He can control his urges for a few months, swearing that this time it will be for good, but it never is. He went outside your relationship looking for something, and that something has a particular meaning. But after my diagnosis we all knew. She killed herself soon after, took every pill she had left. Then lights flashed red and blue behind me. A week later, we celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary. When I awoke the next morning, my left hand was rigidly curled into my wrist, my wrist into my elbow, and my arm contracted across my chest.
But you are also mourning the loss of a person you once knew.
He avoided sex when we were dating, saying he wanted to wait until we were married. At night I lay awake in a house stripped of anything sharp or toxic, knowing that if she really wanted to commit suicide, she would find a way. She concluded that my ideal was to remain monogamous—something my husband could not do.
The only thing that will truly help is time.