Making room for rest, self-compassion, and support, inspired by Donna Jean Kendrick’s conversation with Carol Banens on Widow Wisdom and Wealth.

Sometimes the most difficult question after losing a spouse is the one you ask yourself.

Why am I still so tired? Why did I cry today when yesterday felt manageable? Why can I get through a meeting but struggle with something as ordinary as opening the mail?

Then comes another question: Am I doing this wrong?

When Carol Banens joined me on Widow Wisdom and Wealth, we talked about how easily that uncertainty can become part of grief. Carol is a grief educator, coach, author, and speaker. After her husband, Brian, died in 2018, she began learning things about grief that she had not understood even after a long career in healthcare.

What stayed with me was the gentleness of her message. She wanted people to understand their experience so they could spend less time judging themselves and more time recognizing the support they need.

Grief after losing a spouse can involve a range of feelings and changes in daily life. You do not have to experience every named stage in order, and comparing your pace with someone else’s is unlikely to tell you what you need. Rest, community, and professional support can all have a place as you learn how to live with the loss.

Carol’s story gave us a personal way into that conversation. It also brought us back to a question worth asking: What would it look like to treat yourself with more compassion right now?

Carol’s Story: Knowing a Death Is Coming Does Not Remove the Grief

Carol worked as a physical therapist for 36 years. Her husband, Brian, was diagnosed with cancer in 2012 and died six years later.

Coming from a medical background, she understood much of what was happening through treatment and the progression of his illness. Yet that knowledge did not prepare her for how life would feel after he died.

She expected sadness. What surprised her was the exhaustion.

She described returning to work three days after the funeral. As a physical therapist helping people with chronic pain, she needed to be present for her patients. She would smile, ask how they were, and give what she could while feeling that very little energy remained.

Over time, she saw fewer patients. Eventually, she told a doctor she thought she needed a week off. The doctor encouraged her to take at least a month.

That recommendation was part of her individual care. For Carol, it opened a possibility she had rarely considered: giving herself time and attention without immediately returning to what everyone else needed.

She spent part of that month away from home, sitting in a garden and writing. She described finally allowing herself to feel emotions she had been pushing down.

Later, she left physical therapy and began studying coaching. Her work gradually became focused on grief education and helping others understand what they were experiencing.

Her path is her own. What feels relevant for other widows and widowers is the opportunity to notice when carrying on has become difficult and ask for help assessing what you need.

The Way You Learned to Grieve May Be Part of Your Story

Carol also told us about losing her sister when she was nine.

In her family, the response was to keep calm and carry on. There was no funeral or memorial, and her mother found it too painful to speak her daughter’s name.

When Brian died years later, Carol reached for the approach she had seen as a child. She went back to work and tried to continue.

I recognized something in that story. My father is also from England, and I shared how the stoicism I saw growing up influenced my response after my husband died. I put my children back on the school bus quickly and tried to keep moving.

We were not discussing those choices to blame our families or ourselves. Carol acknowledged that her parents had little guidance or support available to them at the time.

Looking back can simply help you understand where an expectation came from. Did you learn that feelings should stay private? That returning to routine quickly was what responsible people did? That speaking about someone who died would make the pain worse?

You can consider whether those expectations are helpful now. You can also decide that you want to approach some things differently, with support that was unavailable or unfamiliar in earlier generations.

Do You Have to Follow the Five Stages of Grief?

Like many people trying to understand a difficult experience, Carol searched online for answers.

She wanted to know how long grief would last and when she would feel different. When she found the five stages, she hoped they would provide a clear process.

Then she began comparing herself with the list. She was not denying Brian’s death. She had been there. She did not recognize some of the other feelings either, and wondered whether she needed to find them before she could move forward.

That was an important part of our discussion. A description of grief can become another standard against which someone judges themselves.

The NHS explains that people may not experience all the commonly named stages, may not experience them in order, and may not move smoothly between them. Grief can include other feelings as well. Source: NHS grief guidance.

You do not need to manufacture an emotion because it appears on a list. If a model helps you describe something you feel, it can be useful. If it leaves you worried that you have failed an invisible assignment, it may be time to discuss the experience with someone who can offer a more individual perspective.

Your questions deserve attention without turning grief into a sequence you have to complete correctly.

Why Can Grief Feel So Exhausting?

Carol’s description of tiredness was one of the parts I thought many listeners would recognize.

