in person. Also, my widdas who read this need to know that they’re not the only ones who feel this way. 

So, norms, the thing is that you really just don’t get what it’s like to be my age and dating after having lost a spouse to suicide. And before you get offended by that statement, please note how silly it is that you’d even be offended in the first place. If you’ve never experienced something, why would you pretend to know what it’s like? It doesn’t make you any less of a person. I don’t say it to diminish you, nor am I saying that you’re incapable of understanding. I can’t relate to everything you’ve been through, so why is such a big deal for me to say that you can’t relate to my experiences in dating as a suicide widow? Most of you probably also can’t relate to my experiences in dating as a New Englander, or as an ESL teacher, or as a 3rd child, unless you are also those things; they just don’t happen to be the main topic of my blog and most of the things I’m up to. I don’t write, post and talk about all this suicide stuff all the time because I’m stuck or not “moving on”. In case you haven’t noticed, the things that I talk about matter to me, and it matters that I use my experience to make a difference for others. 

So, next time you have some sort of comment about my dating experiences, consider the following. 

It is not an invitation for unsolicited advice. I have people I trust, and they get phones calls and texts from me when I need support. I do not need you to tell me that it’s possible for me to love again. I do not need to be told that what happened with Mark does not define me (Unless you’re my seester, Jessicker, who said so in the context of a beautiful message to me AFTER I actually asked for support.) I do not need you to tell me that what happened with Mark wasn’t my fault. I know all this. Are you under the impression that I am walking around blaming myself for Mark’s suicide? Have you even read anything else I’ve posted?

I also know that any man who can’t handle me or what I went through with Mark is not the one for me. In fact, I know this better than anyone, so I’m not sure if you think it’s some sort of newsflash when you say that to me because it’s not. That said, I still have to go through the process of meeting humans and letting them react to the news that I’m a 31-year-old suicide widow. I’m clear that’s not all that I am, but in the context of dating, it’s inevitably going to come up. It’s a pretty key part to why I’m currently dating in the first place. Why would I lie about it or hide it? On the other hand, do you think that I go on dates and sob to men about how shitty my circumstances are? Or can you just get for a second that perhaps, even as time passes and I gain more peace around it, that maybe it still sucks to say out loud that I was married and then he killed himself? I’m not saying I have a meltdown every time I talk about it, but can YOU imagine doing that? Do you know how confronted people are by suicide? Can you see how distinct it is to be my age and single because previous relationships never worked out vs. single because my husband killed himself? I am not responsible for how everybody else deals with it, but I do have to hear their reactions. Some of them are great. Some of them, not so much. Some then tell me about their own suicidal experiences. Human to human, I’m all about it. I want people to be open with me, but it certainly makes dating a bit of a challenge, and I resent people diminishing the uniqueness of my dating life. 

Next, despite being called a manhater by some teenage boys on IG this week, I would like to make it clear that this is not so. On the contrary, I am a manlover. I just made that term up, but I really do love men, despite their occasional childish idiocy. Also, I am patient to a fault when it comes to most humans.

Again, have you read the rest of my blog or actually seen ANYTHING else that I’ve posted? Need I remind you of my people-pleasing tendencies???

That’s what half of this dating adventure is about: me actually saying what I do and don’t want and being okay with saying no to things that don’t serve me. If you don’t like my blog, just don’t read it. 

Also worth noting is that my posting stuff about my own experience is not an invitation for you to compare your divorce to my husband’s suicide. Do you see me walking around comparing my husband’s suicide to your divorce? Hmm? Do you? Wouldn’t that be ridiculous? Why do you feel the need to compare? They’re not even the same thing. Can’t we all have feelings and our own experiences? People are allowed to have feelings. Feelings deserve space. Once space is given, we can usually move forward. Why squash all that glorious expression of feelings with your selfish comparisons? Stop diminishing MY experience just because you’re upset about your own.

Now is probably a good time to say that none of this is a cry for help. I feel the need to put that so that nobody is left concerned about my well-being. If you have any doubts, I’m telling you now that there will be no killing myself over this. I’m just frustrated. Also, my expressing my feelings doesn’t mean I’m unresolved about Mark or his suicide. First of all, of COURSE I am still resolving pieces of the whole shitstorm, but stop assessing me with your non-degrees in psychology. Do you know how much therapy I’ve done? Have you seen how much I advocate for people taking care of their mental health? Have you also noticed how much I promote the expression of one’s feelings? Just because someone expresses a feeling, it doesn’t mean they’re mentally unstable. Au contraire, my friends!

Please do not suggest another dating app. (Unless you’re Desirae because I love you.) It’s not because I think new ideas are bad; it’s because I’m not asking. Also, humans are humans no matter which app they use. I have friends on all the apps; they all encounter idiots. Thus is part of being human.

Finally, my sharing any of this isn’t even an invitation to agree with me, though if you’ve had similar experiences or have shared these sentiments, by all means, comment.

I mean, what’s a pity party without friends? Misery loves company, right?

But I’m not asking you to “manhate” with me. I also don’t need you to insult my dead husband to make me feel better. On the contrary, that usually doesn’t help.

Unless I say it first, in which case we can go on a mutual rant about all the things, dead husbands included, though this works best with other widows.

Have you considered that maybe I talk about other things on my dates, too? Some people seem to think that all I talk about is being widowed and suicide and blah blah blah, but did YOU know that there is actually more to me than that? I had a life before Mark, and I have one now. It’ll always be impacted by what happened, but it is very much my own. If you haven’t noticed that, you haven’t been paying attention. I’d go on a rant about all the other things about me, but there’s no need. They’re already posted on my social media, in my pictures and in some of my other posts. It’s all there. Consider you see and hear only what you want to see and hear. You’re missing the rest. YOU. Not me. I’m discovering new things about myself every day. I do the work. Do you?