Love yourself and let the guilt and shame go. The fact is that your relationship was unhealthy. That wasn’t your fault. I have mixed feelings about you joining widowers group. Of course I want you to talk about it and have support but also I want you to remember that the marriage had been over for you for some time. You did a lot of your grieving already. I hope you can see that a chapter of your life is over and that chapter doesn’t have to define who you are and will become. As you read a new book do you keep going back to the last chapter or keep reading? LOVE YOURSELF and stop replaying old movies in your mind. Please:) because I care about you

Thank you. I am trying . I did try to tell myself the same thing-- that theirs was an affectionate, loving , giving, healthy relationship--- mine not so much. I am considering not checking in there so much as (while I did love him and do mourn his passing) I am not quite at the same space and point where they are,

What you said about me grieving the loss of our marriage for some time (actually years) does resonate with me. Thank you so much.

I can empathize. My husband was an alcoholic. We were married for almost 25 years, and the very day I decided to leave him, I came home and he told me he was ill. (Stage III lung cancer) .

He hadn't worked steadily for over six years. He treated everyone with kindness or humor - except me. Whenever I wanted to talk with him, he acted as if it was a waste of his time,

Once he'd been diagnosed, there was something I had to do every week: take him for a biopsy, take him to have a porta-cath inserted, go with him to his pre-chemo appointment to gather information on what to expect.

He'd had rather obvious crushes on other women the last few years we'd been together (didn't bother to hide it, either) and I suspect he'd had an affair, as well. As I drove him to appointments and cleaned up after him I was very resentful that he'd been cheery and helpful to those women, and I was mopping up vomit.

But heck, I needed to own this. I could have divorced him years before, and I didn't for various reasons. My bad. The first years had been rather fun and he'd been a functional alcoholic, then. (Imagine 'functional' is a stage, not a type of alcoholism!) And eventually, forgiveness came. It didn't take weeks or months, more like years.

Be kind to yourself, as bitterness won't help. I eventually came to the conclusion that really, in spite of everything, Late husband loved me the best he could. It wasn't exemplary, or some days even adequate, but it was the best he could do at the time..

It has left me a different person, and hopefully, a better partner to my current man friend. I get irritated, but I don't *say* things I might have when I was younger. And - my more mature self made a better thought out choice for a partner, (like, not an alcoholic)

Also remember that comparison is the thief of joy.

Don't compare the marriage you experienced with the marriages of others - you don't know the whole story, only the picture revealed in public forums and social media.

Your marriage was unique with it's ups and downs. Relish the ups and understand the downs are usually the result of two imperfect individuals attempting the share a life together to the best of their abilities.

Thank you both.

I do also understand that we both did come with our baggage from our dysfunctional beginnings in this world. The difference was-- I would wind up with counseling and come to understand the whys and how to begin to change. He never had that (although I did my best to share it with him when the chances arrived. ) There were a few instances when it did sink in.

I

Something I have learned is that many people paint a perfect picture in these situations, these meetings. They paint themselves as selfless or all giving and their partner as wonderful. It doesn't even have to be spouses, my in-laws paint this glorious picture of how wonderful mom and dad were after they died and the kids are all screwed up from how narcissistic and mean spirited the parents actually were. But now they wear professional martyr and mourner roles. Sometimes people take on the martyr mentality, that they give all, do all, and no one appreciates them, etc. I would like to say I guarantee that no caregiver has only sunshine and roses in this role, but hey, perhaps a few will. Sometimes grief does feel like a part of one is missing but sometimes grief also has relief that the pain of the dying person is done and the pain and stress we were under as caregiver is done. Many people won't acknowledge their relief or that their spouse was less than perfect, so take all this with a grain of salt. And some people go to these types of meetings and become professional in grief people, meaning their new identity is what you have described. How you are is perhaps more real, more realistic, than what you may be hearing. Listen between the lines and you will very likely see the cracks and the not perfect stuff. Older generations especially will not talk badly or realistically in public about their loved ones where I live. It isn't considered "respectful" and I am in a group with all women older than me and everything with their families is just great. Only one woman talks realistically but without bashing, and if I compare myself to these women's lives then I feel yucky about all the problems I have. I was thinking about this today and how this one woman described her middle aged son in glowing details. So today for some reason, I was comparing my mean kids to her wonderful son and then I realized that the things she was glowing about also have very negative sides to them. The truth is probably not the glowing stuff she was spouting off.

"Don't compare the marriage you experienced with the marriages of others - you don't know the whole story, " True, that!

Whenever I see goofy, lovey-dovey postings on Fakebook from one person to his/her spouse, Cynical Cymbaline assumes it's a manipulative ploy to end a disagreement. I rarely post anything to my Significant other. He's sitting beside me on the couch, much of the time, I can just tell him.