Bird Set Free

Had a voice, had a voice, but I could not talk. You held me down. I struggle to fly now. 

DISCLAIMER: This post does not condone, support, promote or suggest suicide as the way to deal with things in your life that aren't working. It won't actually 'deal' with anything, and if you're considering it, please reach out to someone you trust and/or a health professional who can support you. It's worth it; I promise. 

I wrote a post a few weeks ago listing some of the things I get to enjoy in my widowed-by-suicide status. To say the least, it was dismal with a dash of sarcasm. But it did give me a laugh, as well as an appreciation of some new experiences I likely never would have had if things had worked out with Mark and he were still alive. It took courage for me to express in writing the joy I find in things as simple as having the bed to myself, even though the main reason I have the bed to myself is that I no longer have a husband with whom to share said bed. I also have a strong dislike of sharing physical space with other humans and don't sleep well when they're in my way, but that's beside the point; it still used to be OUR bed, and it became MINE when Mark killed himself. For the sake of that post, I had to look really hard to come up with enough items to constitute them as a list. Seriously, one of them was about going for a hike alone in the dark. I was really reaching with that one. There clearly aren't many positive side effects following your spouse's suicide, but I did find at least a little bit of gratitude for some of the things that wouldn't have happened had my husband not taken his own life. 

Alas, it pains me to admit that the real silver lining is that the second Mark pulled the trigger, he set each of us free. 

And now that I don't know how to follow that up, here's a smattering of swirling thoughts alluding to why it's taken me nearly twenty-three months to put it in writing and express it publicly:

Sweet Jesus, that's it. I feel like he set us free. I never had the words for it before, but that's exactly it. Sounds terrible, though... I can probably find a way to say that I feel relieved and write a post about how common it is for survivors to experience relief after a suicide, but I'm not sure I can say that he "set me free". I mean, how selfish is that? People will probably think that I had something to do with him killing himself, like I wanted it to happen. Not that it really matters because some people already DO think that, whether they've said it directly to me or to others. But they'll probably think I planned it and tricked him into killing himself; I'm basically a murderer. That's what they'll think. I'll be known as 'Maggie the Murderer' and charged as an accomplice in a movie about my life.... Okay, that probably won't happen. But jeez, if I say ANYTHING about how I think killing himself set HIM free, that basically condones suicide, which is not at ALL the point I want to make. But I do think he is free... And I know that I'm free and get to start over now... I mean, I didn't really know that I was free for quite some time because I was too busy being traumatized and afraid of people, not to mention the times I was too drunk to even be present to my new freedom. But I also don't know how anybody could NOT feel free in those circumstances. I didn't give a flying fuck about anything, really, because nothing matters in comparison to your husband's suicide. On that note, perhaps I was more like 'obliviously ignorant to all rules and consequences' than 'free'. Whatever the wording, I enjoyed it, even when I didn't, and I sort of needed it. After all the shit he'd put me through and a lifetime of being super uptight, it felt good to not care. And now I get to do whatever I want. How was I ever going to get that life with Mark around lying and taking all of my money? I wasn't. Without this shocking experience, I was going to stay uptight and too afraid to go after what I want. I was going to either be stuck in that marriage until I had ZERO friends left, or I was going to have to completely start over with him dragging me down with every apology, tear, guilt trip and empty promise to do better. And I didn't want that either. Not to mention I'd probably have just kept going back and forth on whether or not to stay married, which I also didn't want to keep doing. But I didn't want this... He took the easy way out and left me with no choice. Yet, I wouldn't be who I am now if I hadn't been through all this, so I want to make the most of it. I'M still alive, so I may as well. I didn't want it this way, though, and I never even imagined it actually happening. I had no clue. I'd like to think if he were still alive that we could've each worked through all the mess that was made and come out of it for the better. I don't know. That's not what happened... There's only what happened, and what happened is that Mark shot himself and is dead. And I'm widowed and starting over. Or starting fresh. Or picking up the pieces. Maybe moving forward? I don't like any of those expressions. But I do feel like I was set free and get to start anew. And I do like that Mark isn't suffering anymore; that gives me peace. I feel guilty saying how relieved I am, but I am. And I'm relieved to be saying that I feel relieved. How the hell did I hold this in for so long? And how the fuck has it been almost two years since he died???

Digression complete. I had to write all of those thoughts more for myself than for anybody reading this because I have such a hard time just being with the relief and gratitude I feel for having the chance to create a new life free of Mark's lies, his gambling and the complete unworkability of our marriage. I didn't know how else to follow up a statement about Mark's suicide being the thing that set us free from the chaos and misery we were suffering through. It just feels wrong to admit something like that, even though it feels really good now that it's out there. I can say all I want about not caring what others think of me, but I do. I'm not everybody's cup of tea, but I am a pretty likable person, and I like it that way. But I guess it's too late now. I've made my confession, and people will react based on their own shit, not mine. Oh well. 

To my fellow suicide widows: I feel your pain and share your relief. Whatever you were going through before, the worst is over; you can take a deep breath now. (Except for when you can't because you're too busy having an anxiety attack. I get that, too.)

And for a taste of the I-don't-give-a-flying-fuck sassiness that was bestowed upon me when Mark killed himself...

To everybody else: If you are not me, you haven't the slightest idea what I went through while married to Mark, during the fight to keep him alive or any time since being handed the shittiest of all the shit sandwiches that were ever shat in the history of all things shitty. 

Okay, okay. I'm done now. I got a little carried away there with my sass. In truth, I hope that reading this has had you discover something new, whether about others or yourself. And whatever you're dealing with, may you experience some freedom to spread your wings.