I've been reading a couple of books about surviving the suicide of a loved one.
"Dying to Be Free: A Healing Guide for Families After a Suicide"
and
"No Time to Say Goodbye: Surviving The Suicide Of A Loved One"
I have to say that, while interesting, I found nothing in the first book that seemed to be what I was feeling. Now, over three quarters of the way through the second one, I have found a nugget:
"I was numb. I couldn't believe that I was not also dead. I thought that the inside of me had died. Why was the outside of me moving when the inside of me was dead? It was impossible to believe that I could still be alive."
In spite of my anger, my fears and my grief, I still feel that sense of impossibility. I understand the reality of my husband's suicide, but I'm still waiting to be overwhelmed. I am still walking around, cleaning up the financial mess (with a lot of help from my friends), preparing myself for when my son goes off to college, and trying to get a handle on what I'm going to do with the rest of my life, all the while going to work, and feeling creative there. I'm talking to people, fielding the question, "What's new?" from people who don't know with, "You REALLY don't want to know," accompanied by a little laugh.
All the while, there's a part of me, inside, that seems to be totally dead.
Here is my "amateur psychologist" feedback (though I do have a psychology degree so I'm not totally uncredentialed) -- The part of you that feels dead inside cannot believe that Jim is really gone. I think that extremely common for anyone who has lost a loved one, whether by sudden death or even after a long illness. We are programmed to expect that those we love will always be there. When they no longer are it goes against all we know and live for.
ReplyDeleteThis is still so new for you, dear Ronni, that a part of you is still in deep denial. I understand. I don't blame you. It is your defense mechanisms in overdrive protecting you.
Just keep going one day at a time, taking pleasure in your creativity, loving your children and grandchildren, and being the staunch friend you are to those near and far, both healthy and those faced with health challenges. It's what you can do. It's what you are good at.
It will perhaps take years to reconcile Jim's death. The disconnect between your rational side and your emotional side might not be mended soon, or smoothly. All you can do is attend to the here and now, to the living, and to what brings you satisfaction and peace.
Hi, Ronni.... I'm so happy for you that you found some words that help you. And I'm very sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteBev Cobain
Hello, Bev, and welcome.
ReplyDeleteYour book was very interesting, and I recognize the similarities among survivors; it just seems that my feelings, while not unique, are so unformed and nebulous that I should re-read it later on.
It has been nearly two months since my husband shot himself, and I am still in shock.
Cheri, I think I may be fairly good, in an unconscious way, at compartmentalizing my feelings. Something to do with that good old British "stiff upper lip" I was raised to believe was the ideal.
ReplyDeleteI am continually humiliated by my recurring bouts of tears, which can be set off by any little thing, and which occur at inconvenient times and places.
By the way, Bev, if you're still around, I found an arrangement of "In the Pines," by Kurt that is one of the most beautiful expressions of unbearable pain that I have heard in over 20 years. He truly was a genius.
ReplyDelete