Monday Permission Slip - Out of the Cave - 8.10.26

Widowhood makes you want to get small. To pull the world in close, shut the door, and stay in the cave where it feels safe. I know that pull. I felt it hard after Gary died. In this episode, I talk about what happened when I made myself venture out anyway, teaching myself the ukulele in year two and playing open mic nights at an art studio in Hammond, taking every dance class I could find, and making friends across the country. And I share the thing that surprised me most. Out there, trying and learning and growing, I didn't feel further from Gary. I felt closer to him. This one is about choosing to grow instead of disappear, and why that's where the love keeps moving.

Widow's Permission Slips is a production of Ember & Bloom Coaching for Widows, hosted by Gladys Jean Ullstam, certified life coach and Gary's widow.

If you are ready to be met exactly where you are, my free discovery call, Holding the Ember, is open at emberandbloomcoaching.com/appointments.

Follow the show so a new permission slip finds you each week, and share it with a widow who needs to hear it.

Website: emberandbloomcoaching.com

You are not alone in this.

Transcript

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I want to talk to you today about the cave. When you lose your person, something in you wants to get small. Everything in your world feels filled with fear. You want to pull your world in very close and then shut the door. You want to stay on the couch. You want to have the curtains drawn. You want to do the same safe things in the same safe order because everything feels out of control. Your brain is firing on fear. And it is overwhelming. The cave feels safe. And after everything you've been through, who could blame you for wanting to stay in the cave, to crawl into it and just stay safe? I know that firsthand. I know that pull. After Gary took his last breath. The world, the universe took the one thing I couldn't live without. So why would I want to go back out in the world? Why risk everything? But the cave is lonely and filled with so much chaos. And even though we tell ourselves we feel safe there, it is very scary. I want to tell you what happened when I made myself step out of the cave, step out of my comfort zone, and venture out. Because it surprised me. And it might surprise you too. I didn't do it because I thought I felt ready. I never felt ready, not once. I did it because there was some part of me, some quiet part of me, that decided I wasn't going to disappear. That I couldn't stay broken. That I couldn't let Gary's legacy be that I was ruined. I just wasn't going to disappear, not yet. Maybe not every. So on my own, at the beginning of the second year, I taught myself how to play the ukulele. I mean, I had no plan for it. I just wanted to learn something. I wanted to kind of surprise my daughter and my mom. And then I couldn't quite believe that I did it. I taught myself how to play the ukulele. Maybe not great, but great enough for me. And I uh wanted to share it and didn't really care how I shared it. So I actually found an open mic night at a local art studio that was in Hammond, where I lived at the time. So there I was every Thursday night, me just standing up in front of a room full of strangers and playing my ukulele and singing the songs completely off key and not really caring. If you would have told me back when I was in my early grief that first year that I would be standing in an open mic night singing in front of somebody, I would have looked at you like you had lost your mind. But I didn't stop venturing out even after that. I started dancing. I took classes of all time, all kinds. The the first dancing that I started doing was Contra dancing in my new neighborhood. And that happens once a month, and it was very fun. And then I signed up for square dancing lessons and I really loved square dancing. Um, and even joined the square dancing club. Um, and then a local group puts on different um Latino dancing. Um, and so I have learned salsa dancing and rueta and fachata. And um, because I want to keep up with my granddaughters, I am learning line dancing. I wasn't great at any of them. All right, I'm pretty good at square dancing. Um, but that really didn't matter anyway. I just kept showing up, I just kept trying. And in somewhere of all that showing up, I started to make friends, like really good friends, new friends, people that I want in my life. And that was really cool. I didn't need all these friends when Gary was breathing. But I need friends now. I need friends that know what it is I'm going through. And so I have friends from across the country who are also widowed, who are part of my tribe. I can call them or text them anytime. I would have never met these people. I would not have them in my life. I would not be blessed to know their magic if I had stayed in the cave. Now, here's the part that I never expected. The part that changed how I see things. When I ventured out and tried those new things, I didn't feel farther away from Gary. You would think that a square dancing glattice would be so far away from Gary. No. When I'm in the groove and happy in the moment, I feel so close to him. I've thought a lot about why. And here's I think why. Gary called himself a play babe, and he loved to have fun, and he loved to make people laugh. And even though he was shy, he loved to try new things all the time. And he really loved having fun, even on ordinary days. That's who he was all the way down to his core. And so when I stood up on open mic night, when I stumble through the salsa step, when I stomp my feet because I messed up the square dancing move, I was living the way he lived. I was being the kind of person he would be so proud of. I can see him grinning at me, cheering me on, loving that I'm out there playing. Knowing how hard it is to try new things, but knowing that that's where the magic is, instead of being shut in the dark, staying in the cave wouldn't have kept me close to him, it would have carried me further away. Because the cave is small and quiet, and Gary was never any of those things. So this is what I've come to believe. Making yourself small does not protect the love. Growing helps carry that love forward. Every new thing you try, every time you step out of the cave, and you bring your person with you, you bring them into the light where the two of you always did your best living. I know it's scary. Being widowed already asked you to survive the unthinkable. And now here's Gladys talking into her mic, asking you to take some dance classes or you know, fencing classes, or I don't know, skateboarding classes. I'm not asking you to do it all at one time. I'm asking you to take one step out of the cave. Try something new. So here's what I want you to try this week. Just one new thing. Just one. I mean, you don't have to pick up a ukulele or, you know, head towards the dance floor or anything. Go for a walk a different way. Try a food you've never tried before. Go to a class or a group or a place that you've been thinking about, but just didn't think you could do it. Do it out of pure curiosity. I mean, it might be a miss. There were lots of things I tried that just didn't work. But you won't know until you go. You got to find things that stir your soul. I mean, you might hate it, and that's fine. Cross it off your list. That's the data point. And you're one step closer to finding something that you are going to like. But it might just open up a brand new joy for you, something you never saw coming. This is the ember, the way I really mean it. The love didn't go out when your person stopped breathing. It's still warm inside of you. And that warmth was never meant to keep you frozen on the couch inside your house, sitting in the dark. That love is in there to light your way forward, to warm you back out into your life, to push you forward, to grow, to bloom. Which brings me to today's permission slip. I give myself permission to grow. Say it with me. I give myself permission to grow. Not to get over anyone, not to leave anyone behind, to grow, to learn, to venture out of the cave and become the person that your person would love watching you become. The the person you're becoming is worth it. And she's out there. So go out and find her.