Latest / All The Light She Found / I Am So Damn Proud of Her: Finding Yourself Again After Loss and Life's Unexpected Changes
Transcript
- kelly: Well, hello, my friends, and welcome back. I'm your host, Kelly McGurk, and this is All the Light She Found. Well, dang, something happened that was so strange. I was going through a notebook looking for information that I had written somewhere. And I came across a page that I guess I was gonna use this notebook for a journal, I guess, and I did one page and it was on the very front page. And it was a journal entry that I wrote in June of twenty twenty five. And you guys, it totally stopped me. I sat there reading these words from a woman I knew so well. And yet, in some ways, she feels like a completely different person from the woman sitting here today. I was about I'm looking at the date. It was about five months after Mike had died. And I was at my beach house in San Diego trying to figure out what the hell my life was supposed to look like now. And let me tell you, I was figuring out absolutely nothing some days. I had spent years taking care of my husband. My world had gotten smaller and smaller, my responsibilities had gotten bigger and bigger, and somewhere along the way, kind of lost track of myself. And suddenly there I was, 55 years old, a widow, a woman who had spent most of her adult life being somebody's wife. And now what? I mean, seriously. Now what? I want to read something to you that I wrote that summer. I am both happy and sad, and I'm still trying to figure out how that can be. So this is my life. And I want you to know I am both happy and sad, and I'm still trying to figure out what this could be. A little later I wrote, I feel both at peace and sad. I do not miss the chaos and the mess that was Mike specifically in the last three years. But I do miss my best friend, my confidant, my cheerleader, my fearless leader. I miss his ridiculous jokes and all of his quote stupid. I loved our life together for a long time until I didn't. Wow. I actually remember writing that, and I remember how hard it was to admit all of those things could be true. I loved my husband. I loved our life together for a very long time. But the last several years were hard, really hard. And I don't think that we talk enough about what happens when you love somebody, but the life you're living together has become something you would never have chosen. You can miss somebody terribly and not miss the circumstances of your life with them. You can grieve someone and feel relieved. You can be devastated and peaceful. And here's something I know now that I was still figuring out then. We don't have to pick one. We don't have to clean up our feelings so they make sense to everybody else. Sometimes, guys, life is just a whole bunch of things happening. All at once. And sometimes those things contradict each other and that's okay. Man, if you could have seen me that summer, I was living at the beach, which sounds fabulous, right? poor me, white wine problems. This woman is grieving at the beach. But there were days when that beautiful house felt incredibly lonely. I remember having people come visit my kids, friends, people I loved, and we'd have these wonderful fun weekends together. We'd laugh, talk, sit outside, enjoy the weather, and then Sunday would come. And everybody would pack up and go home. And the house would get super quiet. Ugh, those Sundays. I actually started calling them Sunday sads. I found a journal entry where I said, I feel the Sunday sad and grief about being alone. Sundays are now my new sad day, and I remember walking on the beach and seeing couples holding hands and watching people laugh together. And I wasn't jealous of their life. I just missed mine. I missed having somebody who knew me. I miss having my companion, the safety and comfort of somebody who knows you. And that was it. I miss safety and comfort. The person who knew how my day-to-day had gone, the person who understood my jokes, the person who had our history. I guess when you've been with someone for decades, there's a whole language between you that nobody else speaks, and suddenly that person isn't there anymore. I do remember thinking, you guys, that I have all this freedom now. I can do whatever I want, I can go wherever I want, I can make whatever decisions I want, and yet sometimes I didn't want any of it. I just wanted somebody to sit beside me. I wonder how many of you guys have experienced that. Maybe it's not because somebody died. Maybe your marriage ended. Maybe your kids moved out. Maybe your friendships changed. Maybe you finally got the freedom that you thought you wanted and then realized freedom can feel a little lonely and scary. Another line in that journal entry that really got me, it said, I have now lost all of my key support in my life. I've always felt so independent, but now I feel the great alone. The great alone. shosh. I still can feel today what I meant when I wrote that that day. I had lost my parents, I had lost my husband, I had lost the foundation all peace bowl of my life. And it wasn't, you guys, you know this about me. It wasn't that I didn't have people who loved me. I did, good lord. but there was something about losing the people who had known me my whole life or my whole adult life, people who had been witnesses to my life, people who remembered me before I was a wife, a mother, a therapist, a business owner. You know, and that's something I'm thinking about again now because my brother has a brain tumor. He's doing great, and I'm so very grateful for that. But there's also uncertainty. And I realized something in a conversation the other day. My brother is my last person who shares my childhood. That's alive. He remembers our parents, our family, our crazy stories, ridiculous things that made up our life. And the thought of someday maybe not having him. But you know what else? I think there's something now that I understand differently than I did back then. None of us is guaranteed tomorrow. Not him, not me, not the people who we love. Life is fragile. And that's not meant to be depressing. Actually, I think it's one of the most important things that grief has taught me. Love your people