My husband died today

[Shortie]

@Shortie, please don't ever do that in front of your wife, the number of PTSD afflict...

I didnt know she was their thats the thing.

It wasnt a fit of rage either, i have been to scenes like yourself.

That day i was someone i dont even know. I had no control over my action literally it was like my brain had a breakdown.

I lost the controls to rationalise, reason and even speak properly. I didnt know where i was fully. I just wasnt their.

Ill never do it again, as i have learnt a very difficult lesson and one truly shocking.

I love my wife very much however i didnt wake up thinking today is the day. Not once, i just snapped.

Myself and my wife have spoken about it. I am mortified at my actions. She said she knew id never do that in my own head. She knew that. But i did but she knew i wasnt the person she knew at that moment. I was as she out it almost like another completely different individual.

Luckily my actions havent affects anything. Infact because of it in a cruel way its made us even stronger. I didnt know she was they but did, i cannot explain it apart from i lost all concept of anything. I dont even remember some of it apart from afterwards.

There were little trigger which i didnt know until after that its depression and ptsd. Doc thinks ive had ptsd for years and years.

Ive seen people die, its part of the job as you know yet all of this never got in my head at that moment.

All i can say is this. I love my wife, i love her to bits more than she'll ever know. People may say then why did you do it or attempting it.

Well, i dont know, what i do know is that person was NOT me. It wasnt at all. I cannot even remember the whole thing. Thats why i feel my brain just went into a melt down like it was resetting itself.

My wife said even the look in my face was different.

I am not proud of what i did, nor does it make it right what am saying. Its a nasty concept. One which i never in my wildest dream i thought id do myself.

I have been trained in mental health which was apart of the job and safeguarding yet i never knew myown self.

I carried on as normal until something like a switch happened. I went to the doc right away. Ive be revaluating how my brain works. Joined this page and it helps.

On the waiting list to see someone.

Ill never do it again, i suppose ive learnt to accept what i did, accept that i wasnt as strong as i thought i was, accept that my brain malfunctioned and the biggest and most hardest, accept that my wife would have seen it. Also listen to my body, i was so busy helping others i lost the ability to look after myself.

Ive tried to look locally for help but theres nothing as am not a combat vet.

Its difficult to talk about this is my first time ever talking about it.

Youd think for the jobs ive done id know was a first responder and was in social services too but nope not for me. Came out of no where although i say that there were sign just i never picked up on them

Hugs hun x

 

[Shortie]

Ohhh and we got an animal and my cat helps me a tone. I am looking for a dog just to help in my wheelchair and cope when am out and about.

 

[NarcSis]

@Shortie, when I was feeling suicidal I was scared because I always felt this strong urge just surging through my body, a very, very intense compulsion to harm myself. I would run to my room, throw myself on the bed, scream, cry and do everything in my power to stay on that bed. The more I moved, it seemed the more energy this urge to harm myself got. I had to stay still.

And yeah, the whole time I'm there in fighting with bastardized logic; "it'll be better for X won't have to put up with me anymore" or "they're right, I'm worthless. I have nothing holding me here.", "this fight will all be over, I won't have to suffer anymore" I know all of those things too well. For me it can actually happen at the drop of a hat or seem so, often I've already been exposed to hidden triggers that i'm not even aware of and then poof, something sets me off and all I want is death.

I'm not blunted during it though. I'm highly emotional, highly charged and impulsive. I don't think I've ever been blunted and not aware of what I was thinking or doing. I've never Not felt like me during it, I guess is what I'm trying to say.

Once I was in the basement angry, feeling, misunderstood and struggling to think through the images that kept tainting my thoughts. I was upset because I couldn't stop it and it wouldn't let me sleep and no one understood me and I just wanted silence. I wrapped an extension cord around my neck, tied the end to the door handle and leaned forward. I was sad, ashamed, and felt totally defeated and I knew my husband would never understand but I just needed my brain to stop. I struggled to breathe, a body really doesn't want to die if it's not ready. Then finally I slipped and the cord came loose. I layed there sucking in air and feeling like a failure. I was ashamed that I'd done it. I didn't want him to find me there, crying and ashamed on the floor. I was so afraid he'd come looking for me - he never did. I stayed down there recovering for an hour and he never once noticed I was missing. I snuck past him and went straight to bed. He never knew. I finally admitted it two years later.

