My husband died today

[NarcSis]

I'm triggered. I'm overwhelmed with worry. It's been 32 hours since my dog swallowed a chicken leg whole, he's passed no bone or bone fragments. He's not behaving abnormally, he seems fine, his appetite is fine, no vomiting but two stools he's passed since were quite thin and mucus like. No where near "normal" size for him. I'm freaking out inside and trying to keep myself from running screaming to a vet.

He's in no distress but we're coming up to a weekend and the office will be closed. Am I being PTSD ridiculous or should I be legitimately concerned!?

I can't lose him. I can't. I don't want another "person" I love to die because I couldn't see what was happening in front of my own eyes.

Do I call a Dr? Do I sit and wait? If after 72 hours he's still not pooping right or he suddenly gets ill where in hell do I go!? Who do I call!? The after hours emergency for this vet is in a city I can't go too because of my PTSD!!!

I'm losing it here, my sister can't even see just how freaked out about this I truly am and when I say anything I get, "Ahh, he'll be fine, just chillax." I have a legitimate concern here!!!!

Where is my husband!! I need him!!! Why did he think I'd be okay without him!!? I'm so not okay without him!!!

I'm moody and irritable. My jaw is clenched. Every time my sister starts talking my nervous system seems to ramp up and I get more irritated - it's an almost constant chatter about things and people I don't know or relate too.

The reporter who wrote the story wants to take our dogs out for a walk someday but my sister noticed that she communicates a lot with another medic I used to work with (whom hubby said not to trust) who is off with PTSD. She then started feeding me ideas like conspiracy and not to be trusted and mole for former managers/employer. It made me extremely anxious and now I'm afraid of who this girl might be again!

Why did hubby leave me? I needed his cool head to help me cope not this constant paranoia that makes me not want to associate with anyone and isolate from everyone except my sister!

My old partners text messaged me to get together for brunch again soon, I tell her and I get, "what do they want from you? Why do they want to meet? There's got to be an angle."

It doesn't help me. It truly doesn't. I don't know which way is up or what! Am I not acting fast enough with this dog, should I be more concerned or should I just keep my mouth shut and ignore my panic???

Uggh! Why did he have to die!? Of all the people in the world, why him!? I could use his common sense approach to things right now. I could use his unclouded judgment. I needed him so much in my life!!!! How could he not see that? How could he not think about ME!!!

Just please help me, Tin, please, I need you so much tonight!

 

[desiderata310]

CALL the vet tomorrow.
It'll be ok.

 

[scout86]

He swallowed it whole? Dogs can eat a remarkable assortment of stuff and be ok. But, for you're peace of mind, and too be safe, I second calling the vet clinic today to see what they say.

It makes sense to me that your old partners would want to get together because THEY LIKE YOU. Your sister sounds like she has some weird issues of her own, where she wants to keep you to herself. You do what you want. (But don't be afraid to stretch your comfort zone so bit.)

 

[NarcSis]

I was going to take the dog for a walk this morning and then call the vet when we got back but on our walk doggy had a massive, normal looking poop with bone pieces in it! He's passing the bone!!!

I'm feeding him wet bread pieces with his meals (saw that on the Internet) and keeping a close eye on his activity/behavior levels but - and this is gross - I never thought I'd be so happy to see dog poop.

Someone is definitely watching over us.
Thank you @desiderata310 and @scout86 for your reassuring words.

 

[NarcSis]

The idea came to me today in the shower that at some point, it will make sense for me to remove his toothbrush, razor and soap from the shelf....but not yet. It was a very transient idea, but the idea WAS there nonetheless. When I thought about the reality of reaching out to toss his personal things into the trash, I just could not make myself move to do it. I considered ever so briefly moving them to the counter beside the sink, but couldn't move to even do that. It's not right yet. It's been 15 months and 7 days since he died and I still can't bring myself to let go of his things. I don't know when I will be ready too. In time, however much time there is.

The story about me and the dog ran in our local paper the other day, the photo was close to 1/3 of the page! I didn't expect them to enlarge it that much. It's hard for me to be "recognizable" - even though I'm sure no one will really recognize me or have paid that much attention to the story. Besides, I was out walking the other day in my neighborhood and where before, I didn't see any dogs like mine, now they're everywhere. It seems his breed's popularity has skyrocketed in my neighborhood since I got him last summer. He's so darn cute - it's the eyes.

