Does happiness ever return?

[Sunpaws]

Originally Posted by JC84

Nov 8th will be the 2 year anniversary of the passing of my fiancé. I'm now in a new relationship with a wonderful and understanding man. But, I'm still carrying around inherent sadness. It's always there like an old friend. I've lost my interest and motivation for everything in life. I take lots of time off from work and I'm just passively suicidal, waiting for my turn.

Does this depression ever lift? I can't imagine living like this for the rest of my life, I'm only 30. I'm on Zoloft, and it was just upped but I want to be better without the need for pills. Every day I go through the motions, wondering when it's my turn to leave this earth.

I am sorry that you lost your fiancé. I am also sorry that he lost the opportunity to continue his life and be with you. Your depression is completely understandable to me. I believe it can and will lift eventually and you will feel renewed interest and motivation for everything in life without someone whom you love and miss dearly.

The grief process for me involved/involves learning to understand and eventually accept that I will always live with the presence of an absence...the absence of someone whose life meant so much to me and for whom I had wished only good things, rather than an abrupt ending and unfulfilled dreams. Like Gerania said:

Originally Posted by Gerania

[...]Things will never be the same, but there's no reason that they should be.

In my case, someone with whom I was very intimately connected died suddenly 2 1/2 years ago. One moment he was alert. The next moment, due to cardiac arrest with no one near to resuscitate him in time, he most likely lost unconsciousness within seconds, never to regain it.

By the time my loved one was rushed to the hospital, his brain damage was irreversible. Luckily, he had his cell phone with him and he had stored my name and number on it. Someone called me. I flew from out-of-state to be with him in the hospital for the next three days, waiting patiently by his dying body in intensive care as his brain functions continued to deteriorate. I knew he would not regain consciousness, but I never quite lost hope emotionally even though I knew it was hopeless...not even when I felt his last heartbeats fading beneath my hand resting on his chest.

Then came the months without him.

The first day after he was pronounced dead, I remember calling my mom on the phone and sobbing, "I feel I will never be happy again!"

For the first three months, I withdrew from many activities, including online ones, because they held no more joy for me. The missing him felt so acute that other experiences paled in comparison.

I worried he might have suffered. I thought through all the "what ifs." What if he and I had done this or that, could it have prevented his death? I grieved for his lost dreams that we had been working on achieving even just the day before he died. I longed to feel the feeling of his thoughts and emotions again that he had shared with me. I missed his being alive with me.

I read through everything he had ever written me. I discovered and cherished a very meaningful letter of love he had written to me but that I had not read while he was alive because I had not found it. I wrote a 50 page life summary about him. I contacted all his friends and relatives that I could to share my memories and sadness, and to try to extract any additional memory they had of him that they might share with me, because it made me feel he wasn't quite dead: there was still something I could learn about him.

In short, I tried to collect every remnant of his that existed still on earth.

Collecting and revisiting all I knew of him was like trying to hug him as close to me as I could. I read every single thing I could find about him and his life online. I looked through and held all his belongings I had saved. I read favorite books of his that I had not yet read. Knowing my mind was tracing over words and thoughts he had once absorbed made me feel closer to him, only separated by time. I watched movies he had told me he liked that I had not yet watched. I held his ashes to me, wishing he could be with me and that he weren't dead.

During those first three months after he died, I discovered the website RECOVER FROM GRIEF LOSS: Creative Healing Techniques and found it to be very helpful. I would recommend it to you if you haven't visited it. That website helped me greatly. I read the anguished memories and thoughts of others suffering from grief and missing their loved ones. Knowing others were grieving profoundly helped me not feel so alone. I would read and hear their grief, and sob along with them. It helped me to let the sadness out again, and again, and again. And again.

I was young enough that no friends I knew had lost a significant other with whom they felt intimately bound, and so reading the accounts of strangers who knew the feelings of grief was helpful to me. My friends could sympathize but I sensed that they could not truly understand what I was feeling, because they had not grieved the loss of someone so intimate to them.

I remember during the first 3 months that simply reading the words, "Your relationship is permanently over," at a grief website would cause me to sob. That sentence drove home the core of my sadness: our relationship *was* permanently over. We had known and loved each other, and that relationship was over. (As an athiest, I believe it really is over: there is no chance of reunion.)

