Im 32. 3 kids, all girls, from prior relationships. I finally met true love. I question it now though. We had almost made it a year. Had moved in together in January. Was a beautiful home on property. The girls were happy, the dogs were happy, he seemed happy. He was 41 and had lived a hard life. Alcohol and drugs had led to some down falls in his life. He was so positive though. Had great work ethic, morals and standards. He was positive and had a way of making people feel better and smile. I have 10 years clean. I understood his struggles but maybe I should have taken them more seriously.
We liked to drink and enjoy ourselves. We rarely fought except a handful of times and a couple of those were pretty bad. He had gotten physical and I am a physical reactor. It led to a cpl brawls.
The 1st time he attempted suicide was during one of those fights. A week before my birthday in March of this year, Bobby held a .45 to his head in our shed and pulled the trigger. The gun jammed.
A month had gone by and things seemed to be ok. He gave me an amazing 32nd birthday. We watched sun sets, went on bike rides, took the kids to the lodge daily. The day he committed suicide, we spent watching movies, me running my fingers through his hair and him promising to cut it next week.
We drank.....Then we fought.... I don't know why but I think I knew it was going to happen.
It was April 13th, (a month and 3 days ago)
He was scaring me with how physical he was. I made him leave. Not having anyone to turn to he came back angrier then before. He hurt me really badly. An hour later after ignoring 2 calls from him, I found him in the driveway, sitting in the driver's seat of his truck. Blood pouring from his shoulders. He had put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. This time it didn't jam.
I don't know if I realized he was gone or some part of me had hope he was saveable.
He looked like he was asleep.
I never spent another night in the house. His family has blamed me for pushing his buttons they say. I was forbidden to attend his wake. I was even deleted from his Facebook by his sister. I understand that it's how some people handle grief. Suicide is a completely different type of grieving though. I struggle with the images in my head. With having to move back into my parents house, when they aren't very understanding or sensitive. I struggle with the rumors, and his family treating me harshly. Most of all, I struggle missing him. I wish that our last monents together weren't fighting.
I feel so many different emotions. And they all counteract each other. Im angry and sad, scared, confused, tired, and every once in a while I feel peace, or hope.
I picked up and moved out a.s.a.p. maybe that was a bad decision? I respected his fathers wishes and didn't attend his service. It was nice to see the memorial video contained many pictures of us and my daughters with him. I can't help but feel like he was punishing me.
I have not ever been this depressed. Everything reminds me of him. Of us. This whole town is where our love bloomed. And it's my home. I can't ever leave here.
I'm feeling better writing. I feel better reading your stories and your words of encouragement and wisdom. I hope that maybe my story will may help someone else going through these same emotions and feelings.
Thanks for adding me.