Mblunt,
Nine years here. How strange it is to have been so long now. Funny, just last evening I had a similar conversation with a coupled lady who commented on my being out here by myself, the strength it must take to go it alone after losing my sweetheart. Some days it doesn't feel that way, though now those days are rare and fleeting.
After my husband died, I thought about the things I had wanted to do but hadn't because he didn't want to. Alaska! After all the craziness calmed down, I thought about that and figured out how to do it by myself. People said I shouldn't/couldn't do it. Often I doubted myself. But I saw my choices: sit and watch bad TV and die miserable or get out there and ??? whatever. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other. I built out my own simple van! Who knew? Some days were a miserable failure, others were a screaming success. I did a lot of self talk those days (still do), called myself names (Sissy! Weenie!), allowed myself to grieve but not to sink into the pit. I used anger to prevent that. Anger at him for leaving me like that, anger at the world for ... Everything. Anger at myself for being a wimp. It was a good motivator for me. I hated when people would feel sorry for me; I didn't need that, I felt sorry enough for myself.
When it was all done, I realized I was gonna be OK. Better than OK, even. There were times when I felt guilty for not being the grieving widow that people expect us to be. But that was a role that I made a decision not to play. When those bad days fell on me, I would ask myself, "Is this who you wanna be?" And that answer was a resounding "NO!"
There was a time early on when I just couldn't stop crying. I took myself to a counselor, who was wonderful! The first visit, she asked me what was my goal? I said, "I want to stop crying." The second visit, she placed two chairs facing each other. She had me sit in one chair and pretend my husband was sitting in the other. I felt foolish but went along with it. Then she had me switch to the other chair and pretend to be my husband and respond to myself. It was a real eye opener! The third visit, I walked in and said, "I'm all fixed. Thank you!" She laughed and I left. And laughed all the way home. Because what "he" said to me was, "I want you to be happy! Go do the things you want to do." What would your husband want for you?
This is a road you didn't choose to travel, but here you are. Who knows what's down this road? Parts of it will be rutted and difficult, but the farther you go, the better it gets, paved and dry with magnificent views along the way. Pedal to the metal, my friend.