In July 2006 my ex committed suicide. His birthday is February 9th, and for some reason around his birthday is when I think about him the most. I am having a really rough time recently. January 25 was the one year anniversary of a traumatic event, and then his birthday rolls around, and I'm barely squeaking by. Will I ever be able to make sense of this? It seems like no matter how much time passes, it still kills me when I think about him.
He had such a beautiful mind. I felt safe around him...and that was so rare. I thought he'd always be a part of my life. He knew about all of my demons, and he still loved me, or so I believed. I don't know what to believe anymore, because apparently he did not know how to love anyone as displayed by his choice to take his own life...at least that's what I have been told.
We had been broken up for 9 months when he did it. He wrote a letter to me and he wrote another one to everyone else, both sealed and labeled. He labeled all of his keys and had them layed out on his kitchen counter. he cleaned his apartment and left extra food and water out for the cat. He payed all his bills for the month, including his rent, which was barely due when this happened. He hid evidence of what he had used to kill himself, so the paramedics/coroner (not sure which) searched the trash and looked in the toilet and tub, and everything, and could not find what he had used. We had to wait about 6 weeks to find out that he had over dosed on benadryl, or the active ingredient in benadryl I should say. It was mind blowing to see that he had planned it out so well, like he really wanted it.
In his letter he asked me to forgive him, and he said that he was sorry for how this was going to affect me. In my own mind I tell him "it's okay, don't worry about how I'm affected, what about you?" He also said that I should remember him fondly, and that I should take comfort in knowing that he's free now.
Comfort escapes me. I still have his letter tucked away. His words are so gentle, almost compassionate, so like him. He says in black and white that's he is free now. I believe that energy is not destroyed, it just changes form, and his energy is still alive somewhere. I have moments where I can find comfort in that, but those moments are so rare. I just want him to be whole, and at peace, wherever he is. I just wish he would have talked to me. I wish he had chosen differently. I miss him always.
I had already met my husband and started dating him when my ex committed suicide, so I felt some guilt over the fact that I was moving forward, and all the while he was spiraling downward. Members of his family, and people in our social circles blamed me for his suicide. I got some nasty hurtful words from our mutual friends, and was blatantly ostracized by people from the softball team. Even though being ostracized, scapegoated, or bullied are not new things to me, I was still not ready for this backlash.
It's too much sometimes. It feels like I'm not going to get over this, ever.
He had such a beautiful mind. I felt safe around him...and that was so rare. I thought he'd always be a part of my life. He knew about all of my demons, and he still loved me, or so I believed. I don't know what to believe anymore, because apparently he did not know how to love anyone as displayed by his choice to take his own life...at least that's what I have been told.
We had been broken up for 9 months when he did it. He wrote a letter to me and he wrote another one to everyone else, both sealed and labeled. He labeled all of his keys and had them layed out on his kitchen counter. he cleaned his apartment and left extra food and water out for the cat. He payed all his bills for the month, including his rent, which was barely due when this happened. He hid evidence of what he had used to kill himself, so the paramedics/coroner (not sure which) searched the trash and looked in the toilet and tub, and everything, and could not find what he had used. We had to wait about 6 weeks to find out that he had over dosed on benadryl, or the active ingredient in benadryl I should say. It was mind blowing to see that he had planned it out so well, like he really wanted it.
In his letter he asked me to forgive him, and he said that he was sorry for how this was going to affect me. In my own mind I tell him "it's okay, don't worry about how I'm affected, what about you?" He also said that I should remember him fondly, and that I should take comfort in knowing that he's free now.
Comfort escapes me. I still have his letter tucked away. His words are so gentle, almost compassionate, so like him. He says in black and white that's he is free now. I believe that energy is not destroyed, it just changes form, and his energy is still alive somewhere. I have moments where I can find comfort in that, but those moments are so rare. I just want him to be whole, and at peace, wherever he is. I just wish he would have talked to me. I wish he had chosen differently. I miss him always.
I had already met my husband and started dating him when my ex committed suicide, so I felt some guilt over the fact that I was moving forward, and all the while he was spiraling downward. Members of his family, and people in our social circles blamed me for his suicide. I got some nasty hurtful words from our mutual friends, and was blatantly ostracized by people from the softball team. Even though being ostracized, scapegoated, or bullied are not new things to me, I was still not ready for this backlash.
It's too much sometimes. It feels like I'm not going to get over this, ever.