When I saw the story in the paper, the first thing I thought was that I had to save the story and preserve the paper so I could show hubby when he came back - I don't know where my brain thinks he is. It made me pretty sad inside. I burst into tears over dinner that night. It's pretty unsettling for me, it brings so much back to the surface again. I keep seeing his car there on the shoulder at the end of that street. I see it clear as day and I am struck by the whole DEAD thing again. He's dead. He died. How could he die - it was HIM!? He was un-killable. I mean, he was my hero, my protector, my husband, and the ONE person I'd dedicated my ENTIRE existence too - he can't be dead. It makes no sense. Dead and him are two words that don't make sense together but suicide and him!? That makes even less sense to me.

The dog and I went on an adventure again this afternoon, we almost got lost, we were on a trail, but then it disappeared into a pine forest and there were no signs. We somehow wandered into private property and thanks to my innate sense of direction, were able to "bushwhack" back to the original field we'd crossed. I found the path out again but not before the dog went sniffy crazy and started pulling at the leash wanting to go into the woods again. I had to fight him to get him back to the trail again. I saw the strange poop he was sniffing. When I looked it up later in hubby's handy dandy wild animal scat book, I narrowed it down to wild boar or black bear; either way, it was fresh and I'm so glad we got out of there quickly.

Hubby used to love my strange sense of direction. He could blindfold me, spin me around and, like a compass, I'd always just know which direction is north. I didn't need my eyes to find it either, I could locate it if I was facing completely away from it. He always thought it was amazing - until after PTSD and somehow my sense of direction, whatever internal compass that was, well, it's not that reliable anymore. I can get turned around now. I can really only navigate now if I can contain the panic and get in touch with that internal part of me that just knows things. It's almost an intuition. Hubby used to joke that he and I should enter the Dakar rally with me as his navigator, we'd kick butt, LOL. I like to think that in some other universe we're competing in that rally.

I read an article about the existence of parallel universes the other day, the theory is actually based in quantum physics - again, theory - but still, it posits the existence of alternate realities and they think that it is actually mathematically measurable now in blips of crossing energy or something like that. I can't fully remember the idea but it was something about measurable ghosts of energy that have no origin in our space/time, so the theory is that parallel existences are probable.

I like that idea because both he and I believed that our energy, our animating force, just transformed and perhaps moved to another plane of existence. I like to think of him looking in once in a while at me, seeing what I'm doing, checking up on me, dreaming me up where he is, as I dream of him here. I think this is why I started writing backwards to him on the shower door every morning. "I Love You", "I Miss You", " Why did you go?", "I love you across all universes and back" (what we used to say to each other before bed) or just a big heart with "You & Me" in it. I like to think he can see these messages I'm leaving for him. I'm letting him know I'm still true to him even though he's gone from my world. We were never divorced. He will always be my husband. I'll wear his ring until the day I die.

There's no one in this world I'd love to speak with more than him. I've got so much to share with him. I miss him every second. I can't let go of him. I'm not ready. I don't know if I ever will be....and that's okay.

 

[NarcSis]

My sister comes back tomorrow and she's staying until my birthday. I got the "you'll get your birthday present after, when I have money." speech already, so I'm not expecting anything - essentially nothing has changed since my husband died; my birthday gifts never came on my birthday, there were never any surprises or special cakes or dinners out unless I pre-planned everything. Nothing has changed. But he's not here to not celebrate my birthday with me.

I cried while staring at the ceiling tonight. I remembered how happy we used to be, how if I was lying on the floor he'd come over and pretend to jump on me or he'd push me with his foot or kick me in the butt. I remembered lying with him on the floor, cuddling, watching tv together, massaging his back. How could he have shot himself!?

I looked up at that ceiling and I thought, "this house used to feel like it had life in it, now it's just a shell over my head. Everything here is OURS but OUR doesn't even exist anymore! It's not Mine. Why did you have to die? Why didn't you just leave me, tell me you had to be alone or something, go and have a mid-life crisis somewhere. Why did you have to die? You didn't have to DIE!!! I don't want you to be dead anymore! I'm tired of alone. I'm tired of quiet. I'm tired of "living" with just the sister! What did you do to me!?"

