When I Became Enough…Choosing Me Part 1

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Late Blooming Lessons From Life’s Second Chapter 

A journey of discovery. A discovery of self. Pieces of old. Paired with pieces of new.

Lesson #1: When I Became Enough…Choosing Me Part 1

“Choose to put yourself first and make you a priority. It’s not selfish. It’s necessary.”

Turning 70 this year was a wake-up call. Ten years without Greg. Ten years navigating life on my own. A whole decade. Passed in a flash. And what did I have to show for it? Did I want to live the rest of my life this way? The hard, resounding truth was NO.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t want to stay stuck. But, I also knew no one was going to pull me out of it. If I wanted change, it had to start with me. So, I began the uncomfortable process of self-reflection. A deep, honest look at my life. And how I was living it. That’s when I realized: I had been pouring so much of myself into others that I had nothing left for me. And after 70 years, it was time to rewrite the story. Late Blooming Lessons From Life’s Second Chapter. The first of which started with me: My self-care. My self-worth. My self-love.

A toughie for sure. A real challenge.

For so long I lived by the rules: This is what I should be doing as a“ good” daughter…wife…mom. But where was the rule that said, “This is what I should be doing for me?”

Selfish? Self-centered? No. If I didn’t take care of myself first, I was no good to anyone else. I was stressed. Anxious. Even a bit angry. Why? Because I was living for them. Not for me. And the “me” showing up, was a version I didn’t like.

In no way did these choices mean abandoning my family or making decisions that didn’t include them. It meant the choices I made were fully mine. No influence or pressure from outside sources. No one telling me what my priorities should be. Those choices were mine. I owned them. No longer would others dictate how I should choose. Or how I should live. Those voices? Muted. Today. And forever. The only voice I needed was my own.

Self-care is one damn hard lesson. Not just to learn, but to actually practice. After years of taking care of others, I asked myself: What does it even mean? Life doesn’t hand you a “choose me” button. After years of constantly giving. Overachieving. And striving to please everyone around me, the challenge felt overwhelming, like a mountain too steep to climb. But it was time. Choose me. Fight for myself. Be brave enough to accept disappointment. Face rejection. From family. Friends. Whoever. Open the door to my true self. Embrace who I am. No matter the consequences. It was more than survival. It was my way to thrive.

Choosing me meant understanding my actions. Reactions. Even when they were driven by fear. I couldn’t keep living my life constantly trying to figure out what others needed, knowing I’d never please everyone 100% of the time. That path only led to burnout.

What did I need? Time. Patience. Practice. The courage to step into the unknown. Tiptoeing into this new reality, I felt all the “scaries.” The fear of getting it wrong. The pressure of accountability. But that was okay. Because. When I showed up as my true, authentic self, I knew I could handle whatever came my way. The Shame. The Blame. The Judgment. The Backlash. The days of winging it.

Choosing me meant understanding my actions. Reactions. Even when they were driven by fear. I couldn’t keep living my life constantly trying to figure out what others needed, knowing I’d never please everyone 100% of the time. That path only led to burnout.

I was learning. About myself. About life. About what truly mattered. To be real. Honest. To separate who the world expected me to be from who I chose to be. To say “no” without guilt. No more saying “yes” just to keep the peace. No more carrying the weight of others’ expectations. No more pretending to be okay when I wasn’t. No more explaining myself to those unwilling to understand. 

Mistakes are never failures. They are lessons. Opportunities to grow. To evolve. To step into the best version of myself. I was finally getting to know me. Choosing me. Because. At the end of the day, the only person who truly knew what was best for me…was me.

It’s taken me 70 years to get here. But. Now, with whatever time I have left on this earth, I choose to live a life filled with Love. Joy. And Peace.

Because. I am finally choosing me.

I’m BAAAACK!!!

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“And suddenly you know…It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.”

I’m BAAAAACK! But this time, it’s different.

It all started with The Fairytale—stories about my life with Greg, keeping our memories alive. Writing became my therapy, a way to release my pain, to navigate my grief. It was raw. Real. A lifeline during the darkest days, connecting me with others who knew the ache of loss.

Then came The Gregger. A tribute. A way to hold onto him, to honor the selfless, generous, kind, and compassionate man he was.

Moving On. The tough times. The days I didn’t think I’d get through. Holidays. Birthdays. Anniversaries. The weight of absence. The attempt at healing—if you can even call it that. The beginning of the rollercoaster, riding the unpredictable waves of grief.

The Third Year. A step toward the light. A flicker of hope. Learning to find solace in small blessings. To be grateful for the now.

