tfnb
Member
- May 29, 2023
- 63
My wife fell ill on May 1st. On the 9th I had to watch her struggle, gurgling through the fluid in her lungs for 6 and a half hours, completely incapacitated from the fentanyl that they had her on so that she could be unaware of the pain after they took her off dialysis so that she could pass. I watched painstakingly as the body that once bore my children, the empty shell after the sickness spread to her brain causing a cascading reaction of strokes so damaging that it left an empty shell. A body being preserved by modern machinery. The last glimmer of hope disappearing after she had been physically improving, but for some unexplainable reason not waking up.
Since then I've become a single dad, something that I never imagined I'd have to do. We were supposed to grow old and be that old annoying couple together.
I never eat, I've lost like 40 lbs, food isn't enjoyable anymore. I only enjoy the peace that I get when I'm alone, 30 feet in the air on a lift doing my job at work.
The kids want me to spend time with them and I try but I'm just going through the motions. I put on a happy face and they think we're having a good time, but I feel like I'm in a crowded room of people I don't even know and I just want to hide in the corner. I used to be their person. I used to spend the weekends going out with them or all huddled around various corners of the livingroom playing online games together. Now I'm an empty shell and they only see the armour I've put on, some sort of brave knight saving the day, providing them with a bastion of fulfillment.
People keep reaching out to me to tell me how sorry they are and I find it taxing to even look at my phone. If I could withdraw from society completely I would.
I keep seeing if medications cause any sort of organ failure if you overdose on them. I've researched various mechanical methods, and I fantasize about crashing the van as I'm driving home alone from work. I still take the stupid medication I'm prescribed for Bipolar II, so I know it's not a brain thing. I just don't find any joy in things anymore.
I started seeing someone sort of. We meet up for coffee and she wants me to kiss and touch her but I find even meeting up with her to be taxing. I just don't look forward to waking up in the morning. Honestly if I found joy in people she could be a completely viable choice. She's attractive, easy to talk to, but just having a conversation feels like I'm listening to someone else's conversation on a bus and I want to get off at the next stop. I feel like I'm failing her on top of everyone else. She wants my time and attention and for some reason only mine, and I just don't know how to give it to her, or anyone else.
I know that people are around me, I just want to fall asleep and then never wake up. Never have to think about losing my best friend, never have to put on a brave face for the kids. Never have to put on a happy face for people socially. I just want it to all stop and just be free.
People tell me that things will get better, but I find no solace nor enjoyment in anything. I just feel like I wake up to please everyone else when all I want is to crawl into a hole and be forgotten.
I'm currently in a Walmart parking lot. I found the strength to just get out of the van and see strangers but just going inside felt like overcoming some sort of obstacle blocking my path.
I'm on my sixth cigarette since parking here. I started smoking on the 2nd after the doctor told me that I should tell her mom to fly out so that she would have some time to say goodbye. Say goodbye to the person I've known since she was 13 and I was 14. Two teens with their whole life ahead of them. Two teens who later found each other in some sort of miraculous planetary alignment as we both got out of completely destructive abusive relationships.
Two teens, one who escaped to a woman's shelter for fear that she would be found out, and one who was moving his things into a U-Haul until he found a place to escape to without being reminded about how useless of a partner he was. Two teens who in their late twenties found themselves a two bedroom apartment where they could start peacefully to rebuild their self esteem. Two teens who went through some of the most important, and toughest times in their lives together, grieving and nurturing a relationship that at the end was on the ropes because of how hard life can get, but who were on the mend. The last two months before she got sick were the first months in a long time where life was looking manageable and things in the long term were looking survivable and dare I even say, hopeful. We kept reminding each other that "we just have to get through these last couple months before we move and then everything will be easier."
Instead, I moved our family into a new home that we chose together, in a quiet town outside of the big city. Only an hour's drive from work, the trips are bearable and some mornings even peaceful, as I leave the house at 5 am to start at 6:30. The only catch is that the seat beside me, where my wife would be giddily complaining about YouTube drama or the latest meme is completely empty. After 27 years of memories and confiding into one another pieces that we held so secretive that we only shared them with each other, her seat is an empty chair. A reminder of the part of myself that would be ignited when she would look at me even on her worst day, and her distraught face would light up with a smile that reminded me how deeply she loved me. A reminder of the part of my soul that departed as I listened to her heart make it's very last beat. A reminder of the emptiness that I felt as I saw her take her last, laboured breath followed by her chest being completely still until only the sound of my tears falling onto her forehead were audible in the room. A reminder of how I told her that it was ok for her to finally let go.