I never want to feel that again. It wasn't romantic, it wasn't "easy" or pleasant in any way. It was extremely terrifying. It was horrible the way my own body fought me, struggling for any kind of breath. It hurt. I kept waiting for the calm and silence you read about in books. It didn't happen right away. I didn't just slip into unconsciousness and drift away. I felt intense pressure inside of me, my body made noises I never want to hear again. My heart pounded in my ears like it was trying to keep me awake. I don't ever want to go through that again.

What you describe sounds different. Maybe there's a difference between depression induced suicide attempts and impulse suicide attempts? Maybe it's a male vs female thing? I don't know. All I know is that the man who had shells in his pocket because he was intent on shooting himself didn't seem any different than the tired husband I'd encountered before when he couldn't sleep. He didn't seem like someone walking toward his own death.

I find it really chilling now that he was already going to kill himself when he spoke to me. He knew he would die. He knew it.

He chose not to say goodbye. :( He chose not to say I Love You. :(

He just left our room.

Here's the big difference between he and I; I went looking for him!! I was afraid for him. I never imagined him hurting himself but I thought he could do something to get himself arrested or maybe go take things out on the physio office, I don't know. I never thought he was capable of killing himself. I even thought maybe he'd go somewhere public and call 911 to threaten so the ambulances wouldn't have to come to our house.

I mean, we had our plan! My biggest trigger ambulances/sirens. The plan was, if he was ever ill he'd drive himself away from the house then call 911, or if he was injured or severely ill in the house, I'd drive away and wait for his text.

He wouldn't answer my text messages to him. I thought he was angry with me - in recent days he was very passive aggressive at home and quiet, stewing over things a lot. I never knew if something I'd done had upset him. I thought maybe he'd misinterpreted something, a breath I made for crying out loud, a look, something, and he'd gone off somewhere to scare me.

Of course, he never left the house without me. So his being gone was unusual. I was worried about him. I never thought he could kill himself. He wouldn't give up that easily.

He did.

He left me alone. I have to fight alone now. It's so upsetting. It's so devastating. It's so not what it should have been. Our marriage was fine. Our life was okay. We were doing okay. He gave up without a fight.

He left me perpetually depressed and struggling to fight it alone. :(

 

[NarcSis]

I had a dream that he came home last night. I was sitting on the couch when I heard a key in the front door. I was confused because my sister wasn't supposed to be visiting (duh, she has his old key). The door opened and he came walking in. He had on his black jacket, brown pants and his boots. His cheeks were red from the cold outside. He took his gloves off, tossed his jacket on the chair and looked over at me sitting on the couch and said, "Hi." He stood there looking at me, like he expected me to be angry with him. He was wearing his thick heather colored winter sweater. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if what I was seeing was real. I said in shock, "Tin!?" He smiled at me and said, "I wanted to come home. I had to go away. I'm sorry. I wasn't allowed to tell you." I got up and ran to the front door. He hugged me so tight. It was so real. I woke up before I could look up at him.

I woke up this morning and thought, "He wanted to come home." but he can't ever come home again. He can't ever actually be here with me and give me those hugs. I miss those hugs so much.

I opened my fb this morning and it showed me a memory from last year. On this day last year he and I took a selfie at the park; we were all bundled up, it was cold that day with the wind screaming across the pond and the whipping the snow around but the ice was starting to melt - or it was just starting to freeze? It was unusually warm last winter - there were big patches of wet slush on the ice. Now, I can't remember if this is the day he slipped on the ice when we were walking along the shoreline or the day we were sliding around on the skating area someone had cleared on the shallow end of the pond.