She spoke about grief as a whole-body experience, extending beyond the sadness she had anticipated. She found it difficult to sustain the work and routines she once managed.

The NHS includes tiredness and exhaustion among possible grief symptoms, along with shock, sadness, anger, and guilt. It notes that reactions differ and that powerful feelings can appear unexpectedly. Source: NHS grief guidance.

For a surviving spouse, daily responsibilities may also have increased. There may be unfamiliar paperwork, decisions your spouse once handled, and children needing support. It can be useful to look at that workload alongside how you are feeling.

You can ask what must happen today, what can wait, and who could help with a task. You can also discuss troubling symptoms or difficulty managing daily life with a healthcare professional. New or concerning physical symptoms should be assessed rather than automatically attributed to grief.

Understanding that grief can affect more than your mood may help you ask better questions about the support you need. It does not mean every experience should be explained away or managed on your own.

Rest May Need a Practical Plan Around It

Carol made a useful distinction between taking time away from work and having time to rest.

If you remain at home, there may still be laundry, meals, paperwork, and a long list of things to do. In her experience, going somewhere different helped her step outside those demands for a while.

That kind of break is not accessible to everyone. Work, money, childcare, and other responsibilities affect what is possible.

You can still ask whether there is a smaller way to make room. Could someone handle a meal, take a child to an activity, or sit with you while you sort a difficult task? Could you have a quiet hour that is not automatically filled with another responsibility?

Rest will look different depending on your needs. You might want company, solitude, sleep, time outdoors, or simply a pause from making decisions.

If you are considering leave from work, ask about the arrangements available and what they would mean for your household. A healthcare professional and the appropriate workplace contacts can help you understand the situation.

Carol’s experience was a reminder to take your own needs seriously. The size and form of a break should fit your circumstances, rather than become another thing you feel you should be able to do.

Writing Gave Carol Somewhere to Put Her Feelings

During her time away, Carol journaled. Later, she began writing poetry, something she had not expected to do.

She described the writing as a way for feelings she had held inside to come to the surface. That experience became part of her book, Kintsugi Your Heart: The Art of Living with Grief.

What I liked about her story was the absence of a requirement to be good at it. She began because she had something to express.

You may find writing appealing, especially if speaking aloud feels difficult. You can try a few sentences about the day, a memory, or a question you keep returning to. You can write privately and leave it unfinished.

These are possibilities to explore, rather than an exercise everyone needs. If writing feels distressing or simply unhelpful, you can stop and consider another form of support.

Some people prefer talking, creating something, spending time with a trusted person, or working with a counselor. You can pay attention to which approach feels useful to you.

Carol’s experience shows how personal expression can develop unexpectedly. It does not need to become a book or a project to have a place in your life.

Earlier Losses May Be Part of What You Are Carrying

We also talked about losses beyond death.

Carol recalled losing a job after many years and not recognizing the feelings around it as grief. She described sadness following divorce and continuing homesickness after moving from England to Canada.

I shared my own experience of homesickness after moving to Italy. People told me how fortunate I was to have that opportunity, and I could appreciate it while also missing the life I had known.

Those stories gave us a chance to consider how earlier experiences of change may be part of a person’s history when another loss arrives.

You may be grieving your spouse alongside changes in your home, work, routines, or expectations for the future. Some may be closely connected to the death; others may bring an older experience to mind.

You can name those parts without needing to compare their importance. If you work with a counselor or another support professional, they can be useful context to share.

The question can be less about whether you are allowed to feel something and more about understanding what you are experiencing and what would help you respond to it.

A Change of Setting Was Meaningful for My Family, Too

During the episode, I remembered taking my children and their cousins to the Adirondacks less than a year after my husband’s death.

There was no electricity or constant connection through phones. The children could swim, ride horses, and spend time in a different environment. We ate communal meals and had room to be away from the house and the community that knew our family’s story.

That experience was meaningful to us. I also remembered how much practical planning it required and how fortunate I was to have the opportunity.

If you are considering a break, the financial and logistical pieces deserve care. Essential expenses, insurance, and family needs still need to be covered. A different setting might be a nearby visit or day outside rather than a trip with substantial costs.

For my family, another part of the experience was the people around us. A relative of my late husband was there, and her presence gave me someone to sit with and lean on.

The setting mattered, but so did having another person who understood something about what we were carrying.

Community Can Be an Anchor in an Ordinary Week

Carol described a dear friend who invited her over every Sunday after Brian died.

