mixelated

So sorry about your boy. We always had 2-4 cats around, and we had 3 when T passed. I still have 2, my older daughter took the third. Buck, a big fluffy tuxedo cat rescued from a parking lot as a kitten - he's Top Cat. And Beanie, adopted from a rescue agency when Buck's companion kitten died unexpectedly. Buck was in bad shape, not eating and not moving - Beanie wasn't his special kitten, but he got Buck up and living again. About four months after T passed I adopted a puppy, a Jack Russell / doxie mix who would have been on her way to the shelter when her people moved. She's a great little watchdog and very loving, but what a handful. After decades of just cats, I'm having to learn how to dog. But she's been the best distraction and therapy ever.

Wow, I should have come back here to read and share weeks ago. I've been feeling like I've been circling the drain. But reading where everyone is emotionally (now that I'm in this 6-12 month category) is like remembering to breathe. Oh. You're all here too. Right where I am. (hugs)

Yep. Right there with everyone. I have all those loving things I would have said and time I would have spent with him, too, but the added pain is the fact that HE knew how little time we had. I look back on the last week, the last evening, and now I recognize all the little tender things he was doing and saying to say goodbye. I wish I had seen it for what it was. I wish I'd seen it, if only to be able to say how much I loved him again, if not to save him.

Yes. I can't move his hat or his clothes in the dresser, because he's going to need them, I guess. And I never bothered his stuff when he was here, so it feels sneaky to look at his stuff now that he's gone. I desperately want to know if there are "answers" in his computer, but that would be the worst invasion of privacy. Having left, does he still need or want privacy? Do I respect his space as thoroughly as I did when he was alive, or does my desperation to find "reasons" or "clues" trump that? I don't know whether to look forward to emotional acceptance or not.

yes and yes... I will literally stand in front of his pictures, which I've arranged on his desk, and ask him, "Where are you?" My head won't process it. I mean, his urn is standing on his desk, too, so the answer's there, but it still seems as though he will come home at some point. His hat on the hook by the door, his shoes in the closet. I found and listened to an audio recording of him yesterday, and that was both a huge relief ('THERE he is!') and a terrible anguish. That recording will never change... he will always say the same thing. The same for those pictures. Frozen images.

I think that's totally normal, Brenda. The person you were with her, and the person you were going to be with her, and the shared identity you had together aren't there any longer. Four months out for me, and I struggled with the same thoughts for three and a half months, and yeah, the loss of the active will to live is frightening. Feeling depersonalized is frightening. I feel less constant despair now, but it's almost despite myself. It would have been easier in some awful way to give up, but it seems that I've somehow made the choice to continue. Not consciously, because I didn't want to go on without him. But because life is going on anyway, and it's dragging me along with it. I've had a sort of a break for the last two weeks, feeling a bit more purposeful and like I have a sense of self, but the past two days I've swung back into that hollow sense of loss. I expect it will go up and down, back and forth. If you're up for it, see if doing something physical helps. Exercise, decluttering, gardening, smashing plates... hugs!

Aaaand today, I went around all day with both my shirt and sweater on inside out. Nobody said anything, including my kid. .....

Driving in this widow-fog is not good. I almost rear-ended a cop today. There's no way to get around having to drive! Any tips on how to snap out of it for the time it takes to get from Point A to Point B?? m.

I guess I'm not feeling that yet. But I have plenty of my own junk-ola, so out goes my odd n ends yarn stash. Craft material is pernicious. mix

Brenda, I'm familiar with that note of anger at myself... but try not to beat yourself up. You may be up and running, but you're still in a disoriented state. There will be a lot of things that you can't figure out, until the world rights itself a little. And I bet she would be happy that you're caring for your kids. It hurts to see someone you love not coping. (hugs) m.

Long-term mental illness doesn't always look like that. My husband had been quietly dealing with his bipolar disorder for years, unknown to me, and those years were uneventful. He was never hospitalized and I was unaware of any prior attempts. If he hadn't told me about the bipolar a few months before he died, I might not have known. I would have assumed his depression was entirely related to his chronic pain and the situation it created. He did his best to keep the bipolar from us, and he did a very good job. Unfortunately.

OK, I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking this. I don't like thinking this! but it seems outside my control at times.

Quoted this stanza elsewhere a few weeks ago myself. It fit that leaden, motionless mood perfectly. I have never been a fan of Dickinson, but now - well - I guess she knew what she was writing about. Another of those realizations that you don't really understand this level of loss until you've experienced it.

I had been keeping myself productive both at work and home. with the Bullet Journal method for about six months before my husband died. Looking at it, it's like a textbook example of a disorganizing brain event. Before: tidy lists and columns, checkmarks, thorough notes, organized progress. After: scrawls all over the page, no dates, forget the bullets, no checkmarks, days at a time skipped. I can't even remember where my bullet journal notebook is half the time.

Thanks!!

I know that one. Kinda wish this board had a chat/voice chat. I lost my husband 12/19/2015. Sometimes I can't breathe - hurts to breathe. Sometimes gulping, sometimes like I just can't draw breath. Hang in there. Hold on to something of hers. Do you have a support group in your area?

