D
Deleted member 12723
Hugs
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My husband died today
- Post starter NarcSis
- Start date
- Status
Seasounds
Diamond Member
I really like what you wrote. You are right on, in that people don't know how to stay connected to you, and be the initiators of providing support to you. It is a cultural way of withdrawing from, rather then moving into, being part of a grieving process for you.
There is a way to knit together a group. I'll write more, tomorrow am.
There is a way to knit together a group. I'll write more, tomorrow am.
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- Moderator
- #339
Quote......."I'm trying to deal with being so damned lonely."
You may not believe this Medic72, but you do get used to being lonely, you may not think that just now, but there will come a time when you've been rejected yet again, when you say to yourself, sod this, I'm not going to carry on like this.
Then you find yourself coping with being alone, getting on with life, and that you don't need them anyway! They are all false anyway, and not really concerned if you feel lonely and depressed.
The last thing they want is to spend time with folk who depressed and lonely, they have their own lives to get on with?
Yes, I do get lonely sometimes, and I'm sure that if I had the confidence I could go out there and make friends, but I just don't have that confidence, so loneliness is the price I have to pay for that, then so be it.
You may not believe this Medic72, but you do get used to being lonely, you may not think that just now, but there will come a time when you've been rejected yet again, when you say to yourself, sod this, I'm not going to carry on like this.
Then you find yourself coping with being alone, getting on with life, and that you don't need them anyway! They are all false anyway, and not really concerned if you feel lonely and depressed.
The last thing they want is to spend time with folk who depressed and lonely, they have their own lives to get on with?
Yes, I do get lonely sometimes, and I'm sure that if I had the confidence I could go out there and make friends, but I just don't have that confidence, so loneliness is the price I have to pay for that, then so be it.
- Post starter
- #341
@Nicolette, Hi, thank you for checking in. @gizmo, hugs are always good, thank you. @Saetva, i'm looking forward to hearing more, Thank you and @Gadgie, I know exactly what you're saying because I wrote the exact same thing to myself this afternoon.
I was feeling very low and abandoned and just out of sorts. I had another appointment at the bank today and I was worried that I would be tearful and have difficulty making decisions because of how I was feeling, so I gave myself a pep talk. I opened my private journal and I wrote to myself, "This is no different than life has been for the past 8 years. People drifted away from me already. I've lived unsupported by those people for so long already. Nothing has changed. I do not need them to cope. I can cope on my own and I can live on my own. I have already been doing it."
It made me feel better to write that out. Mostly I'm feeling sorry for me because, again, "poor me" gets the short end of the stick here, as per usual. In essence, other than my husband being dead and no longer a part of my life, nothing has changed....life is continuing on as it was before this slight "bump" interrupted it's course. Things always go back to normal. Normal for me was living in isolation from those people. Things are just normal again.
Writing those words out also made me steel my jaw and head out of this house with my horns down and prepared to take on the world with no tears. Surprisingly my bank consultant was very understanding and helped me to move my funds around so that they will work for me in the longer run. I'm a little concerned about one of my husband's rrsp companies, they seem to be ignoring my requests to them regarding paperwork required to inherit the funds - it's been well over a month since they were notified and I'm still receiving receipts in my husband's name when the account should have been frozen upon his death. I'm thinking, if calling their head office last week didn't work then I will have to call a lawyer - uggh, so insane some of this stuff, I'm sensing a fraud going on here. I'm afraid.
I am strong, with or without people by my side. Something my husband always said to me was that I was stronger than him. I never felt like it. I never acted like it and now, I don't have a choice but to be strong because he's no longer here to be my shield. That's a lot to deal with. It's hard hiding how vulnerable you actually feel and pulling on that fake self confident suit.
I sent out a practical request by text to one of my "people" today - it wasn't an emotional plea for someone to talk too, it was an actual practical question. I got an answer. No one wants to throw you a rope when you're drowning, but hey, if you need to know where to buy a snow shovel, they're there for you! (sarcasm). Regardless, I would love someone to sit and just talk about my husband with, the good stuff, the bad stuff, his family stuff - just all of it. I don't want to say these things to my sister because I know she'd just turn her head and pass the information on in the form of gossip with my cousins or brothers and naturally, the stories would be embellished and soon nothing like their original incarnation.
I don't know how many times over the years my sister would try to convince me my husband was cheating on me - just a total conclusion jumper she is and she just loves gossip and sensationalizing stories. She doesn't think she does it, but she does. I say something like, "Hubby left early for work." and she would say, "Are you sure he's just going to work? You never know maybe he's meeting up with someone..." and other things like that. It was her automatic assumption if he was running on overtime, if I went to stay with her and he didn't answer the phone when I'd call home. "Are you sure he doesn't have someone on the side?" She used to drive me nuts. I see why she's never been in a relationship though.
I never told her about his weird discomfort with anything sexual. I mean, we did have that type of relationship with one another, but it had it's time and place - he detested sexual jokes or innuendo outside of the bedroom, it made him downright angry. My husband would turn the channel if a sex scene came on in a movie. He claimed to detest pornography (but I found two videos he owned that I didn't know about!) He always told me stories that his father complained to them when they were young that their mother was sexually depraved, or that his dad insisted that the boys kiss him on the lips to say goodnight despite their already being teenagers (he was very uncomfortable telling that story, it really bothered him). I once asked him point blank if he was ever sexually abused in any way by anyone when he was young, but he always denied it. He was very prude sexually. This is the part of my husband that my sister never saw, so to think he was having an affair??? Ludicrous. Absolutely ludicrous.
