When I look back at my early days as a new widow, my heart aches for that version of me. She was lost, overwhelmed, and had no idea what she was doing—not one clue. With so few resources to guide her, she was left to figure everything out the hard way. The lack of support, combined with the crushing weight of grief, made those first months—and, if I’m honest, the first few years—unbearable.

If I could go back, I would gently whisper to her—to the woman still numb with shock—please, be kinder to yourself. I’d tell her she didn’t need to figure everything out all at once, that no one knows how to be a widow until they are one. That survival itself was enough.

But instead of grace, I gave myself guilt. Instead of compassion, I offered harsh self-judgment. I convinced myself I was doing it all wrong, that a stronger, more capable widow would have adjusted more quickly or would have struggled less.

Looking back now, I see how unfair I was to myself. And if there’s one thing I hope to spare future widows from, it’s that same cycle of cruel self-talk and impossible expectations. Grief is hard enough without the weight of self-imposed judgment.

If I could go back to those early days of being a widow, these are the things I would do differently:

1. Tell the Truth

I used to shelter people from the truth. I felt it was too hard to be real and honest with people about how I was doing because my feelings were so intense and the pain was so debilitating.

I used to be afraid of being the perpetual buzzkill by admitting how really freaking hard it is to grieve. But the number one thing I want to tell you I would do differently is just tell the damn truth. No matter how hard or how cringe-worthy, I would tell the truth about my feelings and what I was going through. If this sounds like you, I want to remind you that you’re not doing anyone any favors by sugar-coating the obvious pain you’re in.

In trying to shield others from the discomfort of my struggles, I lost sight of myself. But I’ve come to realize that it’s not my job to decide what others can handle. That’s up to them. Everyone sees life through their own lens of understanding, so you can’t really control how someone else experiences, feels, or interprets your words or actions. That’s not how it works.

What you do or don’t say won’t shift someone’s perspective until they’ve walked a similar path themselves.

2.  Stop Expecting to Know What to Do

No one knows how to be a widow until she is one, so it’s not realistic to expect to know what to do or how to handle immense grief. The thing is, I didn’t know this when I was first widowed. I had unrealistic expectations of myself and what I “should” know how to do and “should” be able to handle.

I wasn’t very nice to myself back then. I’ve come a long way, though, winding my way through this crooked and confusing widow path. I know for sure if I had to do it all over again, that I would be a heck of a lot nicer to myself because now I know how hard it is to adjust to a life without your person.

You aren’t supposed to know how to do anything you haven’t learned how to do yet. Instead of feeling incompetent and beating yourself up like I did, accept that every griever starts at the beginning and learns along the way.

3.  Take care of myself first

Self-care isn’t just a buzzword—it’s a lifeline. It’s the intentional practice of supporting your mental, emotional, and physical well-being, and it’s key to handling life’s challenges. Think of the “oxygen mask on an airplane” analogy: you can’t help others if you’re don’t take care of yourself first. Prioritizing your well-being not only protects you from burnout but also allows you to show up as your strongest, healthiest self.

I didn’t prioritize self-care in the beginning because I was taking care of my two young children, running a business, and just trying to get through each day. I put self-care on the back burner because there were too many other things that needed my attention.

And I paid the price for not prioritizing myself with sky-high anxiety levels, perpetual whole body aches and pains, and lots of sleepless nights. If I had to do it all over again, I would’ve started taking some “me” time a heck of a lot earlier.

While self-care often suggests staples like healthy eating and mindfulness, it’s not a one-size-fits-all routine. It’s about finding what restores your energy—whether that’s monthly massage packages, walking in nature, saying no to draining obligations, or taking a solo day trip to reconnect with yourself.

Prioritize your needs – it’s that simple. It’s a game-changer in the grief game.

4.  Remove the energy vampires

If I could do it all over again as a new widow, I wouldn’t let energy vampires drain me. Setting firm boundaries would have been my priority. I would have gently reminded those who thought they understood my pain that they didn’t.

One of the hardest parts of grieving was finding the balance between being social and protecting my energy. Some people, well-meaning or not, tried to compare their losses—like divorce—to mine, or used my grief as an opportunity to unload their own struggles. It was exhausting. If you find yourself in that situation, my advice is to protect your peace at all costs.

If I had another chance, I would ask for more respect for my grief and its rawness. I would tell people that I’m struggling and have nothing left to give.

Looking back, I realize that what I needed most was space—space for my feelings and space free of others’ expectations.

