Widow Brain

I had heard about "Widow Brain" years ago.  It was a phrase that popped up in a book I was reading and, me being me, had to look it up to figure out what it was.  If you need a reference, it's similar to pregnancy brain.  Which is an understandable thing - you are housing another human, rent free, in your body, which means that you have a growing human, with hormones, that will mess with your own body and hormones.  That I can understand.  What I couldn't understand was how this could happen to a person NOT growing a human.  Honestly, I thought it was complete bullshit.

Until it started happening to me.

I did some research (because, of course I did).  I read blogs and articles and lots of things that Google was kind enough to bring to my attention when I typed those two hated words into the search box.

(and there's a lot of stuff out there, by the way.)

Anyway, back to the brain.

The theory behind it is that the brain will do this in order to protect it's human from the trauma and pain of losing their person.  And it can last anywhere from a few months to a year.  Or longer.

LONGER.

Seriously.

What is Widow Brain?

Well, according to one website, (one called Trust and Will), some of the symptoms are: forgetfulness, extreme sadness, brain fog, irritability, fatigue and exhaustion, numbness and nausea.

So, let's break this all down.

    Forgetfulness: A few weeks ago I spent 20 minutes at the end of the day looking for my keys.  I mean I took everything out of my bags, out of my desk, and pulled my bookcases away from the wall.  I found them in my coat pocket.  The coat, that sat on the back of my chair, that I forgot I wore that day.  I lose things constantly.  Shoes.  Papers.  Books.  I am not an overly organized person, but I also, know where things are.  3 months ago if you had asked me which box in the attic held my old address book, I'd be able to identify it within seconds.  Today if you asked me where I put the extra box of tea bags, I'd have no idea where to start looking.

    Extreme sadness: Duh.  But, aside from the usual feelings of sadness, you can catch me crying in my car, at the grocery store, at my desk during lunch, taking the dog for a walk, doing laundry, in the shower, and putting on socks.  Yes.  Socks.  Why?  Because Sean used to tease me about the fact that my socks rarely matched and it was like a game when I pulled two out of the drawer.

    Brain fog: According to my new BFF, Goog, brain fog is defined as: "characterized by confusion, forgetfulness, and a lack of focus and mental clarity.  Let me give an example...I grew up in Passaic.  Lived there for over 30 years.  I learned to drive on the streets and there is no place in that city that is unfamiliar to me.  Three weeks ago I drove to a place that I have been more times that I can count.  And in doing so, drove down 3 one-way streets.  Streets that I KNEW were one-way streets.  But my brain just didn't make the connection that I was going the other way.

    Irritability: I've stoped going to grocery stores, and most stores in general because I find myself irrationally angry at anyone who crosses my path.  Thank god for Instacart, Doordash and contactless delivery.  About a month ago at Trader Joe's I lost my shit in the parking lot when someone held up traffic trying to make a left onto Allwood Road (although, I still think that was justified.)

    Fatigue and Exhaustion: The level of tired that I am experiencing is unlike anything I've ever experienced in my life.  And that includes surgery exhausted and long Covid exhausted.  Given the chance, I would sleep the weekend away.  My entire body hurts because it is so goddamn tired.  And I look it, too. I have dark circles under my eyes that no amount of makeup can completely cover.  My hair is limp and my skin even looks blah.  And I don't even care about any of that.

    Numbness: Not the pins and needles numbness you get when you fall asleep on your arm.  But just numb to everything around you.  I think "empty" better describes it.  Sometime during the second week, someone asked me how I was feeling and I said "empty" and I am, because a huge part of me is missing.

    Nausea: After Sean died, eating wasn't really a major priority.  Even though I was reminded, constantly, to eat something, I just wasn't hungry.  And when I did finally eat, the food just rumbled around in my stomach to the point where I thought I would be seeing it again.  I would lie in bed at night just feeling my stomach churn.  Not a good feeling at all.

So, what does one do about it?

Honestly, nothing.  The websites say to lean on friends and ask for help, but none of that is going to kick my brain back into superior KB mode.  Even my sarcasm isn't what it was.  All I can do is hope that at some point, I won't feel as empty.  That I won't forget every little thing.  That I won't be that lunatic in her car going the wrong way down one way streets or screaming at people making a left onto Allwood Road out of the Trader Joe's parking lot.  That I won't be so tired all the time and that I won't lie in bed wondering if my dinner is going to make an encore.

And hope that my snark comes back in full force.

So, what can you do to help?

Be patient.  

We W people are dealing with a lot.  Aside from our person no longer being with us, we are picking up the pieces of the life they had and trying to figure out a new normal without them.  So we may forget to show up somewhere, or we may want to just sleep.  Or we may have no appetite.

But we're trying really hard.  

So be patient.