When sister is here, I get overwhelmed with the constant talking/noise but also hate it when she's quiet because that means she's on her phone in another world or napping - either way, it's ignoring me, like he was doing. She's been gone overnight and already I'm falling back into severely sad mode. There is no one to talk too - not that I have an opportunity to do any of that anymore anyway. I like the dog, but I wish i could have an intelligent conversation with someone and I mean conversation, not just listening to someone chatter on about things that don't interest me or people I don't know but am assumed to know.

I used to be a quiet person before I met my husband. I used to be the person people would jump at and say "boo" because I always felt out of place with the people around me - I couldn't relate to them. Hubby was one of the first people I met who I thought was actually intelligent enough to hold a proper conversation with. Physics, math, medicine, he could hold his own in just about any topic and I always found that he stimulated my mind. He made me feel like a normal person and not a weirdo because I couldn't relate to local gossip. He made me feel like a normal person, even after I developed PTSD.

I know he was tired of it. I know that. When I'd trigger to something in those last few months he'd just ignore me or he'd get very passive aggressive with me, making me feel like I was just trying to get attention. He started walking away or sighing if he had to change the channel on the tv. He used to be supportive. He used to help ground me but in those last few months, I was made to feel like a pain in his ass. I was. Annoying, sick, ridiculous, angry, irritated easy....

And I took it out on him so many times. He was just there, I was never targeting him, I would just get severely irritated at something and I'd start raging, angrily tossing things - never at him, just out of the way and I would be saying things like, "How can I be so stupid!? Where would I put that!? Why doesn't my mind work right anymore!?" And I'd see him cringe because I was out of control and he didn't know how to stop that and I didn't know how to stop it. Living with me wasn't easy.

I freaked out today because I was doing too many tasks at once and I started raging again, saying things like, "Ugggh! Up the stairs, down the stairs and I STILL forget to grab it!!! Now I've got to go back up and - crap I'M COOKING!!!" and I immediately turned and ran into the kitchen. I turned and saw the dog staring at me with almost the exact same look on his face that hubby used to get. He looked scared and hurt and helpless. I felt like a huge piece of crap. I was doing to him exactly what I used to do to hubby.

Dogs forget quickly and just love you again. Husbands get a chunk of their heart stomped on and crushed every single time. I was hurting him. I needed treatment. I needed those bastards to settle this case and HELP ME get better!!! Hubby was losing faith in this settlement. He, like me, just wanted it over so we'd have the ability to get me the best treatment available - inpatient even! I knew I was hurting him, that's why I stopped and went quiet and tried to shield him more from my symptoms.

I'm going to beat myself up for the rest of my life.

There has to be a reason why he died - maybe even 13 of them. Why can I not know what triggered this? Why can I never know why he thought dead was going to be better?

Dead is not better. It hurts me. It's destroyed me. I want him back alive. :(

 

[scout86]

I'm going to beat myself up for the rest of my life.

Please don't do that!

 

[NarcSis]

I can try not too beat myself up but when that dark cloud moves over me, and it will keep moving over me for a long long time yet, I will start blaming myself for his death again. Such is the legacy of a suicide.

I had therapy yesterday, my T tried to remove "empty" from me using ImTT. I'm not sure if it worked because my sister is here for the rest of the week, so happy, happy, happy face is on.

I'll know when I'm alone again, when there's no one but me, the dog and the tv. That's when empty really gets in there and tells me how meaningless my life is and how lonely I am and how, even if I scream out directly for help, no one will hear me.

I was calling it depression but I was corrected and told that what I was really describing was "empty". I was also informed that empty often stems from ideas of childhood neglect or abuse or inconsistent parenting.

What happened then? Then my eyes opened and I saw "empty" in my husband. He was looking for his reasons, never once voicing empty but obsessively going over the poor and inconsistent parenting he endured growing up. He knew on some level something was wrong but I don't think he could quite put his finger on it. When you're feeling empty nothing you do is ever good enough, no accomplishment is worthy or righteous or pride inducing, it's just constantly diminished by negative self talk - the stuff you think you heard (or actually heard) growing up.

