depression has found me again despite my best efforts to subdue it with self prescribed prozac. i’d been diagnosed before as something or other terminally depressed because you seen me for 15 minutes and there is no way possible that you can know anything about me or my beliefs and you can’t see inside my head so you can’t see that i really am at peace with myself 90% of the time. wonderful wonderful psychiatrists. i never took the medications yet had the perscriptions filled so my psychiatrist would think that i was a doped up weird looking woman instead of a crazy weird looking one. i was happy inside then despite what they said and this is a temporary (very temporary) step for me. i’ve killed harder addictions than prozac before but i have to be alive to do it.
i usually live in a make believe world so i’m usually pretty happy and stable as far as i’m concerned (and mine is the one that really counts) but lately these make believe walls have fallen.
in-laws suck big time.
not a call…
no christmas card…
nothing.
most holidays this wouldn’t have made me flinch or even bat an eye, but on x-mas?
this is my husband’s favorite time of the year.
he made his exit from this world the day after it.
they sent me a card when he was alive.
now that he’s dead i guess i don’t matter anymore…
so much for those promises “you are still family, we will keep in touch, we love you”
yeah fucking right
i’m still just as married to him as much now as i was when he still had a pulse.
i become angry and even sometimes violent when someone refers to him as my ex-husband.
we never were divorced. we never fell out of love.
i was a good wife to him.
and now this treatment from his family
no treatment at all
i’d take hatred over apathy any day.
that critical, bitter, and childish part inside of my mind is screaming again…
the fucking day after christmas and the bastard had to leave me. he promised me forever damnit and i intend to collect. all i have now are a few memories, a handful of books out of his majestic collection, and a box of ashes, some of which i carry in a vial around my neck. his mother has the rest of our things. everything. everything including our wedding pictures. i had 15 mintues to pack (we moved in with her when we found out he was sick) the day he died because she didn’t want me to cry in her house.
i’m not so upset that he died, but that he didn’t take me with him. why not? i took him with when i suddenly left to move across country.
i stayed by his side 24/7 in the hospital when he was sick those four weeks. if you’ve ever stayed in the hospital for even a few days while your loved one was sick, you know that this is a *very* long time. now imagine four weeks while your husband is being eaten away and nothing that you are doing, not modern medicine nor any magick, is having a visible effect.
death takes him
“it’s his time” they say, “you still have some higher purpose to fulfill.”
fuck that, as if i’d fulfill it anyways now that they have ripped my lover and i apart. how can some higher purpose think that i’d willingly work for it when it has cut short my time with my soulmate?
we are perfect for one another. no one could suffocate me with their love like he did. no one could look at me with the same comsuming desire that he could right before we’d leave a roomfull of people and nip off to the bedroom. he never gave me an oppurtunity to cheat and for this i was glad. i had cheated on every lover i’d had until then, whether in body or mind. he watched my every move while i was not at work. when i was, he would call me one to three times just to say tell me he loved me and make sure i was there. he dropped me off in the mornings, went to work, got off, and came and picked me up. we woke up together. we showered together. we left the house together. we did everything together. hell, we probably would have used the same toothbrush had we not been brushing our teeth at the same time. i loved everything about him. i still do.
he cared enough about me to take the time and effort to watch my every move. you’d never believe how secure one could feel when they are dating the boogey man stalker type.
he was determined not to loose me even when i’d get confused, much like i am now… when _their_ reality is much too close to me. he’d understand and stay with me and tell me that if i believed in nothing else, to believe in him. he would be the foundation that i could build my world on because he would always be there. he would never leave me.
there was no “til death do us bart” bullshit in our wedding vows…
there was a promise to love one another forever. what i miss the most, second only the sould in a breathing body, is being showed just how much he loved me.
i’m a romantic at heart and i want to be told all of the time with words, notes with a violent but loving text, glances, dead things, it doesn’t matter… just everyday. it’s strange but i don’t mourn his journey into the greatness we call death… i’m certain we will meet up again soon.
i miss his companionship right now.
i miss his touch and the sound of his voice.
i miss the daily contact…
the constant daily contact that we had.
i have people today, a year after his death, claiming to love me.
i believe them but do they believe themselves?
could i ever be fair to another when i’m still so much in love with him?
could i ever trust another to never leave me?
could anyone ever give me the same level of dedication without being someone other than they are?
i also claim to love another but does he believe me?
i believe this too… but this is a person that i hardly talk to and see even less… not by my choice of course… he’s a busy person i guess and it’s easy to love someone from afar. people tend to be different when you live or spend much time together.
i’m going to slip into the recesses of sleep for now…
the closest i can come to death for now.
the void is calling
*VodKa*
that was beautiful…and so sad, it makes my heart go out to you…and i feel closer because i understand more of your being. drop me an email…
that is so fucking inconsiderate it makes me sick. that one statement had better make you glad that you signed it anonymous….you have now made me severely dislike you….you dont know me in RL, but trust me…if you did…you’d know for a fact that it isnt good.
