Sex for the first time after my husband passed away

 So, down to the getting real bit. There has been a huge shift for me in the course of the last couple of weeks in my grieving process...A few weeks ago, I listened to a series of seminar lectures from a variety of mediums, and after listening to hours of interviews with these different people and being guided through a variety of simple meditations designed to help others connect to deceased loved ones, it became very clear to me just how close the spirit world is to this physical world we are in now... And that in fact, we are really just a veil away... I was able to experience my husband, Mitch, quickly and it opened me to receiving signs of his presence in all kinds of ways.

So, as another layer of my grief lifted and I began to feel lighter and happier, a funny thing happened... Me, a widow at eight months pregnant began receiving loving and sexual attention and solicitation from several men! It all began with a man whom I will refer to as a “community helper,” to keep his identity private. So, I was sick with the flu and crying my eyes out because my fears of not being supported were being triggered, so I called this man with whom I had had limited interaction with for some feel better support. I arrived at his house after his invitation, where his deep concern for my pain was endearing and the foot and hand massage he gave me led to my eventual response of sure, why not? There was a moment during the hand massage that he was giving me where I could feel where our encounter was headed if I allowed it, and knew at that moment I could decide to politely leave, or stay and have sex... Now, previously the idea of having sex with someone with whom I had no feelings for was completely foreign to me, and I must admit I was a bit judgmental about others doing it. I just assumed that, as a woman, if you had sex with someone, you would automatically develop feelings. Anyway, in that moment, I made the conscious decision to say yes to his sexual advances, simply for the experience of sex without feelings. So, how was it? Physically it felt great, but there were no fireworks when we kissed, like when two people who are in love or at least in strong like experience. I thanked him for the feel good medicine after our encounter and we parted ways. Did I develop feelings for him simply because we had sex? No I didn't, did I feel slightly freaked out at my atypical behavior? Yes, but I also felt proud of myself for living in the moment and becoming more open-minded in the process. Would I have sex again with someone without feelings? My first inclination is to say no but as we all know, life can take some surprising turns...So, I'll just say that I'll cross that bridge when I get to it... But, one thing is for certain, nothing compares to sex with love, and I'll end on that note. My story to be continued...Please pass this story on to anyone who you think might benefit...

 

Very human feelings after a loved one passes on...

After a friend shared that she felt Mitch's presence last week and that it filled her with peace, faith, and strength, I became aware of feelings of jealousy that surfaced within myself... For a few moments, I simply allowed myself to “react” with these feelings. I decided to take a step back and revisit them and the core of what was truly bothering me about what she had shared later on that day, after Ava went down for her nap. After Ava went down for her nap, I began to “write it out.” I realized the jealousy came from my small scope of understanding about what happens to our souls after we pass on. After he passed, while my brother was in a meditative state, he told my brother that he would not leave mine, Ava, nor the baby's side. My fear that perhaps he wasn't with us spiritually surfaced when my friend shared her experience, because I don't always feel as connected with him spiritually as I would like. When I am not aware of signs or communication from him, I just have to trust and have faith in his presence. And then beyond that faith and trust, I have to realize that perhaps he can be in multiple places at once, or perhaps part of his spirit lives within each of us that he has touched. Part of me wanted to hold on to him as “mine,” even though in his physical form, he was never really “mine” to have. It's a difficult lesson to be able to love someone while also letting them be as free as they are born to be. And when you lose someone, they are experiencing the ultimate freedom as we know it, and those who love them are left to learn how to let go, sometimes over and over again as we go through the inevitable grieving process that happens in its own time.

Our work and God's work

I awoke this morning to a reoccurring dream. In my dream, Mitch has left me, broken up with me, and I am trying so hard to get him to take me back, to get him to love me again. I was reminded of a bit of advice I was given yesterday in response to my saying I should meditate “better,” longer, and with more concentration in order to connect with Mitch in a more profound way. The advice was that it sounded as if I was trying too hard, that I was trying too hard to do God's work, and that I should allow myself to simply concentrate on my work. What is my work right now? I sat on the beach this morning, my place of solace. I brought my journal, my i-pod, and presence to the feelings that were destined to come after waking from my dream this morning. My dream left me wondering where my place was in the world, and sitting on the beach, I realized that I wasn't quite sure. If I tried really hard to figure it out, I felt overwhelmed and anxious, because at this moment, I couldn't see far enough ahead to know where my future would lead me. But when I let go of trying to see into the future to know where it was I was meant to be, I knew in the moment of where I should be. I knew that place was right here, right where I was. I let go of trying so hard to figure out the rest... That was not my work at the moment, that was God's work. My work at the moment was laid out for me, I was here, raising my daughter, planning the birth of my daughter to come, and helping others on their journey, that was my work.

