Finding Your Tribe Part 3: When Digital Doorways Open- A Widow's Search Continues
New Horizons
Part 3: New Horizons
“Hope is resilient in the grieving heart.” - Carolyn Moor
For five straight months, the same dream visited me night after night—I was selling the home I treasured. The dream's persistence eventually broke through my resistance, revealing itself not as mere imagination but as clear guidance. With newfound clarity, I contacted a realtor and gave specific instructions: list the house at this exact price, no yard sign necessary, and prepare for it to sell to the first viewer on day one for precisely the amount I specified. When everything unfolded exactly as I had dreamed—down to the sale price—I received a profound lesson in trusting my intuition. Those recurring dreams weren't random; they were messengers pointing toward necessary action. I've learned since then to pay special attention when my subconscious mind replays the same scenes night after night—wisdom often arrives wrapped in the language of dreams.
But, finding our next home proved challenging as the real estate market peaked just before the 2008-2011 crash. Through persistence, I discovered a rental property that later became available for purchase—an opportunity I quickly seized. This "rightsized" home sat on a peaceful street in a lakeside community where blessed anonymity awaited us. The excellent schools within walking distance were a gift to my daughters, and though the interior needed a designer's touch, that was the one challenge I felt genuinely equipped to handle. As I unpacked our boxes in this more modest space, I wondered what new chapters might unfold within these unfamiliar walls—never imagining they would eventually house not just my family's healing, but the birthplace of something much larger than ourselves.
And despite previous disappointments, I found myself eagerly approaching yet another church—this one housed in a renovated movie theater with stadium seating and a vibrant energy that felt more aligned with my life stage.
The children's ministry immediately impressed me. Led by a young pastor with three kids of his own, he genuinely understood family dynamics in a way that resonated with my daughters. Being the son of a well-known pastor at a local megachurch, his congregation attracted mostly Gen Z and Millennials—people navigating similar life stages as me, if not similar loss experiences.
"This is it," I thought. "Surely I'll find a widow mentor here. Maybe even other young widows to connect with."
By this point, I was approaching my ten-year mark of widowhood. A decade of learning survival skills, of gradually building a new life from the ashes of my old one. I was feeling more alive, even thriving in certain areas. The raw, searing pain had transformed into something I could carry without buckling under its weight. I was ready to give back, to help others navigating early widowhood—if only I could find them.
During this period, several of my work colleagues also experienced widowhood, creating an unexpected dynamic. Rather than finding the seasoned guides I was searching for, I suddenly became the veteran widow—the one with years of experience navigating this unwanted journey. They turned to me for the very wisdom and guidance I still desperately sought from someone further along the path. While I shared what I'd learned through my own trial and error, I still longed for a mentor who had already weathered the storms I was still facing—someone who could illuminate the road ahead rather than walk beside me through familiar darkness.
Then came an unexpected gift of timing—Oprah announced that "The Oprah Winfrey Show" would be coming to an end. This meant the reruns featuring my real name and story would finally stop circulating, closing an unintended chapter of public exposure. With each passing month, fewer strangers approached me in public spaces. My daughters and I gradually reclaimed our privacy, our story once again becoming our own to share or protect as we chose. After years of unexpected visibility, I was finally freed from the spotlight I never sought, able to focus on healing in the quiet sanctuary of anonymity.
Life moved at a relentless pace. Between children's activities, school commitments, tentative attempts at dating, and the endless weekend rituals of home repairs and laundry mountains, there was little time for community building. Solo parenting demanded everything, and I responded by training my daughters early in life skills—teaching them to do their own laundry, pump air into bike tires, wash the car. We functioned as a team because we had to. I was a bonafide head of household forging forward.
Still, finding my tribe remained a priority I couldn't relinquish. I needed connection with others who understood this journey without explanation. I sat on my new front porch wondering where my life was headed.
And then something new appeared on the horizon: social media. Specifically, Facebook.
I first noticed it through my college-aged babysitter, who gradually shifted from actively playing with my daughters to occasionally glancing at her phone. Curiosity got the better of me.
"What are you looking at?" I asked one evening.
She smiled sheepishly. "It's this new social app called Facebook. College students can talk to each other from their school and other schools. It's pretty cool, but it's only for college students right now."
I remember thinking, "That sounds amazing... but why limit it to college students?" Little did I know that this digital doorway would soon swing open, completely transforming my search for connection and community.
In those early days, I couldn't have imagined how this technology would eventually bridge the isolation of widowhood, connecting me with others walking parallel paths across geographical boundaries. How it would help me finally answer that persistent question that had followed me through church after church, community after community:
Where are the other widows like me?
-Carolyn Moor Founder Widow Life™, Modern Widows Club® and The Movement for Widow Care™ (MWC)
#mentalhealthawarenessmonth #widowhood #community #mentalhealth #womenshealth #partthree
In partnership with New York Life Foundation for our 5-Part 'Finding Your Tribe' Series in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month and Children’s Mental Health Awareness Month
