If you haven't read Parts 1 - 8, you can find them here:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
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I'm not sure how long it was after the funeral that we headed back to Washington. I really have no sense of time for the first six months or so after “A”'s death. I remember events, but not when they happened.
You know those 5 stages of grief? Denial, bargaining, anger, depression and acceptance? Well I went through them fairly rapidly, even skipping the bargaining stage, but I got stuck – really stuck – in depression. It's described as overwhelming feelings of hopelessness, frustration, bitterness, self pity, mourning loss of person as well as the hopes, dreams and plans for the future. Feeling lack of control, feeling numb. Perhaps feeling suicidal. Boy was I stuck there.
Suicide seemed like a logical choice. It really did. The pain would stop, I would be taking control of the situation, I thought about it a lot. When I wasn't thinking about the best way to take my own life, I was drinking ... and driving. About 3 months after “A”'s death, during one of those many drinking binges, I was pulled over and arrested for DUI.
I had been given so many opportunities for a fresh start over the past two years, and I had ignored them, but this time I paid attention. With a great attorney and a judge who was irritated with the sloppy work of a police officer, my DUI charges were dropped even though my blood alcohol level was in excess of .08, Washington's legal limit. I decided it was time to get my life back on track before I self destructed.
In October of 1990 (9 months following “A”'s death), after several discussions with a recruiter and with my uncle who was a colonel in the Army National Guard, I enlisted in the U.S. Army as a Preventive Medicine Specialist. It was a decision that likely saved my life. All of the illegal activities that “A” and I had been involved in never came back on me – the only challenge to my enlistment was the DUI, but once that was clear I was free to enlist. The Army gave me an opportunity to heal – it was a time where I didn't have to make any decisions – they were all made for me. It was the best course of action I could have taken and the one that really set me on a path back to a more productive life.
There have been plenty challenges along the way, some were dealt with, some just went away.
- There were over $24,000 in medical bills for the 48 hours that “A” remained alive. The hospital did reduce my financial obligation, but I was never able to pay in full. Those bills remained on my credit report for 7 years.
- 4 months after “A” died, I received a notice from the city that a warrant had been issued for “A”'s arrest for failure to appear in court on the charges stemming from the crash. I sent them a copy of his death certificate with a letter explaining that it might be difficult for him to appear in court.
- I received a bill from the condo landlord for carpet replacement and bio-hazard clean-up costs to the tune of $2300. I wrote him a letter asking if there was some kind of payment arrangement we could make. He wrote me back telling me he would take care of it.
- Years later, after leaving the Army, I would find myself back in Minnesota due to a job transfer. Parking tickets that I had received when “A” and I lived in the condo bit me in the ass when I went to get a Minnesota Driver's License. Fortunately, the statute of limitations had passed and I was not required to pay them.
- When I sold my house in Minnesota and moved to Chicago, I sent (anonymously) a $5000 money order to the restaurant where I embezzled the money. I included a short note saying this money was restitution for events that happened many years ago, but never gave any indication as to who I was or what it was for.
Certainly, there are many ways “A”'s suicide impacted me. The most destructive? I now choose relationships with people who are emotionally unavailable to me. This is a bit of a double-edged sword. On one hand, I don't have to worry about ever experiencing the pain of loss the way I did with “A” I can't love someone that deeply if they are not available for me to love. But, that also means that I have not allowed myself to love anyone like I loved “A.” I made it through that pain once – I really don't believe I could make it through that type of loss again. I build walls – very tall walls – around my heart and if I feel emotions are getting through, or over, the wall I run – FAST.
Yes, I realize this is no way to live. I realize just how self-destructive it is, but I'm not willing to let it go yet. I'm not willing to trust anyone with my heart the way I trusted “A.” I hope to be able to do that some day.
On the good side? Well, once you've been through something like this, very little can compare. Minor inconveniences are just that, minor. I am not intimidated by challenges like going back to school, starting new jobs, or juggling tight finances. I've been through worse – much worse – and I made it out alive. If I lost every one of my material possessions today, I know that I would be fine. I'd make due – I'd get through it. When compared to “A”'s death, nothing seems overwhelming.
I do think that after 20 years, I have managed to make it through that 5th stage of grief – acceptance. Making this story real by publishing it on my blog has brought me closer to forgiveness – forgiveness of myself for the things I did – the people I hurt – the signs I missed – the life I watched self-destruct. I hope that once I allow myself that forgiveness, I'll be ready to lead the life I deserve instead of continuing to punish myself for the “should haves.”
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