In the photo there is a lot of snow, so I don't think this is the day he slipped because if I remember correctly, the day he slipped on the ice along the shore was the day he kept slipping - he was angry because he slipped getting out of the car and slid right underneath it, smashing his already sore shoulder on the ice in the parking area. Then he slipped on some ice on the plowed roadway coming in, he didn't fall, he just slid and almost fell. Then we were walking along the shoreline and he stepped on ice inside a rut where water had collected/froze, his foot slipped out from under him and he landed on his back. I remember wanting to turn back then. I was upset because I knew he was hurting now and I knew he was just being stubborn by not turning back and just going home. I think that was when he told me he needed to be out there because it was good for him to help clear his head. If I remember correctly though, there wasn't that much snow when he kept slipping. There was some but the beach was still exposed, the pond was frozen with a thin layer of ice, it was COLD but the sun was out. In the photo this morning there was snow covering everything, so the times he kept slipping had to have been a week earlier.

I'm pretty sure this was the time we were sliding around on the cleared rink area of the pond. I was pretending to skate and he was running and sliding on his boots - something I'd never seen him do. He was truly having fun that day. It had been so long since I'd seen him "be young" and let loose. I had hope that we were making headway with his burn-out and hiking was going to help us get him back. The man sliding on that pond was the man I used to know when we first met. The man who was there until shortly after I developed PTSD. That's when he started to change. I know that for sure. I know he walked on eggshells around me. I know I snapped a lot at him for stupid little things because I was so easily frustrated and didn't like noise. He got quiet. He started to pull away from me. He was afraid to set me off. I was mean to him. Just like I'm still mean to people now if they set me off. I'm never yelling at them, I'm just frustrated with me because I can't control how out of control I feel.

That was a good hike that day last year. We were happy. We trudged through the snow, we had fun on the pond, we stopped on the bridges and looked out over the sun shining across the ice and I think we did the loop back to the parking area and then went for Chinese take out. I did that yesterday with the dog. We went up to the park, we hiked the loop through the snow. The sun was out and it was beautiful. We walked on the ice in the shallow end, we made our way back out to the parking area and we went to pick up Chinese take out to bring home. It was a day early but the dog and I unconsciously did almost the exact same motions that hubby and I went through last year.

That wasn't a man who seemed like he was going to take his life only 28 days later.

That was a man who still had hope, or at least, who was starting to have hope again. He was seeing the osteopath by then. He was getting treatment on his neck. He was starting to feel like it was helping with his long-standing pain. He was saying things like, "this time next year" or "maybe by summer time I'll be able to start running again." and "I can't wait to start being able to work out lifting weights again." 28 days later. Only 28 days later he shot himself.

I mean, hell, on the day before his physiotherapy appointment we'd just bought a huge package of chicken legs, pepperettes and 4 jugs of windshield washer fluid because he was planning for his week off and the rest of the winter. This was not a man who was going to die. This was not a man who was planning to die at any point over the next week anyway. Two short days later he'd be found in his car having used a shotgun on himself.

Things were going well. We had pancakes that morning. We hugged. We kissed. We smiled. We giggled. We laughed together. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Yes, he was still withdrawn a lot and quiet and in his own head but that morning was like every morning - and then he went to his physiotherapy appointment and came home destroyed. He never recovered from that stupid physiotherapy appointment. That physiotherapist took everything he'd just worked toward; all of his hope for a pain free healthy future and crushed it. He decided he needed to die because of some illusion given to him by a physiotherapist (maybe even just a tech!) who was unqualified to interpret an x-ray. My husband died because of this man.

It's frowned upon, but I wish all evil on that man. To this day, I hold onto that wish. I hold onto that anger. I won't let it go. I will let fate determine what should happen to that man. Fate has always been kind to me.

Husband once said to me, "I don't know what touched you but I don't ever want to cross you. Things happen to people who cross you." It was true. I wish harm on someone and harm usually came to them at some point. A professor mistreated me and harassed me throughout my training - he ended up a paraplegic in a bike accident. A supervisor was racist toward me - his wife dies. A coworker is downright unkind to me at work - her son gets critically ill. I always used to say to my hubby, "fate watches over me, I don't know why." There were times I should have died or been seriously injured and I escaped or was very lucky to have avoided a situation, an area etc. I always believed that something was watching over me. Maybe I had to pay restitution for the favors extended to me. Maybe that is why fate took him from me. You can't have protection without a price.

