Long time since last post

[Bilby]

Hi,

It’s been a long time since I posted. My husband was a member. He died in 2014 (non PTSD related). I found myself having to give him CPR before paramedics arrived. He didn’t make it.

A lot has happened in my life since he died. Awful things. I had to pack away my grief to deal with other things. Having said that, I have found myself all these years never being able to cope with hearing sirens. They transport me back to the night he died. And being a bit of an empath, I start thinking of someone else’s family being forever changed in that moment too. It feels complex - like I’m caught between reliving trying to save his life, and what other people are going through at that moment.

I find my grief, even after over 10 years has passed, is at an all time high. It is flooding out of me and I find myself wracked with guilt at not being able to save him. Did I do the CPR right or did I mess up? I feel like it’s my fault he’s not here. I couldn’t save him. Neither could 4 paramedics, but it was me who was there first (he died at home), dealing with the situation. The irony of this isn’t lost on me. My PTSD suffering husband, and me, in a situation that I wonder now if it has created some scars I’m having trouble with.

I feel sad and alone, and scared. Could I have done more? Why couldn’t I fix him? I feel like it’s my fault and the guilt is awful. We have a son who has grown up without his Dad and because he was so little, he can’t remember him. It breaks my heart.

 

[arfie]

welcome back, bilby. 9 years is, indeed, a long haitus.

i support the theory that ptsd is the number one cause of ptsd. ya got me wondering if your case supports the theory. just wondering while i remind myself that i am just a patient and not qualified to psychoanalyze.

then we get to the mysteries of the grief process, especially in cases where you are living with a living, breathing reminder of the loss. we just passed the fifth anniversary of the fatal car wreck which took both my youngest son and his wife, leaving behind 3 orphans, then aged 6, 3 and 8 months. 5 years later, i still feel like a usurper when their orphans introduce me as, "mom." grandma stereotypes still serve as a harsh reminder of just how much we lost in that fatal car wreck. this distance between being the favorite vacation spot and being the bully who gets them off to school each day is profound. i miss being a grandma. and, of course, i see my son and the woman who called me, "monster-in-law" in each of the children, every day.

just rambling. . . i mostly wanted to welcome you back.

 

[Friday]

Hola, aloha, welcome back!

I find my grief, even after over 10 years has passed, is at an all time high. It is flooding out of me and I find myself wracked with guilt at not being able to save him.

That happens. Brutal as it is, it’s not wrong. Nor wrong with you.

Did I do the CPR right or did I mess up?

Almost no one statistically, outside of Hollywood, survives events needing CPR. The stats of billions mean millions DO survive, who wouldn’t otherwise, but it’s less than 1:10; ONLY 4% of people who both need AND receive CPR survive. Those stats are not widely known outside healthcare circles, as they would make most people not even bother trying, but also easily googled. Do so. You didn’t f*ck up. Your beloved died, despite your very best efforts.

Most of the time? If CPR works? It’s because the heart stopped because of OTHER reasons, like drowning, or suffocation, or shock, or, or, or.

I feel sad and alone, and scared. Could I have done more? Why couldn’t I fix him? I feel like it’s my fault and the guilt is awful. We have a son who has grown up without his Dad and because he was so little, he can’t remember him. It breaks my heart.

I want to be God, too. And I don’t mean that in a flippant way, I mean that in that these lives are MINE… and I blame myself for every life I couldn’t save... But not so much as I claim right over the ones I love. I DEMAND the lives of those I love, are my responsibility. Full stop.

Will anyone EVER be able to convince you your beloved’s life was not YOURS? I hope not. Because he was. And being unable to save him? Does. Not. Make. That. Any. Less. True. He was yours, and you were his. And that pain? Will always be there. It will not go away; you will get stronger, and thoughts of him will bring joy instead of pain, but the ownership (for lack of a better word in English) of all who he was, does not go away with his death. HE? Was YOURS. His loss? Will always hurt. His memory? Will NOT. With grief. That’s the gift of grief. Being able to remember those we loved best with joy. Instead of ravaging, shredding, incomprehensible pain…. Or blunted, numbed, hazy rememberence. Crystal clear, delighting joy. With grief... passing through it.