Even if he did, I'd rather not ever know about it.
There are so many people who claim to have known him so well, my sister especially but no one knew him like I did. He told me things. Obviously not everything but he shared secrets with me that he shared with no one else. I shared things with him that I would never share with anyone else, not even my sister. We trusted one another completely and we spent every minute of our shared time together...even if he was always a few yards away from me on his ipod, at least we were together. I think this is why it hurts so much that he's gone and gone the way he did, we never did anything separately. We always figured we'd die together in a car crash or something because we were rarely apart except when he was at work. If he was going to die, he was going to die at work or beside me - we even said it all the time. So him deciding to die? It was like him abandoning me just like everyone always seems too. So yes, it hurts to be alone again. It hurts to have everything returning to "normal".
I don't like new normal without him. I wanted new normal to be more social and supported. I thought his death was the catalyst for some real change in my life but it seems everything is just going to go back to how it was only now he's "permanently at work".
I keep saying happily that there are things that I no longer have to do because I used to do them for him. Like turning a blind eye to the clutter in the house so I wouldn't have to endure the "Have you seen my..x? It was right here the other day, I saw it." and I'd feel like I was being blamed because I'd tidied up. I can tidy up now without inconveniencing someone. I no longer have to get up early to make breakfast or be home before a certain time to be here for him when he gets home from work - I always did this to support him, not because it was expected of me. I wanted to be here for him, so I would. I don't have to worry about the scents I use in the laundry anymore or using scented candles in the house because he is no longer bothered by the smells. I don't have to turn the channel when a sex scene comes on in a movie now, LOL. I do not have to leave the room if I wake up in the middle of the night, I can turn the light on and not wake anyone else up. Technically, I am more free to do these things now without having to consider someone else.
I'd prefer that he was still here and my life had stayed the same, but I can't have him back. He's not coming back, no matter how much I beg and plead to the universe and wish that this is all a bizarre nightmare, he will never come back into this house. He will never touch me again. He will never kiss me, hug me or lay beside me anymore. I will no longer hear his voice or his laugh or look in his eyes or tickle his moustache. I will never again ever hear him say he loves me. That one hurts the most.
I don't have a choice but to go on. I don't want too but there's no other option. I have to do this on my own now. I have to dig deep and steel my nerves and dive in. There is no other option. I have to look after me now, no one else can.
I was feeling very low and abandoned and just out of sorts. I had another appointment at the bank today and I was worried that I would be tearful and have difficulty making decisions because of how I was feeling, so I gave myself a pep talk. I opened my private journal and I wrote to myself, "This is no different than life has been for the past 8 years. People drifted away from me already. I've lived unsupported by those people for so long already. Nothing has changed. I do not need them to cope. I can cope on my own and I can live on my own. I have already been doing it."
It made me feel better to write that out. Mostly I'm feeling sorry for me because, again, "poor me" gets the short end of the stick here, as per usual. In essence, other than my husband being dead and no longer a part of my life, nothing has changed....life is continuing on as it was before this slight "bump" interrupted it's course. Things always go back to normal. Normal for me was living in isolation from those people. Things are just normal again.
Writing those words out also made me steel my jaw and head out of this house with my horns down and prepared to take on the world with no tears. Surprisingly my bank consultant was very understanding and helped me to move my funds around so that they will work for me in the longer run. I'm a little concerned about one of my husband's rrsp companies, they seem to be ignoring my requests to them regarding paperwork required to inherit the funds - it's been well over a month since they were notified and I'm still receiving receipts in my husband's name when the account should have been frozen upon his death. I'm thinking, if calling their head office last week didn't work then I will have to call a lawyer - uggh, so insane some of this stuff, I'm sensing a fraud going on here. I'm afraid.
I am strong, with or without people by my side. Something my husband always said to me was that I was stronger than him. I never felt like it. I never acted like it and now, I don't have a choice but to be strong because he's no longer here to be my shield. That's a lot to deal with. It's hard hiding how vulnerable you actually feel and pulling on that fake self confident suit.
I sent out a practical request by text to one of my "people" today - it wasn't an emotional plea for someone to talk too, it was an actual practical question. I got an answer. No one wants to throw you a rope when you're drowning, but hey, if you need to know where to buy a snow shovel, they're there for you! (sarcasm). Regardless, I would love someone to sit and just talk about my husband with, the good stuff, the bad stuff, his family stuff - just all of it. I don't want to say these things to my sister because I know she'd just turn her head and pass the information on in the form of gossip with my cousins or brothers and naturally, the stories would be embellished and soon nothing like their original incarnation.
I don't know how many times over the years my sister would try to convince me my husband was cheating on me - just a total conclusion jumper she is and she just loves gossip and sensationalizing stories. She doesn't think she does it, but she does. I say something like, "Hubby left early for work." and she would say, "Are you sure he's just going to work? You never know maybe he's meeting up with someone..." and other things like that. It was her automatic assumption if he was running on overtime, if I went to stay with her and he didn't answer the phone when I'd call home. "Are you sure he doesn't have someone on the side?" She used to drive me nuts. I see why she's never been in a relationship though.
I never told her about his weird discomfort with anything sexual. I mean, we did have that type of relationship with one another, but it had it's time and place - he detested sexual jokes or innuendo outside of the bedroom, it made him downright angry. My husband would turn the channel if a sex scene came on in a movie. He claimed to detest pornography (but I found two videos he owned that I didn't know about!) He always told me stories that his father complained to them when they were young that their mother was sexually depraved, or that his dad insisted that the boys kiss him on the lips to say goodnight despite their already being teenagers (he was very uncomfortable telling that story, it really bothered him). I once asked him point blank if he was ever sexually abused in any way by anyone when he was young, but he always denied it. He was very prude sexually. This is the part of my husband that my sister never saw, so to think he was having an affair??? Ludicrous. Absolutely ludicrous.