It's a cultural belief that if someone messes with "evil medicine" they have to pay in some way. My mom used to say that "when you turn to 'that stuff' (referring to our traditional medicines/practices) and use it against someone, someone close to you will die. You have to pay for using that. A price will be taken from you or your family." I always scoffed at that stuff as superstition and never gave it much attention, we were raised without our traditional ways but for some reason I came to believe in fate which was "the white man's" form of superstition. My sister walks a line between both worlds. She claims to have seen these "fire balls" that are believed to be shapeshifters moving through the night to do harm or spy on others. I've never seen it. I'm a person of science, maybe I'm just not open to that kind of suggestion. My brothers have turned back toward the traditional ways and try to walk a line with a foot in both worlds. We were always warned about the difference between good medicine and bad medicine - you can't mess with bad medicine without a price being paid. It is rumored that my one brother messed in bad medicine in recent years - it is for this reason my sister believes that my husband died out of the blue because of this. "Someone from the family had to die and it would target the weakest link." My husband was Scots-Irish. He wasn't my culture! Why would "it" target him? He didn't even believe in that! My sister tells me that you don't have to believe, you just have to not be protected. I never knew I was "protected" in any way from their beliefs. She says, "We're strong spirits. That's why they stay away from us."

It all sounds crazy and completely superstitious, but what if there's something to it? I'm a person of science, but science also does not know everything about how the universe works or has never solved the issue of what happens to us after we die, so there are HUGE gaps in what is actually known. I'm not saying I really bet my life on fate or superstition but I'm open to the possibility of things we can't quantify.

Death happens. This is a truth, undeniable. It is a fact we are taught over and over in our life. It is a concept we are taught to swallow as gospel in our training as paramedics and our professors went so far as to indicate a higher power is at play when it comes to the realm of death. "We can't save everyone." and "You will get that one call where everything just seems to go wrong at every single turn and just when you think you're getting ahead of the patient, something will happen to knock you backward again. You'll see. Sometimes you can't win over death. It's not your fault, it's just the way it was meant to be." I heard it over and over again in training with other medics. my husband included, "If a person is meant to die, they will die no matter what you do." The words hint at fate or a higher power of some kind. I've experienced it. I've watched those people die. I've learned my lessons and been humbled by death even though I don't know what it is exactly. It makes you feel powerless. Out of control. A mere subject to a higher being who makes the decisions despite you.

I wonder if this is why we have PTSD. Our brains spend their entire lives creating a reality for us, taking information, filing it, fitting things into categories and shaping who we are, then we often come face to face with death in some way and our brains malfunction because there is no frame of reference for the truth of it. We lose the control that we thought we had over life and the universe and everything. Our brains no longer know how to process information and keep trying to file that experience somewhere and until it's filed conveniently into a slot or partially into a slot, we can't function or move on. Often the slot it goes into is not a precise fit either, so it can fall out at any point and disrupt our lives again. Deep thoughts.

I'll never know why he had to die. I can speculate or I can let it go and let his death rest. I can choose to believe he's here with me and he's never actually left me. And I will try to do that but I also know that I'm in a better spot than I was yesterday and this will change again, I will forget this place of making peace with my loss and I will get stuck broiling in the unanswerable.

He can't physically come home to me again. :(

 

[Deleted member 12723]

Hi." He stood there looking at me, like he expected me to be angry with him. He was wearing his thick heather colored winter sweater. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if what I was seeing was real. I said in shock, "Tin!?" He smiled at me and said, "I wanted to come home. I had to go away. I'm sorry. I wasn't allowed to tell you." I got up and ran to the front door. He hugged me so tight. It was so

I am wondering if your very realistic dream gave you any answers or closure?

 

[NarcSis]

@gizmo, he said he was sorry, he wanted to tell me that he had to go away but he wasn't allowed to. I'm not sure if that gives me any closure because all I get stuck on is that main theme where I keep imagining him coming home. My mind won't let go of that delusion where he's just gone somewhere, witness protection or something and he's still alive somewhere in this world. It's a delusion.

He looked at me like he thought id be mad at him, like he was ashamed and I was going to punish him. Did I make him feel inadequate in some way? Had I reduced him to a child? Why would he expect me to be angry with him? I was never truly angry with him, I was usually just angry at me. I was never really angry at him for dying, being angry at him would just be selfish; I was just upset and lonely for him. He didn't have to leave me, he didn't, we could have gotten through anything.

