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Jessm1

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  1. My husband died in March of an accidental heroin overdose. The stigma is so bad that people who jump in to support me, as soon as they find out how he died, stop talking to me like I’m a bad person or he was or somehow deserved to die or I deserved this life. It’s ridiculous.
  2. I’m also at the 3 month mark which coincides with his birthday. It’s been the worst dealing with other people at this stage. They don’t get it and it feels like what most people are saying and doing does not respect where you are and how you are doing. It’s unwelcomed. I know in the back of my mind next year I’ll look back and know they weren’t trying to be disrespectful but right now, they really need to back off. I also am getting the, we all lost someone, speech. True, and I know you hurt too, but you’re lives still exist! You still get to go home at the end of the day to the house you share with your husband. You get to continue on the same path you were on before even though the road became rockier. I don’t have a path, our home, a future right now. They just don’t get it. So I totally get what you are saying. I’ve decided that if I feel someone at this stage makes me feel worse or more crazy, it’s okay to take a break from them. I need to focus on feeling a little better each day, surviving. I can rekindle those relationships a little later on if I want to.
  3. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve been struggling wondering if my husbands death was an accidental overdose or intentional. I can’t imagine seeing that situation over and over again.
  4. Hi. Maybe if I had known how much of an addiction he had. I always thought it was something I could slap his wrist for and that his love for me, his family, and our future would fix. I thought if I could make his life better, more fulfilling, and more stable, there wouldn’t be any need for drugs. I wish I had been more supportive. I wish I had gone to meetings. I wish I had understood so I could save my husbands life. On March 19th I came home to find my husband of 5 months sitting on the couch not breathing and purple. I had just seen him at lunch around 1130 and I was going to the doctors after work, it was his day off, and he wanted to come hang out while I waited. I got out of work a little later than I wanted to and had to rush to the doctor’s office. I tried calling and he didn’t answer. I left a message telling him I was going to just head straight over since I was running late. I drive by the house on the way and saw his car was home. I assumed he was taking a nap or in the shower. I kept driving and spent another hour at my appointment. I came home around 510 and just saw him sitting there hunched over. He and a root canal that morning and when he didn’t respond to me saying his name, I froze and looked at his arms, there were purple patches, I ran around the couch and saw there was drool and blood on the table, I instantly thought something went wrong with the dental work that morning. And then I saw the needles and a spoon. The next twenty minutes are something for another post. His name was Ron and he was 31 years old. He died of an accidental overdose and I’m still waiting on final toxicology and death certificate after 1.5 months. Two years earlier he had started using because of our miscarriage. He had always wanted to be a father and when others didn’t understand his grief there, he turned to his cousin whom he had used with before and asked him to hook him up. I had caught him in a lie about returning home lad one night and went through his phone to find messages between him and his cousin about getting drugs. I confronted him and we fought. He told me the truth, apologized, and we talked about his pain and how we needed to move on and not do drugs. That was it in my head. Fast forward 6 months later when he started making a lot of money and yet had no money. Things started disappearing from the house. I called his parents and they said he had borrowed money for work. I confronted him and found out he was taking opiates and morphine. The next day his family and I paid for him to start going to the suboxone clinic. His was there almost 6 months before he was completely weaned off. We got engaged and I thought, aside from suboxone, he was clean. That’s the only way I agreed to get married. We got married and you could tell the difference. His skin looked better, we had money again, and he was more active. Everyone thought he had made it. He went to NA once a week and had a new job. We were trying to have children and he was looking into going to school since I had just set up with my degree and college, it was his turn to do what he wanted. The night before we talked at length about the next year of our lives and what he wanted to do. We talked kids, school, careers, and support. He seemed happy, it felt like our lives were beginning to really start. On the fridge he had wrote out his goals and info about schools for the path he wanted. There was food burning in the oven from the lunch he started to make himself. I think he was clean from the time of the suboxone clinic to that day and maybe that’s why he died. He was still sitting there, like he had just taken it and stayed that way for hours. I struggle wondering if he died quickly or suffocated slowly. I struggle with the fact that I didn’t give CPR because when I threw him to the floor I could get his legs to straighten and lost it, unable to do anything but panic. It was a shock for all who knew him, even those who knew he had struggled with opiates in the past. He was a good man and everything was going well. I still can’t believe it most days. 2 weeks after he died I found out I wasn’t pregnant which some say is a blessing but I feel like I have no one to share his memory with. His sister in law just got pregnant and everyone is looking forward to that. Everyone seems to want to forget and move forward with life. I’m trying to be happy for them. I am happy for her, but it’s also devastating. My family thinks I should be handling this all more gracefully. Anytime I get more than just tearful, but cry, or yell, or get angry, I am told I’m having a meltdown. I’ve asked for help with food, laundry, cleaning because when I get home I can barely function after keeping it together at work all day. I teach and I tune it out, as soon as I get to my car and know I’m going to an empty house I start crying. I get home and have to flip the TV on and try to distract myself until I can fall asleep. It’s hard for me to ask for help. Yet, when I do, every time, I’ve been told they are busy or maybe another day, or they don’t understand why I need help cleaning? It’s like they think I’m milking it. I also have to move because I can’t afford where we live on just my paycheck. I’m already having to try and box stuff up and I feel alone and like no one understands. I feel like people are cruel and I wonder how the hell this is happening. I can’t believe this is all happening. I miss my new husband and the life we were about to create. I don’t understand why he did this and how I didn’t know it was a possibility. I feel like I was blind and selfish to not have seen the warning signs that now, after his death, seem obvious. Because I don’t feel safe to be upset, I only lose it when alone, so most people keep telling me how strong I am and how amazing I’m handeling it all. It makes me really angry. so instead, I sit at home and have found myself drinking more. I try to drown everything out. I feel like I’m being weak and moody. That I am suppose to handle it all with grace and move forward.
