Rain

I've moved house. 

It was done in a record time of 1 week. I managed to do most of the packing by myself but did get a bit of help from T, M & P. 

P was with me that final day when I handed the keys back. It was a sad ordeal for both of us. For me as the widow, for P as the grieving mother. I asked her to take me to the beach and there we stood sobbing for a while. 

I'm trying to adapt to the new place, different sounds, especially at night. I haven't finished unpacking yet, there is a part of me that thinks it's pointless, if I'm gonna die why unpack? 

Yes, I keep thinking about suicide all the time. Dr said I should go back to hospital but what for? Last time I was admitted I was given the impression I was an annoyance even if I was paying exorbitant amounts of money to be there (the insurance was really).

If I go to hospital I have to adjust to the new place again after discharge so why not just stay home and try to manage by myself?

Money is a huge stress, I have only just enough to pay rent and bills, for the first time in my adult life I have to choose between medication or food, health expenses or recreation. Everything revolves around me being unwell, now I have to check I have my meds with me before I go out, need to make sure I don't miss a dose, I need to rest all the time after I do even the simplest of things, I have no energy and feel exhausted to the point where breathing is an effort. I hate what I have become. 

I've applied to get extra help w my rent but so far it is not going anywhere. This sucks! After paying rent & bills I get $100 left to pay for food, transport, and medications for the next fortnight, any extras are not an option. I cannot afford any emergencies. I had always been so proud of being able to manage ok even with the little money I get but now the situation has got to a point where I prefer to sleep rather than having to confront reality, big problem: I am a severe insomniac. 

Getting a job would be great but I'm so fucking unwell I am not allowed to work, and in all fairness, I'm a very unreliable worker at the moment because of my illness. 

I'm doing all I can to get better but I'm getting nowhere closer to even knowing what's wrong, let alone fixing it. I don't even think I'm making any sense. 

Every day is more painful than the previous one, my heart is so heavy with grief. I miss my darling so much, I just want to be with him, I want to hold him and hear his voice and kiss his hands but that is never going to happen. 

And that breaks my heart all over again. 

Life, of sorts

I'm snowed under a mountain of paper work. Now I am to fill forms to claim S' superannuation Death Benefit Payout. 

It is a shit load of money, true, I need it and it may solve some problems for me. 

However, I'm claiming it to give it to his son when the kid (he was never allowed  to even speak to, let alone see) comes of age.

When S died he didn't know he left a Will and he certainly didn't know about the possibility of such a big payout. On his final letter he left everything to me to do as I saw fit. 

The Will was drafted many years before we met, he had forgotten because of all the ECT he had had fried his brain, his memory was terrible, he couldn't recall many parts of his life and the short term memory was appalling, I always had to check he turned the cooker off, many burnt pots & pans and smoke alarms triggered when I wasn't around. 

The Will is a legal document, the final letter isn't. There is a strong chance the money will go to The Mother of the Kid, that would be an insult to S' memory, she was horrible to him, and although the kid would benefit from that money still, I don't want her to have it. 

I want to get as much as I can and put it on a trust fund and when the kid is old enough He can learn his father loved him, he wanted to be part of his life, he sent him presents every bday and Xmas, he provided for him, I want the kid to know what a wonderful, gentle, caring, generous and loving his dad was. He never abandoned him. 

As for me, well, I don't know how much longer I will be around but I am fighting for what is right. That's my motivation for the time being. 

I'm utterly broken with grief, my health is deteriorating to a pace I had no idea it was possible but I'm doing all I can, I'm doing my best. 

Today

Warning - very honest and explicit talk of suicide.

I don't know which stupid stage of grief I have reached now, I think I am experiencing all of them at once and not in any particular nor defined order, denial is probably the only one is over.
I knew he was going to do it.
I knew he was going to kill himself, and the way in which he chose to do it. I was just not expecting it at that particular time. I suspected nothing that afternoon when we exchanged text messages. I feel stupid because his last message was "I will be OK. X" and I didn't understand his meaning. 
Do I feel responsible?  -  No
Do I feel guilty? - Maybe, although I know it is not my fault and I could have done nothing to prevent him from ultimately killing himself at some point, perhaps I could have stopped him that particular night. He had made up his mind and he was ready to go. But I knew, I knew, and yet I could do nothing about it.
That is why I believe he didn't reach out, because he knew I would talk him out of it for that day but then what?
Writing these words is so incredibly painful, I'm in tears, sobbing, howling, hyperventilating, having to stop constantly to wipe my eyes, walk around the room in circles, and as Edenland put it, as if going through labour, grief labour.