Even if he did, I'd rather not ever know about it.
There are so many people who claim to have known him so well, my sister especially but no one knew him like I did. He told me things. Obviously not everything but he shared secrets with me that he shared with no one else. I shared things with him that I would never share with anyone else, not even my sister. We trusted one another completely and we spent every minute of our shared time together...even if he was always a few yards away from me on his ipod, at least we were together. I think this is why it hurts so much that he's gone and gone the way he did, we never did anything separately. We always figured we'd die together in a car crash or something because we were rarely apart except when he was at work. If he was going to die, he was going to die at work or beside me - we even said it all the time. So him deciding to die? It was like him abandoning me just like everyone always seems too. So yes, it hurts to be alone again. It hurts to have everything returning to "normal".
I don't like new normal without him. I wanted new normal to be more social and supported. I thought his death was the catalyst for some real change in my life but it seems everything is just going to go back to how it was only now he's "permanently at work".
I keep saying happily that there are things that I no longer have to do because I used to do them for him. Like turning a blind eye to the clutter in the house so I wouldn't have to endure the "Have you seen my..x? It was right here the other day, I saw it." and I'd feel like I was being blamed because I'd tidied up. I can tidy up now without inconveniencing someone. I no longer have to get up early to make breakfast or be home before a certain time to be here for him when he gets home from work - I always did this to support him, not because it was expected of me. I wanted to be here for him, so I would. I don't have to worry about the scents I use in the laundry anymore or using scented candles in the house because he is no longer bothered by the smells. I don't have to turn the channel when a sex scene comes on in a movie now, LOL. I do not have to leave the room if I wake up in the middle of the night, I can turn the light on and not wake anyone else up. Technically, I am more free to do these things now without having to consider someone else.
I'd prefer that he was still here and my life had stayed the same, but I can't have him back. He's not coming back, no matter how much I beg and plead to the universe and wish that this is all a bizarre nightmare, he will never come back into this house. He will never touch me again. He will never kiss me, hug me or lay beside me anymore. I will no longer hear his voice or his laugh or look in his eyes or tickle his moustache. I will never again ever hear him say he loves me. That one hurts the most.
I don't have a choice but to go on. I don't want too but there's no other option. I have to do this on my own now. I have to dig deep and steel my nerves and dive in. There is no other option. I have to look after me now, no one else can.
stillstanding2
Gold Member
I don't agree with this at all @Gadgie. I'm probably as alone as anyone, and yeah, its because I lack confidence. I've "made do" without other people, but it is my choice or problem, whichever way you look at it.
My being alone is painful sometimes, but I don't blame anyone else for that. It is certainly not because "They are all false..." There are plenty of good people to know. It just takes the right timing and circumstances. Right now may not be the right time for @Medic72 to work hard at meeting and interacting with people, but she might leave that option wide, wide open.
D
Deleted member 12723
You can expect to be flooded with good memories of him eventually because that happened to me. I was not ready to live alone for two years and now I just love it because I can do everything I want now.
It takes time to sort through everything to find and discover you on your own and you will be ok. It will be ok one day, when you are ready. Good does come out of the bad eventually.
I think that writing everything down is so important and you are going to have a written record of your healing journay you have begun. I think that you are really good at taking care of everything by yourself and so blunt and forthright that I learn from you. I sis nor write anything down at all until much later. But I wish I had because I could have seen my progress.
I am very proud of you for the grace you show in this very complicated and difficult adjustment. Hugs.
It takes time to sort through everything to find and discover you on your own and you will be ok. It will be ok one day, when you are ready. Good does come out of the bad eventually.
I think that writing everything down is so important and you are going to have a written record of your healing journay you have begun. I think that you are really good at taking care of everything by yourself and so blunt and forthright that I learn from you. I sis nor write anything down at all until much later. But I wish I had because I could have seen my progress.
I am very proud of you for the grace you show in this very complicated and difficult adjustment. Hugs.
Seasounds
Diamond Member
You are a good person, through and through. You were not a contributing cause of his death. You were a terrific wife, through all the ups and downs. It is very normal, to go through all that you have described. Living through a loved-ones suicide is a major life challenge that will strengthen your resiliency. Everything you are doing is a sign of success. You are doing it!!
Due to how much you loved your husband, and from how you speak of him, I remembered a poem. Here is a link to a favorite poem, that I hope you enjoy. It was helpful to me. I wanted to share this with you: Funeral Blues by W H Auden:
http://allpoetry.com/8493081
It is a enriching experience to read your posts and be a part of your process. There are so many aspects to surviving a suicide that you reveal, that are not commonly articulated. The guilt, the anxiety, the 'feeling nothing', the intermittent moments of feeling normal, finding ways to connect to people, and I love that you talk to him!
And your sister; people like that are really self-centered and/or afraid of emotions, have very little ability to be with a person who is grieving. Hang out with the people, that make room for you, whatever mood you need to be in.
I support you, it will get better, and if you feel like it, keep letting us know what you are going through. As one of many, I am here for you.:hug:
Wondering, can you feel his love for you?