I honestly don't know what the point of existing is.
Since then I've become a single dad, something that I never imagined I'd have to do. We were supposed to grow old and be that old annoying couple together.
I never eat, I've lost like 40 lbs, food isn't enjoyable anymore. I only enjoy the peace that I get when I'm alone, 30 feet in the air on a lift doing my job at work.
The kids want me to spend time with them and I try but I'm just going through the motions. I put on a happy face and they think we're having a good time, but I feel like I'm in a crowded room of people I don't even know and I just want to hide in the corner. I used to be their person. I used to spend the weekends going out with them or all huddled around various corners of the livingroom playing online games together. Now I'm an empty shell and they only see the armour I've put on, some sort of brave knight saving the day, providing them with a bastion of fulfillment.
People keep reaching out to me to tell me how sorry they are and I find it taxing to even look at my phone. If I could withdraw from society completely I would.
I keep seeing if medications cause any sort of organ failure if you overdose on them. I've researched various mechanical methods, and I fantasize about crashing the van as I'm driving home alone from work. I still take the stupid medication I'm prescribed for Bipolar II, so I know it's not a brain thing. I just don't find any joy in things anymore.
I started seeing someone sort of. We meet up for coffee and she wants me to kiss and touch her but I find even meeting up with her to be taxing. I just don't look forward to waking up in the morning. Honestly if I found joy in people she could be a completely viable choice. She's attractive, easy to talk to, but just having a conversation feels like I'm listening to someone else's conversation on a bus and I want to get off at the next stop. I feel like I'm failing her on top of everyone else. She wants my time and attention and for some reason only mine, and I just don't know how to give it to her, or anyone else.
I know that people are around me, I just want to fall asleep and then never wake up. Never have to think about losing my best friend, never have to put on a brave face for the kids. Never have to put on a happy face for people socially. I just want it to all stop and just be free.
People tell me that things will get better, but I find no solace nor enjoyment in anything. I just feel like I wake up to please everyone else when all I want is to crawl into a hole and be forgotten.
I'm currently in a Walmart parking lot. I found the strength to just get out of the van and see strangers but just going inside felt like overcoming some sort of obstacle blocking my path.
I'm on my sixth cigarette since parking here. I started smoking on the 2nd after the doctor told me that I should tell her mom to fly out so that she would have some time to say goodbye. Say goodbye to the person I've known since she was 13 and I was 14. Two teens with their whole life ahead of them. Two teens who later found each other in some sort of miraculous planetary alignment as we both got out of completely destructive abusive relationships.
Two teens, one who escaped to a woman's shelter for fear that she would be found out, and one who was moving his things into a U-Haul until he found a place to escape to without being reminded about how useless of a partner he was. Two teens who in their late twenties found themselves a two bedroom apartment where they could start peacefully to rebuild their self esteem. Two teens who went through some of the most important, and toughest times in their lives together, grieving and nurturing a relationship that at the end was on the ropes because of how hard life can get, but who were on the mend. The last two months before she got sick were the first months in a long time where life was looking manageable and things in the long term were looking survivable and dare I even say, hopeful. We kept reminding each other that "we just have to get through these last couple months before we move and then everything will be easier."
Instead, I moved our family into a new home that we chose together, in a quiet town outside of the big city. Only an hour's drive from work, the trips are bearable and some mornings even peaceful, as I leave the house at 5 am to start at 6:30. The only catch is that the seat beside me, where my wife would be giddily complaining about YouTube drama or the latest meme is completely empty. After 27 years of memories and confiding into one another pieces that we held so secretive that we only shared them with each other, her seat is an empty chair. A reminder of the part of myself that would be ignited when she would look at me even on her worst day, and her distraught face would light up with a smile that reminded me how deeply she loved me. A reminder of the part of my soul that departed as I listened to her heart make it's very last beat. A reminder of the emptiness that I felt as I saw her take her last, laboured breath followed by her chest being completely still until only the sound of my tears falling onto her forehead were audible in the room. A reminder of how I told her that it was ok for her to finally let go.
I honestly don't know what the point of existing is.
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