5.  Never say never

One thing I’d do differently is change the way I talked to myself. Early on, I filled my thoughts with absolutes like “never” and “always.” Saying I’d “never” be happy again wasn’t a fact—it was an emotional interpretation of my circumstances.

When we speak to ourselves in absolutes, we shut the door on any other possibility. If I kept repeating that I’d never be happy or I’d always be alone, I’d have no room to believe life could be different. The words we use shape our reality. Changing your language is the key to opening yourself up to hope and the chance for something better.

Learning to soften the way I spoke to myself wasn’t easy, but it made all the difference. I stopped using words like never and always, and that allowed me to believe that healing, while slow and imperfect, was still possible.

If you’re stuck in absolutes, remind yourself that life is full of unknowns—and within those unknowns lies the potential for growth, joy, and a future you can’t yet imagine. 

6.  Forgive myself (and everyone else)

Remember how I said that everyone comes from their own level of understanding? That includes you.

When you’re newly widowed, you’re figuring things out as you go. Sometimes you get it right; other times, you look back and wish you’d done things differently. That’s life. If I could go back, I’d forgive my newly widowed self for not knowing what to do and for hiding her sadness to protect her vulnerability.

When people offer advice, it’s based on their experience, not yours. That’s why much of it can feel irrelevant or unhelpful—especially from those who’ve never lost a spouse. No one truly understands what they don’t know until they’ve lived it themselves and gained the wisdom that only hindsight can provide.

As frustrating as unsolicited advice can be, try to forgive people for their awkward attempts to fill the silence. Please forgive them for repeating the pitiful platitudes they’ve heard other people say without knowing how ridiculous they sound. Death is uncomfortable to talk about, and they’re doing their best—even if their best misses the mark.

One day, they may experience their own loss, and they’ll finally understand. If they come back to you with apologies, you’ll smile, knowing you forgave them a long time ago. 

7.  Ask if the Opposite is True

I’m a worst-case scenario thinker, often running around like Chicken Little, convinced the sky is falling. Over time, I’ve worked hard to tame my catastrophic thoughts, and one question has made all the difference: What if the opposite is true?

When I was newly widowed, everything felt like a catastrophe. Kids struggling in school? It’s the end of the world! Business in a slump? I’m headed for bankruptcy! Friends not being supportive? No one wants to be around me!

If I could do it over, I’d ask myself that very specific question—What if the opposite is true?—to shift from catastrophe mode into problem-solving mode. Constant negative thinking only breeds more negativity.

Whenever my mind spiraled into doom and gloom, I could have redirected it to look for solutions instead of assuming my life was over. By simply considering the opposite, I might have spared myself many sleepless nights spent imagining the worst.

Save yourself the sleepless nights and the spiral of doom. Ask yourself what if the opposite is true? And shift your thinking to finding solutions instead of feeding the fear. 

8.  Ask for help

I didn’t ask for a lot of help in the beginning because I didn’t want to be the “poor widow” who couldn’t do anything for herself. Looking back, I could’ve avoided a lot of unnecessary difficulty if I’d asked for help sooner.

I learned that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s an act of courage and self-awareness. Grief, stress, and life’s challenges can feel overwhelming, and there’s no shame in admitting you can’t do it all alone. Whether it’s leaning on a trusted friend, spending some time with a therapist, or delegating tasks to ease your load, reaching out for support can make a world of difference.

Asking for help is not just about receiving, it’s about allowing others the opportunity to care for you, too.

Looking back on my own experience as a new widow, I realize how much I didn’t know—and how hard I was on myself for not knowing. Eventually I figured out that it’s okay to fumble, to feel lost, and to lean on others when you’re navigating something you’ve never faced before.

The biggest thing I learned is that grief is a journey, not a destination, and it’s one that no one is ever fully prepared for.

If I could go back to my newly widowed self, I’d tell her this: You’re stronger than you think, and it’s okay to not have it all figured out. Healing will come, slowly but surely, and there’s hope on the horizon—even if you can’t see it yet.

So if you’re in the thick of grief, take care of yourself, forgive yourself, and trust that you’re doing the best you can.

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About the Author: Kim Murray learned more than she ever wanted to know about grief, loss, and solo parenting when her husband died from Glioblastoma in 2014. Instead of allowing herself to disappear into the grief abyss, she created Widow 411 to offer a variety of useful resources to help make widowhood suck a little less. Kim’s popular program, The Ultimate Survival Guide for Widows, helps widows navigate the crushing list of to-dos after a spouse dies with fillable templates, easy-to-use worksheets and checklists, and instructions for organizing tasks, managing finances, closing accounts and so much more.