Year 5. The woulda, coulda, shouldas that haunted me as the journey continued. It became harder to write. Harder to find the words. The ups. The downs. The space in between.

Embracing the Unforeseen Journey. More reflection. More self-discovery. Trying to find my place in a world that felt unfamiliar. Struggling. Searching. Hoping.

And now? Now, it’s about ME.

A journey of self-discovery. Reclaiming the pieces of who I was, blending them with who I’m becoming. After years of taking care of everyone else, I’m finally turning inward. Picking up the broken pieces. Piecing them back together—so I can be whole again.

It’s time.

Seventy years in, and still… it’s never too late to discover.

Coming soon…Late Blooming Lessons From Life’s Second Chapter

10 Years…120 Months…43,800 Days…2,628,000 Minutes…157,680,000 Seconds…Forever and Yesterday, All in One Breath

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My life has been split in two. There is life “before.” The time when you were here on earth, and we were together. And then there is life “after.” A life where I am here, and you are “there.”

Ten years have passed since that life-changing day. August 30th, 2014. Ten years since I last heard your voice.  Felt your touch. Saw your smile. Time has marched on relentlessly. But, for me, it sometimes feels like it all happened just yesterday. The memories keep you alive. The pictures keep you here with me. In them, you stay the same. Frozen in time. Forever youthful. Forever vibrant. Meanwhile, I age, growing older and wiser, with each passing year testing my strength, courage, and resilience in ways I never could have imagined.

It’s never easy. It’s just different. I have learned to navigate this world without you, but the ache of your absence remains a constant companion. I find myself often thinking about the moments you’ve missed. The milestones. The celebrations. The quiet, everyday joys. These moments were meant to be shared. They should have been ours.

Yet, amid the sadness and longing, I recognize the blessings that continue to flourish in my life. There are so many beautiful things. So much love and growth. But even these are tinged with the bittersweet knowledge that you should be here, too, sharing in these moments, creating new memories with me.

I remember every detail of that day as if it were etched into my soul. The day that changed our lives forever. We never parted ways without a hug and an “I love you.” Little did I know those would be the last words I’d ever hear from you. I am grateful that they were the best words. The last words. The words that I have carried with me every day since.

Ten years. 120 months. 43,800 days. 2,628,000 minutes. 157,680,000 seconds. A lifetime and an instant.  Forever and yesterday. All in one breath.

Your presence is still felt in every corner of my life. In every beat of my heart. Time moves forward, but some moments are eternal. Your memory is one of them. I continue to live. To love. To grow.  All the while holding you close, knowing that while you may not be here in the way I wish, you are never truly gone.

Here’s to another year of remembering you. Of living fully. Of cherishing every moment.  And of holding on to the love that will never fade.

 

The Day Before: A Decade Later

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Today marks ten years since the “day before.” The day before my life changed forever. I remember that evening with crystal clarity, as if it happened just yesterday. We were on the lanai, the soft Hawaiian breeze brushing against our skin, a perfect setting for a perfect night. We were together, enjoying family time. Laughing.  Playing cards. Sharing stories. Downing a few cocktails. It was a perfect evening, filled with love and joy. I felt blessed.

Greg got tired early that night. He was always the life of the party, so his desire to turn in seemed a bit out of character. But I thought nothing of it at the time. People get tired.  Plans change. Meanwhile, I decided to stay up with the kids, soaking in every moment of laughter and connection. It was unusual for me to stay up late. I was typically the one who turned in early, more concerned with getting eight hours of sleep than trying to keep up with the youngsters. But not that night. For some reason, I chose to stay.

Looking back now, I wonder why I didn’t just go to bed with Greg. Why didn’t I fold my hand and call it a night? Why didn’t I choose to cherish one more evening snuggled up in his arms? It was the one night I should have been with him.  Our last chance for a “goodnight” kiss. But, how could I have known? How could anyone know that a seemingly ordinary night would be our last together?

I wanted to cherish those moments with the kids. They were rare, and as they grew older, those moments became even more precious. Time with Greg felt abundant, a well that would never run dry. We had years ahead of us—or so I thought. I never imagined that “forever” could be cut short in a heartbeat.

And so, I stayed up that night, thinking there would always be more time. More days. More nights. More “goodnights.” It was one of those “woulda, coulda, shoulda” moments that haunts me still. I think of it often and wonder… if only I had known. If only I had understood how fleeting time can be, how fragile life truly is.

The “day before” feels like a distant memory. A fresh wound, all at once. Ten years have passed, and yet, the memories of that evening, of the laughter and the love, remain vivid. I hold onto them tightly, even as I wish I could rewrite the past. But life doesn’t grant us that luxury.

