A community of peers created by the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation
When They Decide to Leave
I was widowed on October 8, 2009. Until recently, I have been hesitant to share how my widowhood came to be with people who don't already know the answer to the question. I supposed I have feared judgment from others, and have even attempted to avoid their unwanted pity. For several years, I had gone through a journey that no one would choose to endure.
My partner of 13 years suffered from depression, which was at times incapacitating for both her and our family. I became so emotionally exhausted from my attempts to make her, and things, "better" somehow, not realizing that accomplishment of such a feat was not in my power. Still, I believed that if I was diligent, I could prevent any action she threatened, planned or attempted. "I" was successful three times, but when she decided it was time to leave, I was helpless to prevent what had all the while been outside of my control.
She decided in the wee hours of the morning, that life was no longer worth living; that the pain she felt in her soul was unbearable and had to end. To my horror, she used a method that I could not have predicted. Three times I had "rescued" her from overdoses and gotten her help in the nick of time...the most previous attempt a mere three weeks before she succeeded. But this time, I knew in my soul I was too late, even though it took my head a bit longer to accept that fact. Although her body was lifeless, I tried to revive her, all the while knowing that it was useless, but hoping at the same time that I was wrong. It was only minutes after police and paramedics arrived that I heard those cliche "Law and Order", "ER" words, "I'm sorry for your loss."
My loss? I thought. What the heck are they saying? And why aren't they trying harder? The world around me then felt surreal, and I have never felt so alone in the midst of a group of people. All I could think about was the fact that our five year old son was downstairs, and I had to tell him that his Mommy was dead. I had to tell her parents and family. I had to admit to everyone that I had failed them all, and although I had been the person in the best position to help, I had let them all down and had been unable to keep her safe.
Over the next several months, I felt anger. Anger that she had put me in the position to discover her body, and that our son had barely escaped exposure to the horrid scene. Anger that neither I, nor our son, had been sufficient enough reasons to give her pause that morning. Anger at being thrust into single parenting, especially under such conditions where I was an emotional wreck and could be of little assistance to anyone. Anger that for weeks I could not recall any of our good times, but rather, was constantly haunted with images of the death scene. Anger at the very anger than consumed me. I even dreamed of her one night, and when I realized halfway into our conversation that she had indeed died, I started to yell and scream and throw things at her.
The other "stages" of grief were sabotaged by the anger phase; except for the depression phase, which was a constant companion. Only recently have I been able to truly grieve the loss and conjure up other images of her in my mind's eye. For this I am grateful. Finally able to move forward, I feel ready to face life again. I have stopped judging myself and no longer fear judgment; I have stopped blaming myself and refuse to accept blame from elsewhere.
I recently moved to Arizona in an attempt to clear my head and set aside time to quiet the whirlwind of activity in my soul. That is the one thing this move has accomplished, and now I'm on my way back home to live...and I mean to LIVE. It's beyond time for my son and me to have happiness and contentment define our lives and our relationship.
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Comment by Morena on April 8, 2011 at 1:40pm -
I feel almost ridiculous saying "it gets better", because I felt like slapping the crap out of anyone who uttered those words to me, but it really does. The twinges of pain have not disappeared, the crying spells still come, but they are less frequent and less intense than they used to be. Hang in there. Live. Exist. If we couldn't take it, we wouldn't still be here. People will marvel at your "strength" and may comment that they don't understand why you are not in a strait jacket in a mental ward. Simply put, we go on because we must. We keep moving because we can. We are strong only in the sense that we were not destroyed by tragedy. I'm both glad and sad to know that I am not alone. We are a unique group of survivors, but survivors we are.
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Comment by kelbel on April 8, 2011 at 12:38pm -
Your story is so very uplifting for me. my husband & best friend of 21 years chose to "get off" only 3 months ago. We have two beautiful daughters & having to tell them broke my heart more than I thought a heart could ever endure. I have to go on now, the girls could not bear me to go too ( even though sometimes it does seem like an option). Having found Mike is just a blurr to me, maybe my body wont let me remember. He had been my my life, my love, my everything. So very lost.
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Comment by sandollargal on April 1, 2011 at 7:42pm -
Thank you for sharing with us. My husband had been depressed for a while after being diagnosed with seizure disorder. We did all the right stuff, counseling, hospitalization the first time he told me he was thinking of suicide (2/11)...but it wasn't enough!!! I am just beginning this horrible journey, and I am so glad that you are at the end of it and ready to live!! Bright blessings to you and your son!
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Comment by Lisa ( Marielee) on March 13, 2011 at 11:47pm
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Hi,
Thanks so much for "friending" me. I feel that you can truly understand most of what I have went through and struggle with. Suicide is a very horrible thing. I hate the fact that "they chose to leave" My husband never attempted suicide before (that I knew about) and there were no warning signs whatsoever. It is good that you have moved and feel like you can start a new beginning and LIVE. I to have moved and am starting all over. Somedays it is really hard and the anger and hurt comes racing back. I sit with it for a while and then move on.
Blessings to you and your son.Lisa
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VOLUNTEER Comment by Supa Dupa Fresh on February 6, 2011 at 10:47pm -
Morena and SWW, I'm trying to keep most discussion in the forums for now -- and please accept my apologies for not really "promoting" this blog post now because the blogs aren't QUITE ready to be featured (not because of content! Just as part of the overall site).
So I'd rather have just introductions and such happen in the group walls (most of them don't have dedicated discussion areas) --
but another question.... do we need a group to help identify suicide survivors? I know these bonds are super strong.... LMK what you think.
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Comment by Morena on February 1, 2011 at 7:57pm
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Thanks so much. It was very difficult. I am just now feeling like I'm awakening from a deep slumber...like a fog is finally parting and I can see a semi-blue sky on the other side. I'm happy to have a resilient son. He's been wonderful.
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VOLUNTEER Comment by Supa Dupa Fresh on February 1, 2011 at 8:49am -
It is very brave of you to share this. How awful this loss was -- how much I can identify with so many of your feelings. Thanks for letting us hear it.
Need connections in Arizona? I love a bunch of people there...
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