I'm alone since my boyfriend died yesterday and getting in bad shape. Please help me

TunedOut, Yes, I agree there are different kinds of poverty. Material success is nice, but not everything. I also agree that there is a vast population right here in the U.S. who know exposure to the elements and hunger on a daily basis. I've never know either. I have always counted my great many blessings. Some things in life have come easily to me. Maybe that made me weak. I am in awe of how hard and long many people struggle with great adversity or even just the challenge of persevering at ordinary responsibilities that aren't very interesting.

We all have our weaknesses and strengths. You speak about your weaknesses a lot but I also see strength.

I believed that I had been told that I had until 6/30 to clear out my friend's apartment. This morning (Mon.) I was called by the apartment manager and told that my deadline for clearing out expired on 6/14. So that was yesterday. I only got back Friday from NY where my bf's service and burial were on Thursday. Over Saturday and Sunday I found myself in grief way more intense than I had expected. I'ld been having episodes of being almost hysterical. I was having the darkest of despairing thoughts. I was lucky enough to talk to a particularly astute counselor who seemed to really grasp my situation. I eventually slept and woke up less distressed. Then the call about the apt exploded the little peace of mind I began to have.

I ran to a lawyer we knew who handled my bf giving me POA status. He said the manager was exceeding her authority. He listened to the recorded voice message from the asst apt manager saying I could pay extra to stay beyond the 14 days. He drew up a letter notifying the complex that they should not just lock me out and confiscate the contents of the apt, which they were threatening to do. He threatened to sue them, if they did. He sent notice to the manager and the giant corporation that owns this and many other properties telling them this. But he said he couldn't guarantee how this would play out. Possibly police will show up here tomorrow and arrest me for trespassing. On the other hand, my attorney suspects that the law firm for the property will advise this manager to leave me alone for at least a while longer. So I have great insecurity about what I will be allowed to do over the remains of this current week and the next one. All day I find myself just having this weird sensation that's like trebling mixed with shivering. It's fear . . . a sense of being threatened - seriously.

While writing this midnight passed. It's now 12:23 a.m. I had 2 helpers helping me frantically throw stuff in boxes and bags. This was exactly what I had hoped to avoid. We drove 2 carloads of stuff to my apartment. We relocated my friends car to outside where I live. Then we quit.

But I'ld lost track of what went where. I couldn't find my medications. I came back to my bf's apt. I was becoming a wreck. Then I found the meds. I took my amitriptyline and my Vicodin (hydrocodone.) For good measure I threw down one of my bf's Ativans. That was 11 p.m. Now at 12:33 a.m. I have substantial relief from feeling that I cannot cope and a miserable feeling like I'm turning into jello.

I don't even want much out of this apartment. My plan was to donate most of the contents of this apt to local charities like The Salvation Army and Habitat for Humanity. The VA will not take back any of the durable medical equipment. That includes a huge heavy electric powered Hoyer lift that retails for about $3500. It's like new. We used in 4 times. I know a charity that welcomes DME, but they've suspended collections due to COVID. That may change soon.

All I wanted for me were my clothes and items of sentimental value. As I fill up a bag with my bf's T-shirts, I might find something sweet in the back of the drawyer . . . maybe a Valentine's card with "Rose I love you." written inside it. I have to go threw drawyers. The socks I can pile up in a bag to donate. Photographs and old love letters might be tucked in the same drawers. Then there's important records like his birth certificate. That's all I really wanted. Both our apartments have become crammed with old and new medical supplies. It's hard to even make room to sort stuff. I have a history of hoarding tendencies that escalated in recent years. My bf was getting a lot of benefits. Various agencies were sending pounds of paperwork, booklets, pamphlets. Amongst all this were important documents buried under junk I should have long ago discarded. I helped engineer a lot of the stress I'm under by not maintaining an efficient file system. I feel challenged just by organizing and boxing lots of little stuff, so a charity picking up has room to get around the furniture and dismantle it.

