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  1. *Trigger warning (suicide, family dysfunction) I've heard the words of my mother's suicide note echo in my mind my whole life, "I'm sorry, but I'm just so tired..." I remembered those words when I was in my late twenties, and found out what she meant in my own emotional and spiritual exhaustion of life; without hope of a way out. I knew that there was something wrong, something very wrong in my life, and whatever it was it was making my life impossible and painful. I felt like I was carrying an impossible burden and I couldn't put it down. However sure I was that something was causing so much pain and unhappiness in my life, I couldn't put my finger on it... I just couldn't seem to figure out what that something was! And my seemingly futile quest to do so inevitably led me down the same dead end road that I had been down so many times before. Those where the times when I seriously contemplated taking my own life. I figured I was doomed to the same fate as my mom. It seemed inescapable. Recently my father passed away; for natural reasons, I'm grateful to share. His passing on has had an impact on every member of my family; but it seems to have hit my uncle with blunter force than other of my relatives. Since my father’s passing, my uncle's seeming outward appearance of self-reliance and confidence has withered and he seems shaken to his very core. When I last saw him he spoke those words to me that seemed a direct quote from my mother's suicide note, "I'm just so tired..." And I didn't connect the two expressions of emotional and spiritual fatigue, along with my own experience of this type of despair, until just tonight; when it occurred to me that, just as I have been impacted by growing up in a dysfunctional family, so to have all the rest of my family... that dysfunction (in all its forms) is a shared family disease. I have been traditionally prevented from making this connection by my own family role and the accompanying belief that the dysfunction I grew up in was "all my fault". And I have been kept from connecting the threads by the fact that everyone in my family has played a different family role; and some of our problems have been more or less hidden by outward appearances of self-sufficiency and self-reliance (my uncle's functioning alcoholism & my mother’s refusal to get the help she needed). It seems to me that the same reason why my mother chose to end her life is why my uncle is so withered by the storms of life, and also why I once contemplated taking my own life; our shared inheritance of a dysfunctional family disease that has its expression in abuse, abandonment, codependency, and alcohol and drug abuse. ... Until I identified that I have a problem that I inherited from my family (not just from my mother), I was doomed to repeat the same pattern of living and dying that has destroyed the very souls of my relatives for untold generations past. The emotional and spiritual fatigue that so long plagued me and drove me to contemplate suicide is not nearly as strong of a force as it once was. I have found a name for that something that burdened me for the very saddest and most desperate years of my life. I have found something that works for me! A way to live my life and free myself of the beast that seems to stalk my family from the dark places in our souls where we don't like to go. I have found a way to face my own demons (with help), and to live and (slowly and gradually) put down the burden that has driven so many of my family members (most of whom were otherwise good people) to addictions and the very depths of suffering and despair. I am, after so many years of my own despair and suffering, not just staying afloat but truly learning to swim! I don't know where my journey will lead me, but I feel assured that I have already saved my own self from the greatest peril that I was so long in. And knowing that makes all the difference.