There was lunch or tea, and sometimes other family members joined them. When gathering in person was not possible during the pandemic, they continued connecting online.

Years later, that Sunday visit remained part of her life. She described the friend as an anchor.

It was such a concrete example of support. A familiar time, a familiar person, and somewhere to go without having to create a new plan every week.

You might value something similar: a walk with a friend, a regular meal, a phone call, or a gathering where you can simply be present.

Support can also include people who remember your spouse. Carol’s husband was a jazz pianist, and she spoke about students who stayed in touch and performances where his name was mentioned.

Those connections helped keep parts of his life present in hers.

If you want people to share memories or use your spouse’s name, you can tell them. If you would prefer a different kind of support on a particular day, you can say that, too. Other people may appreciate knowing what would feel helpful.

What Can a Shared Grief Group Offer?

Carol discussed the Grief Gurus, a collaboration with Lisa McFarland, and the Grief Cafe, an online gathering she created for people to connect through shared experience.

She described participants getting to know one another, recognizing similar experiences, and offering support. The Grief Cafe was a place for conversation among grievers, rather than everyone receiving individual coaching from her.

That distinction is useful when considering support. A peer gathering, coaching, and clinical care have different purposes. You can ask what a group provides, who facilitates it, and how participants are expected to engage.

I shared how meaningful that kind of connection became in a program my children and I attended. The children met in groups suited to their ages and losses, while the adults met separately and learned what the children were working on.

Over time, the parents became friends. Some remain the people I can call years later because they know that part of our family story.

You can consider which kind of community would suit you now. An online gathering may feel easier to approach. You may want an in-person group or individual support. You can ask questions about the format before deciding.

The fit matters more than choosing an option simply because it helped someone else.

A Memory Can Still Catch You Unexpectedly Years Later

Carol and I also talked about grief appearing long after the first months or years.

For her, it might be a piece of music or a moment during a conversation. For me, a familiar scent can bring the memory of my husband close very quickly.

I shared that one of my sons wears the cologne his father used to wear. Hearing about it or encountering that scent in the hallway can be surprisingly emotional for me.

Carol still had a bottle of Brian’s cologne and sometimes chose to smell it. We recognized how different a memory can feel when you approach it deliberately and when it catches you without warning.

Those were our personal experiences. They did not mean that every day was still as difficult as the early days. They were moments within lives that had continued to include relationships, work, and joy.

If a reminder brings up feelings, you can give yourself a little space and reach out to someone you trust. You can also seek professional support if the experience feels difficult to manage.

One emotional moment does not have to become a judgment about all the life you have been building.

Making Room for Joy Without Setting Yourself a Deadline

Carol described a retreat concept in Italy focused on slowing down, enjoying food and beauty, and spending time with a small group of women.

She wanted participants to have room to consider themselves and what they enjoyed after loss. The plans included experiences such as cooking, shared meals, and time to explore.

Those were offerings she discussed at the time of recording. Anyone interested should check current details directly rather than relying on the episode’s dates or itinerary.

What mattered to our conversation was the possibility of enjoying something while still grieving.

That possibility can take a much smaller form, too. You may want to return to an interest, spend time with someone, or make a familiar routine pleasant again.

You can consider what you want without treating joy as evidence you have completed grief. You can also decline an experience that does not feel right for you yet.

The invitation is to notice what fits your life now and allow it room alongside the person you continue to love and miss.

Give Yourself Permission to Grieve, and to Ask for Support

When I asked Carol for her parting wisdom, she returned to permission and self-compassion.

Her own experience had included years of trying to carry on, followed by a growing understanding of what she needed. She wanted others to have more room to recognize their needs without judging themselves.

Perhaps you have been measuring your experience against another person’s timeline. Perhaps you have been surprised by tiredness or finding it hard to ask for help. Perhaps you are doing well in some parts of life and still want support in others.

You can bring those questions to someone who will listen and help you consider them. The support might begin with a friend, a peer group, or a qualified professional, depending on what you need.

You do not have to wait until you can explain everything clearly. You can begin with what is difficult today and ask someone to help you understand the next step.

Listen to Donna Jean Kendrick’s full conversation with Carol Banens on Widow Wisdom and Wealth.

Learn more about Carol’s work and the resources discussed in the episode at CarolBanens.com. Check directly for current group, workshop, and retreat details.