Due to how much you loved your husband, and from how you speak of him, I remembered a poem. Here is a link to a favorite poem, that I hope you enjoy. It was helpful to me. I wanted to share this with you: Funeral Blues by W H Auden:
http://allpoetry.com/8493081
It is a enriching experience to read your posts and be a part of your process. There are so many aspects to surviving a suicide that you reveal, that are not commonly articulated. The guilt, the anxiety, the 'feeling nothing', the intermittent moments of feeling normal, finding ways to connect to people, and I love that you talk to him!
And your sister; people like that are really self-centered and/or afraid of emotions, have very little ability to be with a person who is grieving. Hang out with the people, that make room for you, whatever mood you need to be in.
I support you, it will get better, and if you feel like it, keep letting us know what you are going through. As one of many, I am here for you.:hug:
Wondering, can you feel his love for you?
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Hugs to you! You are an amazing person and so great at sharing the ups and downs of this situation. Suicide always is so difficult! When my uncle died it was beyond difficult on my family! Over time and with my own suicidal thoughts it has developed more compassion for those in that predicament and those affected. If only seems to be what we are left with; if only he would have called, if only he would have moved, if only he wasn't treated this way or that way... It just leaves you with compassion... We can't change the past, only the present and future and I am so happy you have wonderful memories to surround you. I hope you have comfort in them and know that you realized how special he was; quirks and all. Sometimes the pain is so severe in the moment that suicidal people want to get out of that moment without ever wanting to inflict pain or suffering on loved ones. I hope you find a few good friends that you can talk to him about. It's therapeutic. If not there are counsellors and here... Sometimes family needs to be in small doses. Hope you are enjoying being more free to be; a benefit of being single. Live on your own schedule, eat what you want when you want it. Not having to explain whereabouts, like you said lighting candl s or ... Loneliness can be combatted with hobbies, groups like meet up groups found for zip code on the Internet, church, volunteering, work, projects...it takes time. His love is with you and he'll always be with you; just different for now. Suicide support groups may be helpful. With grieving myself I have found taking one day at a time and trying to honor my loved one with accomplishing the goals they'd want for me helpful. You won because you spent the time with him and realized his value and no one can take that from you. The best to you!!!!
- Post starter
- #346
I thought I heard a crash in the house this morning, it woke me up and I wasn't sure if it was just a dream. I don't trust my own judgement that much that anytime something scares me and I am unsure, I "take the high road" and I try to dis-spell my anxiety by either ignoring it or convincing myself of the exact opposite of the worry. I couldn't do that this morning - I got up, armed myself and walked around the house turning on the lights and checking every nook and cranny. There was nothing I could find.
It bothers me that I can't tell the difference anymore between jumping to a conclusion and legitimate worry. I did that so many times in those 20 hours before he died. He said he was going to settle his affairs, I asked him what he meant and I said exasperated to him, "You're not going to die! Your heart is FINE!" I felt like I was admonishing a child and in a way, I was because the child inside of me was terrified and didn't want to lose "her Tinny". In my head I was picturing him hanging or overdosed and cold and I was terrified but instead of voicing those concerns I just pushed them away and reacted with frustration forcefully trying to convince us both that the thought of his dying was completely ridiculous. It was a thought out of a horror movie and it was not REAL.
Turned out my concerns were real and were validated when he was discovered by a passerby alone and dead in his car that next morning. All the work I did to quell my fears and silence that inner voice that was screaming at me to over-react turned out to be wrong. If I had a tough time making decisions before he died, now I don't know what to do or what is a true thought and what is a PTSD-induced over reaction. Which concerns that pop into my head are legitimate now? Which ones do I act on and which ones do I suppress???
I never thought he'd kill himself. Never, never, never, never did I ever once believe that could have been true. Yes, he said the words, "settle my affairs" but my husband could get pouty and overreact to things and say things he didn't mean like a kid looking for attention does. Was I supposed to give him attention? Honestly, I couldn't because he was triggering me. I didn't want him dead. I loved him so much. I was such a complete ball of anxiety and helplessness and frustration and anger trying to function through the anxiety that I didn't validate his feelings. I didn't push the PTSD reactions down and just give myself to him. We were each stuck in our own little internal worlds and unable to reach out to one another fully.
I eventually gave him the love and concern he needed but more than likely by then it was too late. All the back rubs and hugs and kisses in the world weren't going to reverse the decision he'd made to die, the one that was already floating around in his head and highlighted every time he moved and felt the pain in his shoulder and ribs. It still irks me that I fed him ribs that day, how f*cking ironic that his last meal was ribs - the one thing that was bothering him most and causing him the most discomfort, his ribs and I fed him ribs for dinner that night!! Uggh!
I waffled on so many actions in those 20 hours. I spent more time convincing myself that I was overreacting that I disregarded legitimate concerns and I didn't act on those thoughts. I know it's not my fault and I know that beating myself up about this isn't going to help but I need to air this because it's already eating me up inside. I don't remember what time it was when he got up that morning. I told the police that it was just before 7 but it could have been earlier, I'm not even sure. All I remember is seeing 712 on my ipod clock when I was searching the internet for mattress toppers for him...but did I actually fall asleep in the time he left the room to the time he left the house? Did I hear him go downstairs to the basement right away or while I was searching the internet? Did I actually hear him slam the front door? I have a memory of him making a loud noise like roughly closing a door and me scowling and thinking, "what are you mad about now?" but was this that morning or was it one night when he got home from work that week??? I can't remember.