I want those hugs back. I can never feel that hug again. I can never feel the safety of those arms around me. I can only dream about it.

I was never mad at you, Tin. It makes me sad to think you would expect me to be mad at you. I loved you. I was scared. I am scared. I needed you home, here, by my side. With me.

I read an article about soul mates today and it went on about how after death souls that are supposed to be together will be together again. Well, what happens if you love someone so strongly here that you feel like your souls are intertwined and after you die you discover they've been reunited with their true soulmate? I mean, I felt so connected to him, but he seemed a little oblivious to my needs and likes, what if he wasn't my soul mate? What if I want so badly to be with him and once I'm "there" I find he's with someone else?

Ridiculous, I know but the whole concept is ridiculously romanticized too.

I miss him so much. I was going to cut my hair on the 1 yr anniversary but now I'm not so sure. If you've ever seen the movie "room" the kid calls it his "strength". I've sort of adopted my long hair as my strength. I may keep it until I'm ready to start letting go. I plan to donate the hair to wigs for cancer.

I had longer length hair for the longest time. It wasn't until I was trying to invent the New Me after PTSD that I chopped it all off one day. Hubby came home, said, "Hey, you better get out of here before my wife gets home." and kissed me. When I asked him what he thought he said I looked sassy. He called me sassy for a while after that. I was due for a trim the week he died. I just haven't gotten around to getting that trim yet.

I miss being his "sassy" looking wife but in a way, I grew my hair to honor him. I'll let go when I'm ready.

Miss him. Need him to come back in my dreams more. I miss his voice. I miss the feel of him. I miss his smell. I miss his facial expressions. Uggh. I just miss him.

 

[NarcSis]

I was reading an article about narcissistic families and thinking about my husband's family dynamics. Certain things stuck out; first the stiff upper lip/all about appearances thing. My hubby said his mom repeatedly told them she tried to get them in the most prestigious private school, they were repeatedly told about her MENSA level IQ (we're not quite sure if this is true) and encouraged to push themselves in their studies. My husband had a bit of an issue with spelling, likely an undiagnosed dyslexia or even a hidden issue because there wasn't allowed to be "anything wrong". He was a very intelligent man but in that he tried so hard to stay the most intelligent, sometimes always needing to be right. He always compared himself to his brother who has an MA in engineering. His brother, in what I surmised was a depressive episode, once told him that he was jealous of Him because he had a successful career etc. They compared each other to one another - competition - another issue with children of narcissists.

My husband and his brother were emotionally tied to one another but were not Close to one another. They didn't often communicate. There was no desire to see one another - his brother who lives three hours away, once drove past our town without even calling or stopping in for a visit! He moved an unknown number of times because we were never told of any big changes in his life. My husband was shocked at one point to find out that his brother was living clear across the country and he was very upset that he would not even be contacted by him before he left. This is pretty typical of narcissistic family structures apparently. Communication is usually controlled by one person and occurs indirectly. It's all about what messages about the family are allowed.

I mean, hell, my brother-in-law can't even admit to separation or divorce; he's never used these terms directly, he's merely said, "we're pretty much broken up" in an effort to save face. It's all about how you look to other people.

OH and one thing that is to me completely unforgivable? When they moved away from me at the funeral! I was losing it crying. Near hysterical sitting there, you know, the point where you really need someone to hug you and comfort you? My mother-in-law, sitting directly beside me, patted my knee and when that didn't work to shut me up, grabbed her sons hand and GOT UP and MOVED to a nearby chair!!! Her bf was sitting there shocked and not knowing what to do. So he slid over and start running his perverted hands up and down my leg!! It was not a comforting touch and I'm glad I can just see it in my memory and not feel it.

It was heartbreaking to have my MIL and BIL abandon me in that time of need simply because I was making her look bad because I was hysterically crying because I'D LOST THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!! They got up in front of a packed church and MOVED AWAY FROM ME!!! I'll tell you what message that sent to everyone of MY family that was there to witness that, people are still talking about them.

