I have a plethora of pictures around the house of myself. Just me. I don't have children and I am a widow. For five long years I was my husband's caregiver, 24/7 all day, all night. My identity got lost in his cancer. My identity got lost in the worry. My identity got lost in the ache of vomiting death. I miss him desperately, and didn't realize how much i missed myself. I'm healing and coming back into my own slowly. It's hard but the pictures are a reminder that i do exist. And I'll be ok.
Read next