My wife died in 2012, three years after being diagnosed with leukaemia. I’ve raised our two daughters on my own – they’ve been the centre of my life.
The oldest is 18 and has gone abroad to attend college on a full scholarship. I am happy and excited for her. Her younger sister wants to apply for a place at the same international school, and if successful she too will leave home in 12 months.
I will turn 55 soon and I’m looking at a very grim future.
I’ve been battling with mental health issues for years and I’ve lost all self-confidence as a result. And although I’ve been on medication for more than 15 years, I see no improvement.
My wife was a lawyer and I supported her in her career, and I’ve struggled to find a job since her death.
I have no intrinsic motivation: there are so many things I would love to do, but I can barely motivate myself to complete the most basic of tasks.
About three years ago I was diagnosed with ADHD, but the medication barely helps, and I don’t know where to find help.
I also have no libido and feel no attraction to another person. The few times I’ve had sex since my wife’s death, I needed to use Viagra, but it didn’t work. I have given up on hoping that I will have a loving and intimate relationship ever again.
I feel deep shame at who I am and what I have become.
Your letter moved me. You supported and looked after your wife, you were left a widower, you brought up your two girls single-handedly – very successfully, it sounds – and yet you are full of shame at who you are. Why? You’ve done an amazing job, but I can see it’s taken its toll. And that’s no surprise. I think what you’ve experienced is really tough, but I think men can find it harder to talk about, ergo process, “difficult” emotions.
Lorna Evans is a UKCP registered psychotherapist, and she said: “You’ve been raising your daughters as a single parent for years, yet in a short amount of time you will be on your own, without your daughters in your home for the first time since your wife’s death. And you will have no defined role or job. And we all need to feel useful.”
This is quite seismic and I would hazard a guess that the tough feelings you’ve been keeping at arm’s length by being busy and caring for others are starting to be felt.
We both wanted to know if you or your daughters had had any kind of therapy for your grief. It all felt very locked away. Unresolved grief can result in depression.
“I’m interested in your identity, as in, who are you now and who were you before your wife got sick? And even earlier, before you met her?”
Evans encouraged you to try to think about your interests, maybe even going back to childhood. She suggested a “hope in a jar”, where you put things you would love to do – but maybe never did, due to lack of time or money, or “that you’ve never permitted yourself to do while caring for others” – in a jar on bits of paper. Start small.
As to your ADHD, Evans suggested “looking for a therapist to work through your grief, someone who understands neurodiversity. This will help normalise and validate your symptoms of procrastination and anxiety, the role ADHD plays in this, and explore useful coping strategies.”
She adds: “ADHD will also play a part in sex, as you will need to feel very safe and regulated in a more intimate relationship to begin exploring sex. It may be helpful for any future sexual partners to understand your ADHD.”
Remember that when we try to numb ourselves against one emotion we tend to numb everything. Our bodies aren’t like a fuse box where we can isolate just one switch.
I think it’s time to think about yourself. Go back to your GP/psychiatrist and ask for a review (I know getting an appointment is not easy). Please look for a therapist – I think this would be hugely beneficial for you. Don’t expect change overnight. You’ve been frozen in your grief for a long time. It will take time to defrost. Try to reach out to friends about how you feel. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.
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