My husband had difficulty talking about his emotions. I broke him of that but he still had trouble. He felt everything so deeply, especially when people judged him on his actions and believe me there's a lot of that "eat your own" type stuff in paramedicine.

Why did my hubby make a great medic? Because being a medic is highly competitive and feeds that need for approval and achievement. But it can also kick your ass so hard when something goes wrong or someone questions you. He found his niche in that job, that job became him, his everything. It gave him the things he needed but tore him apart when things didn't work. Depression, self criticism, critical incident stress, anxiety. These are the things he dealt with a lot. We both did. Every medic has too.

I think I've also mentioned that his mom only talks about herself when she calls right? Even if I want to talk about my husband or find out more about his childhood, I get a little about him and a lot about her. She hasn't called in months - things are going back to normal.

I did get a Christmas email though, but only because I sent one first. The "Happy New Year" emails were unsolicited. I got one from both of them. His brothers merely said Happy New Year with "love" (very odd) and his Mom's wished me a better new year or something like that. She was right, I didn't sign anything as "Happy" and avoided the phrase as much as I could. My year doesn't end until Jan31st now.

I look at my family dynamics now and I see the same thing - we talk about one another behind each other's backs, we try to pass information indirectly, other than my sister no one else makes any effort to contact me. We're very competitive. We're very self important. We're not very emotionally expressive unless it's a public place and an appropriate venue, i.e. Funerals! We have a face we try to uphold and it's a fallacy - we're not this big strong close family, that stopped after my mom died. My mom held my family together, she was the glue.
We drifted apart after that.

I was never told I wasn't good enough. I was never fed illusions about what I should be (MENSA was mentioned to me by an elementary school teacher). In fact, until the 8th grade I had my sights set really low....I was going to be a soldier like my dad, maybe then be a cop. I'd given up on being a pathologist because I was just an "Indian", I'd never get to med school.

My hubby tried his best to be more than he was because it was expected of him. I tried to be more than I was because I had to show people I was more than a "stupid Indian". We were both pretty much set up for depressive episodes and being perpetually unfulfilled.

My husband lived in a house filled with love and acceptance here with me. I tried to help him see how great he was even if he didn't succeed in something.

He once said that in the 6th grade his morbid teacher made them think up their own epitaph. He was very proud of himself because he wrote down, "He was trying." He said he loved it because of the double entendres.

In both ways, yes, my husband was trying.

Miss him so much today.

 

[AngelKeeperJ]

:hug:(((Medic72))):hug:
I am praying that you will feel comforted knowing that your husband fought to get rid of his upbringing, and that YOU showed him more love than he had EVER felt before.
You are on my heart and soul daily...

 

[NarcSis]

i'm depressed tonight.

I heard a noise that startled both the dog and I. I saw the power bar that I have on the shelf slowly snake it's way off the shelf and fall to the floor. It happened pretty quick but I saw it happening. I thought as I went to pick it up, "Is that you? Why did you knock this over?" but then realized I'd hidden a dog treat on that shelf earlier so the dog must have nudged the power bar.

it got me thinking of him. I looked toward the front door and wished and wished for him to just come walking through it. It's almost been a year, it's not funny anymore. It hurts. I'm so lonely without him. I have nothing without him. His love meant everything to me.

The dog was whining and driving me insane. He's taken to sitting and whining endlessly for hours every evening. I think my sister taught him that because she encourages him to whine "Like Dino from the Flintstones." If I ignore him he barks. It just gets on my nerves.

It reminded me of my husband that night, He was sitting on the couch beside me, sullen, angry and I was eating some candied nuts we'd bought the day before. I put them between us on the couch so that he knew he could have some. He started taking handfuls of them, stuffing them in his mouth and chewing, barely swallowing before he'd stuff another handful in. I glared at him and took the container away. I didn't yell, I didn't say a damned thing but I was angry at him. He was being ridiculous. He was being a child.

Shortly afterward, as he sat there, he hunched his shoulders forward and began to cry. This wasn't any regular cry I'd heard from him. He was CRYING. His shoulders were shaking, the tears were falling to the floor, his nose was running and again, I sort of rolled my eyes at him over-exaggerating everything. I thought to myself, "Good, cry it out and get rid of it, you'll feel better after a good cry." Guys don't feel better after crying, they feel worse. I'm the stupid one.

