Lost the love of my life three years ago in January. Unexpected death due to undiagnosed terminal cancer. Utterly savage.
Knock on effects - business failure, house move, drastically reduced income.
All still feels like yesterday.
Have a small - very small and carefully curated - support network, and it's mutual in many ways.
Because I'm economically isolated and cannot afford to socialise in a reciprocal manner, I rarely see many people who I suppose were more acquaintances than friends, but when I do there's often a sense of bafflement that I'm still not living my best life, despite them knowing everything that has happened. I function, reasonably, I care for two cats, I look out for my elderly Dad (and over the last year that's been a whole other bag of "you couldn't make this shit up on multiple levels). I have alot going on emotionally that I barely have time to process, much less divulge to people who pop up after months of zero contact because they have their own shit going on, which i respect.
I don't know what I'm even getting at here, as another "date" looms when people will suddenly remember me because it's DPs birthday, and wonder why I don't respond to well meant messages, but perhaps a bit of reassurance that I'm not wrong, or weird, because I'm probably projecting but I feel as though I'm just a big disappointment in the stoic widow stakes , a sort of embarrassing loose end as it were.
Can anyone relate?
And solidarity to all in the shitty club. ❤️🔥