Following our intuitive guidance, one step at a time

Days after my husband's passing, while I was in a hotel room in Yreka, the adjacent town to Hornbrook, the location of our cabin and his passing, I received what you might call inner-guidance, my higher call, intuition, or divine intervention. It was was then and there that I knew I needed to move back to Costa Rica with my daughter (Costa Rica was a place that Mitch and I lived together for nearly 3 years, 3 years prior to the present). This intuition was accompanied by feelings of joy, lightness, peace, creativity, and a feeling of “rightness” in my gut. From that point forward, I began making preparations for our move, and it became a sort of guiding light in the darkness. But, I should say that I was not particularly used to making decisions from such an intuitive place, and throughout the ensuing months, little doubts crept in here and there, begging me to seek further guidance by way of meditation, prayer, journaling, and seeking the counsel of supportive friends and family. And today I was reminded of making decisions from that intuitive place within ourselves when choosing a place to give birth to my daughter who is due in 10 weeks. I have chosen a birthing farm in the mountainous rain forest (a safe distance from a hospital in case of an emergency) where midwives will be in attendance to my birth, where I can create a sacred space for the entry of the little one into the world; a place where my daughter can be present, or at least asleep in the next room of the little house that will be the place that welcomes the little one into the world. This decision was accompanied by feelings of peace, joy, and a sense of inner-knowing as well. If we spend a little more time in that quiet space within ourselves and follow our sense of peace, joy, and “knowing,” then we can be more confident in our decisions, and more sure of the path we are walking, one step at a time.

Gentle reminders of Spirit

I find myself in a quiet space today, a space of surrender and letting go. I ask to see Mitch in everything today, a recommendation from my sister-in-law last night, and I refocus my energies on my supreme connection to God, where God and Mitch are my focus upon which everything else rains, my umbrella- I trust in this divine shelter. I take notice today of the light in people's eyes, people who really see, in those eyes I see God, I see love. I cry after encounters with two older men who look at me with that light and a gentle smile, and I am reminded of Mitch in those eyes, full of light and a gentle pervasive love. My beach meditation yesterday reminds me to ride the waves with patience, without resistance, with perfect timing, the ocean has shown itself as my teacher. I sit on the rocks on the beach waiting for my car's oil to be changed and notice a tiny bright green sprout shooting up amidst its rocky neighbors, the only one, a little reminder of fresh life that can grow in even the harshest of conditions. Here I am in this place that called me back, an undeniable invitation beckoning me, and here it is where I heal, where I grow, where I plant my roots with my darling daughter and daughter-to-be. A tarot card reading from the other night that read, let your emotions flow freely, or you will be chained to the ever-changing highs and lows of the tides, reminds me to let go of control and let both my sadness and joy come at will, and I let both pass through me, cleansing my heart and renewing my soul. And once again faith comes in to reign supreme and guide my journey.

Fulfilling our children's need for love when a parent is absent

This morning as a slideshow of our family photos and past memories played as my computer screen saver, Ava said, “I want to see daddy's friends today.” I watch as she lights up and is drawn to younger men, men similar to Mitch in one way or another, some that share similar physical attributes and some that share his young, free-spirited nature. I see clearly that we are both grieving his absence in varying ways. I too find that when I see people in love, I long for him, or when I see a man that looks similar to him, I long for Mitch. I too am drawn to that masculine energy, that Ava at two years old is drawn to. And this is when there is a choice to fear not falling in love again, not finding a loving dad for my daughters, or to have faith and to trust that the perfect man will come and join our family at the right time. We all long to be loved, to have a companion to journey with in this life, but it is during the times we find ourselves without that we must look within to love ourselves more wholly, to allow our sadness, our pains, and our fears to refine us into more loving fulfilled human beings. It is then that we open to receiving more love that can come in its many forms. I cannot ease Ava's pain of loss for her dad, but for now I can make sure our home is filled to the brim with love and expose her to positive and trusting male energy as a positive reminder of her dad in some way. I can also help her connect to his spirit through daily prayers and conversations with him, and pray for his guidance in how I parent her. And perhaps as I become more whole and healed, and find more peace and fulfillment, that this too will ease some of the longing that Ava feels. And this is one of the challenges for anyone raising a child without a partner, finding ways to fulfill our children's need for love in ways that are nurturing to the soul. And in this process we too will learn to love ourselves in ways that nurture our souls.

A glimpse into grief

 The pain of loss twists and turns, swallows me whole sometimes, and I emerge soaking wet, gasping for air, sitting on the very edge catching my breath looking in at where I've been. And so for days after I slowly come back to life, moving more slowly, feeling the need for more solitude, withdrawing from expending my energy out into the world, as all the energy I have and create nourishes me, the baby growing inside me, and my daughter. And its in these days that when the demands of other relationships rap at my door, I learn to politely say that I am not home. And so during this process of grieving my husband, nourishing new life, raising my 2 ½ year old daughter, setting up new residence in a foreign country that was truly home to my husband and I, and launching my career, I just have to stop and breathe to take note of where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going. And so it is a process of gradual integration after the shock of reality fades, of a pain so deep that slow is the only way to go to not break into a million pieces. And for now, I let the earth dry my tears and I drink in the life breath that nourishes me. And I emerge a little more whole and a little more healed.