After around 3 months, I began to feel more like reaching out tentatively to do activities I had once enjoyed. I began posting again online at a music community where I had enjoyed posting, because I love the process of making music and I love connecting with people. I posted mostly about my grief, my sense of loss, and my struggle to regain a sense of hope and enjoyment in living without someone I never had wanted to live without...but I was posting! In retrospect, I felt that was a good sign that my working through my grief was resulting in a change in me. I was engaging again more in the outside world, and gradually more of my interest in it was returning.

Around 6 months after his death, the sense of grief continued to shift so that his death and my grief weren't forefront in my mind so often. I began to feel more "normal" with fewer and fewer occasions when the sense of profound grief overcame me. But to this day, I will stop and sob sometimes, missing this person.

Simultaneously, my sense of thankfulness grew that at least I knew him, and at least he knew me, and at least we had a chance to love. However, the sense of loss has never disappeared from me.

I used to feel that I was just marking time in life and waiting for the next forty years or so to pass before finally I would die, too, so that at last I would feel united with my loved one in the nothingness of death. But more often now I feel thankful that I can live, and I wish to live more deeply, reminding myself that he would wish me to make the most of the time I have.

I wrote numerous song lyrics about my beloved before and after he died, and some of the ones I wrote after he died summarize well the different aspects of grief I felt. I'll share them below in the hope that you may relate and see that it is possible over time for your grief to shift into a new awareness of life that isn't as emotionally painful as it once was, and you can feel a reawakening of your joys in life again.

I believe that grief never disappears but the experience of it can shift over time. I hope that sharing your grief and hearing that you are not alone will help you.

* * *

"Live On" -- I wrote this 6 months after my loved one died to express the sense I had that nothing in life mattered as much now that he was gone. I felt his death had taken away the core of life's meaning. The song shows how I struggled with that feeling of loss and doom. I now don't feel the way I did in this song...at least not as often.

Obliterate the trunk from the tree,
wrench the scent and seed from the flowers,
drain the water from the sea,
and that’s how I feel
without you with me.

I’m trying to find something that matters,
appreciate people, who matter.
I’m surrounded by so much matter,
but none of it matters like you did to me.

Yet I live, I live.
The heart of me is gone,
yet I live on.

Erase the characters from the story,
strip the paint from the masterpiece,
silence the tune from the melody,
and that’s how I feel
with you gone from me.

Rip the blazing sun from the rays,
remove the pull from gravity,
take the hours from the days,
and that’s how I feel
now that you’re lost to me.

I used to think I’d never be happy again
and it’s true I’m never as happy
as I was with you, yet I’m trying to accept
the best was in the past, but I’ll get through

because I live, I live.
The heart of me is gone,
yet I live on.

Every morning I lose you all over again.
Every evening I lose you all over again,
yet I’m working to relax into the flow,
living this part of my life you’ll never know
when nothing matters like you did to me.
Nothing matters like you did to me.

And I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying, honey,
I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying, honey,
I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying, honey.

The heart of me is gone, yet I live on.

* * *

"Naturally" -- I wrote this 9 months after my loved one died. It reflects a growing feeling of appreciation that he had lived, and a desire to regain strength from his love for me by caring for myself just as he had:

The squirrel undulates like a wave in the leaves,
tamping down earth over acorns and seeds.
I am no different. I act naturally.
That is why you find yourself loved by me.

You nourish me, you nurture me,
you make me plan for the winter
but hope for the spring,
and when my life feels bleak with fear,
like a hidden treasure you reappear.

The bird orchestrates a nest in the trees,
using a pattern that she never sees.
I am no different. I act naturally.
That is why you find yourself loved by me.

You stir me, you spur me,
you make me look to the future
with reason to sing,
and when the woods close in with gloom,
like a hidden guide you help me find room

to weave my home and rest my head
in the pillow of words you silently said
through every gesture of your love for me:
I should care for myself as naturally

for you would love me forever and a day,
so I should care for myself the same way.

The slumbering bear awakes in her den,
the season’s changes telling her when.
I am no different. I act naturally.
That is why you found yourself loved by me.

You warmed me, encouraged me,
and like the rising sun roused me from sleep,
and though your star has died and gone,
I see your light shining on,

for I know you would still love me if you could,
so I should care for myself like you would.