The cops were concerned because the times i was giving didn't make any sense to them. I said it was around 7 when he got out of bed but was it more like 5 or 6? How long was I in bed before I got up, I know for sure my first text to him was at 820am because I'd woke up and found him missing and when I noticed his car gone, I texted him. It was dark in our room but it's always dark in our room, we're shift workers, it had to be. There was enough light that I could just see his outline sitting on the edge of the bed pulling his shirt on and I said, "TIn, it's early, you getting dressed already?" and he said he was sore and couldn't lie down anymore. It was still dark but in January it's dark a lot longer, so what time was it, really? I don't know. I overheard the one investigator say he was found at 720 by a passerby dead in the vehicle and that my times didn't make sense...if it was 720 I'd overheard her say...I was in shock...
I don't trust my own mind anymore when it comes to remembering things or making decisions. I heard him go to the basement, the guns are kept down there was the first thought in my head but I quickly silenced that thought as ridiculous. I came downstairs and he wasn't on the couch, my first thought was that he was dead in the basement and I quickly shot that thought down. I couldn't find him my panic started to rise and I worked hard to silence the suicide voice inside my head. I saw his car gone, again where could he have gone? I quickly replaced he's gone to kill himself with he's gone to get us McDonalds for breakfast! A happier more exciting thought, one that replaced lost and sad with happy and loving. I did this repeatedly. I took the legitimate concerns and I shut them down and over wrote them with happy less concerned thoughts because I was convinced I was being stupid and overreacting. I saw his wallet contents spilled onto the couch, the alarm bells rang in my head - it's a sign, like someone stripping naked before they commit suicide. I silenced that voice by saying in my head, "he's not stupid, he wouldn't do that."
In all honesty, even if I was truly concerned that he would have hurt himself, what would I have done? Waited frantically by the phone and eventually answered the door to a police officer??? Nothing would have changed what happened, he was already dead when i got out of bed that day. My sitting on the couch and taking the half hour to hour to write the post about my waking up and finding him missing in here didn't matter. My frantic texts. My frustration, anger and eventual action - deciding to leave to go to my sisters because I convinced myself that he was mad at me - didn't make one bit of difference to the outcome. He died. He shot himself around the corner from our house so that I would not have to endure another trauma and I would not have to discover him. Well, I almost discovered him. I drove past that site. i noticed the cop pull off of that street and I noticed the other cop car at the far stop sign. I noticed a grey car there but again, I internally screamed at myself that I was being stupid, it was likely a speeder or a drunk driver and it wasn't his car, "he's gone to the hospital or he's gone to the park to sulk and scare me....well, I'll scare him back by leaving too!"
I never thought about the guns. I never gave a second thought to the fan that was out of place in the basement blocking the area where he kept the guns. I knew it was out of place when I checked the basement but I didn't give it a second thought, I didn't even think of the guns there because I thought he'd moved them again. I know it makes no difference but this is how my mind was working in those two days and it bothers me that I kept disregarding legitimate concerns because I couldn't be sure if they were really legitimate or just overreactions. I blame that on PTSD because PTSD thoughts make me overreact so easily that I have a tendency to hard opposite any anxiety provoking thought. It's how I've learned to control the anxiety....and now it troubles me.
I know it's not my fault he died. I know I couldn't have done anything but with so many people looking for signs and me knowing just how many "signs" I disregarded (even though it was already too late), it brings up so much guilt and anger. Hindsight is really 20-20 and it tears me up inside. I never wanted him dead. I never wished he would die. His dying was the worst nightmare I could imagine and yet, here he is, dead, and I'm surviving and it seems so wrong for life to just go on.
I wish I knew what time he got out of bed that day. i wish I'd just reached out and touched his hand as he passed by me. I wish I'd gotten up with him that morning. I wish, I wish, I wish...............
I wish he was still here alive with me. :(
It bothers me that I can't tell the difference anymore between jumping to a conclusion and legitimate worry. I did that so many times in those 20 hours before he died. He said he was going to settle his affairs, I asked him what he meant and I said exasperated to him, "You're not going to die! Your heart is FINE!" I felt like I was admonishing a child and in a way, I was because the child inside of me was terrified and didn't want to lose "her Tinny". In my head I was picturing him hanging or overdosed and cold and I was terrified but instead of voicing those concerns I just pushed them away and reacted with frustration forcefully trying to convince us both that the thought of his dying was completely ridiculous. It was a thought out of a horror movie and it was not REAL.
Turned out my concerns were real and were validated when he was discovered by a passerby alone and dead in his car that next morning. All the work I did to quell my fears and silence that inner voice that was screaming at me to over-react turned out to be wrong. If I had a tough time making decisions before he died, now I don't know what to do or what is a true thought and what is a PTSD-induced over reaction. Which concerns that pop into my head are legitimate now? Which ones do I act on and which ones do I suppress???
I never thought he'd kill himself. Never, never, never, never did I ever once believe that could have been true. Yes, he said the words, "settle my affairs" but my husband could get pouty and overreact to things and say things he didn't mean like a kid looking for attention does. Was I supposed to give him attention? Honestly, I couldn't because he was triggering me. I didn't want him dead. I loved him so much. I was such a complete ball of anxiety and helplessness and frustration and anger trying to function through the anxiety that I didn't validate his feelings. I didn't push the PTSD reactions down and just give myself to him. We were each stuck in our own little internal worlds and unable to reach out to one another fully.
I eventually gave him the love and concern he needed but more than likely by then it was too late. All the back rubs and hugs and kisses in the world weren't going to reverse the decision he'd made to die, the one that was already floating around in his head and highlighted every time he moved and felt the pain in his shoulder and ribs. It still irks me that I fed him ribs that day, how f*cking ironic that his last meal was ribs - the one thing that was bothering him most and causing him the most discomfort, his ribs and I fed him ribs for dinner that night!! Uggh!
