keeptrying

Suicide is complete torture. I am not trying to minimize anyone's pain by this post. There are people who die in accidents, well, it was an accident, people who die of medical issues, you have time to say goodbye. People who die of health problems, you have something to blame. - So many other ways, but suicide is completely different. Suicide, it is nothing but guilt, blame, what if's, trying to understand, trying to relate. A never ending circle of complete mental torture. They transfer the pain off of their shoulders and you carry the burden until you die. You now have to live with the pain. It is so unfair. You beg, you plead. There are so many emotions that I honestly think there aren't even names for. - Oh well, there is nothing you could have done.. It wasn't you, it was him.. That is like hearing those bad break up stories, I'm breaking up with you, it's not you, it is me. No, it doesn't make you feel any better. Seems like a lame excuse. Even if you logically KNOW that you couldn't prevent it and that it was the other person, emotionally is something completely different. I can't bring myself to tell people that he committed suicide. I am too ashamed. I feel as though it taints his wonderful character and I can't imagine what people will assume of me. I assume they think, how did you not know, what did you do, I wasn't good enough. A million and one awful thoughts. It is a burden I will have to carry forever.

I don't want to drive, go anywhere. I am more comfortable in my house. Before my husband died, we were barely ever home. Any opportunity we took to get out and do something. Never had this before, but when I drive, I get HUGE massive panic attacks and break down crying. I hate leaving my house knowing that going anywhere I can break down into tears or have an attack. - I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, I don't want to do anything. I can't even find the purpose of showering. He isn't here, and no one sees me anyhow..It seems as though things just don't matter as much as they used to. I don't seem to care. Everything that used to make me happy and bring me joy.. little things like music, is just a reminder of the pain. - I can't let myself give in, or pin me in a corner. I have to fight it. So I push myself. I took the kids on a small vacation. As I sat at the table, my mind completely blank, I pictured him walking towards us. I don't know why.. but, break down. I cried about 6 - 7 different times that day. We don't have cable tv at home but in the resort I decided to see what it is all about. There was a program of this woman giving birth, which of course made me break down insanely. We are on our seventh child, and every one he cried and said I was his hero. He won't be here for the birth of our baby. It hurts. Leaving the house is so much worse in so many ways than just staying home. I just feel like I need to keep pushing.. keep doing, keep going. I need to get over this and not give in. Not allow myself to be pushed into a corner. I sure don't like it, but I think it is for the best.