- Vicki Sheerin
- Nov 8, 2024
- 6 min read
It's November, and yes, it's been a while since we last connected—but let’s catch up, dear reader...
2024 has been quite a year for me so far, and maybe for you as well.
When the year started, I had NO idea I would be where I am at this very moment.
However, like I have expressed and explained to you all previously, the changes in our lives can bring some of the most blissful and painful things we never thought possible. Throughout these changes, I am still incredibly thankful that my emotions and headspace overall stayed steady and strong, weathering the stormy ups and downs that this year brought to my life.
Back in March of this year, I turned 40, and that was a big deal for me. I didn't celebrate or have an extravagant party. Instead, I had other intentions.
As a widow with two young children, I have been particularly on guard and protective of who I allow into my space and around my kids. After a couple of failed attempts at connecting with a partner, I was pretty set on the idea that I was going to be alone with my kids for the rest of my life. I was proud that I was able to maintain my mental tenacity and health, despite feeling like I was destined to be alone when I reached this landmark age.
As a side note, I had been dreading my 40th birthday because it reminded me of my mother, who didn't live past the age of 36, and also my late husband, who passed away at 41. My 40th birthday also brought back vivid memories of how I planned and successfully executed a big surprise birthday party for my late husband’s 40th. It felt strange and undeserved for me to have any kind of big celebration for reaching this age.
Shortly after my birthday, I leaned into the feelings and desire to "get out of town," so I decided to go on a trip to the Blue Zone of Ikaria, Greece, for the second time. This trip, however, was due to an unexpected (but welcome) connection I made with a handsome, sweet, and caring man I had developed feelings for after my first trip in the summer of 2022. I had made many friends and connections with folks from the island during my first visit, but this connection with my unlikely new friend surpassed anything I could have expected. Our conversations started slowly but were consistent. We both found joy in checking in with each other every day that we could. Neither of us had any expectations; we simply enjoyed being in each other's "virtual" company. He had mentioned I was welcome to visit anytime, but I was apprehensive about meeting his expectations and, at the time, wasn’t financially in a secure place to make that happen. However, in the spring of 2024, after over a year of consistent conversations, I decided it was time to go and meet him, and I am SO glad I did.
The trip went so well that I felt the need to return about a month after I came back to the States. That second trip to the island further confirmed what I felt and knew when I first said hello and hugged him: both he and the island felt like home. I knew I had a future there with him and was excited for my kids to experience what (and who) I loved about this special place. So yes, I did go to Greece three times this year, and each trip provided a sense of emotional and mental stability I hadn’t felt since before Jim passed away.
Fast forward to today...
It's now been nine years since our wedding day.
Exactly five years later, to the day, a palliative nurse said four words that brought me to my knees in tears, "Your husband is dying." 2019 was a profoundly life-altering year for me.
In April, Jim was told he had heart failure and desperately needed a heart transplant that never came, despite his doctors' urgent efforts to get him on the transplant list. It all came down to one thing: a Social Security disability approval letter.
On November 8, our wedding anniversary, while Jim was in the hospital, a nurse came to me and said, "Your husband is dying," and that he would be moved into hospice for end-of-life care. (He passed two days later on the 10th.)
That single brief moment lives so vividly in my memory that I can still picture the walls that I leaned against as I dropped to the floor upon hearing the news.
Our wedding day held so much certainty and security for me and our family's future, yet those words from the nurse made everything feel like it was disappearing before my eyes. I remember being unable to stand and feeling a deep sense of panic, a familiar feeling from witnessing other loved ones' deaths.
The sole difference this time was that I didn’t listen to that (now) little inner voice that said, “Hey girl, these emotions are hard and heavy; go get something to eat.” Instead, I heard a voice that reminded me where I could find and keep my inner strength: fasting.
No one agreed with or understood my decision to refuse the food I was offered. Every time I was told to eat, I remembered my promise to never go backward. I knew one bite, in my mental and emotional state then, would be a slippery slope, so I fasted. I persevered in ways I never thought possible.
Widowhood is such a strange headspace. It's hard to fully process that it’s been this long. So much has changed, and yet I feel like I have truly evolved into the best version of myself, one I never imagined was able to achieve.
After four trips to Ikaria, I have such a deep appreciation and respect for life itself. I know exactly what it’s like to feel your world shatter to a million pieces. I know what it feels like to lose everything you depend on in everyday life and have to start over again. But as challenging as it has been to endure such drastic losses—a spouse, a house, a car, and even close friendships—I still persevere. (And you can too.)
I still continue to fast, every single day, in some form, ever since starting in 2018. When everyday life becomes stressful, I look for ways to simplify any way I can. I check in with myself daily as many times as I need, and if emotions run high, I fast for longer. Although I began fasting before becoming a widow, it has since become the best friend within myself.
Each year since becoming a widow, I have been doing a 10-day widowhood fast. While I still continue to fast in various forms each day, I have decided that this year I did not feel the need to do what I have done previous years, and I am okay with that. I no longer have any more weight to lose, and since my travels this year, my mental/emotional headspace has drastically improved.
This lifestyle has become my constant, my stability in an otherwise chaotic life. Embracing this mindset and lifestyle has helped me stay open to what is right and meant for me and my family. It hasn’t always been easy, nor has it been perfect, but I feel it’s meant to be that way. If things were easy, especially in weight loss and health goals, we wouldn’t appreciate them as much. I think that’s why many people fall back into old habits after some initial success with other methods.
Fasting is different.
Fasting is what your body is meant to do; you just need to let it. You need to create the right environment for it, and that doesn’t and shouldn’t be perfect, despite what you may think or feel. It should be messy, a turbulent rollercoaster of learning, listening to, and showing compassion to yourself every single day.
My hope for you is that you realize this fasting lifestyle is like discovering your ability to become your own best friend and passionate health advocate for yourself. You will see and feel the ripple effects of how it affects every single other aspect of your life, if you let it, and are consistent with it.
You deserve to have a long, healthy, meaningful life.
If you are in need of support, I am here, I care and know you can succeed.
I believe in you, even if you don't.
What was your biggest takeaway from this? I want to hear about it!
Email me: vicki@thefastingfocusedlifestyle.com
