Episode 127: When does it get better?
9/3/25
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You are listening to the Life Reconstructed podcast with me, Teresa Amaral Beshwate, grief
expert, best-selling author and widow. I’m so glad you’re here because in this and every
episode, I shine a light on the widowed way forward.
Hello and welcome to episode 127. In this episode, I answer a great question from a follower,
She writes, Teresa, It’s been 17 months since my husband of 46 years passed, and I’m still
crying at night. When does it stop and start getting better? It’s a common question and in this
episode, I’m answering it and offering specific reasons why the second year after loss can be
tough and simple tips to help.
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A follower named Linda recently emailed me with this question. Teresa. It’s been 17 months since
my husband of 46 years passed, and I’m still crying at night When does it stop and start
getting better? I am so glad Linda sent this question and I wanted to answer it with this
episode because lots of people have the very same question. Feel free to send me your questions,
too, to [email protected] and I’ll be glad to help you. Here is my answer to
Linda’s question.
First, I want you to know that nothing has gone wrong with your grief. Crying at night at 17
months is totally normal. You were married over 500 months. Seventeen months pales in
comparison.
Your brain is still rewiring itself to understand the world without your person. It’s still
adjusting to this new reality that you didn’t sign up for.
There are secondary losses that are no doubt hitting, each packing a punch. Secondary losses are
the collateral damage…those moments when we realize, “his death means this, too.” Some secondary
losses we can anticipate, like a grandkid’s graduation, or the arrival of a grand baby. Others
catch us off guard, so the element of surprise can add to the impact.
The idea that the year of firsts is complete within a year is a myth. There’s no possible way
that that could be true, because graduations happen when they happen, and babies are born when
they are born. Part of why the second 12 months can be tough is due to this and other myths
about grief. That after a year, a person should be “moving on.” That you’ve experienced your
“year of firsts.” That you should be “better” by now.
Since we are each a product of our not-so-grief-savvy society, we hold ourselves to these common
myths. We tell ourselves that we should be better by now, moving on, no longer crying at night.
And maybe no longer crying at all.
There’s no rulebook, no owner’s manual, no guidelines, no boxes to check. There are no linear
categories, stages, or steps, and in the absence of all that, we make up our own rules about how
we should grieve. Then we tell ourselves that we’re doing it “wrong.” It’s human nature.
Part of why crying at night is hard is because we think we shouldn’t still be crying at night.
So we have the pain of loss, plus the extra suffering that may sound like, “I shouldn’t still
feel this way.”
If you tell yourself instead, “This is the part when I get teary.” Then you won’t be resisting
or judging it, and it will allow you to set down the extra suffering and simply feel whatever is
demanding to be felt. It’s like taking the rocks out of your purse. The purse is still heavy,
but not one ounce heavier than absolutely necessary.
Feelings demand to be felt, sooner or later. Listen to episode 4 of this podcast for a simple
method to process feelings in a proactive way. It’s game changing.
Another reason that the second 12 months can be tough is that the people who love us, who have
been there for us, probably assume that we are better by now, and therefore back away. This
happens at the time when the brain is starting to better understand this new reality, and all of
what it means, which hits hard. It’s a rough spot in general, and even rougher when our support
system takes a step back. Don’t hesitate to ask your supporters for continued help in your
second 12 months. They won’t know you need it, because unless you know….you don’t know. They’ll
need your guidance.
It’s also increasingly tempting in the second 12 months to get annoyed with yourself, and
therefore extra self-critical. To assign your grief a deadline. To self-impose some mental
toughness. Essentially, to kick yourself when you’re down.
Add to that, the brain gets really good at meaning making. Here’s an example: you find yourself
tearful, and you make it mean that you’re back at square one, you’re failing, doing it wrong. Or
maybe a once close friend goes MIA, and you make it mean that it is your fault, you’ve been
self-absorbed and not a good enough friend. Or your single friend finds a great relationship,
and you make it mean that you’ll be alone forever.
I share this because I want you to be on the lookout for these very common tendencies. So that
you can be “on to” your own brain. So that you don’t assume that your thoughts are true,
because, please hear this, just because your brain offers you a thought, does NOT mean that it’s
true. In fact, many of our thoughts are simply NOT true, many are not useful in any way, and
many are not kind.
It’s like an unattended jukebox playing songs you don’t like. That’s a bit like our own brains.
Or, you can tell a jukebox what to play. You can direct your brain to think true-to-you, useful
and kind thoughts, on purpose.
You can commit right now to being kind to yourself, to think true and useful thoughts, on
purpose. To loving yourself through. Love is the way forward.
If this episode has been helpful, check out my brief, free video to help you navigate the second
year. Simply go to www.thesuddenwidowcoach.com/year2 and you’ll get the link right to your
inbox.
And remember that I believe in you, and I’m here for you. Take care.
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If you’ve found this podcast helpful, go to www.thesuddenwidowcoach.com/year2 to learn more
about the second year of loss, and how you can best support yourself.