And so I weave my home and rest my head
in the pillow of words you silently said
through every gesture of your love for me:
I should care for myself as naturally.

Oh I weave my home and raise my head
filled with words of hope you silently said.
Just as you love and care for me,
I should care for myself as naturally.

Just as you loved and cared for me,
I will care for myself as naturally.

* * *

[cremebrulee]

Originally Posted by Delaware Davy

If you don't love yourself enough - if you aren't healthily and necessarily selfish enough - to make suicide an offensive and detestable proposition then, as far as this survivor is concerned, you have allowed yourself to wallow in self-pity for far too long, and seriously need to start thinking (and feeling) healthier happier thoughts.

I'm going to be very blunt with you: You are NOT the first or only person who has ever considered suicide; nor, unfortunately, will you be the last. It has been said before - and, perhaps, rightly so - that no one can ever live well, truly well, without considering his own demise. Look! Sometimes taking pills can only make you sicker. The mind is, or should be, the master of the body - The master of the emotions.

Consider this: 'The social affections, all the various forms of play, the thrilling intimations of art, the delights of philosophic contemplation, the rest of religious emotion, the joy of moral self-approbation, the charm of fancy and of wit — some or all of these are absolutely required to make the notion of mere existence tolerable; .......' *

The question I would ask you is, 'What are you teaching - What are you allowing - yourself to think?' May a drug-addled brain be insular to, and consequently protected from, negative thoughts - protected from suicide? (I'll give you the correct answer, 'No!') Is your intellect as helpless a victim of your emotions as you seem to believe? (I'll give you the correct answer, again, 'No!') How do I know? I've studied this and similar questions before. Here's something else that I remember learning: (Probably from certain others who had carefully studied the work of Wm. James.)

'It is commonly believed that (human) thought follows (human) emotion; but this is not true. Contrary to popular opinion it is the emotions that actually follow the cerebrations of the mind. The mind (the cerebral neocortex) is the rightful, 'master of the body'; and, in the healthiest of mentalities, the heart (the seat of all emotion) always follows the mind, instead of the other way around. (Thought of in another, more euphemistic way, 'Eve should always follow Adam'.)

'Depression' is commonly thought of as an emotional illness. I'm telling you, here, that it is not. If you change your thinking then your emotions will change, too. Simplistically stated: 'Happy thoughts breed happy emotions.' I was raised by my maternal grandmother. She invested a very great deal of: time, talent, and money into the proper education (and spiritual training) of her youngest grandson. When I was sixteen years old (I'm seventy-one, now.) I lay in a hospital bed, dying.

The doctors suspected, but nobody knew for sure, what was wrong with me. When enough doctors disagreed over the course of treatment, the hospital's head surgeon (and chief medical administrator) was brought in to examine me and study my case. Rather than operate on my for a second time, that man (rather shrewdly) decided to wait. He wanted me to, 'tough it out' for a few days in order to see what would happen. I was in agony; I'd been in agony for almost two weeks. To say that I would have been glad to die would be an understatement.

I thought about it; I could have taken my own life; but something stopped me from crawling to the window and dropping out. I thought of my grandmother. She loved me with what I would have, even then, described as a perfect love! She had invested the last of her fortune in order to give me a decent education. I knew - I knew - that if I went over to that window, pulled myself through it, and dropped to the concrete below, I would do something that would bring her deep personal sorrow and significant shame.

So, out of love for her, I made up my mind - My mind! - that I was going to survive that hospital. I wasn't going to die there! Three or four days later something unusual happened; I reached a crisis point, survived, and two weeks later I got to walk out of the hospital. Maybe I didn't walk so well, maybe I didn't walk well for several months to come; but I walked; and I was alive!

My wife, very much like my grandmother, has also invested a great deal in, 'me being the best that I can be'. In 1990 I was very seriously injured in an accident, lost my ability to walk for almost seven years, was confined to either a bed or a wheelchair for most of the day; and, yes, I once again thought about suicide. My wife, most likely, read my mind. One evening she sat down with me, and said, 'Sweetheart', you've taken the best years of my life; and I haven't minded, a bit, giving them to you; but, I didn't do it in order for you to become some sort of suicidal, 'life-failure'.

'I didn't marry the athlete; I married the man.' 'If you can't walk, you can't walk; but life can still go on; we can still go on; and, even if something bad should happen to me, I need to know - I want to know - that you would be willing to continue on without me as that proud and self-reliant man I've always loved.'

