The past few days have been hard. I was driving to the park today and passed by a police car pulled over on the shoulder of the parkway, I burst into tears shortly afterward because it reminded me of driving toward the park that day thinking he'd gone there - of course, why he'd go there by himself makes no sense either but I was trying to quell what I thought was the ridiculous PTSD-induced panic that kept telling me he'd killed himself. He would never kill himself!!...but he did. So after you battle with that mindset, what can you ever believe in again????
Uggh. So yeah, I burst into tears while driving to the park. I got "little" to cope and started talking to him while I was driving, just trying to pull myself together and prevent an accident; "You and me is going to park, huh, Tin? Just like we always did, huh? You and me still go to the park togever, huh? I'm never alone now, Tin, you can come wif me evey where now cause you don't hurt anymore and we can stay as long as we want now, huh?"
I feel like an idiot after I do it but it helps me to deal with the things that I just can't deal with at the time. Kids are vulnerable, adults aren't, so when I'm feeling vulnerable, I start talking like a little kid - I get "little" - so the adult part of me can actually voice some of the things that are bothering me. It sounds completely insane but it works. When it starts to hurt really, really badly I get "little" because "it's okay for little guys to cry and little guys get scared a lot, huh?" Big guys don't know how to be comfortable with pain.
Anyway, I made it to the park. I spent my afternoon fishing. I repeatedly glanced around looking for him. There were times I was sure I was going to see him sitting in his folding chair with the sun umbrella attached to it, listening to his podcasts. I was super lonely inside and repeatedly wanting to cry. At one point I looked toward the mouth of a nearby trail and wished and wished that he would come walking out of the woods because he'd just gone for a hike and that's why he wasn't in his chair. I stared at the mouth of that trail for two whole minutes before my heart screamed and the tears started to fall again.
It's unfair. It really is. It really hurts and I don't like it. They say that some people after the loss of a loved one will "feel" them in certain ways, there will be signs that their loved one is near, or that some people will have hallucinations and see their loved one in their home or favorite places - some can even interact with those hallucinations. That makes me mad. I've been thinking about that lately, why can't I just hallucinate him back into being!? I guess I've got the wrong screws loose in my brain because I've tried to will him back into my visual field and it just won't happen.
How many times have I wanted to die? I stayed because I cared for him and I didn't want to put him through that kind of pain. I know I loved him but sometimes I came pretty close to running to that same f-ing basement and hanging myself. Most times it was because he'd been "mean" to me or gotten upset with me. I blamed myself for his moodiness. I blamed me for the past year for his ever increasing stress. I figured if I could just relieve him of the stress of me, then he'd be okay eventually. He wouldn't have been. He likely would have killed himself shortly afterward. He didn't deal well with change.
And yet, here I sit, waiting for a sign to show me why I'm still here. Was I supposed to go with him? Is that what he'd hoped for so that we could be together again? Or is he finally happy that he's away from me and all of my PTSD BS? Why didn't he turn that gun on me first?? Why did he go alone? We were supposed to stay together forever.
I cried several times while driving home from the park because I was remembering how it used to be - I'd be bouncing off the walls as we drove, I'd reach over to hold his hand and I'd sing him a song, just some ridiculous made up thing sometimes not even real words just sounds and humming. He'd be smiling at me and sometimes would add to the song or we'd talk about things that happened that day or just anything. Usually he'd be tired; it's hard sitting in a chair all day especially with chronic neck pain but we'd usually stop for a treat, chips or pop or take out burgers and we'd come home to sit on the couch together and watch tv. It struck me as I was driving home that I was going to sit alone and watch television and that there would be no more take out because I can't allow myself to eat that way anymore. It also struck me that I was both mentally and physically exhausted; I wasn't happy or as reinvigorated as I used to be, I was just tired and thinking that it really didn't matter where in the world I was going at that point in time, he won't be there when I get home. He's never going to be here with me ever again.
My days used to revolve around his coming home to me. I was like a puppy dog. I'd pace around the house until he could come home and I'd bound to the front door, excited and happy to see him - in the last four months or so, I wasn't so happy to see him come home because he'd come through the door and act like I wasn't there waiting for him. I'd get no hugs or kisses, or Hello's, he'd just come in, grumble something under his breath or silently take his boots off and complain about how sore he was. Then I'd have to listen to the "how my partner tried to kill me today" stories or the "this is how stupid that guy is" stories that were becoming routine after every single shift. He'd then plod past me, sometimes walking around me and go into the kitchen to have some juice, a slice of toast and swallow some pain medication. Again, he'd go around me or seem annoyed if I stopped him to kiss him, and then he'd head up to bed.
He was very stressed and I didn't know how to make it easier. Even if I made him tea and had his toast waiting for him or prepared him a snack, he'd still grumble about his day and complain about his pain. He was very focused on his pain in those last months and I did what I could to try to get his mind off of it. I did things for him so he wouldn't have too, prepared his lunch to take to work, offered many times to rub his back, even some nights as we were in bed I'd reach over and rub his back until I could hear his breathing calm down and know he'd fallen asleep. We hadn't held hands while falling asleep in a long time, we used to do it when we were "new" and he started doing it again around Christmas time. I loved holding his hand falling asleep, the only reason we'd stopped doing it was because he was a twitchy sleeper, at least, when he was falling asleep his entire body twitched repeatedly and sometimes violently as he went down. Once we were falling asleep holding hands and he almost crushed my hand in his because his hand twitched shut over mine - now these weren't normal twitches, they were pretty convulsive and totally involuntary, so it turned out to be safer not to hold hands.
I miss my twitchy-twitchy. I miss his snores. I miss his stupid terrifying sleep apnea. I miss how he sometimes whispered in his sleep or how he used to like sleeping with the covers over his mouth and nose. I miss waking up facing his sleep mask and his mouth hanging open.
I think I tried to touch him that night when he came to bed after me. I remember reaching over to rub his back to help him settle and each time I touched him he moved further away from me so that I couldn't touch him. I'm not sure if it was that night or not, I can't be sure but my mind wants to say it was. All i remember is getting upset because he was just deepening his mood by not letting me in and I rolled over to face away from him thinking to myself, "fine be mad, see if I care."
I didn't like him that night. I didn't like him for months leading up to that night. I couldn't figure out how to make him better. How to ease his stress and just get back the guy I loved so much. Instead, he was met with my frustration, my anger, my PTSD as I struggled to cope with his stressing of me. He needed more. I couldn't give him any more. This is why I often wonder now, in this world post-him, would I ever subject anyone else to this thing that is Me now. I can't see anyone deserving that kind of hell to live in.
I feel so much guilt for every single time I silently screamed at him or mouthed things like, "Arrrgh, I just wish you'd f-ing go back to work!!! How many more days before he goes back to work and gets out of my hair!!!" Because I couldn't stand how moody he'd get, how listless, how uninvolved, how disinterested and withdrawn he was getting and of course, how irritable he was being with me. I used to just pacify myself with, "He's going through a burnout phase. Things will get better, I just have to wait it out, it'll take a few months or a year and then things will start to get better again." It always did before. He never gave it a chance this time. He let it eat him alive.
I'm missing him. I'm hating me for feeling like I drove him away. Is he better off without me? Is he okay where he is? because I'm not.
