How 10 years of No became a year of Yes for Lisa Walker

Lisa Walker’s husband died two years ago at just 47. For years before that she’d been saying no to social occasions because it was easier than tempting his alcohol addiction. Through her grief, she is helping others reclaim the joy of saying yes.

Lisa Walker who embarked on a year of saying ‘Yes’ after a family tragedy.

Lisa Walker’s late husband was an alcoholic. She hasn’t said that aloud very often – it’s too painful. He passed away two years ago in his sleep at the age of 47.

The couple, who were separated, shared two young children and the news of his death has changed anyone who knew him.

Here, Walker shares – in her own powerful words – what that fateful day was like.

What it was like to live with someone who had a drinking problem. How for the last decade of their lives together, she became the woman who said no. No to social occasions – parties, celebrations, barbecues – for fear of him drinking too much. How she fell in a heap, and tried to come to terms not only with his passing, but the pain felt by all he left behind – for their children especially.

And how she’s learned, through the grief, to feel again. To say yes. Which is exactly what she did for her 50th year on this earth.

Today, she says yes.

A MATTER OF CHOICE by Lisa Walker

The choices we make in life are so powerful.

That’s something I’ve learnt the hard way in the last few years. Whether it’s the food we eat, the people we choose to spend our time with, or an attitude you set each morning when the sun rises, our choices set us up for our days, months, years and life. They determine your trajectory, your healthspan and lifespan.

I lost my husband at 47. And it’s a story that is devastating, tragic and more than anything … simply sad. But after his passing, I made a choice. That choice was to live enough for the both of us. That I would honour his memory by giving our kids the best life possible, and showing them that what happens to us in life doesn’t define us.

I’ve been asked, “How do you do it? I watch you jump out of bed each day (figuratively!) and live with so much energy and positivity after grief.” The truth is. I simply choose to. Not everyone will understand that, and that’s OK by me. But it hasn’t always been that easy. On the 15th January, 2022 our life changed forever. I found the body of my husband.

As I said my final goodbye, I was devastated by what I saw in front of me. The body on the bed. Peaceful in sleep. Like he’d simply laid down for a rest, like any other afternoon. Our sons were outside, unaware of how this single moment would change their lives. Forever.

I could hear police talking. Interviewing my friends, checking statements, speaking to the paramedics, making calls to the coroner. The quiet, calm and comforting murmur, and I could see the detective’s pitying blue eyes in my mind as he spoke to my closest friends who were there … for me.

I closed my eyes, and felt the bile rise as I considered the words I needed to say to my boys, too young to be thrown into the chaos about to surround them. I knew that despite every cell in my body fighting to stay in control, to not scream and punch the still form in front of me, I needed to be kind, remain solid. For them. My body betrayed me. I screamed silently. My fists curled and fingernails painfully dug into my palms. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing that I could never remove the vision in front of me.

I had been planning this day for years. While the ripple of shockwaves crossed our family, friends … I was the only one not shocked. The only person who already had a plan in place, honed from years of inner thoughts and preparation.

I wondered to myself if I was showing enough emotion to the detectives. Had I cried? Did I seem broken enough? How did I know to be there right now? Was it enough? Is it OK to be angry? Am I the perfect wife? Are you judging me? I can’t tell. Of course I’m not the perfect wife.

He’s in another house, in a bed that is not our marital bed. The crazy and haphazard thoughts and questions flowed in the turmoil of my mind.

I lost my husband Ben at 47. But before that, our life had not been perfect. For many years I had turned inward and was trying to be my perfect self, despite the anxiety curled inside me. I barely went out, I focused on my career and my boys and being the best mum and wife I could be, ultimately trying to control everything around me. I existed. But I was overcompensating and it nearly broke me.

What most people didn’t know was that my husband, a well-known and larger-than-life CEO, was battling his own health problems. He was an alcoholic. I rarely have said this out loud. That’s because it’s a tough subject for anyone to talk about.

But we have to, and for me, now is the time. Ben was the kindest, most thoughtful man who would do anything for anyone, and I loved him very much. Nothing will change that or take away our story.

But unfortunately he could not control the silent battle waging within him; one I did everything to contain for our family. I tried to fight for him but I was exhausted from putting on a positive face, from always being the responsible parent. from juggling work, parenting, hiding. From trying to be perfect. And from planning … what would I do when this happened. Ten years of wondering when, not if.

I’d lost the man I loved to addiction. Did he try? In his own way, but he was scared. Scared of the label, afraid of who he might be if he wasn’t drinking. He loved being the life of the party. The entertainer. The CEO. In a media industry that is built on relationships and lunches. It defined him in so many ways. He was afraid of losing himself, afraid of the process and of rehabilitation. Of saying no to his first love in order to say yes to his second – his life.

