Intrusive thoughts

I am at the end of the most wonderful vacation with Eric. The cruise exceeded all expectations. We both relaxed and enjoyed every moment. There is so much more I would like to write about it, but for another time.

We are in Delaware currently. They last stop of our road trip north. I got sick after the cruise, so the trip has been less than ideal. But, we’ve made the most of it. We’ve been able to see his family in NC, my bestie and her family in VA, and his childhood friend in DE. He figured out his aunt and uncle live 15 mins from where we are staying in DE and he’ll visit them while I work today too. I would love to meet them, but I really need to be working. I am just putting some words to paper now in an attempt to calm my brain and focus on work.

My brain has been hyper focused on Matt’s death. Like obsessed recently. I do mention things to Eric on occasion, but I don’t even know how to talk to him about this. In part, I am trying to close that chapter and move on. But mostly, I don’t want to bring down our vacation.

Yesterday I was trying to sleep, and every time I closed my eyes I just saw Matt lying his hotel room bed, right before he ended his life. I don’t know any of the actual details of how he looked, or what the room was like, or how he did it *exactly*, besides the fact that he shot himself. But my brain just runs through it like a movie. Occasionally rewinding and changing a detail. I imagine him in his black shorts that he always wore when lounging. And I alternate on whether he was shirtless or not. Mostly I imagine he was and that his large belly was on display. My movie rewinds and replays, over and over, as I imagine where he held the gun up to. I imagine the exact thoughts in his head before he pulled the trigger. I imagine how angry he was with me. Or maybe he wasn’t? Was this finally peace? How could it be? Did he regret it as he did it? Did he remember how much he regretted it 6 years earlier? Did he think about all the people who would hurt? What or who was his last thought? Was he high? Drunk? Was there a vodka bottle empty next to him? Did he hesitate? Was his death instantaneously? Did others hear the shot and wonder what that sound was? Would it have made a difference if someone had followed the sound immediately and found him?

I imagine his body position on the bed. And then my brain goes back to the night I found him dead in the parking garage. I focus on every detail and sound and moment of that night. Opening the car door. Screaming his name. Checking for a pulse. Doing a sternum rub, like HE taught me to do, to try to get him alert. Calling 911. I can’t recall now in what order I did anything. I don’t know if I was calm or incoherent when I called 911. I don’t know how many minutes passed until the first responder arrived. I think it was PD. I went into protective wife mode. Always. He had stolen a script from me and the bottle was empty on the floor of his car. I imagined his entire career gone in that bottle. I picked it up. It was smeared with his blood. His blood covered both the driver and passenger sider floorboards and seats. It was more blood than I imagined someone had inside of them. I hid the bottle in my car. Soon realizing when paramedics arrived, I had to tell them what he took so they could help him. I couldn’t protect his life and his career at the same time. The bottle remained in my car for a long time. Months. Before I could touch it again and throw it away. His blood bringing me back to that night.

I called Matt’s sponsor at some point from the parking garage. I don’t know when exactly. Maybe an officer asked if I had someone I could call? I remember Matt’s lifeless body lying on the concrete. The paramedics inserted in IO catheter as he lied lifeless. I knew what it was because HE had taught me about medical procedures like that. I don’t remember the drive to the hospital. But it was terrible. As was sitting there and waiting for any idea if he was going to make it. And trying to call his mom and sisters and my parents. The reception in the hospital was awful and I would get disconnected. Like a terrible comedy. Every time I would try to explain his condition and what happened the call would drop. I ended up sending text messages because I couldn’t leave the waiting area. Chris sat with me. I’ll be forever grateful. And they came out and finally told me he was in critical condition. They didn’t know if he’d make it, but they needed to airlift him to a better hospital. They let me back with him for a minute before they airlifted him. I just touched his yellow and gray, lifeless body, grateful he was alive, praying he would make it.

I remember beating the helicopter to the next hospital. But, again, I knew that was because it takes so long to load him up and take off. There is so much more from that day and week and the next couple of months. But so much of that first few hours has been replaying in my head. I had finally gotten to a point where I didn’t think about it. I could go to the parking garage where it happened and not replay the moment. Now, I think about it in so many moments. Eric’s coworker was on duty when his wife was in a terrible car accident.  Eric drove him code 3 in the cruiser to the hospital to meet her. Eric told me this story before, but was reminded of it yesterday and mentioned how harrowing that drive was. It made me think of my own drives that morning – not sure if Matt would be alive when I got to the next location. While hanging out with Eric’s cousins in NC, I was in the other room and I hear them all laughing and talking about some embarrassing/awful scenario. And like people DO without meaning it literally, I heard Eric say “I would kill myself before…” I have heard that phrase a thousand times. I have probably said it just as many times. I know Eric didn’t mean it literally. And it didn’t bother me that he said it. I don’t think people have to stop using phrases like that. But it caught my attention. And the downward spiral of thoughts started. His name is mentioned and my brain spirals. A photo, a memory, my brain trips.

I’ve been having nightmares. Most I can’t remember in the morning but they jolt me awake at night. One night I was starting to vocalize a scream (quietly) that had started in my dream and it woke me up.

i hope this is a short phase. I have therapy Monday night. I hope to find out that it’s normal and I’ll be okay again soon. Because I’m really struggling in this place currently.

Fuck Matt for haunting me past the grave. That’s some really fucked up shit.