u/Longjumping-Chest989

My wife of nearly 20 years died a month ago, and I still haven't gotten drunk. I'm nearly 50 and most of my friends are lightweights or think that getting drunk at this age is silly.

I do not think that.

I'm out of work so I don't have much money, but I would very much like to just go to a bar, take shots and talk about anything and anything. Man or woman, it doesn't matter as long as you're chill and topics aren't off limits. I just need a night of being human.

UPDATE

You all have been so supportive and amazing! I have tried to respond to everyone but I'm sorry if I missed you. I have received nearly 30 DM's (is that a lot? It feels like a lot) with people reaching out to offer their liver for this sad guy right here. And I apologize, kinda, for my sense of humor. One of the things my wife told me super early on in our relationship was that I wasn't funny. In twenty years, every time she laughed so hard she couldn't breathe I'd tell her, "But honey... I'm not funny."

I'm not letting go of that. Even now.

It's been 10 days since my wife passed. I am stuck in between two feelings, that I'm moving too fast to get on with my life, and that I'm moving too slowly. It's driving me crazy.

Every day I try to do something that deals with her death, like finding a venue for her memorial or going over finances. I also try to do something in the house like a load of laundry. Then lastly something to find a job, like applications and resume updates. And then there's the emotions that muck everything up like , pain, emptiness and panic.

I have no income at all. I've been desperate to find a job for more than a year, so every day that passes it feels like an eternity because everything else in my life might get easier. I don't have a handle on what little remains of our/my finances even though I tackle something each day. I don't have her remains yet, but I'm trying to at least find someplace to have her memorial.

I have ADHD and OCD, so seeing all of her things strewn around the house causes anxiety, but the thought of touching them also gives me anxiety. I can't help but think I'm moving too quickly and not processing enough, but I look around at how much of a wreck my house is and I wonder how I don't go insane from moving too slowly to clean it.

I don't know how to deal with these feelings. No money means no therapy, and I don't have a friend who is close by, emotionally mature and available. I don't know who I can talk to. I guess that's why I'm here. I could use advice.

It was a very long fight for her, seven years. In the end her body finally gave up, but I think only because she did. Her determination was ultimately the only thing keeping her going. The day before she died she knew I was looking into hospice for her. There were no options left.

I don't know where I am when it comes to the stages of grief. I think somewhere between bargaining and depression. I don't have the luxury of dwelling or whatever, I'm in financial troubles and have to push through.

I can't stand to touch things that she had. Medical supplies, a cup, a piece of trash... and her clothes. Her clothes don't smell like her. She was sick so long that she barely wore what she had. I have piles of her things in the bathroom, bedroom, den, everywhere.

I took home a dirty blanket of hers from the hospital to wash it a few days before she died. I found it in the laundry room today and just hugged it. It doesn't smell like her, but I know she used it for a week.

I don't know what the point of this post is. A cry for attention maybe? Sympathy? I think mostly I'm scared to be alone.

My family has fallen on hard times and the economy is the worst I've seen in my life. It's very likely we will have to sell our house and my wife suggested a manufactured home. I immediately recoiled at the suggestion; this was a month ago. Today, looking around our house, I realized that I've always hated it.

At the time, we were a couple years away from finishing out the 7 year period where a medical bankruptcy lifts from credit and it was the best we could do. It was a rental: cheaply built, already falling apart and despite being here for so long we never fixed it up. Raising three kids and still dealing with medical bills made that difficult. But, it was a house, and before that I either rented duplexes or townhomes. It was a step up.

I can't get it out of my head that buying a manufactured home is a step backwards. A big one.

My wife owned her double-wide when we met ~20 years ago and I respected that she was a single mom who was maintaining her own place. I moved in with her because I moved from up north to be with her here in Texas. She doesn't have the same feeling because she grew up in Texas and it's fairly common here that the important thing is to own land, less so a "stick-built" house. Incidentally I never have heard that term before today and I find it funny just how passive aggressive it is. 😄

I'm pushing 50 and I'm not retired or sick, I just can't find a damn job. Many years ago my parents moved into a double wide that was the most house-like manufactured home I've ever seen. But they were on a fixed income so I saw nothing wrong with it at all. They live in a lovely retirement community.

I feel like a failure considering this. I should have done better to take care of my family. And even though this crappy house is falling apart, it's still a house. I know I'm not being rational and I want to fix how I'm feeling about all of this. I was hoping someone else might have gone through something similar and how they pushed past the stigma.

EDIT: Thank you to those who responded constructively, you gave me a lot to think about. To those who didn't, I'm sorry. I came in here as an asshole with a smile and it didn't occur to me that I was out-of-the-gate insulting everyone here. It wasn't my intention, but like I always say intentions are irrelevant unless you own up to the fallout. I'm trying to own up to it.

I've been reading lots of posts here and articles on the web, and I keep seeing the same phrase. "You're not broken, your brain just works differently."

If my glasses snap in half and I put a bandaid on it to hold them together it's still broken. It will always be broken.

I'm struggling hard to accept that I'm broken even though I know I am. No friends, no job, an ex-wife, and I've had serious problems with my wife and continue to.

I don't want tricks or tips. I don't want to take medication that essentially is a different personality spread across several bottles. I don't want to go to psychiatrists, psychologists and therapists for the rest of my life. I just want to be normal.

And despite all of that, I'm supposed to believe I'm not broken?