'Whether I'm here with you, or not, I want you to always remember that, no matter what, I stood by you; I didn't run back to my mother when you were hurt; and I worked 14 or 15 hours, everyday, when we needed it most. All in order for you - for us - to continue to survive.'

'YOU are my real life's work. Whatever I am, whatever good I've done, will always be alive for however long you are!' 'So don't even think about hurting yourself because if you ever did, your death would be my biggest life-failure!' So, that took care of that; and I banished all thoughts of, 'taking the easy way out' from my mind. I can't help, but, to believe that your fiancé would have to feel the same way, too.

Do not allow yourself to do anything that might make him ashamed of either you, or the love and good times you once shared together. In a very real sense, as long as you're alive, he will be too; and, who knows, someday he might be very glad to see you again. In the meantime keep an eye out for some other purpose God might have for you in life; e.g.: The younger of my two aunts lost her fiancé in the Second World War. He was a turret gunner in one of General Doolittle's planes that got shot down over Japan in 1942. My aunt never married; she, also, wore her fiancé's aviator wings on her blouse collars for the rest of her life.

Sometimes I wonder if either one of those two sisters ever realized what a profound, benevolent influence they had over me while I was growing up? After the younger sister died, her older sister (I thought inexplicably at the time.) stayed in close contact with me throughout college. If I didn't stay in touch with her, she made it her business to give me, 'gentle nudges' back in her direction.

She was a very bright woman. (She always corrected my English and would freely add to my vocabulary!) She knew how to stimulate reason and could be an engaging conversationalist! Whether I wanted her to, or not, she continued to advise and guide me through what was, sometimes, 'prodigal youth'. (How did she know!)

Starving student that I often was in those days, if I needed spending money she'd inevitably find some ridiculous chores for me to do around her home, or on her automobile. Even though BOTH of these women had lost husbands I never detected a modicum of self-pity in either one of them! (Yes, it might have been there; but it wasn't showing.)

Me? Well, I've stayed out of jail, somehow managed to avoid all of the major vices, and, pretty much, led a successful life - A life I, otherwise, might not have enjoyed if it weren't for the influence of these three aforementioned women during the early formative years of my life. In a way my surviving aunt, 'passed me on with her blessing' into my wife's hands. As a matter of fact I can honestly say that there hasn't been a single day in the past several decades that I haven't gotten out of bed in the morning without realizing just how very much I owe to the unselfish love, the well wishes, and constancy of these four outstanding women.

(None of whom, to the best of my knowledge, ever felt severely depressed or excessively sorry for herself. Back in those days we, all, had faith; and America was still a godly (Judeo-Christian) country.)


NOTES: You asked a question and, in posting, have solicited personal opinions from others. I've, now, given you mine. Obviously my own world view is NOT that of an essentially passive, overly-dependent, 'pill popping mentality'. In my experience survival is always an act of overt self-will, a lot of necessary (Read, 'petitioned') good luck, and serious mental determination. You might be able to do it; or you might not. Whichever way things go, you are ultimately responsible, both, for and to yourself.

It should be equally apparent that I wish you well, and deliberately chose to answer your request when I could have, quite easily, passed by and gone onto another thread. You - YOU - are, 'that light at the end of the tunnel'. Good luck!



* William James

there is nothing more to say and if I could give you 1,000 reps I would, this was a fantastic write, and hopefully will jar the op's mind open to what is actually waiting for her out there....

Well done!

[ncole1]

Originally Posted by yankeegirl313

From my experience of losing someone close to me, its just been 9 months, and I up until about 3 months ago, all I felt was hurt, heartache, emptiness, all the above, even though I have a wonderful, loving husband, who would change the World for me if I ask him. I used to cry (and still do) from time to time, when I was alone, and out away from everyone. I hid my sorrow. A sorrow that I felt no one could ever understand. I felt alone, even though I am not.
I knew I did not want to live my everyday life this way. I had to do something, and I did.

I went to a "quiet place" in my mind. I said what I had to say to my past loved one. I had to have that closure!! It has helped me a lot!! I feel more at peace, and continue my everyday life, with a smile, knowing that he would not want me to be so miserable. He is in a "happy place" now. It makes me happy, to know that someday, we will see each other again. Life does not stop. The loved ones in your life need you. ALL of you! Good luck!!!

