Stinking Thinking

Today during my therapy session, I found myself talking about just how consuming thoughts can become after loss.

The thoughts of losing my husband. The “what if” thoughts. The fear thoughts. The future thoughts. The thoughts that run circles around your mind until you feel mentally exhausted.

Trying to figure out which “what if” scenario is going to become your pathway in life can wear you down. You start trying to prepare for every possible outcome, trying to avoid pain before it even happens, trying to control what can’t fully be controlled.

And honestly… it’s tiring.

The thoughts can become devastating. Depleting. Scary.

Losing my husband changed my life so drastically that sometimes I don’t even recognize the person I’ve become.

For God’s sake, I’m from New York City. The Bronx.

People know the reputation that came with growing up there, especially back in the day. The Bronx was rough. People were scared of the Bronx. And if you came from there, you wore that toughness almost like a badge of honor.

You adapted.

You survived.

You figured it out.

That was me.

I always felt like I could adjust to anything. Like a chameleon, I could adapt to my surroundings, fit in where needed, and make a way out of no way.

There’s a saying:

“If you can make it in New York, you can live anywhere.”

And eventually, I did.

I moved to Georgia, slowed down, built a life with my husband, became a wife, became part of a family, and honestly grew into a version of myself that I was proud of.

But losing my husband has been the hardest adjustment I’ve ever had to make.

Nothing prepared me for this.

Not mentally.

Not emotionally.

Not spiritually.

And sometimes I feel like I failed because I still struggle so deeply to accept this life I never wanted.

I look in the mirror sometimes and feel sorry for the woman staring back at me.

She carries this indescribable pain with nowhere to lay it down. She fears the future. She fears loneliness. She fears what life will become.

And grief has a way of attaching itself to landmark moments.

The holidays.

Anniversaries.

Special dates.

Memories.

Songs.

Places.

Anything significant can trigger a flood of emotions and lead straight into what I now call “stinking thinking.”

Those moments where your mind spirals into thoughts that drain you instead of help you.

Thoughts that keep you stuck. Thoughts that replay pain. Thoughts that make you feel hopeless, fearful, or defeated.

And the truth is, retraining your mind is one of the hardest things to do after loss.

Especially when you’re trying to live a life that is completely different from the one you planned for yourself.

Especially when you lived that old life for many years. Especially when you loved deeply. Especially when your entire routine changed overnight.

But I’m realizing something:

I cannot allow my thoughts to permanently live in places that no longer serve me.

That doesn’t mean pretending grief doesn’t exist. It doesn’t mean suppressing pain. It doesn’t mean forgetting the life I loved.

It means learning how to catch myself before I completely spiral.

So now, “stinking thinking” will become my alert phrase.

When I find myself obsessing over thoughts that are draining me, defeating me, or keeping me mentally trapped, I want to stop and reassess.

Is this thought helping me? Is it leading me somewhere purposeful? Or is it just pulling me deeper into fear?

I want to slowly retrain my focus toward what I still value. What I still appreciate. What still matters. What still gives life meaning.

Life will continue to happen. Unexpected things will still come. Grief will still have its moments.

But maybe healing starts with becoming more aware of where our minds keep living.

So if you find yourself stuck in those spiraling thought patterns, constantly replaying fears, regrets, or hopelessness, maybe today is the day to pause and recognize it for what it is:

Stinking thinking.

Catch it.

Reassess it.

Refocus.

And give yourself permission to slowly move forward anyway.