Over the last six months, my outlook on life has improved a lot. I no longer feel like murdering people for no reason, so that’s a definite step in the right direction. I’m sleeping reasonably well, which does wonders for a person’s mental state. I don’t burst into tears at the drop of a hat. Yes, tears well in my eyes, but I no longer sob like I once did.
This all means that I’m moving along the road of grief and I’m doing well.
However, the last two months has seen me feeling exhausted. Even with plenty of sleep, I feel tired all day. Some days, which is becoming more regular, I can hardly drag myself out of bed, let alone get through the day.
Today, I decided to go to the doctor. My usual doctor is cutting back his hours and his surgery is no longer open before or after work, or at lunchtime. And he hasn’t opened on a Saturday for a couple of years. I find that if I leave work early, his surgery is shut too, even though it’s supposed to be open. So…I went to another doctor.
This doctor knows nothing about me so she asked a lot of questions. I knew it was inevitable that I’d have to mention Barry, but I thought that after almost 18 months I’d be fine with that.
As soon as I had to say his name, the tears came. I felt like a blubbering idiot, but she was understanding and waited patiently for me to continue. I told her everything that had happened in the last 18 months – the suicide, the attempted suicide, the loss of will to live, the sleepless nights, the anger, the pain, my memory problems and my lack of focus (which continues to plague me). She typed it all into my file and then gave me a physical. I’m to have a range of blood tests done to find out if there’s a medical reason for my exhaustion.
Later, I sat at home and realised there was a lot I didn’t tell her too. I’m not the same person I was before I lost Barry. I know I’ll never be that person again. I’ve become less tolerant of people and their ways. I get annoyed quite easily and find myself thinking how stupid people are for wasting their lives wanting worthless things. I get angry when people tell me the most important thing in this world is money. I want to tell them, convince them, that happiness is the most important thing. Money is nothing without happiness.
The biggest change in me, is that I don’t like being around people anymore. I never was a social butterfly, but I always tolerated functions and outings and made the best of them. These days, I don’t want to be around other people. I no longer hate people, or the world, for what happened to Barry, but I feel safer and more content when I’m just with the small group of people I call my family (and some of them are friends). I’ve become a loner.
One incident in a person’s life can change a person…for good or bad. Barry’s death certainly had a lasting affect on many people, including me. Finding myself has been more difficult than you can imagine.