Irritations And Emotional Triggers

A piece of me died on the 8^th April 2010.

The thought never left my mind- “he’s dead”.

It’s a strange thing, to be sitting down, amongst friends enjoying a cup of coffee at a café, and seeing life go on. Seeing them laugh and chat, talk about their husbands/partners and all other ‘normal’ topics of conversation. A small part of me genuinely cared for their stories. The larger part of me wanted to tell them to shut up, get over it, and be grateful for what they had.

A majority of my friends were incredibly mindful of those sorts of things. They knew that I still cared about their relationships, but they knew I had a very low tolerance to some certain topics. Long story short, if my friends had said that they miss their spouse after not seeing them for a night or two while they were away for work, this would upset me.

Were they honestly that inconsiderate to tell me that they ‘miss’ their partner? For one night? They’re upset because their partner is taking too long to reply to a text message? Seriously… For  a second… think about how that makes me feel.

A few caught on to what was a wanted conversation and what was not- some would start telling me a story, and then they’d realise where it was going, and quickly change the topic. I could not help the way I was reacting to certain things. My reactions were automatic, and in most cases, were unable to be filtered. In simpler terms, I could be talking one minute, and hear a simple word or sentence that would trigger me to get upset, and then I’d lose it. I never had enough time to compose myself in the early stages, but it improved over time.

Apart from conversations about how people’s partners were, the other thing that was annoying for me was seeing it. Walking in to someone’s home, and seeing happy wedding photos, or seeing hand written notes stuck on the fridge from one another.

It was the visual things that were worse. I avoided social gatherings for quite some time, as it hurt too much to see everyone together, and even though I was assured that If I went with some friends, “I’d be fine”… No. I didn’t care for it. I didn’t want people coming up to me and putting a hand on my shoulder, and giving me a hug and saying “I’m so sorry”. No. I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable, and I didn’t want other people to feel uncomfortable about me being there and not knowing what to say. So, I avoided many things. I decided to ultimately remove myself from the situation.

Little things like going to shopping centres were the same. I’d see couples walking hand in hand through the mall… Seeing a middle aged couple with children, and wondering what could have been… Seeing elderly couples enjoying a quiet coffee, and holding hands across the table. I remember having about 2 sips of a coffee at a café once, before I just got up and left because there were just too many happy couples there.

I was aware that people weren’t purposely rubbing things in my face, but it sure did feel like it sometimes. This was depending on the kind of day I was having… some days were worse than others.

There are so many triggers that can happen on a day to day basis. It was only after I sat down and actually thought it about, they certainly were everywhere…

It was walking behind someone with his hair, his height and his build.

It was seeing someone in the distance that smiled just like he did.

It was hearing someone laugh, laughing just like he did.

It was catching the scent of the cologne he use to wear as someone walked by.

It was hearing his favourite song on the radio… then seeing an empty passenger seat.

It was seeing someone walk past wearing the same shirt he wore on your first date.

It was seeing something in a shop that I knew he’d love.

It was remembering a funny story, and wanting to tell him because I knew he’d laugh.

People always tell me to remember the good times. That’s the most painful bit.

Remembering how happy you actually were.

Filling The Void

After being left alone with my own thoughts, and after choosing to become antisocial, I decided that I needed ‘something’ to fill the void. I regrettably returned to old habits that I’d let die some many years before.

What is your poison? Perhaps you were a smoker, and one that had successfully quit. Perhaps you were prone to more than one alcoholic beverage when you were having a bad day. Or maybe you drank too much when you had the opportunity to celebrate a special occasion. Maybe you were never happy with the amount of money in your wallet. Maybe you were tempted with gambling.

There are millions of other things that you could have been or perhaps you were one of the lucky ones who never succumbed to such horrible demons…

When you are sad, and looking for comfort in other things- Do not return to old habits, especially if they have addictive tendencies. I can’t stress this enough. I was at my lowest when I attempted to find happiness once again with the demons I’d left behind. The only thing it did was give me another reason to hate who I was.

All of your hard work will be undone- and the habit will be one hundred times harder to break this time around. When you’re grieving, you’re not yourself. You will convince yourself that what you’re doing is alright, because you feel the way that you do- You will look for any reason that you can to justify your actions.  In my case, I was more than aware of what I was doing, but I chose not to care about the consequences.

I woke up to myself after a few months of this repetitive ‘filling the void’ behaviour. Every time I wanted to escape, and return to those old habits- I’d simply remind myself of the following;

“This is my life. This is my choice. If I continue to live like this, my choices today will be my regrets tomorrow”.

 
It was something that came to mind many times throughout the day, and it was the little things in which I found my happiness again.  It was things like turning the television off, and finding a nice spot outside in the garden to sit. It was about being grateful that I was there to enjoy the sound of the birds in the trees, the sun on my face, and the cool breeze in the air.

It was about going for a drive with the windows down, seeing the open road ahead, and enjoying the freedom. It was sitting on the soft white sand of the beach, watching the waves crash against the rocks.

It was going to a boutique café and sitting at the nicest table, and ordering a slice of the most meticulously decorated cake that I’ve ever seen in my life, and trying a different type of coffee that I’d never had before.

It was remembering that I was alive. As much as I hated how I felt at the time, it was remembering that I still had my life to live, and that I was the only one responsible for my happiness tomorrow.