  2. Hi - I'm very new to these forums, so I apologize if I'm not posting in the correct spot, or my post is too long... I'm just desperate to share my story with people who may understand, because right now, I don't understand it at all. My boyfriend of two years, Adam, died on March 21st, 2017 of a heroin overdose. I lived with him, took care of his young son like he was my own, and was trying to build a life with him. When I first met him in 2015, he had been out of rehab a few months and was clean and healthy. But, as time went on, the lies and issues started to pile up. I promised him I would support him and help keep him on track....even though I had zero experience with drugs or addiction. I noticed about 6 months into our relationship that he was acting strange. He would fall asleep in the middle of conversations, we would fight over ridiculous things, and he just seemed very irritable all the time. I would go through his work backpack, car, drawers, etc and began to find oxy's and percs. I would confront him but he always had an excuse. By Christmas 2015, his behaviour seemed to be getting worse and he admitted that he had slipped up. We had a meeting with his parents. His mother told me that I was one of the best things to happen to Adam, and that she appreciated how much I cared and looked out for him. I knew that being with him wouldn't always be easy, but I truly loved him and his intentions were good... he loved me and took care of me...and when he was clean (he wasn't always high), we were amazing together. Fast forward to the fall of 2016, and I was helping him pick out a new house and moving in with him. Things were looking up - our commutes to work were going to be shorter, we'd be closer to his son, we even ended up spending more time with his ex wife and her boyfriend who we both got along with well. But, something happened over the winter, and things only got worse. We began fighting a lot more. He seemed to be hiding more from me, was very protective over his phone, and about two weeks before he died, I found a spoon that had been heated in one of the drawers of his toolbox. I asked him about it, and I'll never forget what he said... "that must be old... if I were using again, you would never have found that spoon". Because of our fights, his family began alienating me, and I was no longer invited to his family's get togethers, even though I was still watching his son - we had him every single weekend as well as during the week. I'd ask Adam to come to the park with his son and I, but he never wanted to do anything the last month or so of his life. He would spend all of his time at home on the couch in front of the TV, and get angry at me for guilt tripping him and making him look like a bad dad in front of his son. His parents also began to resent me - they attributed his lack of energy and sleeping all of the time to being overworked and me not "leaving him alone". I'm sure many people in my shoes would have left the relationship, but I couldn't give up on him. I truly felt like I was brought into his life for a reason and I wanted to help him. I was woken up in the middle of the night on March 21st by a phone call from his ex wife of all people, telling me that Adam was dead. He passed away in a bathroom stall while at work. I'll never forget that night.... the worst night of my life. The following days were pure hell as well. I was asked by his mother to take part in making the funeral arrangements, but I believe she was only asking to make herself look like a good person. I wasn't asked my opinion on anything. I remember sitting in the funeral home with his parents, brother and ex wife, thinking...."this is not what Adam would have wanted." But who was I to say... I was only his girlfriend of two years, a failure who couldn't keep him away from drugs and alive like everyone was hoping. Two days after he died, his mother called me to tell me that my family was not welcome in my home (the home I had chosen and built with Adam.... ), if I needed company I could go over to her house to be with she and Adam's dad and ex wife, and that her sister would be moving into mine and Adam's house the following day to "take care of it". She also told me I was not to take anything from the house without her there. Because I was in shock, I agreed and said ok. My mom got on the phone with her immediately and said that no one would be at the house except for our family, and to please respect our privacy during this time. She was very nice, but straight forward. Twenty minutes later, Adam's parents showed up at my house, yelling and screaming at my mom and aunt, telling them to get out of their son's house. Adam's dad (who I had never had an issue with the entire time I knew him) went on to say that Adam didn't love me. While all of this was happening, I was upstairs shaking and crying, in total disbelief. My aunt actually had to call the cops to make them leave. The cops told them that it was my permanent residence and that they were trespassing. Needless to say, the visitation and funeral were absolutely horrible. I wasn't welcome to stand at the front - but his ex wife was. His parents didn't say a word to me, except when I was up at the front talking to Adam's cousins - his mother came over to me and gave me a big, dramatic, fake hug in front of everyone. I got through those couple of days, and then immediately started packing up my belongings at the house. Thank God for my family and friends who were there to help me. I was moved out of the house within a week of the funeral. Because Adam's mother was the executor of his will, she was somehow able to shut off the cable and internet while my mom and I were still living at the house. She probably would have shut off the hydro as well, if she could have. When I think back to that time, I feel the craziest mix of emotions....sadness, disgust, despair, anger. I just can't make sense of any of it. Five months later, and I'm living in a completely different town about 2 hours from where Adam and I were living. I haven't seen his family, or any of our mutual friends, since the funeral. Some of them have reached out to me here and there, just to say that they're here for me... but it doesn't really feel like they are. One of his life long friends