What I should have done was moved to hold him immediately. Instead I curled up away from him on the other side of the couch wondering if he wanted me to "coddle him" or not. I was always afraid when he was upset or sick, did he want comfort or did he need his space? It was never clear with him. Only after a few minutes of his crying did I cautiously move across the couch and go to lightly rub his back. He was okay with it so I moved closer and I was going to hug him but he stood up, he seemed angry at me. He moved to lie down on the floor. That's where he stayed for the rest of the day. I eventually went to lay down with him, rubbed his back and held him but I couldn't take away what he was feeling. I couldn't reach in and stop the things he was thinking.

He rolled over at one point to look at me. He looked so sad. "I'm so sad." He said. I ran my hands across his face. I looked in his sad, sad eyes and I told him I loved him. I told him we'd figure this out. We'd go see the doctor. We'd find out for sure. I tried to reassure him that nothing was wrong with him. I put my forehead to his. I think I also said, "Please stop. Please. You're not going to die. You haven't had a heart attack. You're fine." I'm sure that didn't make him feel any better. I was nicely scolding him.

I didn't understand what he was feeling.
I didn't understand.

I'm depressed and I'm punishing myself again. I don't know how to be easy on myself. I don't know how. I couldn't be gentle with him, how can I expect to be gentle with me?

He's never coming home again.

 

[AngelKeeperJ]

(((. :hug: Medic :hug: )))
You are SOOO hard on yourself...that must partly be PTSD.... and yours is worse since your husband is gone. Just the way he left is enough to compound what you already had.
I am sure you would never be as hard on ANYONE ELSE.

You DID try to comfort him! You TRIED to reach his heart, AND his soul! He had walls up that kept you from being able to reach him. The male ego is such a FORTRESS! He pushed you away instead of reaching out. He had a choice, Dear Medic...You were as gentle as he would let you be.

I know my words won't change how you feel, but I am hoping to give you a tiny ray of kindness that you aren't allowing yourself.❤

I do think it is meaningful that you had such a vivid dream about him the other night. Everything that he said in the dream was comforting, and some of what you wanted to hear. Even in the Bible, dreams had meaning and purpose....maybe you will find some comfort in the dream at some point. I am glad you wrote about the dream here, so you can come back and read it.

You most likely will be more aware of your pain and sorrow as the one year date comes around. Can you warn your sister that your moods will be completely unpredictable and that all you might need is for her to listen, without trying to fix anything? Maybe ask her to let you cry whenever your tears come?

You loved him, and STILL LOVE him! It's not going to go away just because he is gone. A love like you BOTH had does not disappear.
Many of us (myself included) would LOVE to have loved and BEEN LOVED like you and Tin did!

About your dog, and his barking and whining.
If you are up to it...when my dog does that, I firmly say "No" and clap 2 or 3 times by his ear. He does NOT like it, and he has gotten better. You can use a rolled up magazine, or paper of some kind and hit your own hand to make the same noise. Just a thought...

You are stronger than you feel.... :hug:

 

[NarcSis]

Sleep restores a soul. He couldn't sleep. He just needed to get some sleep that night.

Okay, so this is going to sound really weird and completely crazy...

I HEARD HIM WHISPER THIS MORNING!!

There is no way to say it that doesn't sound crazy. I was asleep. I heard the dog start fussing around because with PTSD I hear almost every noise in my room now and I don't have to fully wake up. It's like my brain is watching the room while my body is sleeping. Anyway, the dog started fussing around, he snuffled, he got up, she must have turned around and flopped back down, then I heard him get up again and shake his head. He started to whine. By now I'm in that half conscious state and my body got kind of numb feeling and I clearly heard someone whisper, "Shh,. Sit. Stay." The dog wagged his tail and then flopped back down on his bed. I think then I went stiff. I stopped breathing completely and I got terrified because someone was in my room!! I sort of went numb and was trying to think of what to do when I noticed the room was impossibly cold. I woke up a little more then and my mind screamed, "It's HIM! That's his voice! That's his whisper!!! He's here!! He's here with me!!!!"