  5. I also spent a few weeks not being that sad and thinking about how if I wanted children I’d need to consider moving on with someone new soon as I’m in my thirty’s. I feel guilty for the thoughts and I wonder f I loved him so little. It was a little over a month and I had a horrible week where it hit me and I felt devastated, but even then, it felt more like I was mourning a life I wasn’t going to get more than his death and absence. I feel I was selfish and horrible and still am. But, slowly, my missing him has started to sink in and a sense of needing to honor him is sinking in. I’m still very new at this (being a widow) and I don’t know if my story is in any way helpful, but there it is. Even if it just makes you feel like others can have similar moments.
  6. Hi. On March 19th I came home to find my husband of 5 months sitting on the couch not breathing and purple. I had just seen him at lunch around 1130 and I was going to the doctors after work, it was his day off, and he wanted to come hang out while I waited. I got out of work a little later than I wanted to and had to rush to the doctor’s office. I tried calling and he didn’t answer. I left a message telling him I was going to just head straight over since I was running late. I drive by the house on the way and saw his car was home. I assumed he was taking a nap or in the shower. I kept driving and spent another hour at my appointment. I came home around 510 and just saw him sitting there hunched over. He and a root canal that morning and when he didn’t respond to me saying his name, I froze and looked at his arms, there were purple patches, I ran around the couch and saw there was drool and blood on the table, I instantly thought something went wrong with the dental work that morning. And then I saw the needle and a spoon. His name was Ron and he was 31 years old. He died of an accidental overdose and I’m still waiting on final toxicology and death certificate after 1.5 months. I had known he struggled with pain pills but he was clean, I thought he was anyways, that’s the only way I agreed to get married. We were trying to have children and he was looking into going to school since I had just set up with my degree and college, it was his turn to do what he wanted. The night before we talked at length about the next year of our lives and what he wanted to do. We talked kids, school, careers, and support. He seemed happy, it felt like our lives were beginning to really start. It was a shock for all who knew him, even those who knew he had struggled with opiates in the past. He was a good man and everything was going well. I still can’t believe it most days. 2 weeks after he died I found out I wasn’t pregnant which some say is a blessing but I feel like I have no one to share his memory with. His sister in law just got pregnant and everyone is looking forward to that. Everyone seems to want to forget and move forward with life. I’m trying to be happy for them. I am happy for her, but it’s also devastating. My family thinks I should be handling this all more gracefully. Anytime I get more than just tearful, but cry, or yell, or get angry, I am told I’m having a meltdown. I’ve asked for help with food, laundry, cleaning because when I get home I can barely function after keeping it together at work all day. I teach and I tune it out, as soon as I get to my car and know I’m going to an empty house I start crying. I get home and have to flip the TV on and try to distract myself until I can fall asleep. It’s hard for me to ask for help. Yet, when I do, every time, I’ve been told they are busy or maybe another day, or they don’t understand why I need help cleaning? It’s like they think I’m milking it. I also have to move because I can’t afford where we live on just my paycheck. I’m already having to try and box stuff up and I feel alone and like no one understands. I feel like people are cruel and I wonder how the hell this is happening. I can’t believe this is all happening. I miss my new husband and the life we were about to create. I don’t understand why he did this and how I didn’t know it was a possibility. I feel like I was blind and selfish to not have seen the warning signs that now, after his death, seem obvious. Because I don’t feel safe to be upset, I only lose it when alone, so most people keep telling me how strong I am and how amazing I’m handeling it all. It makes me really angry.
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