who I was on fairly good terms with, messaged me one night when she was drunk to tell me that everything was my fault, and if Adam hadn't met me he would never have died. His "friend" from work contacted me to tell me that Adam had been having serious issues for a while and that he almost overdosed/was unconscious at work about a month before he died. An ambulance wasn't even called. No one told me anything....until it was too late to help him!!!!??? I'm so, so angry and everyone, Adam, myself. His ex wife has called me a couple of times to see how I'm doing but she hasn't once asked me if I'd like to come visit Adam's son. I think this is the hardest part for me... I miss that kid so much. We were extremely attached to each other.... I'd pick him up from school some days.... he'd call me "mommy" by accident....Adam and I always made sure he had the best of everything at our house. Why am I not cut off from seeing him? Adam's mini-me....my only connection to him...aside from the dog we got together, who I still have and I honestly don't know what I would do without. I also lost my job in June - the company I had worked for for 7 whole years, let me go 3 months after my partner died. The manager who was part of the decision making even attended Adam's funeral and knew a lot about what had happened. I really don't know what I've done to deserve this..... why so many people think I'm disposable.... why so many people who I've been good to, just don't seem to care about me at all? I feel so alone, and damaged. I don't know how I'm ever going to get over any of this. I haven't even had a chance to properly grieve the loss of Adam because so many other hurtful and heartbreaking things have happened on top of him dying. I'm still unemployed, looking for work here but it's hard, especially when I feel riddled with anxiety and feel like a total failure in all other parts of my life... same when it comes to dating... I've been putting myself out there, trying to meet people and take my mind off of everything. The couple of people who I've told my story to have just disappeared. I don't get it.... I'm not suicidal, but I really can't live this way. I'm trying things to make me feel better.....long walks with my dog on the beach, meditation, reading, going to church... it's helping, but some days are still just unbearable. I feel like a burden to my family. Every choice I've made in life has come back to bite me. I try so hard to be a good, genuine person... but this is what I get? I pray to god everyday to help me see the lesson in all of this...
  3. I am watching my ex boyfriend die. We met in January of 2016, and shortly after we met he had convinced me to move in with him. He was charming, handsome, and humorous. He played the part well-- a total and complete gentleman. Upon moving into his house I had noticed that it was extremely messy, and there was a lot more garbage than I wasn't used to seeing in someone's home. I wrote that off as a result of his divorce which had happened a year and a half prior. He was my best friend. We did everything together, told each other everything (or so I thought), and got along great. Around April he had informed me that he was a recovering addict. I, having just turned 19 and not even knowing that people ACTUALLY did heroin, let alone that I'd be spending my life with someone who battled addiction, did not understand the severity of what was happening around me. He wouldn't answer his phone (which I had bought him) more than I would have liked to let slide, money started going missing, things of value would disappear... At night, he'd lay in bed and "fall asleep" with lit cigarettes searing the sheets. By August there was no denying that he had relapsed, that I was living with a junkie and I just didn't know it yet. In October I left him to go live on the other side of the country with his distant family. I gave him an ultimatum-- either stay there and die, or come here and get a second chance at life. He flew out a month later and told me everything was great, he'd been doing well, and he was ready to start our life together. A week after he got there, a week worth of withdrawals, and he admitted to trying to commit suicide the night before he left. He drove my grandmother to the airport in her own vehicle with copious amounts of illicit substances on his person (that was where I drew the imaginary line). As the truth was unfolding about what had actually been going on right out of my line of sight for the past 10 months, he started to have health complications. He ended up spending the past two months in and out of the hospital for massive kidney stones. He was here with his family who were trying to nurse him back to health, but the state in which he arrived was already half dead. I stuck by his side for as long as I could, until I was sure he was in good hands and I had already done everything I could for him, and then left him and his family to start fresh and pursue an education by myself. Things were going well up until this past weekend whenever his family found his stash of needles. It turns out he's been using this whole time. He still needs several surgeries until his health is stable and he is getting ready to travel back to our home state alone (where he owes many people a lot of money) and if he doesn't take care of himself severe infection and kidney failure is inevitable. So no matter what way I look at it, I can't imagine anything other than his death sentence as he continues down this path. Fortunately I have never mourned the loss of someone for I am relatively young but I am horrified and watching all of these events transpire in front of me as he deteriorates. I know I am no longer with him, so it shouldn't "matter", but no one can help someone who does not want help, and he's made it very clear he does not want help. So we are all forced to sit here and watch as he slowly kills himself. By nature, I am very curious about life, the things around me, and getting to know myself. Death is the only subject I fall quiet on when its brought up. I always have said "I have no idea how I'd react to that, I hope I don't have to any time soon" but here it is. Happening in slow motion right in front of my face. and there is nothing left I can do about it.