I didn't move. I just laid there and began to sort of pray, "Please stay with me, Tin. Please. Come to me. Come lay down with me." My one hand was in front of me on the bed, palm up and I swear I felt this strange sensation in my palm, like the air itself was bubbling and had pressure. It was really weird. Then I felt a cool breeze blow over me and my back started to get really cold. I thought, "You were always so cold."

The bad thing is, it's like having a good dream but your brain starts to wake up. I could feel myself getting more and more conscious and I was saying to myself, "No! No! Don't wake up! Please, he's here, don't wake up!" I could feel my back suddenly get warmer. The sensation was gone from my hand and I opened my eyes. I was actually a little afraid that there would be someone there in the shadows but there was nothing, just the wall and the corner of the room. I looked around the room, again afraid that I'd actually see someone there but there was no one, just the room. I sunk back into my pillow and reached over to touch my husband's shirt. "I miss you." I whispered.

It was the strangest experience. It was probably around 3 or 4 in the morning. It was one of those types of "dreams" where you swear you can feel a presence in the room. I can't remember what it's called, I think hypnagagia; that transition state between asleep and awake. Other times I've experienced this type of thing it was nightmare related, I had it once at work, at least it's what I'm saying happened because to say I had a paranormal encounter is just ridiculous. I would swear I was not asleep when I was at work. I was just lying there on the couch with my eyes closed and my partner was on the other couch. It was around 330 am. I was listening to him breathe when I was suddenly pinned down by some strange force and I heard an angry whisper in my ear say, "Get off the couch!" I then started to experience a sensation like I was being pushed off the edge of the couch, I was actually pushing BACK! My entire body felt numb with fear and my body felt like there was a water fall of energy or something running from the top of my head straight through to my feet, like a stream of some kind. I could hear a whooshing sound. I looked over at my partner lying there asleep and snoring. I put my hand on the floor to push back. I felt numb. I closed my eyes and started praying to my Dad (deceased at the time) to protect me. I remember saying, "Daddy, please, please help me, I don't know what's happening, Dad!!" and suddenly the pressure was gone. Just disappeared. I was there with one hand on the floor, hanging half off the couch and not understanding what the hell just happened to me so I got up and went out to the garage. I didn't try to sleep again for the rest of the shift.

Another time I experienced this, I was at home. Hubby was beside me in bed snoring. I felt a presence in the room. I was half awake, like i was last night. I felt a darkness in the room, if you can understand that; it was cold and darker than the room. Please note, I already had PTSD by this one but not with the first one, so this was sort of a night terror. The presence washed over me, I went numb and felt like I couldn't move (they call it sleep paralysis). I was cold even with the blankets on. I felt like something was touching my cheek. Running it's fingers up and down my cheek. I was terrified. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for protection from my dad again. "Daddy, I need you. Protect me Please!" And suddenly the presence was gone and I quite literally felt a weight removed from my chest. I remember looking over at my husband and crying and wanting to wake him up but I knew how tired he was from his shift. Again, about 3 or 4am.

This is the first time I've experienced this type of thing and had it be a pleasant sensation and not frightening. There was pressure in my hand, it wasn't heavy. My back got cold ( I was lying on my right side) but it wasn't a scary cold, it was almost comforting, like someone way lying against me spooning. My body felt numb but it wasn't an invasive numbness, it was just like a hug holding me in place. I didn't want the sensation to leave....and then it was gone.

The whisper though. The whisper was unmistakably him. It was his whisper. I know that voice. I know it like the back of my hand. My ears HEARD it last night. I HEARD him without a doubt. He was interacting with the dog. "Shh. Sit. Stay." It was HIM!!!

Uggh. I want to hear him say something to me. I want him to come to me and whisper that he loves me still. Ohhh, I just need him to come back so badly. I just need him here with me.

....I burned up his body. Even if he wanted too, he couldn't come back. Wow, how horrible the mind is, isn't it?

Okay, well, if he can come back to lay with me every night, I would feel so much better. God, this was HIS VOICE! I KNOW THAT VOICE. IT WAS HIM!

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Tinny! I love you!!!

 

[Joan]

Just wanted you to know that you are in my thoughts. Please take sweet care of yourself in these especially tough times.