Everything hurts, nothing makes sense.
Simon was such a lovely man, sweet, intelligent, talented, handsome, wonderful but he could not see it. He couldn't feel comfortable in his own skin for a long time, it was not only depression and anxiety issues, it was also the chronic pain for which he never got proper diagnosis nor adequate treatment, he was tormented by not being able to see his son, he saw himself as a failure for not having all those things society uses as markers of success for "real men" i.e. having a massive mortgage for a house, owning a house, having stable employment, having a family, being always healthy and naturally not having a mental health problem. What bullshit!
He always felt as if his family resented him for being ill, I always thought that was just his perception but recently I heard one member of his family say it was a relief they didn't have to worry about him anymore - oh great fuck! I wanted to die when I heard that, perhaps it wasn't meant to sound so fucking horrible but it does suck to know that is the way they feel.
They didn't even buy an urn to keep his remains, he is still in that horrible 'standard issue' plastic box from the Health Authority. I know they are being practical because we will scatter his ashes in the sea very soon but for fuck's sake, they could have at least got him a cheap wooden box, something a little more dignified, he deserved better.

This grief is so deep, this pain is too much.

The past 2 weeks I've been away for medical appointments, on top of the devastating loss and the possibility of me becoming homeless, now I have to deal with the fact I may have a brain tumour, and just to make things just that little bit more shit, the pain specialist I just saw thinks my pain is not a rheumatological issue but a neurological condition, she is having me see a neurologist and entertaining the chance of MND (Motor Neuron Disease), MS, or some other neuro-degenerative illness.
Fuck, I've hit the fucking jackpot!
It is great to finally find a Dr who is not treating me like a fucking nutcase but fuck me, can I not just have a little bit of good luck for once?

I am sad and angry and broken and confused and scared and lonely and fucking pissed off and disappointed by life, I feel let down and abandoned and hard done by. I am forlorn, devastated, desolate, bereft.

I miss him, my body misses him, I am angry at my body for continuing to function, I am getting all this pent up sexual energy and I cannot even masturbate because it makes me cry, it feels like cheating on him, but he is gone, dead, never coming back!

Why, why, why? I walk around in circles most of the night howling, asking why, talking to him, to god, to anyone and no one, it's all the same, there's no answer, only silence and my sobs and this endless pain.

There are all these images that pass through my head, disturbing images, perhaps too morbid for some but I keep seeing them. I see him being very upset, getting in the car and driving to the bush (to the place he told me he had found but never told me where it was), drinking too much, crying, fighting with the world, climbing that tree, sitting on the chosen branch for a while and very meticulously and in a quasi reverential way slipping the noose on his beautiful neck, arguing with himself a lot more, justifying his decision and finally jumping off the tree. Only 3 minutes to die. I hope he was unconscious after minute 1. The saddest part is what comes next, he is there, alone, exposed to the animals and the elements for a week, no one was there to hold him and take him down sooner. I was not allowed to see his body, I know exactly what he was wearing. I hope he had a second to think of me and how much I loved him. I hope he felt loved by me to his last moment.

I know he had been practicing and perfecting the technique for years, there was nothing I could have done! and yet I wish things were different, I wish I could have been there to tell him I love him so much. I wish I could have done something.

There will always be a gap in my heart now. I really want to be with him.

Back home

After four long, lonely, strange and tedious weeks in hospital I'm back home for a few days before heading to the big smoke for specialists appointments. 

I had some very bad encounters with my treating Psych who dared to tell me I was only Sim's carer and our relationship had no future, I refuted her assumption and she said 'oh ok. Maybe I was wrong' - Maybe???? Fucking hell yes you were wrong madam! 