I waffled on so many actions in those 20 hours. I spent more time convincing myself that I was overreacting that I disregarded legitimate concerns and I didn't act on those thoughts. I know it's not my fault and I know that beating myself up about this isn't going to help but I need to air this because it's already eating me up inside. I don't remember what time it was when he got up that morning. I told the police that it was just before 7 but it could have been earlier, I'm not even sure. All I remember is seeing 712 on my ipod clock when I was searching the internet for mattress toppers for him...but did I actually fall asleep in the time he left the room to the time he left the house? Did I hear him go downstairs to the basement right away or while I was searching the internet? Did I actually hear him slam the front door? I have a memory of him making a loud noise like roughly closing a door and me scowling and thinking, "what are you mad about now?" but was this that morning or was it one night when he got home from work that week??? I can't remember.
The cops were concerned because the times i was giving didn't make any sense to them. I said it was around 7 when he got out of bed but was it more like 5 or 6? How long was I in bed before I got up, I know for sure my first text to him was at 820am because I'd woke up and found him missing and when I noticed his car gone, I texted him. It was dark in our room but it's always dark in our room, we're shift workers, it had to be. There was enough light that I could just see his outline sitting on the edge of the bed pulling his shirt on and I said, "TIn, it's early, you getting dressed already?" and he said he was sore and couldn't lie down anymore. It was still dark but in January it's dark a lot longer, so what time was it, really? I don't know. I overheard the one investigator say he was found at 720 by a passerby dead in the vehicle and that my times didn't make sense...if it was 720 I'd overheard her say...I was in shock...
I don't trust my own mind anymore when it comes to remembering things or making decisions. I heard him go to the basement, the guns are kept down there was the first thought in my head but I quickly silenced that thought as ridiculous. I came downstairs and he wasn't on the couch, my first thought was that he was dead in the basement and I quickly shot that thought down. I couldn't find him my panic started to rise and I worked hard to silence the suicide voice inside my head. I saw his car gone, again where could he have gone? I quickly replaced he's gone to kill himself with he's gone to get us McDonalds for breakfast! A happier more exciting thought, one that replaced lost and sad with happy and loving. I did this repeatedly. I took the legitimate concerns and I shut them down and over wrote them with happy less concerned thoughts because I was convinced I was being stupid and overreacting. I saw his wallet contents spilled onto the couch, the alarm bells rang in my head - it's a sign, like someone stripping naked before they commit suicide. I silenced that voice by saying in my head, "he's not stupid, he wouldn't do that."
In all honesty, even if I was truly concerned that he would have hurt himself, what would I have done? Waited frantically by the phone and eventually answered the door to a police officer??? Nothing would have changed what happened, he was already dead when i got out of bed that day. My sitting on the couch and taking the half hour to hour to write the post about my waking up and finding him missing in here didn't matter. My frantic texts. My frustration, anger and eventual action - deciding to leave to go to my sisters because I convinced myself that he was mad at me - didn't make one bit of difference to the outcome. He died. He shot himself around the corner from our house so that I would not have to endure another trauma and I would not have to discover him. Well, I almost discovered him. I drove past that site. i noticed the cop pull off of that street and I noticed the other cop car at the far stop sign. I noticed a grey car there but again, I internally screamed at myself that I was being stupid, it was likely a speeder or a drunk driver and it wasn't his car, "he's gone to the hospital or he's gone to the park to sulk and scare me....well, I'll scare him back by leaving too!"
I never thought about the guns. I never gave a second thought to the fan that was out of place in the basement blocking the area where he kept the guns. I knew it was out of place when I checked the basement but I didn't give it a second thought, I didn't even think of the guns there because I thought he'd moved them again. I know it makes no difference but this is how my mind was working in those two days and it bothers me that I kept disregarding legitimate concerns because I couldn't be sure if they were really legitimate or just overreactions. I blame that on PTSD because PTSD thoughts make me overreact so easily that I have a tendency to hard opposite any anxiety provoking thought. It's how I've learned to control the anxiety....and now it troubles me.
I know it's not my fault he died. I know I couldn't have done anything but with so many people looking for signs and me knowing just how many "signs" I disregarded (even though it was already too late), it brings up so much guilt and anger. Hindsight is really 20-20 and it tears me up inside. I never wanted him dead. I never wished he would die. His dying was the worst nightmare I could imagine and yet, here he is, dead, and I'm surviving and it seems so wrong for life to just go on.
I wish I knew what time he got out of bed that day. i wish I'd just reached out and touched his hand as he passed by me. I wish I'd gotten up with him that morning. I wish, I wish, I wish...............
I wish he was still here alive with me. :(
- Post starter
- #348
I was looking through his ipod again today, trying to figure out how to access our main email address to the house. I know we have an account there I just don't know how he got it to bounce to his hotmail account because I'd love to change it to start bouncing to mine. Anyway, I was going through his ipod and I came across the notes again - they made me sad and angry. He wrote things down when he was angry and upset. I know the things in those notes can't generalize to how he really felt because I've written notes like those too but it hurts to read some of the things he wrote about me and my family. He really didn't like my family....and he really didn't like his family either....and sometimes, he really didn't like me.
It is just sad and it hurts to think he was having so much difficulty with feeling wanted in this world. I always knew he had a tendency to be slightly depressive but I never figured him for "depressed". We had so many good times together, with these little notes I'm reading, how many of those good times were actually good for him? Or was he just playing all along like I do now?
