Despite all the German stories I read as a young child back in my little Swabian village, I never believed in fairy tales, and my life has been a journey I never expected to take: a path etched with grief, painted with the laughter and chaos of two young kids I was raising on my own, and winding across states, oceans and continents in search of a place to belong, and eventually finding my tribe.
Hello. My name is Marina. I’m a 41-year-old mother, born and raised in Germany. I became a widow at age 29, left with a 3-year-old and a one-year-old with disabilities. How I ended up in Colorado is a long story—quite a journey, in fact—and I’m happy to share a glimpse with you.
The Struggle with Self-Care
Who has time for self-care when you have a family and raising kids, working 2 jobs to make ends meet, paying for car payments and a mortgage in overpriced Greater Los Angeles, and then your husband gets diagnosed with cancer? Good question. I did not have the energy to do anything other than being there for everybody else, making sure they were taken care of, dealing with the expected (chemotherapies, appointments, therapies… you name it) and the unexpected (who knew a super weak immune system could cause mini strokes, heart attacks, apraxia and more?). Either way, it was a year that was heartbreaking, draining, just awful. I felt broken and alone, simply devastated.
After my husband passed, I felt lost. I tried to move forward and attempted to go back to work and be a mother, but it seemed impossible. I knew I couldn’t stay in California, so moving back to Germany with my kids after another year of trying to make it work seemed like the answer. But sometimes, going home just does not feel like home anymore. I experienced yet another grief, the feeling of being an outsider in a world that had moved forward without me. Either way, I tried to do what’s right for my kids (or what I thought was right) and attempted to build a life in Germany. My kids started elementary school and kindergarten, we participated in the local village life, I tried to make new connections and friendships, but we just did not fit in.
The Search of Belonging – from Germany to Colorado
Time passed. Nothing changed. 4 years had passed. Things were not going well and I was unhappy with, well, everything, so I decided to move back to the States. At that time I was in a long- distance situationship and when a work opportunity arose for him in Colorado, I decided it was time to go back to the States. I had visited Colorado years ago for a long weekend, and was instantly drawn to the grandeur of the Rocky Mountains. I recall thinking “I could totally live here!” years ago, it was such a magical place, it had a touch of Germany to it, four seasons, majestic mountains, beautiful vistas, mesmerizing mountain lakes. So we packed our bags, and arrived in Colorado on Colorado Day 2017. Time to start over, once again!
Starting Anew
That fragile sense of stability I was building was once again challenged when I opened my heart to a new relationship. But a long-distance relationship sometimes is just that, even though it felt like a glimmer of hope, a sign that I was perhaps ready to move forward and share my life again, it wasn’t quite that. As quickly as it blossomed, it faded, adding another layer of loss and disappointment to my already heavy load. He moved out of state, and I decided to stay. I sold my house in California, bought my own place and started over – yes, once again!
The end of that relationship was tough, a painful reminder of the difficulty of truly starting over and trusting happiness again. Yet, through that heartache, a crucial decision solidified: I was staying in Colorado as the mountains and forests had become my sanctuary. I learned to be happy again, and it was finally time to be “me” and find what brings me joy and keeps me distracted from the heavy mental load, doing it all on my own, giving it my all. I started traveling with my kids, and we fell in love with the national parks. We commit to at least 3 new national parks each year and I truly enjoyed the outdoors, as a matter of fact I needed the great outdoors. When I was outside I was able to turn off the inner voice that constantly criticized me as well as my parenting, reminding me of all the medical appointments, therapies, work deadlines and other commitments and responsibilities. Outside, among the trees, close to the mountains, I was simply able to just be.
Moms don’t take breaks, do they?
As the years went by, my kids could join me on more and longer hikes. Eventually, though, new interests took hold, and the motivation to spend time with their “uncool” mom faded. I didn’t mind going alone, but I felt a definite void. Was I truly the only one who didn’t have friends who shared the same passions? Was I “the awkward mom”? Was it wrong for me to want to be more than just the breadwinner and mother? Or could I actually focus on myself once in a while? Would that make me a bad mom? Moms don’t take breaks, do they?
Moms need breaks. I quickly realized that I was just better when I had some quality time once in a while, but where to start? I attempted to connect with several groups—run clubs, crossfit gyms, outdoor clubs, various activities in different places—but nothing felt like home. That changed the moment I discovered WAC on Facebook and joined a Saturday morning hike. Instantly, I felt like me again, not just someone’s mother, but Marina. I felt welcomed, understood, supported, and uplifted. Could this be real? Did I finally find my tribe?
The journey continues
When the 10k Trail Running program opened up, I signed up on a whim. I’m incredibly glad I did. Since then, I’ve joined whenever possible, forging wonderful friendships with amazing women. Each has a unique story, her own struggles, fears, and hardships, but we all share the same purpose: to find a place where we belong, to be ourselves, challenge our limits, and embrace our shared love for the great outdoors.
This journey is far from over. I still have days where the grief is a heavy blanket, I wish I can just hand off some of my responsibilities to another parent. There are days when the challenge of solo parenting feels immense, and where the struggle to belong is real.
To any other young widows and solo parents out there, struggling with the weight of it all, know you’re not alone. The path is difficult, but we are strong. We are resilient. And we will find our way, our belonging, our healthy choices, in our own time, in our own way. Again, you are not alone!