When I made a complaint about this to the nursing staff she denied 'ever saying anything about her partner' and that resulted in needing to have a nurse chaperoning every single consult we had after that, which suited me fine as it meant she wasn't purposely cruel to me anymore. She also told the nurses if I told them again I wasn't feeling safe she would organise for me to be scheduled in the public hospital - thank goodness Sister R told me this in time, so for the last 2 weeks I had to muster all my energy in pretending to be ok, I did it so well a lot of visitors thought I was working there and never would have picked me for a patient. 

I will never see that horrible psych again, even if I need another admission there I will ask for a different dr, simply because I don't trust her and without trust there cannot be a therapeutic relationship. 

Why do specialists have such a big problem when another human talks to them as their equal?

She really is stuck in a power trip. Good luck to her patients. Worse part is, I wasn't the only patient being treated poorly by her, 2 other ladies had equally bad experiences with her and the nurses knew it so they were supportive of me but there wasn't much they could do but listen to my grievances and try to come up with solutions that could work out for me without jeopardising their jobs. I shall forever be grateful to them. 

For the first time my chronic pain got addressed, I got referred to a pain specialist and will be starting a pain management program in a few weeks. I have a new approach to treating the pain and even if the reason for my admission was the chronic insomnia (which wasn't resolved), I still gained the chance to try something new to lessen the pain.

It was very sad to hear the Pain Dr tell me the pain will never go away, it cannot be cured and it will progressively get worse and it will be disabling to the point I won't be able to be independent. I was really hoping against all hope that she could say 'yes, we can cure it' but I guess is better to know where I stand, at least now I'm getting better help managing it. 

Weird side effects to gabapentin I developed: severe stuttering, expressive aphasia, urinary hesitancy, urinary frequency&urgency, haematuria, pharyngitis, increased tremor and last but not least tonic seizures and muscle fasciculations. Oh and my affect is flat. I know rationally what emotions I would be feeling but I cannot actually feel anything, I'm so very numb and detached. 

Strange to hear people's commenting on me 'looking so much better' I guess it's easier and less uncomfortable for them to see me faking a smile than to see me crying and utterly miserable out of the sorrow and grief of losing my beloved Simon. 

Being back home has been ok but it has reopened the doors to the grief, sorrow, pain, loneliness, good&bad memories, longing for him, missing him terribly it actually hurts physically. 

I feel very hurt also by his family, they don't contact me anymore, they don't need me now that he is gone, that makes me very sad. They said I had their help & support for as long as I needed it but I got told 2 weeks ago I have until February, then their help will end. I'm grateful for all they've helped and I never expected them to help really, they had no obligation. They never saw me as Simon's partner, they only saw me as his friend and his carer. 

They know nothing of the love we shared, I guess it's not important to them anymore. Perhaps I'm a painful remainder of Simon's death to them now. I don't know, I cannot read their minds. 

Just an acknowledgement of our relationship would be nice. For me. 

Fuck the money. I want nothing but to be with him and that is the very thing I will never have again. 

Everyone keeps saying 'do things in your own time, only when you're ready' but at the same time I'm being given a deadline by his family, & by the landlord, I will have to move out of our home soon but haven't been given a specific date, so, in reality I don't have much time and I know I'm not ready but I guess that's my problem and mine alone. 

Don't say things you don't mean. 

In the end I know the truth, he loved me and I love him forever, no matter what. He was my comfort, my friend, my perfect lover and I was his and by his side until the end and I'm certain he knew how much I loved him. 

Fuck the rest. They can sing high mass if they like. 

They had him during his happy times but HE HAD ME DURING THE BAD TIMES AND I WAS HIS UNTIL THE END. 

I love you Simon. May you rest in peace. 

Update

I'm back in hospital. I was terribly and still am terribly depressed but I'm safe and taking my treatment. Will write at large soon. 

Struggle

It is very hard just to stay alive at the moment, the thoughts, the temptation, the desire to end it all are so overwhelmingly strong. 

My head is full of noise, I cannot sleep, my body is exhausted, there's no rest, no respite. I haven't been able to eat for weeks and now even liquid is hard to keep down. 

I feel like I have reached the end of my strength, I am broken, empty, I have no more to give to this struggle. 

I'm tired of fighting, I just want to lay down and die, just drop on the floor and will my body to stop breathing, convince my soul to leave my body and go back to the eternal light where Simon is waiting for me. 

I have nothing left. 

Stop all the clocks

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.