I feel like I'm drownding in stuff. I could start being ruthless about discarding what is not worth holding onto. I believe I need sedating medication to allow me to quiet the anxiety that makes these tasks seem overwhelming.

I need help beyond chatting with a social worker once a week via video. I feel so much calmed down now - 2 hours after taking the meds I took. Otherwise I get immobilized by anxiety that snowballs into terror. When it keeps escalating, I start feeling I'ld do anything to escape it.

I think I can sleep soon. I got through another day.

Woke up at 3:30 a.m. Still tired. The meds I took last night helped me. Starting to wear off now.

I need medication that stops this shivering/trembling feeling. I still feel calmed down from what I took last night. But it's wearing off. That nervous feeling coming back.

An hour ago, I did take a hydrocodone 10 mg, an Ativan 1 mg and some baclofen 20 mg. It has taken effect and that shiver senation is easing up. Also my feeling that I may well be able to cope with sorting through mounds of stuff.

I want to talk to my PCP and to the psychiatrist who sees me a few times a year to explain I need sedating medication to simmer down this scared, anxious shivering state I get into. It comes with an overwhelming sense of foreboding that my attempts to get things organized are feeble and just pathetically inadequate to the challenge. But when that dread and shivering feeling gets quieted by meds, I can start to get things done.

I want these doctors and look at the real possibility that treating symptoms with drugs may need to be the cornerstone for a while. I know I need other non-drug approaches that go past symptoms to underlying causes.

Simce taking thes meds awhile ago, I am less concerned about police showing up this morning to drag me out of here as a trespasser. I'm able to slow donw franti thinking and focus on a selected goal. And remind myself that this is one day to get through with at least a few accomplishments done. I'm going to call the pdoc today. Now I feel like I might sleep easy for a bit. I'll try.

Suddenly, I'm able to drink a big glass of milk with my Swiss rolls. That means the awful queasiness is lessening. All do to the meds I took earlier.

Woke up at 2 a.m. feeling kind of queasy. I magaged to get some furniture from this apt of my friend's donated.

I was talking to my PCP on a phone visit about how I have these severe attacks of grief that get me almost hysterical. I was talking to her fine, until something I was answering her about got me breaking down and unable to keep my emotional control. Then she kept me on the phone for a long time. Soon I have a meeting with the psychiatrist - by phone - I want him to prescibe for me a benzo to take when I get into one of these emotional attacks where grief just escalates and I become a wreck.

So sorry to hear Rose. I hope the grief gets better over time. All the best to you.

Waiting to hear how your session went. Keep us posted.

I'm very sorry for your loss Rose, and for all that you have been through since. I hope you had success with the psychiatrist giving you what you need. I cant add to what others have said, just saying we all care about you and are here thinking of you.

Being as alone as I am now, it helps me so much to hear that others care and think about me. It gives me hope that I can find connections to people in the community around me. I don't want to be more alone than I have to be. I want connectedness. There may be people out there who would welcome me joining in some activity going on.

It's awful hard to eat. First time in my adult life that I've had that happen. I got some Chinese take-out that I usually love. After a few bites, it seemed awful. I got down some more. Now I'm giving up on it.

I talk with the psychiatrist Friday morning.

Now I feel nauseated from the food. I'll just rest in the recliner.

I had a very busy day, working hard from 7 a.m. this morning, clearing out stuff from this apartment. Habitat for Humanity came in to pick up about half the furniture. I cleared out drawyer after drawyer after drawyer, preparing for them. I brought bags of clothing to another charity. Now I'm tuckered out and resting. This is the hard part. Being very, very busy today kept the tears in check because I had to keep going. Now I'm afraid of the dark kind of grief seeping in and invading my soul. This is why I will ask the psychiatrist tomorrow to order me a sedating medication like Ativan. It is not good to be under unrelenting emotional stress morning, noon and night. I only slept about 3.5 hours before waking this morning. It's very hard for me to eat. I have a fluttery feeling throughout my abdomen that gives me a sense of being so ill at ease. It's not good to be tense and frightened like this hour after hour. My PCP suggested hydroxyzine or propranolol. The latter did nothing for me when I was put on it years ago. I don't remember ever taking hydroxyzine. I know that Ativan brought considerable relief.