  4. This is the first i have reached out to any support group but ill try my best. I lost my older brother to suicide 3 months ago on Sunday. He was 4 years older than me and was 23. I always looked up to him and he was the strongest person i knew. he had the biggest heart in the world and he would do anything for anyone often putting others before himself. Sadly i didn't get to see him much the past few years as he joined the army when i was in high school and i did a terrible job of trying to keep in touch with him. He was never the type of person to call people and i wish i had got to talk to him more. I think about him every day and some days are okay. But other days are just terrible and i have no motivation. Ill lay in bed for hours doing nothing and sometimes the only thing that makes me get is having to be at work. Its been especially hard lately with the holidays as that was the time of year I usually got to see him. I'm going to visit the cemetery tomorrow for the first time since the funeral and I'm not really sure what to do or how to feel about it as I've never visited anyone in a cemetery.
  5. So many mixed emotions, I am tired of this roller coaster ride and I want off! I lost my husband of 20 years on 7/25/2013 . Things changed in 2006 after my husband Mike was in a bad ATV accident and broke his back. He had the best neurosurgeon in state and after 9 months was able to go back to work. Over the next few years he began to change, he was not the same man I married. He was addicted to pain medication. I not a doctor by any means but, but it's like he became bipolar, big mood swings and very erratic. In 2010 he suddenly filed for a divorce, moved out, cashed in his 401K bought a new car, a 9mm gun, got a tattoo and was dating another woman. After about 2 months apart he begged me to let him come home and try and work things out. I was upset and felt betrayed, I did everything him and was not ready to forgive. He was like Dr Jeckyl and Mr Hyde. One day he would send me flowers and tell me how much he loved me then the next day would threaten to burn down our house if I did not take him back. He was living in SLC near his work at one of those extended stay hotels when he tried committing suicide the first time. He began texting me and my sister saying he took a bunch of pain meds and it would not be long. We called the police and they went to the hotel where he was staying. After breaking the door down they took him to the hospital where he barricaded himself again in the hospital room and began trashing the room. They were able to restrain him and check him out then transported him to another hospital to their psychiatric unit for 7. When he was released he lived with my sister for a couple months and really seemed to be getting himself together, he was the Mike I met back in 1992 again!! Things were going good for about 6 months then he started to distance himself from everything. He started missing our marriage counseling appointments, not coming home for a day or two and when he was home he was just not himself,he was a zombie and I was just his roommate/caregiver. He was being prescribed 120 Percocet per month and started noticing he would not have any left after 2 weeks. The last two weeks of the month he would be buying pain pills on the street. I know he was in pain, I don't doubt that at all. He was a mechanic and all the heavy lifting, twisting and bending was really taking a toll on him. I pleaded with him to find another job that was not so labor intensive, go back to school, talk to the Dr about going to a pain clinic...anything. After about 2 years of battling this I was tired and could not take anymore. I was so miserable. I hated coming home and I hated being married and I hated myself. I felt like a complete failure and no matter what I did I he was not happy. In May of 2013 I asked for a divorce. I told him he could have everything in the house or he could have the house. Things were quiet for the first month, then one night he came into the bedroom and pulled me out of the bed and began yelling at me and telling me what a rotten wife I was and calling me every name in the book. I quickly gathered a few thing and tried to leave and he would not let me go. I tried to call 911 and he grabbed my cell phone and shattered it then shoved me into the closet. I got up and punched him in the chest to get away, got in my car and left. He called the police and told them I had hit him, which I did to get away. I told the police what had happened and they charged us both with disorderly conduct. I stayed away for a few days to let things cool off. Since I work from home full time I needed to go home so I could work and pay bills since he had quit contributing to our household. I purchased the home on my own and could not afford to pay for a home I could not live in and then pay rent. I asked him to find a place and move out. He asked me to help him find an apartment which I did, he found one he liked so I paid the deposit and he was going to move in 2 weeks later. A couple days later while he was at work my daughter (who was 24 at that time) and I found a suicide note he had written to me. We were freaked out and knew what he was planning. The police were called and they went to his