Some don't fare so well - have you heard the Brad Paisley song "Whiskey Lullaby"? This kind of thing does happen in real life, sadly.

[burdell]

I can only compare the loss of someone to having a hole put in your heart. When it's fresh, it's raw and hurts like a SOB. Over time, and that time is different for everyone, the edges of that hole start scarring over, easing the pain. The hole will always be there, the pain will shift to an ache that's controllable, eventually you realize that while the hole is still there, the time you had with that person will always be with you also and memories can distract you from the hurt.

[yankeegirl313]

Originally Posted by ncole1

Some don't fare so well - have you heard the Brad Paisley song "Whiskey Lullaby"? This kind of thing does happen in real life, sadly.

Yes, I know the song Reminds me of my sister and her EX, sadly.

You can message me anytime. I would love to chat with you.

[cynwldkat]

My DH passed away one month ago after a long hard fight with ALS and all I can say is I pray everyday my happiness and joy return someday. I have always been that person with a skip in her walk and a smile on her face and it is not anywhere to be found now.

[Monastic555]

The way that I cope could be seen as a Buddhist answer. Having been suicidal beginning from way back in the 1960s, I still survive because I presently take the attitude that I want to both die and live. I've learned that to be too happy is just as bad as being too sad. Why? Well, because if I feel too happy and then something tragic happens, then the fall is more painful. Along those lines, if my desire to die is as strong as my desire to live, then even if my physician tells me the prognosis that I have only six months to live, then it won't bother me. So for me, the desires to both live and die have to be equal. In that state of mind, I feel the most at ease. Not sad and not happy either, but serene.

[gentlearts]

Originally Posted by Monastic555

The way that I cope could be seen as a Buddhist answer. Having been suicidal beginning from way back in the 1960s, I still survive because I presently take the attitude that I want to both die and live. I've learned that to be too happy is just as bad as being too sad. Why? Well, because if I feel too happy and then something tragic happens, then the fall is more painful. Along those lines, if my desire to die is as strong as my desire to live, then even if my physician tells me the prognosis that I have only six months to live, then it won't bother me. So for me, the desires to both live and die have to be equal. In that state of mind, I feel the most at ease. Not sad and not happy either, but serene.

I understand what you mean.
I often think that just a few generations ago folks almost expected that half their children would die and then they had to actually dig the hole to bury them in. This put them in touch with the reality that death is a part of life.

We no longer look at death as a part of life, but fight it, as though we can somehow avoid it.

I have a fatalistic attitude, for the most part. I know I will die of something, and part of me is sort of curiously waiting to see what that might be.

[shadowfax]

It takes a long time but yes. It took me 10 years to begin to find a way out of that darkness. The fact that you can even be in a relationship so soon says to me that you will be okay give a little more time. Sure you will always be a little sad about the loss but it won't consume your life.

[jertheber]

I lived through the death of my wife of thirty years, the first year was hell, but every day I was adjusting without really acknowledging that fact. Awaking at two or three in the AM and just feeling that I couldn't get up without being sad and depressed was difficult to say the least. I'm now remarried (to a widow) and living a good life, and I'm more thankful every day for the opportunities I CREATED for myself. I think that is central to your view of the future, knowing that you survived means accepting that fate happily, as you should.

Happiness is one of those things we sometimes regard as our "right" and in a way that's understandable when one considers that we seldom have any serious contenders to our happy go lucky nature, until-----And when that contender does show up it's often in the form of the death of a loved one, the most crushing thing a human can experience. You now belong to that club, an exclusive group of souls who wish to be in ANY group but ours. We know, when it comes up in conversation, I simply say "I know how you feel", and in this instance, unlike so many of the times we say that, really mean it!!

Please take a minute every day to reflect on our exclusive little club and the horrendous requirement for membership, "we", that is, the many who post here, the many you will meet over your lifetime, and those who share your particular loss, all have a connection, an understanding of the unbearable heavy weight that another's death can bring to us. "We" are all around you now, reach out and we will be there, on CD, at work, at times of seemingly casual conversation, chance meetings, speak out with your memories, speak out on your troubled thoughts, silence deepens the pain, speaking out allows others to share the pain, and thereby lessen it's weight...You're gonna be fine...