I lived the addiction too – I fought it every day. I gave ultimatums, took time out, got him into rehab – but he refused. And in the process I became the crazy wife, the downer, the one in the darkness, someone who didn’t understand. I always said no. To occasions, to celebrations, to visitors. It was easier that way. For all of us.

Then Covid hit, and everything became infinitely worse. The pressures of the business and the stress of employing over 40 people in an incredibly challenging environment increased Ben’s health issues considerably. He was barely coping. We were barely coping. Then, there came a turning point.

One night our boys were playing together, pretending to be drunk. They were falling over, pushing each other into walls, pretending to slur, and laughing. My decision was made. I couldn’t raise two boys in this world thinking that this was OK. That this was a normal way to live. I made my decision for them.

We separated, and it was so hard, but we remained close and saw each other most days. I never gave up on him. We spoke every day. Even the days he wouldn’t forgive me.

I could see it escalating. I tried to convince him to get help. I begged family, friends and business colleagues to get involved. I was constantly told I was overreacting, that there wasn’t a problem. I checked in daily and I made sure he saw the boys.

And then, one hot and humid summer day, I was the one who found him, peacefully passed away in his sleep. The man I had fallen in love with 15 years earlier, simply wasn’t there any longer. Alcoholism had ruined his liver and heart and ultimately his organs had shut down. In some ways, the coroner’s report 10 months later provided me with relief, that I wasn’t crazy. Being right was bittersweet … but most of all, it just filled me with sadness. I know I gave the battle everything I had.

In 2022, 1742 people in Australia died as a direct link to alcohol use. Ninety-one per cent of these were chronic alcohol-induced deaths such as alcoholic liver cirrhosis, and 86.5 per cent of these were in people over 45 years old. Ben was one of them.

The addiction won. I’ll say it again. We need to talk about it. Men, particularly, need to be supported and find a way to talk, to find solace and a way to be vulnerable. To mentally lift each other up, as women more naturally do.

A LIFE BIG ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF US

When Ben passed, my world changed. In so many ways. In an instant the one thing I had feared for years had happened. I was suddenly a sole parent, a widow, and with many eyes turned towards me. It was complicated, to say the least. But I made a decision that it would not define me. That there was a way forward for my boys that would bring light and joy to our lives.

It was time for me to stop saying no. To honour Ben the best way I could. To live a life big enough for both of us. To live for our boys. To show them what a privilege it is to see the sun rise every day. To wake up. To feel.

Lisa Walker changed her approach to life after the death of her husband.

Lisa Walker said she wanted to liver a life big enough for her and Ben.

I know that not everyone understood me, and watched on with mixed feelings. But as a psychiatrist pointed out to me, I had already been grieving him for years. My grief was much further down the track than others around me. Internally, I’m a positive person. It’s just in my make up – I will always find a way forward. I’ve been told by some that I have a determination and grit and optimism that can be terrifying. I’ll take that.

So, one year after his passing. I made my decision. On my 49th birthday, I committed to my year of yes. Yes to joy, to life, to love, to friends, to experiences. Yes to new beginnings. The media company was sold; one that he had started on our dining table and one that had in many ways destroyed him, but also provided the future for our family. There were mixed emotions as I signed the final documents. The financial freedom for our future. Yes.

We moved house, we moved suburbs. We embraced the beaches, the vast sky, horizons as broad as my dreams, sunrises over the water, listening to waves crashing. After-dinner walks on the beach. Sand in our toes, sand in our clothes, sand in the house. Yes. Yes to bare feet. Salty skin. Ice cream. We moved schools. New families, new friends, new uniforms. Yes to people who didn’t know us, didn’t know our story. Didn’t look at us with pity behind their eyes.

I became just another mum in activewear, solo parenting with a harassed smile. Complaining of homework, laughing at camp pick-up. Crying at camp pick-up as my boys grew bigger each day. Tears as I felt the ache of Ben not seeing them grow up. The bus driver knew our names, called out to our puppy every morning. Strangers said hello on the street. Yes. Yes to launching my own company. Taking the leap. No parachute – Ben’s favourite saying.

Eir Women is a company focused on wellness of women over 40 as they juggle life, work, family, hormones. Encouraging them to say yes. To reclaim the joy. As I launched Eir with my business partner and friend Kate Guaran, after three years of formulating, designing, manufacturing, I thought … “It’s my turn now.”

Lisa says she embraces all the opportunities life throws at her.

