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Permalink Reply by bluebird on July 22, 2014 at 11:46pm

I understand. I feel the same way. I am very surprised and very disappointed that I didn't die of Broken Heart Syndrome as soon as I knew my husband died, or shortly thereafter.

I don't think we are "terrible" or "wrong" to feel as we do. I don't understand how anyone could feel otherwise, quite honestly, but if they do then that's fine -- but for some of us, this is just how it is.

Dying of grief, as soon as possible, is what I want as well. Despite my wonderful, loving family, I do not want to live when my beloved husband is not here with me. And I can't do any of the things we used to do together -- what's the point, without him here with me? The very few times I've tried, I just kept thinking "He should be here" (as he should be!).

For me it's been nearly two years since he died, and no part of this has gotten any "better" -- if anything it's gotten worse, but at best (ha! as if there were any "best" anymore) it is at least as bad and horrific as it was two years ago. I just want to die as soon as possible, and either be with my beloved (if there is an afterlife), or at least cease to be altogether, and therefore have a surcease from this anguish. I died when my husband died, it's just that thus far my body hadn't caught up to that reality and stopped moving, breathing, beating, etc.

 

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Permalink Reply by Wander on July 23, 2014 at 12:47pm

Oh, Zell, I would give *anything* for that experience! If I felt hope anymore, it would give me some. I woke up crying today and have barely stopped since. It's just as bluebird said: " I died when my husband died, it's just that thus far my body hadn't caught up to that reality and stopped moving, breathing, beating, etc." I wish those around me could understand that. Surely, if they really love me, they wouldn't want me to continue to exist this way? It's sheer torture. I want it to end. 

I so hope he comes back to you. I wish mine would come... I had one small experience like that (not so intense, sadly, or long) a few weeks after he left me, but nothing since. I beg every day, but... :(

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Permalink Reply by dream moon JO B on July 23, 2014 at 3:39pm

me 2 im so sic of all multi loss iv had lst 1 wz 2wks ago so its 1 step forwed thn 100 steps bk it is 

u r not a cowed or wicked u r not iv bean caled ths as well im bk 2 putng shuters dn not letng on 1 in

coz im scred of lozing mre loved 1s i am

  

sorry fr yore loss wander  i feal lk screaming at god why i feal lk slaping god i no sond lk a horbel person i do

i evn ask god did i do any thng wong did i do any htng bad did i do mush bad mistkes over yrs i ask why

sorry if im rantng a bit 2 mush

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Permalink Reply by Suzanne on July 24, 2014 at 1:04pm

It helped me to write my memories. Things he said and did. We did. He is gone and I am still lost without him.

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Permalink Reply by Wander on July 24, 2014 at 6:42pm

I write all the time... memories, the story of our life together, letters to him. I've filled most of four journals, and I bought three more yesterday. It does help a little... better than anything else, but that's not saying much. 

 

It's been 15 weeks now... 15 weeks and one hour. The pain never goes away. It never dulls. Sometimes I'm better able to ignore it for a little while, but it inevitable floods back. At work, for instance-- I can almost function "normally." (I've even been complimented on it: "We're so glad to see you're back! Good job!" Woof. I expect them to toss me a biscuit.) But as soon as I'm alone-- in the bathroom, back in my car-- I fall apart. It's a wonder-- or a cruelty-- that I haven't gotten in a wreck yet, because I cry most of the way home. I wish I could manage a solid head-on collision that would kill me instantly.

I MISS HIM SO FREAKING MUCH!!!! I know that sounds juvenile and simplistic and small, but I miss him... I miss *me*. I miss MY LIFE. I've been dead for over 3 months now, and I keep wondering how much longer it can possibly go on. Weeks? Years? That terrifies me. Am I really expected to exist here in this hell for another few decades??!

I love my kids. If I didn't, I would have already killed myself. But I can't be here for them like they need... sometimes I think it would be better for them if I went ahead and left, because then they could be cared for with someone who could do better than I can. Or maybe I'm trying to rationalise it so I can excuse my own selfish grief.

I hate this miserable existence to which I've been condemned. I despise myself for my weakness, for my self-absorption. And still I wish I could... stop. For good.

I'm lost too... so lost. :(

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Permalink Reply by bluebird on July 24, 2014 at 8:01pm

I get that, Suzanne and Wander. When my husband first died, I wrote down all the sweet things about him that I wanted to make sure I didn't forget -- thing he did, physical characteristics, all kinds of stuff. And I wrote some poems about him as well (I'm a poet), 7 or 8 of them in the month after he died.  I've written nothing since, though, and I doubt i'll ever write anything again, or at least not much.  Writing the things I did helped a little bit, but not anymore.

Wander, I agree about it being a cruelty that I haven't gotten into a wreck yet -- that wouldn't be my preferred way to die, but it would do, as long as no one else got hurt.

You said "I MISS HIM SO FREAKING MUCH!!!! I know that sounds juvenile and simplistic and small, but I miss him... I miss *me*. I miss MY LIFE. I've been dead for over 3 months now, and I keep wondering how much longer it can possibly go on. Weeks? Years? That terrifies me. Am I really expected to exist here in this hell for another few decades??!" -- I totally understand that, and I feel exactly the same way. It simply isn't going to happen -- either god/universe kills me, or i'll take care of it myself at some point. I'd rather have an instantly fatal heart attack ASAP, though, as that would not be as hurtful to my parents.

I too hate this miserable existence to which I've been condemned. I too hate myself for my weakness, but ultimately matters less to me than the cessation of this anguish of missing my husband.

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