by
Jennifer Chiaramonti, MSEd, NCC, LPC
One who knows pain, can help others without gain. ~ Abhijit Naskar
This morning I woke up from a nightmare. My heart was racing, and I was sweating and crying out with anxiety. In the nightmare, something terrible had happened and I was being pursued by dangerous people who were intent on doing me harm. To save my life, I had just one day to quit my job, pack a few things, abandon my home, and disguise my identity. I had to go to another state where I would be expected to start over with a lower-paying and less satisfying job, a new spouse (a man I disliked), and a home that didn’t feel like home. Any delay would cause the pursuers to close in.
My husband, Greg, died four months ago. And I believe that I had the nightmare because last night I experienced a social interaction in which I felt pelted by rapid-fire questions about my plans now that I’m a widow. I wish I could say that this was an unusual experience, but in fact, several people have inquired in a manner that has felt like an interrogation. This uncomfortable questioning began almost immediately following Greg’s death, certainly within the second week.