I feel sleep now.

hi rose, i am so sorry you are in such deep pain. the first few months are the hardest. all those memories...sigh.. it's especially hard when you don't have a good support system. please keep your heart open to people who reach out to you. and consider a life review. i did and it helped me tremendously to understand why i ended up how i ended up. as for your anxiety, it's totally understandable. not having anyone there for you consistently would make me anxious and depressed too. making friends at an older age is not easy but you never know. there are so many lonely people out there who are aching for a good true friend. i know the meds are helping you right now but i hope one day you won't need them anymore. please take care.

Rose76

A man is coming this morning to clean the oven. The kitchen is kind of cluttered. He may not have the room to work. It's a galley kitchen. I am quite nauseated.

The psychiatrist will call this morning also.

A couple came, and they've finished the stove and oven. I felt less bad hearing them working. They were very nice . . . sweet even. I might pay them to hep me with something else here. I tipped them 10 dollars. They seemed very pleased.

I'm waiting for the call from the psychiatrist. Any minute now. I'm afraid I won't be able to convince him that, at times, I am too distressed. I get told that grief is normal. I know that. I know my loss and pain aren't more tragic than the next person's. The vast majority of people survive loss and grief. Then they live the remainder of their lives. I'm afraid I can't follow a path to where most people get. I feel life for me isn't worth it. Where is that call?

The psychiatrist just called. We spoke for 20 minutes. He told me what I'm going through is normal. I told him I thought he was reaching a big conclusion with not a lot as the basis for that conclusion. He went on to recite what I hear over and over - that I've had a big loss and am naturally in grief. He did ask what I had hoped to get from him. I told him I felt I could benefit from sedation. He agreed to order a few tablets of Ativan in 1/2 mg strength. I'll pick that up later or tomorrow. He says he would be open to "revisit" my situation in 6 weeks.

I think he was very put off by my challenging his conclusion, or rather how much thought he put in to reaching it. I should have known better than to do that. People working in mental healthcare can be very defensive. They get inured to hearing patients say that nobody understands the depth of their pain. I worked a bit in psych facilities myself. It is tempting to get jaded toward the problems of psychiatric patients. Often, many of them come across as utterly self-preoccupied.

My PCP said she was going to talk to this doctor. Obviously, she didn't. He was unaware that my bf had died. I'm disappointed.

I'm surprised that he ordered any Ativan at all. I was prepared for him not wanting to order anything at all. I was not adequately prepared for him seeming so dismissive of my belief that I have a problem that's not normal grief. I never have liked this doctor. He's 70 y.o. and has struck me as being tired and superficial. He gave me a pat, little, canned-sounding speech along the lines of "I'm sorry if I've hurt you."

I don't feel hurt. I feel slightly humiliated. What I heard in his words was along the lines of, "So you think you're special and that your pain is really catastrophic. Well, get over yourself. People lose loved ones every day. It's part of life. You're not a child. You'll do like the rest of the human race does. You'll experience sorrow. That will be rough for awhile. Then you'll find that life goes on." That's what I was hearing. And I suppose there's some truth in that persoective, whether it belonged to him or not.

I want to feel I learned something from this.

A man was just knocking at the window near the door. I got up and then decided not to open the door. He might have been sent by the apt complex manager. The lawyer advised me to not engage with her.

I figured that, whoever it is, they can reach me by phone. Typically, management leaves notes on tenants' doors. I don't need to expose myself to what might be harrassment.

I checked with police as to whether she could have me arrested for tresspassing. An officer said that was unlikely to happen. The officer told me to not talk to her.

That man at the door on top of the disappointing phone call with the doctor has me tensed and rattled.

I don't want to be that vulnerable to what someone else can say or do. I don't want to feel so easily threatened. I'm telling myself that the managemn here can't really hurt me much. Even if I get rushed out of here without the time to organize the way I want to, that won't change my life all that much. I don't think a disappointing encounter with a psychiatrist or some harrassment from this property manager is going to make or break me.

