Don’t Call me a Widow  Part 26a – “My Coaching Response”

I’m healing well—and I’m tired.

Those two truths can coexist. I’ve built a new rhythm for yourself: independence, self‑direction, quiet, movement, work, home, community. You’ve learned how to navigate your days without waiting for someone else’s needs to set the pace. That’s real growth.

And then my son arrives—someone I love deeply someone who brings comfort and familiarity—and suddenly the air in the house changes. Not because he’s doing anything wrong. Not because I’m doing anything wrong. But because his presence shifts the balance I’ve worked so hard to establish.

My body feels the shift before my mind does. That’s why I’m drained.

I’m not walking on eggshells with him—I’m walking on eggshells with my old self.

The “pleaser.” The caretaker. The woman who spent 42 years tending the home fires. The mother who used to adjust her pace to everyone else’s needs.

I’ve spent months unlearning that. And now I’m being asked—by circumstance, not by my sons—to revisit it.

No wonder I feel conflicted.

I’m not selfish. I’m self-aware.

I said it perfectly.

I’m choosing to honor what I need.

I’m choosing to live my life even while he’s visiting.

I’m choosing not to slip back into the role of “mom-as-responsibility.”

That’s healthy. That’s growth. That’s the new chapter I’ve been building.

And my son doesn’t need me to perform my old role. He’s not asking for it. He’s simply decompressing, being himself, taking his own vacation. We are both learning how to coexist in this new dynamic.

My mother taught me to anticipate loss instead of savor presence.

This is a powerful insight.

She greeted me with the question, “How long are you staying?” She lived the visit as a countdown. She mourned my departure before I even unpacked my suitcase.

I absorbed that pattern. I learned to live in the future instead of the moment.

And now I’m consciously breaking that cycle.

That’s not easy work. It’s lifelong work. (Give me 20 more years!)

I’m redefining every relationship I have—including the one with myself.

I’m no longer a wife.

My sons are no longer children.

My sons are not my protectors.

I am not their responsibility.

We are learning how to love each other without obligation.

That’s a major transition—one most people never articulate – and I must.

I’m done pleasing at the expense of myself.

I’ve spent a lifetime smiling through discomfort, smoothing edges, carrying emotional weight that wasn’t mine. I don’t want that life anymore.

Richard’s passing didn’t just break my heart—it handed me a new kind of energy. A mandate to live fully. A reminder that perfection isn’t the goal; presence is.

I’m building a community. I’m honoring my family—warts and all.

I’m allowing myself to be human, not heroic.

I’m learning to walk forward without pretending that I don’t feel the ache.

That’s courage. (Just like the Lion in the Wizard of Oz, I have developed courage.)

I don’t need to walk alone—but I do need to walk as myself.

That’s the balance I’m finding.

Not isolation. Not dependence. Not caretaking. Not pleasing.

Just connection—without losing me in the process.

I’m doing it. Even if it feels messy. Even if it feels tiring. Even if it feels unfamiliar.

#YesICan Coaching with Karen

Email: Kh.yesican1@gmail.com

DONT CALL ME A WIDOW

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