well, first of all, as far as the medication goes, it can take a while to kick in. I suffered for 8 depressed, borderline suicidal weeks waiting for the paxil i’ve been on to take it’s effect, and now I am able to handle reality in a much more responsible way. secondly, there is a quote that deeply touched me at a rather dark time in my life…”the angels are lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory”. It was part of a piece written by a Holocaust surviver who found hope in dreaming of his wife, not knowing that she hadn’t survived. He drew emotional strength from the very thought of her, and even though she wasn’t there to greet him when he was finally released, he still remained dedicated to becoming a writer. He wrote several books and essays examining the Holocaust, and obviously made an impact on people because his words reached me, and stayed with me. At the time, someone I care for deeply was in an institution, and our future together was unpredictable and doubtful. The pain of seperation was nearly unbearable, and I did mourn. Although it’s a seperate thing from what you are experiencing, it was a way for me to see what it is like to be unable to hear the voice of the one you love. So, I can relate in a vague and empathetic way. You’re article nearly drove me to tears, and I’m one of the stolid, unemotional types. Not because I found it bleak or hopeless, but because it was exquisite. Very raw and naked, straight from the heart. Thank you for pouring out your heart to all us here at darksites, I offer my support. Feel free to email me at StarFiend3@aol.com, I’d love to talk to you. Don’t hesitate, I know offers from strangers can be intimidating, but if you really feel like no one loves you, know that your post made me come dangerously close to loving you just for having survived a horrible loss with such sad grace.
you are ill.
why does my husband not allow me to contact him anymore?
what´s wrong with your address, Sire?
your ~soul~mate
why do so many consider mourning to be an illness. It is perfectly natural. And I aggree whole heartedly with Natalhia…that is one ass I would kick if I could.
If she is sick, than I suppose that I am as well. This whole misbegotten world is full of those that are truely ill, and the world says nothing, but looks for that which is not in all that is.
Damn I need some sleep.
~n~
i guess it’s easy to hide behind an anonymous post and pass judgement so that we don’t see your own psychosis (which everyone in this world has), except perhaps the close-mindedness and lack of any sort of empathy. you can write all you like about something you clearly know nothing about… but that’s all it is, empty words. until you have lost a lover and lived through their favorite times of the year and holidays like your anniversary or christmas, only then will i take a simple “you are ill” as a critisism… unless of course, you can explain why i’m ill and have the answer be different from any other widow/er, or person who has lost for that matter, experiences fromtime to time.
until then,
…
Having never lost anyone closer to me than my grandfather, I have no idea what to say to express sympathy. I think I’d better not try. I tend to stick my foot in my mouth.
About the depression – there are other meds out there. I wasn’t too wild about Prozac. I liked the Wellbutrin (it’s an aphrodisiac – I liked having my orgasms back) and the Paxil (it helped my insomnia and my migraines). Currently I’m not on anything, because going without is cheaper and I ran out of free samples in August, and I actually don’t notice a difference, which means that I probably didn’t need the meds anymore. Anyway, if you don’t want to be on Prozac anymore, don’t quit cold turkey (this makes you have wild mood swings). But do consider switching to something else.
I have my suspicions as to who this inconsiderate bastard could be. But I won’t accuse him openly as I have no proof, but whenever he writes more that one or two sentances it becomes blatanly obvious.
Seems I’ve had a few run ins with this person, and he believes that he is the be all, fuck all, know all, of everything. but again who ever it is hiding behind banners of anonimity, is the most cowardly thing next to stealing soda cans from bag ladies.
did you write this so people could comment, or did you do it because you just needed to say it
faet55
You just said that you stopped taking them a long time ago, too. Never mind. I’m not awake.
Believes he is the be-all, know-all…but has the insecure spine of a caterpillar. And even less sense of tact that I possess, which is a pretty impressive deficit.
everyone has skeletons in their closets… sometimes these skeletons keep knocking at the door and scream in your head until you get them out. sometimes writing dulls the ache, sometimes painting relieves the solitude, sometimes cutting is soothing, sometimes exposing yourself to those in cyberland who you may or may not know does the trick.
i needed to write… i want people to see who i am. i read the comments and took them close to my heart, but even if i recieved none, it wouldn’t have bothered me.
i can’t quite remeber who this is by, it is on the tip of my tongue but the liquor has made my mind foggy.
and i don’t want the world to see me
i don’t think that they would understand
when everything’s made to be broken
i just want you to know who i am
why do you care? dont act like you care about us jacob….we all know that we were just pawns in your game. you should just drop off the face of the earth so that we dont have to worry about where your ugly head will pop up next.
and one more thing…why did you write it anonomously if you were going to sign it? duh…i guess you really *are* losing your intelligece like you claimed that you were. did you think that we wouldnt recogize you?
it is a public board… anyone can comment.
gods i’m an emotional wreak lately
it’s time to move again
heh