Thank you for sharing this. I can see my husband at the intersection of so many of these factors. When I think of how long he endured in the face of the challenges that finally brought him down, I feel proud of his strength and am amazed at his courage. The overall article is disturbing. The pressures we are putting on ourselves are enormous and seem intractable.

Thank you, WifeLess, AndysWife, for passing on your thoughts and experience. I wish that you did not have to suffer for them, but I am grateful to hear that you have each gained some peace. That makes me feel hopeful. I read somewhere that part of the struggle of looking back and feeling anguish over what you did not see or realize, or choices that you made, is admitting your own helplessness, blindness, and error, and your lack of control over the world. It is very painful.

Robunknown, I am sorry you are feeling that pain again. Hang in there... breathe... may you have strength and peace this week.

Keeptrying: ((((((HUGS))))) I can't imagine how you are run off your feet. If the kiddos feel safe enough to sleep on their own, I'd say that's a good development. I will be thinking of you tonight and hoping for a sense of security for you all. Sandy: ((((((HUGS)))))) Good job...! I don't think I cooked anything for six weeks. Of course, I wasn't really eating anything either. When I did, I was nibbling on something my husband had cooked and put up or frozen, and crying the whole time. Can't say I'm exactly cooking now - maybe once a week. I miss his cooking so much - he was a great cook. When I can do it without breaking down I'll put together all his recipes.

Today makes 3 months. It's one of those days I'm glad I'm a freelancer and work from home, because I can't imagine crying every five minutes in an office. Or working while blubbering. I got work accomplished on 2 contracts. I made avocado chocolate chia pudding for breakfast. I picked out pictures and sent them for printing for his committal service. I had a salmon melt on a rice cake for lunch. I went to the grocery store (which means I also got dressed).

Wandasmom, that is where I am, too. My oldest moved out six months ago and my youngest is still at home. I am very grateful to have her, but she's a kid. The support group helps relieve the loneliness, but they're not really there for me. And all the people who offered help have stepped back, assuming that since I'm upright and moving, I'm fine. I miss him most in the small things that now loom so large. Talking about the kids' little challenges or triumphs. Texting him something I saw during the day. Asking his advice or input. Listening to his ideas. Just hearing him talk or laugh.

Hi. New to this board. You all seem so sensible and supportive, it's wonderful to see. Three months ago, my husband ended his life. He suffered from chronic physical pain and had been diagnosed with bipolar 2 a couple of years previous, probably worsened by his other condition. I think the bipolar swings had been affecting him for a few years before that, but he did everything he could to hide it from us, and didn't want me to see doctors with him. I respected that, knowing he was trying to preserve his autonomy, but it meant that I really lacked a good understanding of what was going on with him, because he wouldn't talk about it. He kept saying that he didn't want to burden us with it, and I wish I had fully realized what he meant. He couldn't work, and was getting worse last year. I could see his condition was deteriorating, but thought it was physical, because it looked physical. Finally, late in the year, he had a rare manic phase that he couldn't hide and didn't recognize, and I started going to a NAMI class to try to understand how to help him. He told me then that he had not been taking his meds for his mood the past year, because they didn't work, and that he had stopped taking all of his pain meds a couple of months previously so that he would be able to assess his situation with a clear mind. He was very intelligent, always very self-aware and very knowledgeable about pharmaceuticals, so I thought this was a rational approach. (I still think it, to a degree - if he said the meds weren't working, I do believe him.) A few weeks later, just before Christmas, he went out to the garage, locked himself in, and took an anesthetic. He made sure that I couldn't get to him without realizing what he had done and calling 911. It was very methodical and gentle, which was typical of him - timing, planning, everything. But here we are, me and our kids, left with now knowing the terrible psychological pain he was in, and not having been able to know it, to be able to help him or comfort him. Dealing daily and hourly with the anguish of his permanent loss. Twenty years of a shared life; ten golden beautiful family years and ten years of struggle, stress, and worry, capped with the unthinkable. It's hard to feel there is anything on the other side of this - or rather, to feel like there will be a time when this pain will have eased, because I know there's no ending.

Thank you, and thank you for reposting your thoughts on the stigma of mental illness. I think I am going to do what I can out in the world to try to erase that stigma. Let me ask you or anyone reading: How did you find a way to cope with the 'drops' that you feel contributed in however small a way to their pain? the realization that things you said or did hurt your spouse before s/he ended life? Yes, I know that the person I am now, with the terrible knowledge I have now, would not have said or done the same things. And I am not saying that I think those small drops caused my husband's death. But the thought persists that I caused pain. He was fragile, I can see now, and there were times he was reaching out for contact, to tell me something silly or meaningless he found on the internet, and I would snap at him because I was working and was trying to concentrate. I pushed him away like this, many times, and was frustrated because he couldn't remember that I was working - I thought. All the small things I did that wounded him, I cannot take back, I can never say to him that I am sorry. I feel as though I have been punching someone helpless, and I am miserable beyond reason. I don't know how I can ever atone.

Carey, maybe a way to handle it is to pick another day, and make that the new day to celebrate your son's birth. I know some people do this when their kid's birthdays fall on other uncomfortable days, maybe it can work. I am thinking about moving my daughter's celebration, too. Her 15th was just a couple of days before her father died, and it may be too close for her to feel any happiness next year.