Ramblings of a Reluctant Widow

I'm still at a low ebb. Heading into week five of this current dip. It started with the inquest advanced disclosure arriving in my inbox and just hasn't lifted yet. I thought it would have by now. I'm not even sure it's just the inquest any more.  I've done enough depression score questionnaires over the years to recognise that if I did one now I would probably score in the range of moderate depression and slight anxiety. I'm functioning, but not really enjoying life too much.  I'm wanting to avoid people for the most part;  Today I considered eating my lunch in the heat of my car because I wasn't sure I could deal with a staff room full of colleagues.  I'm struggling to concentrate on anything at work. It took me much longer than usual to work through a list of reviews this morning (fortunately just reviewing diagnostics so nobody was kept waiting). This afternoon I sent a child home after I'd finished with her forgetting she was supposed to see...

'It is my conclusion that he wanted to end his life' That's what she said, the coroner. A kind way of putting it, avoiding the word- suicide.  But also a brutal way of putting it. I nodded. Yes, he did, didn't he? Afterwards I barely saw or heard the volunteer offering a room to sit in.... No thanks.  I just needed air before I passed out. It was only half an hour. 30minutes to read out the evidence that indicated and summarised my husband's intention to die. I knew what the documents said, I knew what the conclusion would be. The evidence was unequivocal. And yet. Somehow it was still shocking. This is case closed, but there is no closure. What happened to him? Why? Why? Why? 

The water running down his gravestone matches the tears running down my face as i wonder, did he think about me at all? Did he imagine me kneeling at his grave as he had watched me do countless times for Bertie? Did he not think of what his choice would do to me, to his son? Ive had the evidence pack through for the inquest. This includes the post mortem in all its gory glory.  Guess what? Turns out he was perfectly healthy, apart from being dead. What a waste. Of his life, of our future. Someone once asked me if I thought suicide was ever forgivable. No, i dont think i can forgive him. Tell me he was mentally ill, he died of mental illness, however you want to phrase it. No. He chose not to get help. He chose to hide his demons. He chose to leave us. I can't forgive him. 

So I knew this wasn't going to be a linear process, that there would forward steps, backward steps and loop the loops in-between.   I'm troubled by the unpredictability of the roller coaster, it's like I've lost control of myself. As a self confessed control-freak that is not good.  Tuesday I went to work as normal, and was fine, did clinics all day and coped.  Yesterday, I woke with a sense of foreboding and the anxiety was rising even as I stepped in the shower.  By the time I was setting up my clinic room my heart was racing and I was having to do breathing exercises. Looking at my first patient's records I could barely concentrate on what I was reading, which made the panic worse as now I was worried about making a mistake.   I managed to see two patients and had the rest sent home, where I quickly headed also at 10.30am.  90 minutes I managed, out of an eight hour day.  Walking back to my car in tears I told Mark how much I hated what he...

Today I read a post on my widowed group from a guy who's wife died by suicide a couple of months ago.  He was saying that he's going to stop the arguing in his head, she is gone and it's a waste of energy. Today is a new day and he's going to live it!  2 months in. Now I'm not suggesting that he is wrong, or its too soon, or that I in any way know him better than he knows himself. We all grieve differently and we all process differently, of course.   What struck me was the comments on the post. Every single one congratulated him on the "big step forward" or the "positive post" or "sounds like you're healing and moving forwards" ie, the same mix of comments he could expect from wider society.  And it makes me wonder, why do we as a society so highly value the "moving on" and "moving forward" and "carving a new life" and "being positive" ....the sooner the better?  What about the value in lament...

  In her memoir about he husband's suicide,  Chase the Rainbow, Poorna Bell writes: "When someone you love dies.......you aren't just saying goodbye to them, you are saying goodbye to yourself. .....You slowly turn into something stronger. You realise what you have a choice over, and what you don't. You turn what you know into strength, you help others find theirs, and you are gifted a compassion that is so deep and limitless, at times it is the only thing that gives you peace. ......And although for a while it feels like this is all there will ever be, you look down and see you are different...." I am different. I'm trying to figure out who I am, who Sarah is after 22 years of being half of "Sarah and Mark" The couple so solid everyone thought we'd be the ones to make it til "death do us part" well we did....just a lot sooner than anyone expected.   So who am I now?  What I won't be, for very much longer, is a hospital optometrist....

"Just because I carry it well doesn't mean it isn't heavy"  A meme that frequently pops up on my social media feeds due to the groups I'm a member of.  It's true though.  Oliver told me the other day he had dreamt I was running a race carrying an elephant....and that is pretty much how it feels.  I'm carrying so much and I'm exhausted. I'm back at work and it is as I expected it would be.  ie "Oh great you're back...here's all the responsibility you had before you left and all the things that haven't happened since you've been gone and I'll be in my office if you need me....." My boss has been super supportive and understanding whilst I've been off, and has acquiesced every request I've made to help me return (change of days, term time only) but at the end of the day it's the NHS and if you're in, you're in and it's busy.  My colleagues would all say I'm doing great.  The truth is I am runni...