hard. Tell them what they mean to you. Make the memories. Take the trip. Have the dinners. You guys. Let's not wait for some imaginary day when everything's perfect or when we're not busy because that day may not come. And we don't get to control that, that's for sure. But you know what we do get to control? We get to control how we're gonna live while everybody's here. Now here's something that's really interesting. In that journal, I also said, I think I love who I am becoming, I am also sad to lose the one I've known so well. Girlfriends, boyfriends, that one got me. Because I remember worrying that I might never be the same again. I had always had this big personality. I was always very happy, social, energetic, and funny. I was the woman who loved throwing parties, bringing people together, and making things happen. And suddenly I just didn't have the energy to be her. And I remember specifically wondering if I was losing something really important about myself that I couldn't get back. What if I was never that person anymore? What if the version of me that everybody knew and loved was gone? I want to talk about that for a minute because I think sometimes. When we go through major life changes, we get so focused on what we've lost externally that we forget we're also grieving versions of ourselves. The person who existed in that marriage, the person who raised kids, the person who had the career, the person who had the big social circle, the person who knew exactly where she belonged. And then something changes, and you're not quite that person anymore. And you know what's so weird? Is you actually Don't know who you are instead. It's a very strange place to live. I remember talking about how I was becoming somebody new, but damn, that was hard. Here's what I wish that I would have understood then. I didn't have to become the old me again. And I didn't want to recreate the same life. And I didn't have to prove I was still fun or interesting or capable or strong. I was allowed to change. And I was allowed to become a woman I hadn't met yet. And maybe that woman was going to be a little quieter sometimes. And maybe she was gonna need different things and choose different people. And maybe she was gonna care a whole lot less about things that used to feel pretty important. And maybe just maybe that wasn't a loss. Maybe it was growth. You know what? In that same journal entry, I wrote, I'm meeting myself and I am finding peace there. Think about that. There I was sitting in that house, missing my husband, feeling the great alone, wondering who I was going to be. And at the very same time, I was beginning to enjoy my own company. I was meeting myself. I was taking long walks on the beach, having long conversations with myself, sitting with feelings I had spent years not having the time or energy to feel. Man, you guys, sometimes I was incredibly sad, and sometimes I was incredibly peaceful. Sometimes I wanted to do everything, and sometimes I wanted to do absolutely nothing. In fact, I actually wrote that exact thing. Quote, I want to do so many things, yet I don't want to do any of them. And then immediately afterward, I wrote, Random Thought. I keep forgetting sunscreen. My face will age this summer. That cracks me up. That's some ADD stuff right there. Here I am in the middle of some major existential. reflection about my grief and loneliness and reinventing my entire life and apparently also concerned about aging and wrinkles. You know what though? I love that little detail. That was at the end of that journal entry. It said, random thought. I keep forgetting to use my sunscreen. That was the very end of that whole page of a journal. You know what it reminds me of? That even in the hardest seasons we're still ourselves. We're still thinking ridiculously random thoughts. We're laughing at stupid things. We're still worrying about our faces. We're still living. Hmm. And that's what that summer was for me. It wasn't just the summer of grief. It was a summer of discovering who I was when I wasn't taking care of everybody else. When I didn't have to be somebody's everything. When I could actually sit alone, you guys, and ask myself, what do I want? What do I like? Who do I want to spend time with? What life do I want to create? Those sound like pretty simple questions, but I'm gonna tell you when I have spent decades building a life around other people, dang, they're a little bit crazy to answer. So here we are now, October 2026, 16 months after that journal entry. And I was just sitting there reading those words and started thinking about that woman. I could see her. I could see her walking on the beach, sitting on the patio, listening to the ocean, trying to figure out what was next. And I felt this enormous tenderness toward her. I wanted to reach back through time and give her the biggest hug. Because man, she was trying. She was trying really hard. And then something else happened, you guys, and this is why I wanted to share this on my podcast. I realized how incredibly proud I was of her. And that. I am so damn proud of her. I am proud of the woman who got up on those lonely Sundays and kept going. I am proud of the woman who allowed herself to feel sad without deciding her life was over. I am proud of that woman who started asking what she wanted, even when she didn't have a clue. What the answer was. And you guys, I am so proud of the woman who kept believing there might be something really wonderful on the other side. Cause guess what? There was. And there are. My life today looks so different. I've started new things professionally. I've started this podcast, which is something I didn't know I'd do again. I've been developing new relationships. And yes, as I shared on the last episode, there's a wonderful man in my life which still makes me smile. There have been new adventures, new opportunities, and some beautiful surprises. But there have also been disappointments. Relationships have changed. Things haven't always gone the way I wanted. Days when I've definitely still felt uncertain or afraid, because that's freaking life, right? I did not get some magical new chapter where everything is suddenly easy. And