When you’re a couple, your personalities blend over time. You take on a little of each other. You understand how the other thinks, and sometimes you can even find yourself finishing the other’s sentences. This is a natural occurrence. It happens over time, and it is a beautiful thing. It works. It’s the lovely part of a relationship; I refer to it as being comfortable with each other.
When one experiences the loss of their loved one, everything changes. Your world gets rocked, shaken, and shattered. It no longer resembles anything close to the life you had and the countless beautiful memories you made.
I have progressed through this journey of grief and have made it through many of its stages, finally arriving at acceptance. But a question occurred to me, “Who am I now?” I knew who I was with my soul mate, but I am no longer that person.
The answer for me is that I’m not sure yet, but I’m working on it. I’m figuring it out. I have been broken, and I frequently feel hurt. I am under reconstruction. I’m no longer part of a couple, and I no longer think as part of a couple. I am just me, and that’s my new reality. I’m discovering who I am now.
I have learned that it is not easy, and I find myself plodding through this new life with a marked degree of uncertainty. Interacting and socializing with family and friends is now quite different. I have come to realize that this will take time. There is a lot of trial and error with my emotions, and I frequently feel awkward and tentative about “next steps.” But hope and my faith move me forward with the expectation and belief of being comfortable again, with myself first, which allows me the possibility of being comfortable with others. I will get there by making decisions, adapting to change, and accepting contentment, wherever I am in my journey. Because the option of staying static is neither good nor healthy for me, and one I will not accept. All I have to do is look back and see how far I’ve come and the milestones accomplished. Not so long ago, I could never imagine making it this far. It has been the most grueling trip of my life, but now I can breathe again, smile again, feel loved again, and believe I am okay.