If I’ve learned anything from that day, it’s to cherish every moment.  Hold the people I love a little closer, and never take a single second for granted. Because we never know when our “day before” will come, when our lives might change in ways we can’t imagine.

So tonight, I’ll whisper a “goodnight” to the sky, to the memory of Greg, to the moments we shared and the ones we lost. I’ll remind myself that while I can’t change the past. I can honor it by living fully in the present.  With love.  Gratitude. And the knowledge that every moment counts.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

Happy 70th Birthday in Heaven

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Dear Greg,

As I sit down to write this, my heart is filled with a mixture of joy and longing. Today marks your 70th birthday—a milestone that should have been celebrated together, just like we did a decade ago on your 60th. I remember that unforgettable night so vividly, the only surprise I ever managed to pull off for you. What a night it was – a celebration solely dedicated to you, a rarity in your 60 years. The laughter, love and warmth of friends and family filled the room. I can still  recall every detail, every surprise, but most importantly, our last dance. How I dream about the chance to dance with you again. To simply celebrate together, side by side. 

Today, on this celebration of your 70th year, we should have been recreating those beautiful moments, celebrating your life that was meant to continue for many more years. Unfortunately fate had other plans for you, cutting your life short way too soon. Now, I find myself here, and you’re “there,” wherever that may be.

I often imagine that “there” is somewhere over the rainbow, a place where skies are forever blue, and dreams really do come true. Yet, deep down, I grapple with the reality that the dream of celebrating your 70th birthday together didn’t materialize. If dreams had the power to come true, you’d be here with me.

Today, I want to focus on celebrating you—the you who brought immeasurable joy to everyone you touched. Your smile, kindness, generosity, and compassion defined you, making you a beacon of light in our lives. As I reflect on the 70 years that should have been, I choose to honor the blessings you brought, even though we were robbed of more time together.

It’s challenging to face the absence, but today is about cherishing the beautiful memories we created. Each shared moment, each laugh, and every bit of warmth you emanated remain alive in my heart. Your legacy lives on in the impact you had on those fortunate enough to know you. You touched countless lives, leaving a mark on this earth and a legacy that will be with us forever.

Greg…I wish you a heavenly birthday. Though you’re not physically here, your spirit lingers in the love and memories you left behind. As I raise a glass to toast to 70 years of your remarkable journey, I am filled with gratitude for the gift of having loved you. Despite being “there,” you are forever present not only in my heart, but in all of our hearts. Happy 70th!

I love you forever

Gregger Pitti-Uomo-June-14-606

Happy 48th “Should Have Been” Anniversary

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Dear Greg,

Today would have been our 48th anniversary, a day we always celebrated as our own. Each passing year stood as a testament, not just to our love, but to the life we created together. While I will forever remember this day with love, it has become bittersweet, overshadowed by your absence and the emptiness in my heart. For nine years, I’ve continued to commemorate these moments as if you were still here. I whisper “Happy Anniversary” as if you can hear me. I hang onto impossible dreams that you might walk into the room, that we could celebrate in the joy of each passing year together. But reality dictates otherwise. Our day arrives. There are no exchanged cards. Surprise gifts. Or toasts to the years conquered together. 

Why do I hold on so tightly? Why does this day mean so much to me? Because it was ours, a day we chose together to celebrate our love every single year. 10 years ago we vowed to be together for 75 years. We made plans. But fate took over. Fate won.Those dreams will forever remain unfulfilled. In this “would have been” moment there are countless things I wish I could say to you.

Reflecting on what could have been, it’s the small moments I miss the most. I would trade anything for the warmth of your touch, the sparkle in your eyes, and the contagious laughter that once filled our days with  both joy and tears.

Our journey began at 21, young and innocent, in love but knowing little about life and marriage. We learned and never gave up, navigating moments of pause and rediscovering our way back to the beginning. It was in this space that our love, foundation, strength, and bond grew and strengthened even more.

Together, we faced challenges – raising our family, building a business, navigating highs and lows, and dealing with loss. Through it all, we knew it was always the two of us in the end. 

Being a widow on this day is painful, yet I count my blessings for the 39 years we shared. You were my soulmate. Best friend. Partner. Our journey, imperfect but perfect for us, is forever etched in my heart. I raise a toast to our “would have been” 48th anniversary. Loving you was the best thing I ever did. I only wish our fairytale had a little more time.