Hubby wasn't proud of himself anymore. He was expressing more and more displeasure with his work situation. He felt he couldn't live up to his old standards anymore, his partners or lack of consistency in his partners was eroding his sense of self worth in the job. He had to fail a student and he saw that as a personal failing (note: students don't actually fail anymore they just get moved to a lax preceptor who will pass them!)

My husband was worn down, tired, withdrawn, ruminating over his childhood a lot and wasn't able to find pleasure in his life anymore. Empty.

I'm watching people all around me since my husband died reach their mid-forties to early fifties and have their lives implode. 3 broken marriages. Infidelity. Drug use. Gambling. Job loss. Nervous breakdowns. Dating a younger person. So far everyone of them is a walking cliche poster child for the term Mid-Life Crisis. Why couldn't my husband's mid-life crisis have been like that? Why did his have to occur with a gun?

If a man is going to commit suicide, so far I see that it's either in his confused late teens to late 20s or at the crucial mid-life point.

Hubby was 52. He hadn't had any major breakdowns in the 20 years I'd known him. This psychological crisis, had it been allowed to play out and abate with help, would have been his cliche breakdown. Our marriage would have survived or not.

I'd rather have him alive living with some cheap sl*t and me hating him than to have him dead by his own hand with me perpetually wondering how and why.

I still wait for this joke to end. I still imagine him coming home to me. I picture me apologizing for cutting up his clothes for the quilt. I picture myself proudly showing him the things of his that I didn't move because I knew he'd be back. I picture him invigorated and his zest for life renewed. I picture him smiling and telling me all about his adventures.

It's not going to happen, is it? What am I without him? I needed him.

 

[NarcSis]

Tomorrow is my second birthday without him, it makes me so sad inside. I think tomorrow, after my sister leaves, I am going to spend the rest of the day in my bedroom hugging his shirt.

He used to take me out for a steak dinner when he could on my birthday. As I got older, it was harder to answer the question of, "What do you want for your birthday?" Material things meant less to me than just being able to be with him. I don't remember the last birthday gift he gave me.

When I finally took his 2016 vacation schedule off the fridge, I saw that he'd scheduled his vacation to include my birthday that year. :(

How can plans and future just disintegrate like that?

We were supposed to be together. He should have been here. :(

 

[NarcSis]

I woke from sleep with a start around 230am because I thought I heard the bedroom door open. I fully expected to see hubby walking around to his side of the bed.

There was nothing. It was dark, the door was still shut and the dog was rolling around on his bed.

I used to reach out and touch his leg as he'd go by the bed on those late nights. He'd say, "Hi, didn't wanna wake you." But he always burst through the door rather than opening it carefully. I know he wanted to talk those nights I couldn't stay awake to meet him.

I wished it was him. I wished this nightmare was finally over. I wished everything could just go back to how it was. Our routines. Our little "things" we did.

I rolled over and grabbed his shirt. Fell asleep holding his "hand".

I just miss him. Will I ever stop missing him?

 

[NarcSis]

So sad right now. Miss him so badly. I don't understand. I don't get how he could have done it. I still don't understand. It hurts so bad. It hurts sooooo bad right now. I can't stop crying.

I want him here. I want him back in bed with me where he belongs. Why did he get out of bed that morning. Why didn't he just cry or scream or just talk to me. I was here. I was always here.

Why did he leave me here in hell. I needed him.

He wore his hat. His favorite ball cap is missing. He wore that everywhere. If you're going out to kill yourself why do you stop to put a ball cap on? Why do you even care? How are you capable of thinking like that if you're lost? Why would he put his hat on if he just needed keys? If he's already carrying a loaded gun?

Why would he wear his hat?

I want him home. I'm lonely. I hate this. He was all that was left in my life. All I had left of anything was him.

Please God rain down vengeance on the people that crushed us, that took everything from me, that killed his spirit.

I needed him. He held me together. I can't do this without him. I just need him home.

Tin, I miss you. It hurts so much. :(

 

[Heather]

I know I'm late on this @Medic72 but I'm glad your dog is OK.

Hugs to you and happy birthday:)