work and confronted him about the note and also found a loaded 9mm gun under the front seat of his car. Somehow he managed to convince the police he was not suicidal and it was a form of therapy recommended by his counselor. He was released to a friend who called herself his "Life Counselor" for 72 hour watch. Mike was angry that we called the police and the next day he went down and filed a restraining order against me for the fight we had weeks earlier when he pushed me into the closet and punched him in the chest. I did not know he had filed a restraining order until the Sheriff showed up at my house. I was given 30 minutes to get packed and leave the home. I did not want to stay with anyone he knew in fear of what he would do so I found a room to rent about an hour away. The next day I went down and filed a restraining order against him and a court date was set for 7/22/13. When we went to court the suicide note came up, his attorney told the judge "This was a form of therapy" the judge read his 6 page suicide note out loud in court, pausing after each paragraph the judge looked up at his attorney said "This is not a form of therapy". I pleaded with the judge to get him help, my plea went unanswered. Both restraining orders were granted and Mike was ordered to vacate the home by 6pm that night. When I first met Mike back in 1992 my daughter Jessika was 4 years old.....to her, this was her dad. My daughter was just as concerned with what was happening with him and felt it would be best to move in with him so that he was not alone. They had found an apartment a few miles away and got most of his stuff moved out that night. Even though he was ordered to be out by 6pm that night, my family and some close friends pleaded with me not to go home just yet, give it a few days and let him cool off. I went home 2 days later on 7/24/2014. My daughter stopped by the house when I got home that morning and we had a good talk. She said Mike was doing good and that he was excited that she was moving in with him. They had plans to BBQ steak that night and watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show together. That was one of their favorites! The next day my daughter went to work for a few hours then stopped by the house on her way home to pack a few more boxes and so I could help her rent a moving truck. We picked up the rental truck and took it to the house, she wanted to run to the apartment real quick to let the dogs out take care of a few things and would be back in about an hour or two. While she was gone, I went to my counseling appointment. When I left my counseling appointment I noticed I had 5 missed calls from her and 2 from a very close friend. I tried calling Jessika and she did not answer. I called my friend and she immediately said "Where are you, have you talked to Jess?" I told her she had called and I called her back she didn't answer. It was then she told me "Becky I am so sorry, Mike is gone...he killed himself" My stomach sank. Within a few minutes my daughter, the police and grief counselor at my house. When my daughter had went home, she noticed Mike's car was there and he was not suppose to be off work for few more hours. She went into the apt and called his name, looked in his bedroom and around the apartment and didn't see him. She didn't think anything of it, she figured he had went out to have a smoke or walk to the pool. She let the dogs out and went back in and layed down for minutes and was playing on her phone. The dogs were pacing back and forth and she noticed that her phone was connected to Mikes hot spot on his cell phone. She got up and started looking around the apartment again. She opened his bedroom door again and noticed a bunch of empty pill bottles. When she went over and picked up the pill bottles she saw the light in the closet on and opened the door and found Mike, her dad had hung himself. My daughter and I have went to counseling and continue to go to suicide support group. It's been 18 months since this horrible day we will never forget. My daughter still has nightmares and can't get that image out of her head. I am heartbroken, feeling betrayed and pissed off! How could he do this to her knowing SHE would be the one to find him? He did it because he knew it would hurt me too, my daughter is my life. I am pissed off at the fact that when the police were called they did not admit him to hospital for psychiatric evaluation...especially after finding a loaded gun, a suicide note AND a previous suicide attempt!! I'm just as pissed off that the judge didn't do anything either. To me someone should have intervened, I guess I didn't do enough to help him?? I feel like I should have just stayed and been miserable the rest of my life....at least maybe he would be alive. I still love him to this day and always will. I am really trying to move on with life and even started dating. I find myself pushing people away, I'm afraid of getting to close to anyone. I still have all of Mikes clothes, I'm just not ready to part with them yet, I can still smell him. A few days after he passed I found bag of rope that he left behind. I can't touch it without falling apart and thinking about one particular sentence in his suicide note "Whatever you do, don't open the door".