As I write my 48th anniversary love letter to you, I reflect on our life. We experienced the best and the worst. I cherish both because they shaped us into the great team we were. Our struggles taught us gratitude, communication and compassion, qualities that defined our relationship. Even after 38 years together, we wanted more – more time, more love, more us. 

You will always be the best thing that ever happened in my life. Others may question that statement. Why not my children? My grandchildren? But, without you, they wouldn’t be. You will always be the best. Guiding me. Teaching me. Helping me become a better and stronger me. The void you left is indescribable, but I find strength in your lessons. I miss you beyond words, but I continue on, knowing that life is too short to merely exist. 

Cheers to 48 years of “what should have been.” I will forever celebrate the love, happiness, laughter, and tears. I was blessed to share my life with you and the beautiful family we created. I love you always.

Happy New Year 2024

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As I sit here reflecting on 2023, I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of memories and emotions. 2023 was a year woven with threads of joy, sorrow, triumphs, and challenges. Reflecting on the past twelve months, I find myself pondering age-old questions: “What could I have done differently? What changes would I make? How could I have been better?” 

I don’t have clear answers. 2023 was a complex puzzle, a mix of experiences that defied simple categorization.  It was life. Unfiltered. A blend of happy moments. Losses. Success. Despair. And the vast spectrum of in-betweens. Each day brought forth something new. A formidable challenge. An unexpected obstacle. A moment of pure joy. Or a wave of stress that threatened to swallow me whole.

As I close the chapter on 2023, I seriously consider the real essence of my life – not the version I show to others, but the one I live every day. My life including the personal inner struggles I face. Over the past nine years, I’ve embraced hope, gratitude, positivity, and strength. Yet, in the silent corners and quiet moments, I wage battles against personal demons. Each passing year feels like a loss of opportunities. Life slipping away. Hope seems to drift farther, despite my efforts. I begin each new year with fresh beginnings and optimism, but, as challenges, stress, obstacles, and shattered dreams pile up, hope slips away. The year ends, and I’m left, once again, with an emptiness, eagerly awaiting the next year for a chance to start anew. 

With each passing year, the struggle intensifies. Despite projecting an image of positivity and hope, my inner self struggles with disbelief. I pray that 2024 will be THE year, where hope can find its path, and genuine happiness can once again become a reality.

As I look back on the past year, I see that each day was an opportunity. An opportunity to grow. To learn. To evolve into a better version of myself. Faced with choices, I could see challenges as obstacles or as opportunities to better myself. I chose the latter. Each obstacle became a lesson, offering resilience, patience, and the art of navigating the unpredictable roads of life. I may not always get it right, but I tried my best, and I realize that trying is the best I can consistently do. 

2023, despite the ups and downs, was a year of gratitude. I faced each day with a grateful mindset, not for the material possessions, but for the priceless people in my life – family and friends. It’s easy to overlook one another, getting caught up in our day-to-day routines.  Too often we forget to pause. We take each other for granted. We go about our daily lives. It’s in the pause that we recognize and appreciate life’s richness. I believe that’s invaluable.  

As I close the chapter on 2023, I carry with me the lessons I’ve learned, the memories I’ve made, and a renewed commitment to appreciate the blessings in my life. My goals for 2024, much like in previous years, are simple: to be better, to do better, and to live better. I aim to take time, pause, and be present.

Approaching 2024 is like opening a new book. Will it unfold into a fresh chapter, a new verse, or merely the continuation of an old story? Its pages are blank, waiting for my words. This book is called opportunity, and its first chapter is New Year’s Day. Let’s make it a good one! Here’s to 2024—a year filled with joy, laughter, love, and peace! Cheers!

Thank You!

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

As the final weeks of the year unfold, I want to take a moment to express my gratitude to friends and family who have been a constant source of love and support throughout 2023. Your presence, especially during the challenging times, has enriched my life in ways words cannot capture. I am so thankful for each and every one of you.

In moments when I felt isolated, I drew comfort from the knowledge that you were there. In times of need, your friendship was a reassuring presence. I hope, in return, I provided the same support to others as well. True friendship and love have the power to bridge any distance or miles that may separate us.

As we approach the new year, my heartfelt wish for all of you is a year filled with health, happiness, abundant love, and enduring peace. May 2024 bring joyous moments, shared laughter, and continued connections that make life truly meaningful. Thank you for being an integral part of my journey in 2023.  Here’s to another year of cherished moments together. Cheers to 2024!