I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that I've got it all figured out because good lord, I sure don't. But here's what I have figured out. I am capable of creating a life I love. And that has nothing to do with the fact of me controlling everything because I can't control things that happen to me. Not all of them. Some of them I can, but not all of them. But you know what I can do? I can keep participating in my life. I can continue to make new connections. I can try new things. I can take chances and I can be vulnerable. And I can love people knowing I might someday lose them. And you know what I love about this season, you guys? I've learned that I can trust myself to keep finding my way. That's a pretty extraordinary thing to realize about yourself. I was sitting here thinking when I was deciding what the topic for this podcast was gonna be, what I would say if I could go back and sit beside that woman at the beach just for five minutes. I would not give her a big pep talk. I definitely wouldn't tell her to be strong. Good lord, she had already had enough of being strong. And I would not tell her that everything was gonna work out perfectly, because it hasn't. That's not how life works. I think we all know that. I think though that I'd sit beside her for just a minute. Maybe we'd have a coffee and watch the waves and I'd tell her, girl, I know you're tired. And I know you miss him. And I know you don't know what you're gonna do. And I know you're wondering if you're ever gonna feel like yourself again. But here's what I do want you to know. And this is what I would tell her. You're gonna laugh so hard again. You're gonna make some wonderful memories. You're gonna have new experiences that you can't even imagine right now. You're gonna love new people. And you're gonna be loved. You're going to surprise yourself in so many ways. And yeah, you're gonna have some hard days, that's for sure. But you're gonna discover that the woman you're becoming is somebody that you actually really like. And you know what? You don't have to rush to meet her, just keep going. Keep taking those walks, keep being curious, keep letting yourself feel whatever you feel. And girlfriend. Put on some damn sunscreen. I want to turn this story around for a minute because I don't want this just to be a story about me. I want you to think about yourself. Think about a version of you from a year ago or five years ago. Maybe she or he was going through a divorce. Maybe you were raising little kids and wondering if you'd ever have a minute to yourself again. Maybe you were in a relationship you knew wasn't right. Maybe you were trying to build a career. Gosh, maybe you too have lost somebody or people. Maybe you were just doing the best you could in a life that looked nothing like you thought it would. Now here's what I want you to ask yourself. When you think about that person, what do you feel? Do you criticize them? Do you think about the mistakes they made? The things they should have known? The decisions that probably they wish they would have made differently? That's what we do, right? That's what we do. We look backward with all the information we have today and we judge the person that didn't have any of that information. What if we stop doing that? What if just for a minute we looked at ourselves with some tenderness? What if we recognized how hard we were trying then? What if we remembered how much we were carrying? How many things we were trying to figure out as we went along? And what if you just sat there for a second and allowed yourself to be proud of that person? Not because they did everything right, not because they were fearless, not because they didn't fall apart. But you know what? Because they were freaking living life the best way they knew how. And that's what got you here to this moment. I think you guys that we owe those earlier versions of ourselves a whole lot more tenderness and appreciation than we give ourselves. I keep thinking about that first sentence I wrote in June of 2025. I am both happy and sad, and I am still trying to figure out how that can be. And what's so interesting is that 16 months later, I can still be both happy and sad. There are things in my life that make me incredibly happy. And there are people I miss. There are things I am so freaking excited about, and there are things that scare me. There are relationships that bring me so much joy and relationships that challenge me. I don't feel the need now to reconcile all of that anymore. I think I've realized you guys, this life isn't about getting to someplace where nothing hurts because that's not gonna happen. It's about creating a life that's meaningful and beautiful and worth living, even knowing sometimes it's gonna hurt. And I think that's what that woman at the beach house was starting to discover. She was learning how to hold both joy and sadness, freedom and loneliness, grief and gratitude, fear and excitement. And somewhere, you guys, in the middle of it, she was finding herself. You know? Isn't that crazy? My word for 2026 has been alive since January 1st of 2026. And I thought about that when I was reading this journal because that woman sitting at the beach house was already beginning to come alive again. She just didn't recognize it yet. And maybe that's true for some of you right now. Maybe you guys, you can't see the changes that are happening. And maybe you're still in the messy middle. And maybe you're trying to figure out who you are and what comes next. But maybe you're becoming somebody you're going to be really, really proud of. And someday you too might be able to look back at the person you are today and realize how much courage it took to get you through this season. I hope when that day comes, you give that person credit. I hope you look at them with tenderness. And I hope you can say, just like I did this week, I am so damn proud of her. So guys, you know what I'm gonna ask you right now? Where'd you find a little light this week? I'll tell you where I found mine in an old journal entry from a woman who had no idea how much life was still waiting for her. And in realizing that all along, she was becoming me. I'm Kelly, and this is all the light she found.