  6. Hello everyone, I have been looking for a space to express my feelings, and hope that I have found it here in this group. Thank you in advance to anyone who is reading this. So my story begins with an alcoholic father, who was always a drinker since the day I was born. For whatever reason, I always took it upon myself to try to get him to stop. I would talk to his doctors all the time to seek advice and find out about his health. It got to the point that I would secretly hope there was something wrong with his health that would make him have to stop drinking. His drinking ruined my family, caused my parents to divorce when I was only 5, maybe thats the reason I felt it was my responsibility. I dont know. In June of 2013, my father had fallen out side of his apartment building where he lived with his girlfriend of 5 years. She called an ambulance which brought him to the local hospital and then called me to tell me she was kicking him out and not allowed back in the apartment as he had been lying about his drinking for months. This all happened around 9am. I did what any daughter would do, got in the car and drove the 45 minutes away to make sure my father was alright. As soon as I got there, i watched as he fought the doctors and nurses, refusing care because he needed to leave and get his next drink. I tried talking to him, as he was over come with shakes from the withdrawls, telling me that he hadnt drank anything that day. I just couldnt take the lying and broke down. He was released from the hospital that day with nowhere to go. He was homeless and i certainly wasnt going to allow him to come to my house and enable his behavior. For the next month I struggled to get him to go into a rehab facility to no avail. He was living in his car for about a month before getting dizzy spells daily. One night he walked himself to the hospital to seek help and tests revealed that he had a 90% block to his heart. After a full week of detox and 2 more weeks of recovery they were able to place a cathater and he was released shortly thereafter. By then I was able to get him a room at the local YMCA, which he finally agreed to after refusing for 3 days. At first, he treated his release from the hospital as a second lease on life. He called me daily to give me updates on his health and promised that he was not drinking. I suggested that he go to an AA meeting to get some support as dealing with an addiction is a very difficult thing to do on your own. His response was "I am not an alcholic, that stopped in the hospital". I was so angry at him for not wanting to fight this disease that I refused to talk to him anymore if he wasnt going to take care of himself. After about three weeks of staying at the Y, it was obvious that he had started drinking again because his behavior was very eratic. I received a phone call one morning at 11am that he was found lying at the bottom of a stairwell in a puddle of his own blood. I thought to myself, here we go again. He bumped his head when he fell down drunk, again. After finding him at one of the local hospitals (he was entered as John Doe), what I saw was so far from just a bump on the head. They brought my sister and I into "the bad news room" to explain that my father had suffered signficant injuries and they were not sure if he would recover. As the days went on the doctors became less and less optimistic. They told us that even if he woke from his coma, that he would never be the same, never live a normal life. As his medical proxy, I made the decision to refuse life support and he passed 3 days later. I feel so much guilt about so many things, "should i have waited a few more days", "why couldnt i just accept him for who he is", "did he know I loved him", "could I have done anything more to help". I miss him so much and I feel like its my fault. Its been almost 4 months and i still feel like it was yesterday. Any words of wisdom or advice are more than welcome.