Trying To Find My Why…

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Trying to Find My Why…https://votefab40.com/2023/mikki-eveloff

This morning I awoke with an overwhelming sense of melancholy. Once firmly rooted in the roles of wife and mom, I now find myself treading unfamiliar paths. Life’s unforeseen twists force me to redefine my very being. Wrestling with questions about my purpose and identity, I long for a sense of fulfillment and clarity. Who am I now? What is my place in this world? My purpose?

As the roles that once gave me definition change, I struggle with a feeling of disorientation. I’ve tried to fill the void with various activities, ventures. Yet, I realize these external pursuits are merely fleeting distractions.

Though my recent commitment to the Fab40 campaign, dedicated to raising funds for breast cancer has been rewarding, it has also presented its own emotional hurdles and challenges. Confronting a world burdened with grief and loss, I’m overwhelmed with a complex array of emotions.  Seeking “votes” or “donations” during such turbulent times evokes a sense of guilt within me. Where does my loyalty belong? Am I doing the right thing? Making the right choices?

Life is a journey. This is another path I must explore to rediscover my purpose. I reflect on the values that have guided me throughout my journey. What brings me joy. Fulfillment. A profound sense of connection with the world? It’s easy to retreat during these moments. Seek solace in the familiar. The comfortable. The safe. Yet, in doing so, I miss out. On life. On living.  I may not find the answers today. Tomorrow. Or even months from now. I will embrace the process. Allow myself the space to grow. Adapt to the changes life presents. Trust that I am resilient to navigate the uncertainty. Uncover a renewed sense of purpose that resonates deeply with who I am now. Who I hope to become. 

Today, I will continue to fight for those who are unable to do so themselves. My belief in this cause remains unwavering. The statistics speak for themselves – 1 in 8 women will face a breast cancer diagnosis in their lifetime. With no known cure, early detection is crucial for survival. I hope you will continue to stand beside me as we join forces in this critical battle.

https://votefab40.com/2023/mikki-eveloff

#NBCF #BreastCancerAwareness #PinkRibbon #StrengthInNumbers #TogetherWeCan #HopeForACure

Double Duty

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Being a mom has always been more than just a title to me. It is my most cherished role. My favorite “job” in life. The love, joy, and challenges that come with it are a constant source of fulfillment. However, everything changed when Greg died. The shift was seismic. Suddenly, being a mom was tougher than I’d ever imagined. I was confronted with the daunting task of becoming both mom and dad. 

Greg was more than my husband. He was my rock. My sounding board. My partner in parenting. He was the one I turned to in tough times. The one with whom I could share my worries. Concerns. The one who provided a fresh perspective. Unwavering support. But suddenly. He was gone. An aching void impossible to fill. 

In the earlier years of parenting, a scraped knee could be healed by a simple kiss. A colorful bandage. Those physical hurts were easily soothed. I could reassure the kids that everything would be okay. But, now as adults, the hurts they face become more profound. The solutions aren’t as straightforward. Emotional wounds and internal struggles cannot be fixed with a bandage or kiss.

Navigating these complex emotions and uncharted waters of solo parenting has been a journey filled with both heartache and resilience. In this new chapter of my life, I find myself facing a myriad of tough decisions that seem to bear down on my shoulders. Heavy. Relentless. 

Once, these responsibilities were shared. A shared weight between two people who balanced each other. But now, it’s my heart that bears the brunt of it all. From the mundane choices of everyday life to those pivotal, life-altering decisions, I’m the one who must shoulder the burden alone.

As I stand at these crossroads, I’m often plagued by self-doubt. Uncertainty.  I find myself reevaluating my decisions. Wrestling with the overwhelming uncertainty that life can bring. Despite my growing belief in myself and the strengthening I’ve undergone over the past nine years, there are moments when I still doubt my own worth. My capacity to make important choices. I miss Greg’s guidance. Perspective. And insight that once steered us through the intricate passages of life’s twists and turns. It was reassuring, a source of comfort, knowing that we could tackle even the insurmountable challenges. 

The burden of being a single parent, carrying the weight of every decision often becomes overwhelming. There are moments when the load is too heavy. The struggles insurmountable. Yet, I choose to hide the depths of my struggle. I put on a brave face. Stand firm in the face of adversity. Offer reassurance that they can lean on me. Some days, on the outside I am the mom holding it together. The pillar of strength. While inside, I’m wrestling with relentless pressure to live up to the expectations I’ve set for myself.

The journey through motherhood continues. It looks different than it did when Greg was alive. I’ve learned to lean on my own resilience. Find support where I can. Navigate the complexities of life with everlasting love for my kids. I will continue to redefine my life. My role as mom AND dad. Doing the very best I can. Every. Single. Day.