I was making dinner tonight and as I was waiting for my food to cool I said to his picture, "You know I needed you, didn't you? Did you think I'd suddenly have all kinds of people around to care for me? Well, I don't. Things just went back to normal except I'm all alone now. You left me. You killed yourself and you left me here alone!" And then I cried, so instead of eating hot food I ate luke warm food.
I miss him badly. Even after reading those notes that stab into my heart, I still miss him. I still love him. The good times had to outweigh the bad times, they had too. I had to have done something in this life to have made him happy at least for some of the time. He isolated from me a lot. He was living alone when I'd met him. He was two years post a break up with his first fiance and said he wasn't much for dating. He always claimed to be awkward around women but when I went on a date with him he was a perfect gentleman. One thing I noticed right off the bat when I went to his apartment though was the gaming system he had set up in front of the tv. He seemed to have spent a lot of time there....and I found out later when I moved in with him that yes, he did spend a lot of time playing video games. I just shrugged it off and saw it as harmless. Well, as technology advanced, and we got the internet, it increased his ability to play these games. He had greater access to things, updates, cheats, etc. etc. Sometimes on his days off he'd do marathon sessions and I'd be sitting at the dinner table waiting for him to find his "save spot". I think after only three months, I decided that I was going to spend a lot of my time with him actually alone in another room.
I did. As the games got more portable, he was able to come into the room with me, physically but mentally he was usually off in some game. Then came the ipod and now he could take that thing with him everywhere because it fit in his pocket. He had a bit of an addiction but he'd always get defensive and stop playing to watch movies on tv if I questioned it. I always felt like a nagging mother telling her child to put his toys away so that we could have lunch or dinner or got somewhere. Back in the early days i used to just take off on my own, go shopping or for groceries but after the PTSD, I didn't ever feel comfortable going anywhere. That's probably why he felt I nagged him a lot because I was always bored out of my skull when he was here. And yes, in the months before his death, I would pray for time to speed up so that he could just get out of my hair and go back to work. I hated having someone being here but not being with me. I hated being in the house ALL the time.
It was hard because he worked and just wanted to come home and laze around, meanwhile, I'd been lazing around waiting for him to escort me out, to hike or shop or just get out of the damned house. In the months leading up to his death we'd done very little because of the amount of pain he was in. Every day was the same and it was really tiring when I'd ask, "What do you want to do today?" and he'd say, "Nuthin. I'm too sore." It made me feel like he'd just given up trying to get better.
Uggh. Those stupid guns though. He liked military stuff. He was a big military historian. He knew about every weapon. He read guns and ammo magazine. He could identify a weapon just by looking at it and he could describe every feature on it. He watched youtube videos about guns. He always criticized my sister because although she talked big, she didn't really know anything about her weapons at work whereas he could talk about every single square inch of a gun right down to manufacturers and modifications. He was a spec guy. I was afraid of the guns. I'm not a fan of loud noise. I'm not a fan of killing for sport. I wanted to learn how to target shoot. He was teaching me how to target shoot. He bought the shotgun he said because the guy he was working with at the time encouraged him to go duck hunting with him "one day". His partner was a competitive shooter. My husband had this grand dream of us going out together with our future retriever and hunting ducks. That was never to happen.
Instead he took that killing machine and turned it on himself. I said to him when he bought it, "Why? I don't like it in the house." and he said, "Why not?" so I said honestly to him, "I don't want anything here that I could kill myself with." And he ends up killing himself with that stupid gun. Like what kind of a hole did that stupid thing tear into him??? I've seen that before. I've seen death by shotgun, it's not pretty. How long did it actually take him to die? Did he dissociate immediately or did his mind take it's time before realizing his body was dying? Was he conscious of dying? Did he gurgle and struggle to breathe? God, what in hell would possess you to do that!?
Was he angry with me in those moments? Is that why it was so easy to leave me? I'm alone!! I'm going to be alone from here until my last day on earth! What was he thinking leaving me here like this!?
He's dead. He's not coming home. I can't piss him off with the things I say or do anymore. I can't anger him. I can't make him sad. I never have to worry about keeping him happy anymore because he no longer exists! He's just gone.
He killed himself. He didn't talk to me. He didn't stop to think. He just reacted and before he even knew it, he was dead and there's nothing that can be done about him anymore. I have to live an entire lifetime without him now.
I went through his notes and deleted a lot of the ridiculous stuff like camping lists, shopping lists, car parts, etc. I kept the one where he actually wrote his thoughts in. I deleted a lot of applications off of his ipod, all of the work stuff he'll never need again. I unsubscribed his email address from all of his gun magazines and ems stuff. Slowly but surely, I'm erasing his footprint on the world. I have to start letting go of the stuff, bit by bit, I have to start moving away from him. He's never coming back to me.
No amount of wishing, or dreaming or hoping can bring him back to me. This isn't a romance movie where he walks beside me as a ghost pining over me. He's gone. Whatever was him, it's somewhere else. I'd be naive to think I was the most important thing in his afterlife. He's somewhere that I can no longer affect. He no longer has to suffer me. He is just non-existent now, dissipated into nothing....and here I am still corporeal, still feeling, still enduring pain and still trudging forward wondering what else will I have to deal with in this sucky card hand of life I've drawn.
Wouldn't it just suck if, after I die, he's moved on too and there's no one waiting for me "on the other side"? I hate death. It's filled with too many questions. I need answers. I'm not good with not knowing.
Still miss him.
It is just sad and it hurts to think he was having so much difficulty with feeling wanted in this world. I always knew he had a tendency to be slightly depressive but I never figured him for "depressed". We had so many good times together, with these little notes I'm reading, how many of those good times were actually good for him? Or was he just playing all along like I do now?
