THE BLOG
01/29/2014 07:06 am ET Updated Mar 31, 2014

Freedom Is Not All It's Cracked Up To Be Now That I'm A Widow

This past weekend was jam packed, again, still. A combination of my need to keep busy and the freedom to actually be able to get out. But obviously that freedom comes at a high price.

All the usual running around I have been doing has not been that far afield. Pretty much in a 45 to 50 minute radius. But to meet with a group of like-minded horse people on Sunday I drove almost two hours just to get there. That brought up some of the same feelings I had when I was driving around for Cavalia -- being away for hours or a whole day. My heart attachments were being stretched once again way beyond their limits.

It took me a while to recognize what I was feeling. Going away from home. Home and Robert used to be synonymous. I had to make a huge mental adjustment that he was not home waiting for me. Yes to more driving and crying. I do that so much I have a box of Kleenex on the passenger seat.

Felt like I was passing through a portal. Moving through it was hard and painful, but once on the other side I was okay. And I arrived at my destination to a large group of old and new friends where I enjoyed myself.

After the group I was then onto uncharted territory. I was going to meet a client in a place I had never been. It was getting dark and I was coming from the unfamiliar north. I found myself totally dependent on "Steve" my GPS' voice.

When I made the arrangements it all seemed so logical. But there is logic and there is emotion. And to avoid emotions I operate on logic. Which gets me into these situations. You would think I would learn. Or perhaps -- obviously -- this is my learning path.

Driving in the darkness only intensified my feelings. I had to face being totally and utterly on my own. The cockpit of my car was the familiar and everything I was seeing out the windshield was the unknown. I so wanted to reach for my phone and call Rob. To touch base. To be grounded. To be connected. To be reassured. But there was no one to call.

I was -- to refer to one of my posts about time -- untethered. Ah the title of the book, the untethered soul....maybe that is why it resonates so much with me. Yes I was feeling completely untethered. And again I had to adjust my thinking. I could, and can, and it is okay, to stand on my own. To be on my own. This is not about being alone. Words words words.

I find I am now free to do what I want, to go where I want -- when I want. I am not accountable to anyone. Untethered, adrift, unattached, unbound, cut loose, unanchored, unmoored.

Being connected has always been my safety net. I know friends saw me as independent and doing my own things. Yes, I would go out and explore and experiment and test the waters--but I knew my anchor, Rob, was waiting for me. No matter where he was, he was there for me. And now he is not.

It is this part of being on my own, of having no attachments like I had with him, of being free that is so incredibly difficult to deal with. The personal pain is so enormous.

Earlier on Huff/Post50:

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