Episode 186: When you feel unseen and misunderstood
10/21/26
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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 186. One of the often-overlooked losses after your spouse dies is
the loss of the person who knew you best—the person who helped you feel seen, understood, and
validated. And when the rest of the world may expect you to be “moving on,” that loss can feel
even more glaring.
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One of the things we don’t talk about enough when we talk about the loss of a spouse is the loss
of how that person made us feel.
And of course, every marriage is different. Every relationship is different.
But for many of us, our spouse was the person who knew us best.
Maybe even better than we knew ourselves sometimes.
They could tell from the way you walked into a room that something was wrong.
They knew when you were tired. When you were worried. When you were irritated.
They knew the stories behind the stories.
They knew why something mattered to you when no one else would have understood why it mattered
at all.
And because this was simply woven into the fabric of your marriage, you may not have thought
much about it while they were physically here.
You just felt known. Seen. Understood.
You felt validated.
You had this one person in the world to whom you were the most special person.
And they were that person to you.
There’s something incredibly powerful about having another human being bear witness to your
life.
Not just the monumental moments.
The mundane ones, too.
The thing that happened at the grocery store.
The funny thing the dog did.
The person who annoyed you at work.
The weird noise the refrigerator started making.
The decision you were trying to make.
The accomplishment no one else would understand was actually a really big deal.
And then there are the monumental things.
The births and deaths.
The celebrations and disappointments.
The dreams you shared.
The plans you made.
The life you built together.
Your person witnessed your life.
And then they died.
And one of the losses inside that loss is the loss of how you felt in their presence.
Seen.
Known.
Understood.
Validated.
And their physical absence can make the absence of those feelings glaring.
But then we add another layer to it.
Because we don't exactly live in a grief-savvy society.
Grief isn't something we're particularly good at talking about.
Spousal loss isn't widely understood by people who haven't experienced it.
And so after losing the person who perhaps understood you better than anyone else, you may
suddenly find yourself surrounded by people who really don't understand what you're experiencing
at all.
And you start explaining yourself.
Why you're tired.
Why you don't want to go.
Why you do want to go.
Why you still wear your ring.
Why you don't wear your ring.
Why you kept something.
Why you gave something away.
Why you're crying today.
Why you're not crying today.
Why you're laughing.
Why you're struggling.
Why you're doing better.
Why you're not "better."
As I'm recording this episode, there are a variety of Dolly Parton quotes floating around the
internet, and one of them is:
"I just don't feel like I have to explain myself."
And I thought, good for Dolly.
Because wouldn't that be lovely?
To simply know that your experience is yours and you don't have to defend it or justify it or
try to make it understandable to someone else.
But after the loss of a spouse, especially in a culture that doesn't understand grief very well,
so many widowed people find themselves feeling like they have to explain themselves over and
over again.
And here's something I particularly want you to know if you're approaching or already in your
second year of widowhood:
This feeling of being misunderstood can be amplified in the second year.
Of course, everyone's journey is different. There is no universal timeline here.
But our culture has some pretty strong ideas about that first year.
There's the "year of firsts."
Get through the first birthday.
The first anniversary.
The first Thanksgiving.
The first Christmas.
The first anniversary of their death.
And then...
The myth is that you’re “done.”
You've checked all the boxes.
You've completed grief.
Now you're supposed to be "moving on.”
But that's not how this works.
And, as you move into the second year, you may notice that the people around you check in less
often.
They may assume you're doing better.
They may expect more from you.
You may even expect more from yourself.
And suddenly, at a time when your own brain may be comprehending the permanence and implications
of your loss on an entirely different level, you may feel less seen and less understood than you
did before.
And that's incredibly lonely.
This is actually one of the things I'm going to be talking about tomorrow in a free live
training specifically for people navigating the second year.
We're going to talk about what happens in the second year, why it can feel the way it does, and
some of the things I wish more widowed people understood about this part of the journey.
If that's where you are, I would love to have you join me.
The link to register is in the show notes.
Now, here's what I want to leave you with today.
You likely will not be able to make the people around you understand.
And I actually don't think that's the goal.
Because how could they fully understand something they haven't lived?
You can spend an enormous amount of energy trying to explain your experience well enough that
someone else gets it.
But what if you didn't need them to?
What if you understood yourself?
What if you knew that there is nothing wrong with you because Year 2 doesn't magically feel
easier?
What if you stopped measuring yourself against cultural myths about grief?
What if instead you learned what grief actually does to a human brain, a human body, a human
life?
The more you understand yourself, the more you can validate yourself.
The more you unlearn the myths about grief and learn the truths instead, the less you need
someone else to tell you that you're doing this correctly.
And the more you can surround yourself with grief-savvy people—people who get it—the less energy
you have to spend explaining yourself to people who simply can’t understand.
That doesn't replace your person.
Nothing does.
And I'm not suggesting that it should.
Your spouse occupied a completely unique place in your life.
But you can begin to create a life in which you feel understood again.
You can learn to understand yourself more deeply.
You can stop requiring yourself to meet expectations that were never realistic in the first
place.
You can find people with whom explanation isn't necessary.
And maybe, little by little, you can become someone who doesn't feel quite so compelled to
explain herself.
Not because everyone finally understands.
But because you do.
If this topic resonates and you want to explore it further, download the free journal prompts
using the link in the show notes.
And please share this episode with a widowed friend. Remember that I believe in you, and I’m
here for you. Take care.
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If you’re in or approaching the 2nd year after the loss of your person, join me tomorrow,
Thursday, October 22nd for The Truth About Year 2 What really happens after the first year of
loss—and how to navigate it with less pain and more purpose. It’s free and the link to sign up is in the show notes.
https://www.thesuddenwidowcoach.com/year-2-webinar-1
https://www.thesuddenwidowcoach.com/podcast-download-episode-186