I was making dinner tonight and as I was waiting for my food to cool I said to his picture, "You know I needed you, didn't you? Did you think I'd suddenly have all kinds of people around to care for me? Well, I don't. Things just went back to normal except I'm all alone now. You left me. You killed yourself and you left me here alone!" And then I cried, so instead of eating hot food I ate luke warm food.
I miss him badly. Even after reading those notes that stab into my heart, I still miss him. I still love him. The good times had to outweigh the bad times, they had too. I had to have done something in this life to have made him happy at least for some of the time. He isolated from me a lot. He was living alone when I'd met him. He was two years post a break up with his first fiance and said he wasn't much for dating. He always claimed to be awkward around women but when I went on a date with him he was a perfect gentleman. One thing I noticed right off the bat when I went to his apartment though was the gaming system he had set up in front of the tv. He seemed to have spent a lot of time there....and I found out later when I moved in with him that yes, he did spend a lot of time playing video games. I just shrugged it off and saw it as harmless. Well, as technology advanced, and we got the internet, it increased his ability to play these games. He had greater access to things, updates, cheats, etc. etc. Sometimes on his days off he'd do marathon sessions and I'd be sitting at the dinner table waiting for him to find his "save spot". I think after only three months, I decided that I was going to spend a lot of my time with him actually alone in another room.
I did. As the games got more portable, he was able to come into the room with me, physically but mentally he was usually off in some game. Then came the ipod and now he could take that thing with him everywhere because it fit in his pocket. He had a bit of an addiction but he'd always get defensive and stop playing to watch movies on tv if I questioned it. I always felt like a nagging mother telling her child to put his toys away so that we could have lunch or dinner or got somewhere. Back in the early days i used to just take off on my own, go shopping or for groceries but after the PTSD, I didn't ever feel comfortable going anywhere. That's probably why he felt I nagged him a lot because I was always bored out of my skull when he was here. And yes, in the months before his death, I would pray for time to speed up so that he could just get out of my hair and go back to work. I hated having someone being here but not being with me. I hated being in the house ALL the time.
It was hard because he worked and just wanted to come home and laze around, meanwhile, I'd been lazing around waiting for him to escort me out, to hike or shop or just get out of the damned house. In the months leading up to his death we'd done very little because of the amount of pain he was in. Every day was the same and it was really tiring when I'd ask, "What do you want to do today?" and he'd say, "Nuthin. I'm too sore." It made me feel like he'd just given up trying to get better.
Uggh. Those stupid guns though. He liked military stuff. He was a big military historian. He knew about every weapon. He read guns and ammo magazine. He could identify a weapon just by looking at it and he could describe every feature on it. He watched youtube videos about guns. He always criticized my sister because although she talked big, she didn't really know anything about her weapons at work whereas he could talk about every single square inch of a gun right down to manufacturers and modifications. He was a spec guy. I was afraid of the guns. I'm not a fan of loud noise. I'm not a fan of killing for sport. I wanted to learn how to target shoot. He was teaching me how to target shoot. He bought the shotgun he said because the guy he was working with at the time encouraged him to go duck hunting with him "one day". His partner was a competitive shooter. My husband had this grand dream of us going out together with our future retriever and hunting ducks. That was never to happen.
Instead he took that killing machine and turned it on himself. I said to him when he bought it, "Why? I don't like it in the house." and he said, "Why not?" so I said honestly to him, "I don't want anything here that I could kill myself with." And he ends up killing himself with that stupid gun. Like what kind of a hole did that stupid thing tear into him??? I've seen that before. I've seen death by shotgun, it's not pretty. How long did it actually take him to die? Did he dissociate immediately or did his mind take it's time before realizing his body was dying? Was he conscious of dying? Did he gurgle and struggle to breathe? God, what in hell would possess you to do that!?
Was he angry with me in those moments? Is that why it was so easy to leave me? I'm alone!! I'm going to be alone from here until my last day on earth! What was he thinking leaving me here like this!?
He's dead. He's not coming home. I can't piss him off with the things I say or do anymore. I can't anger him. I can't make him sad. I never have to worry about keeping him happy anymore because he no longer exists! He's just gone.
He killed himself. He didn't talk to me. He didn't stop to think. He just reacted and before he even knew it, he was dead and there's nothing that can be done about him anymore. I have to live an entire lifetime without him now.
I went through his notes and deleted a lot of the ridiculous stuff like camping lists, shopping lists, car parts, etc. I kept the one where he actually wrote his thoughts in. I deleted a lot of applications off of his ipod, all of the work stuff he'll never need again. I unsubscribed his email address from all of his gun magazines and ems stuff. Slowly but surely, I'm erasing his footprint on the world. I have to start letting go of the stuff, bit by bit, I have to start moving away from him. He's never coming back to me.
No amount of wishing, or dreaming or hoping can bring him back to me. This isn't a romance movie where he walks beside me as a ghost pining over me. He's gone. Whatever was him, it's somewhere else. I'd be naive to think I was the most important thing in his afterlife. He's somewhere that I can no longer affect. He no longer has to suffer me. He is just non-existent now, dissipated into nothing....and here I am still corporeal, still feeling, still enduring pain and still trudging forward wondering what else will I have to deal with in this sucky card hand of life I've drawn.
Wouldn't it just suck if, after I die, he's moved on too and there's no one waiting for me "on the other side"? I hate death. It's filled with too many questions. I need answers. I'm not good with not knowing.
Still miss him.
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