meemzi

My sweetheart, Bubs, did his own grieving for the life he couldn't have. He had schizoaffective disorder and there were just some things that he knew he wouldn't get to do. He wanted to have kids. He wanted them so much that he couldn't talk about it unless he was drunk, but he couldn't bear to pass along his genes and the chance of having schizoaffective disorder. We watched his brother and best friend have his first kid and Bubs saw how stressful it was. That kind of stress just wasn't something Bubs could handle. He knew he wouldn't get to grow old. With his illness, the choice is this: a miserable life on high doses of medications that come with side effects that will kill you early OR an earlier death than that. He ended his battle with mental illness. He lived in fear of death, but he chose his greatest fear over a life of misery. There were other things. He would never be able to finish college or get a job outside of the family business or plan a wedding. There are a lot of things we were both devastated to miss out on. I don't think there is a lesson. I don't think that's what this is about. I don't know why some people have to suffer so much.

My partner's family and I went shopping for funeral homes. At the first one, we were talking through all our questions: cremation or burial? Open casket or closed? Can we hide the marks? The funeral director asked, "So he hung himself, then? Well here's what we can do, blah blah." And then as we were leaving, the funeral director said, "Thank you for coming in. Hang in there, everyone." Now it's become somewhat of a joke between us: "How are you holding up?" "Oh, you know. I'm hanging in there."

My grandfather passed away a week ago, just 3 1/2 months after my partner, Bubs, committed suicide. Grandpa was almost 90 and in poor health. He left behind his wife, 4 children, 10 grandchildren, and 4 great-grandchildren. I've been stuck - not grieving the loss of my partner - for the last couple of months. Yesterday I finally cried again. I'm at my grandparents' farm in Kansas, flying back home to California tomorrow. If Bubs was alive, he'd be waiting for me at the airport. I'd be sending him pictures of all the farming stuff and telling him stories about all the goofy midwestern things. I miss him. There are so many things I wish I could have shown him on the farm. We talked about him joining me one year - would he be well enough? What would my grandparents think? They wouldn't let us share a bed. What if we got married just to get around that? I hope that I'll get some time to myself when I get home - I can't really cry unless I know I'll be undisturbed but that's not really possible these days. How do you manage grieving two people so soon? What if I'm still stuck and not really grieving my partner? How do you get some alone time when you share a room with a roommate?

I hope it went well. Are they support groups or group counseling? I've been to two support group meetings, in different cities with different people. The first was great. No complaints. Loved it. I just got home from my second meeting. It was heavily monopolized by one woman who would not stop talking. She interrupted others, went far off topic, and explained other people's stories against their will. (Ask me how I know.) It was her first meeting. I wish the facilitator had said something because I didn't feel I had the standing to. (Maybe her behavior is okay with them?) She talked well past the end time of the meeting. Legends say she's still talking now . . . So I hope your experience was good! If it wasn't, remember this and try a different group.

Fuck losing my love and my home along with him. Fuck the health care system. Especially fuck the mental health care system. Fuck the voices that terrorized him.

Thank you all for your replies. He suffered a lot before his passing and it's a comfort to know that he isn't in pain anymore. It's the other side of the "Why didn't I do anything?" coin. I think I'll find great comfort here.

My sweet love, Bubs, ended his battle with schizoaffective disorder a couple weeks ago. (Schizoaffective is schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.) Did I see the signs? Of course! Red flags all over! There were always red flags. But I was probably in denial about how bad it got. I should have had him 5150d again. He would have lived a little longer but he would have been miserable in the hospital. He would have been angry. He would have killed himself eventually anyway. So the guilt is there, but I know I'm not feeling it full force yet. One thing a family friend said: It might help if you think about differently. He didn't kill himself. He was murdered by a disease. The one thing I don't understand: "Suicide is selfish." What the fuuuh! Does not compute. If you can shed some light . . .

2.5 weeks A couple weeks ago, my sweet love ended his 10-year battle with mental illness. His last few weeks were really tough. (His last few years were tough.) He was the sweetest person. He went out of his way to give money local homeless people. He spent a lot of time helping other people with schizophrenia. He gave them money so they could afford their prescriptions. Even on his last day he was chatting with people online, encouraging them and empathizing with them. My counselor said I'm still in shock and that it could last a month or two. I don't really mind - part of me wants the breakdown to come but part of me knows that when it does, I'll feel the guilt and regret without the fog of denial. Sometimes I think, "This sucks. I really feel like shit. But! When I get home, he'll be waiting and I can sit myself down on his lap and he'll make it all better." And then I remember. I have so many questions for him. Some don't surprise me. (Why did you have to go so soon?) And some make me laugh. (Am I supposed to use your fancy protein powder after any workout or just weight lifting? You're right about cardio: It's great for stress and super boring. Where did you put your wireless headphones? Can I borrow them? Do you like the urn your brother picked out for you?) My family has been wonderful - I've only spent one night alone since it happened. His family has been wonderful. They love me and we're all taking care of each other. I've never lost anyone before, but I have a pretty excellent support system. I would so love a sign from him at this point but he suffered so much. I don't want him to be worrying or sending signs. I want him to be resting in the most peaceful peace anyone could ever rest in. I don't even know if I would accept the message, given the nature of his mental illness and my general skepticism. So hello, Widda. It's terrible to meet you.