Then I found myself still saying yes. To everything. Invitations, events, networking groups, lunches, dinners. I challenged myself. Yes to more and more and more. I made my first new friend at the bus stop and said hello to every person I passed walking the dog. I joined a community for female entrepreneurs, where I discovered the power of my own story and felt the support of strong women who believed in me. I committed to three coffee dates with fellow entrepreneurs every week. I went to a fancy dress up ball where I knew one person, who I had met once! I danced all night. The joy!

I went on multiple dates … although perhaps some of these should have been no. Took myself to comedy nights, burlesque performances, pole dance competitions, drag shows. Went to the cricket, new restaurants, fly fishing, high ropes courses. Bought a convertible MINI! Reconnected with old friends, who knew me before my marriage. Who knew the old me. The fun me!

She took up pole dancing.

And bought a mini convertible.

I tried pole dancing … and kept pole dancing! I entertained at home and found that I loved it. I was a guest on podcasts to talk about midlife health, about widowhood, about the importance of looking after you. I started writing a book, made content videos for social, to connect, to talk and to shout about our company. I committed to my meditation practice, every day. I volunteered at a women’s shelter where I unpack groceries. Reconnected with yoga, something I had taught for many years but lost when I lost me. And I planned a party for my 50th. Bought sparkly shoes, sparkly … everything. I became the fairy I know I am, just for one night.

DARE TO SAY YES

My first pole dance lesson was a dare. I was terrible. I laughed, looked silly, but giggled more. I danced. I went back and I felt alive. Each week my calloused hands and bruised legs now felt like badges of honour, balanced with the highs of learning something new. Being upside down – a new perspective. New friends and new shoes. I’m the eldest in the class by 20 years, but this is something that can be mine. I started to feel stronger, more confident and aware of my body.

Yes is one word – but it brings so much power, positivity, strength and challenge. It is too simple a concept. It has changed me, irrevocably for the better. I am lighter, I see the funny, I dance and I live in every colour. I am more free, I have more confidence, I do more and I give more to myself. I let myself look silly, as I know I’ve won my own battle simply by turning up. By letting the endorphins flow. By saying yes.

Lisa Walker with Kate Guaran who have started EIR WOMEN.

Do I say no? Well, in one word, yes.

I say no to those who don’t understand, who judge and don’t bring value. Those who don’t understand my grief – it is complicated, and I’m OK with that. My new life, my second act, is a very different one. I wake each day and give gratitude for the simple act of waking up to another day. My biggest realisation is that what is out of my control will always be out of my control, but there are things I do have the power to change. I can’t change other people, how they act or what they think of me. What I can change is my reactions, responses and attitudes – the way I live my life, where I choose for my boys and I to live, my purpose, and most of all where I expend my own energy. Who I give my energy to. Who I have in my life.

I want my boys to be proud of their mum AND their dad and grow up to be confident and kind men. To make good choices, to give back and live with joy. I want to show my boys that no matter what happens to you in life, you don’t have to be defined by that, and you can be positive and create your future.

Lisa Walker is reclaiming the joy in her life.

I decided that I was going to do everything in my power to help create positive change for men and women in midlife. To help them understand that the choices you make now will be your future. I poured all of my creative energy into Eir Women, knowing that it was something I was truly passionate about – women’s health during their midlife, and helping them bring the energy and joy back to a busy, high-pressure decade. One when we so often lose ourselves as we care for everyone else.

Every day I feel Ben by my side, every day cheering me on. My year of yes was the best thing I ever did. It has fundamentally changed who I am. It did so much to repair my mental health, and my physical health too. I now have more confidence, my outlook has changed, and I’m willing to give more new things a go. So what if I look stupid? I’ve won my own battle just by turning up. I’ve met some of the most interesting people and developed more empathy for others around me as I dig deeper.

I genuinely am curious about people, how they think and act and why, and I’ve spent more time reflecting on this. I forgive more. I also give more. I’ve learnt more about myself than I thought I could have. It’s allowed me to talk more about health and the importance of looking after yourself. I love what we have created with Eir Women, and it is only getting better. I am passionate about midlife health and can’t wait to do more to help others as they move in to the next phase of life. I have found joy in my every day. Every moment is meaningful, colourful and joyous, and I pass this on to my boys every single day. And finally, I love myself so much more. I can’t wait to see what life looks like at 60.

If you need help with addiction, contact Turning Point 24/7 at turningpoint.org.au or 1800 250 015.

Mongrels Men is also a charity on a mission to improve the mental and physical wellbeing of men through conversation, connection and community. See mongrelsmen.com for more.

Originally published as How 10 years of No became a year of Yes for Lisa Walker