I think I may fail to recover from my loss. Some people don't. Some people are broken by loss. I guess most people aren't. I guess the odds are that I won't be either. I guess it's understandable that most people looking at my situation are going to figure it that way . . . even doctors.

I'm sleepy now.

I hate that the psychiatrist made his assessment and conclusion so quickly. It comes across to me as him saying: "I know your type. I don't need to hear a lot more out of you. I can size you up in 10 minutes." A fair amount if that goes on in mental health care, in my opinion.

I worked in a jail doing psych triage. After you've heard a few dozen people say they were going to kill themselves, if they weren't let out of the jail immediately. ("And then you'll have a big lawsuit on your hands.") - you do get jaded. I tried not to be condescending to these individuals. Some of them were petty crimminals with long histories of manipulative behavior. But that's just one level of looking at it. Who knows the history of how they got to where they were? Knowing that takes time. I wasn't allotted time to deep-delve into all of that. So I'ld mainly tell myself that these were generally human beings who'ld come to feel powerless, probably through of lifetime of never having had much power. So they made their pathetic threats to gain some sense of having some leverage. I tried to tell them that they didn't have to be suicidal for me to believe that they felt awful. It seemed to help people just to be told that I believed them that life kind of sucked for them.

The doctor recited his little "sorry if I hurt you" routine. Its hard to be hurt by someone you didn't much trust in the first place. I've spent the last few years advocating for my bf with doctors. I know the are a varied lot . . . like humanity in general. Some have quite tender hearts. Some others get to feeling like they're always dealing with folks trying to grab more than their fair share of attention . . . and they're not putting up with that.

Yet I was disappointed. I must have had some misdirected hope for something. I figured getting much Ativan was an outside chance. I guess I thought he'ld at least be a little more attentive.

Ativan has a powerful effect on me. The 0.5mg tablet would probably meet my needs in most cases. Your current challenges, however, are intense. I am concerned the 0.5mg dose might provide more of a frustration than a relief.

Rose, I am so sorry you lost the boyfriend you have been caring for all these years. He was able to live a long life in his own apartment thanks to your care and advocacy. I hope you get enough time to go through things at his apartment - dealing with those people sounds like a stress you really don't need at this time.

That's pretty much what I figured. So Sat eve I took 3 tablets for a dose of 1.5 mg. It did me a world of good. And I haven't taken or needed any since.

I'm home in my apartment now. Clearing out my friend's apt this last few days under the new deadline, which was 9 a.m. this morning, was tough. I had thought I would have had until June 30. My lawyer bought me a week's worth of time. That was something at least. Otherwise the manager was going to order me off the property right after the weekend that I flew back from where he was buried. It was still an enormous amount of work to do in a short span of time. I hired some help. That was essential and the help went above and beyond.

My right arm is so sore. I've aged since I last really lived in my own apartment. I hope I'll have the strength to make this place homelike again. Right now it looks like a warehouse.

I have to unscramble my life.

I was getting hysterical crying on the phone to my sister. She called the cops. They called me. They said an officer would check on me later. My sister told them I threatened self-harm, which was not true.

I have become extremely distressed today. You don't have to be planning self-harm to be extremely distressed.

But that's how our system tends to work. I think I am way in over my head in stress and despair. I'm afraid I won't recover, but am getting worse and worse.

I don't know if my sister just basically got annoyed with how I was crying. I don't know if this was done out of love or because she was mad. Maybe it was both.

My apt is a mess with all the boxes and bags I took from my bf's house. And the place looks so bleak.

I got used to feeling at home in his apt. Yesterday I thought I would be glad to get settled back at my own place. Now I hate being here.

I am one severely disorganized person. I don't have much faith that going to the hospital would help me. But staying here seems to be a bad idea. I have got discouraged beyond what I think I can stand.

Because of the mess, or because here is not there, where you became comfortable?

I wish I had the words...
Peace to you now and in the days to come.