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Thank you, KayC. My search for a grief counselor continues. I'm still waiting for my cousin's girlfriend to send me the contact info for her psychiatrist. Whenever I complain about my guilt feelings about my dad, my brother tells me that's the devil talking -- not a very comforting thought! Then he said that my father would be upset to see me feeling the way I do -- that just adds to my guilt! I know my brother means well, and I give him credit for visiting me, but all I want is some gentle kindness and reassurance. There should be a "horse whisperer" for people. Instead of telling me how to pray, I wish my brother had prayed with me yesterday. It helped jame57 when his friend prayed for him. I know I should have asked him, but I was too busy crying. "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." -- Matthew 18:20

I can certainly relate to the loneliness of the journey. Today my half brother came over and I asked him to sit in the garden with me and let me talk about my troubles. He doesn't have a lot of time for me, but he listened and gave me what advice he could. I wept openly several times during our conversation. He's a born again Christian so he recommended a Stephen Minister. He used to be one himself many years ago before he ran out of spare time (he's also an RN and a semi-professional dancer). Stephen Ministries are available through the churches that offer them in the US and Canada and 24 other countries: www.stephenministries.org He said I need a therapist or counselor who is faith-based. He said I should pray directly to Jesus Christ and ask the Holy Spirit to help me. Praying this way has helped him through his past problems. He has never suffered from intense grief as I have, because his relationship with our mother was strained and his biological father abandoned him. His father was a multi-millionaire and a pillar of society but he never acknowledged his son -- so my half brother has suffered quite a bit from rejection and loneliness, but he got through it with the help of his church. I usually pray to God the Father, so I will try praying directly to Jesus the Great Physician.

Yes, I am a sensitive person and with my grief and the sleep deprivation, I'm naturally going to be more sensitive than usual. But by the same token, my isolation has made me more appreciative of people and their kindness. I was smiling and laughing with my cousin Randy in the waiting room, because I was just so happy to talk to a human being in person! After my session with the psychologist and I was talking about it with my cousin, he told me, "You don't get out much do you? Most people aren't very nice. That's just how life is." I may not go out much, but I think I know enough about how mean and arrogant people can be. I thought therapists were supposed to be more compassionate than the average person. I was talking to another cousin and she told me that her therapist fell asleep during her sesson. I thought a PhD would be even more skilled at saying comforting and polite things. He told me he is an agnostic, so he can't offer any spiritual comfort, so his approach is only on the psychological level. I am agnostic myself, but I have always believed in a higher power and have never stopped praying to God. I have been going to church again. So far my therapists have been a young woman who has never lost a parent or experienced an existential crisis, a prison chaplain who swears and who doesn't believe in spirits, and a psychologist who got angry at me for asking a question. Finding a nice doctor, lawyer, and contractor has also been like searching for the Holy Grail. I did manage to find one honest contractor but he's retired and only came over as a favor to my half brother to fix my front door. He said he doesn't need the money, but I paid him anyway. I appreciate good service. There is a grief counselor who lives just a block away from me, and she was the first person I contacted two months ago, but when she didn't answer my email within a few hours, I cancelled. A friend asked me do I really want someone who lives just a block away to know about my personal life? I think the grief counselor should have replied to my email, even after I cancelled, to say that she's there if I need her, but she didn't. Maybe she doesn't want a patient living so close to her either. My cousin's girlfriend promised to give me the contact info for a psychiatrist who helped her through a crisis thirty years ago. I haven't tried a psychiatrist yet -- perhaps she can help me wean off the sleeping pills.

Thank you so much, Shari, for your very kind and thoughtful replies. I had sent my previous post before I read your latest. It's good that your mom remarried and that probably helps her to be more objective about your father. I'm glad that she apologized for hurting your feelings. You are lucky to have found a good counselor. I'm still searching after trying three different therapists! A friend is going to refer me to a nice psychiatrist who helped her through a crisis thirty years ago, as soon as she can find her contact info. I've always wanted to know more about my mother, too, but my father wouldn't say much. He said he wanted to put the bad memories out of his mind. He fell in love with her because he was impressed by how beautifully she played the piano and violin. The poor guy thought he'd spend the rest of his life in music heaven. He had no idea what he was getting into, but he would have stuck by her forever. He said he could never hate my mother because she gave him me, but like you said, it is better my mom wasn't around that much because she would have caused more hurt to both my dad and me. She did enough damage as it was. I'm so glad she had her good side. Looking through her things is very interesting but also painful. She was an eloquent writer, but some of the things she wrote were delusional. I would sometimes ask my dad if he thought I was going to turn out like my mom, and he'd say, no, my half will keep you sane. If I hadn't had my father's love I probably would have ended up like her. My mother did not have loving parents which is a tragedy. As a young girl, she was sent off to live with a wealthy aunt who gave her music lessons, so she never properly bonded with her own mother. Her father was in the diplomatic service in China and remarried, so she rarely got to see him. My father said my mother's anger usually passed quickly and that my anger passes even more quickly. My mother and I both had a good sense of humor which is my saving grace. It looks like you have a good sense of humor, too. I'm glad I always apologized to my dad right away when I acted moody, something my mother didn't do. Even though I haven't found a good therapist yet, I still believe in therapy. When my dad was in the hospital for six weeks a couple of years ago, a hospital chaplain was a great comfort to him. He opened up to her and even cried when talking about his past, something he never did with me, because he didn't want to make me sad. In retrospect, I wish my dad could have had more therapy, and me too, but he probably wouldn't have wanted to go. He did confide in me a lot of things, but I never saw him cry, except maybe a manly tear during a sad movie. He told me the only time he ever cried was after his niece was killed at age 22 by a drunk driver. My father found great comfort in the story of the good thief during the crucifixion, when Jesus told him, "This day you shall be with me in Paradise." One time before his last hospitalization, we were watching the movie, "King of Kings", when my dad got a little choked up thinking about the good thief, because he felt if a thief could get into heaven, then that meant there was hope for him, too. A friend of his who saw my dad praying in the hospital said, "I don't know what your father was worried about, he was the nicest man I ever knew." I wish you the best of luck with your studies. I really admire how you are able to function through your grief. School can be hard even in the best of times. I'm so happy for you that you and your mom love each other and are on good terms. God bless you both.

They say divorce is like a death, so your mother has had to mourn for your father twice. If she feels the need to complain about your dad, then gently remind her of his good qualities and how grateful you are for your father's love. Maybe tell her that it's not healthy for her to be bitter about the past and it's not helping you either. You were and are his biggest achievement and I'm sure your mother is grateful to him. Like Anne said, what truly matters is that your dad loved you and you were able to feel that love. I wish I had felt that my mother loved me, but at least she had the good sense to marry a good man and I'm grateful for that.

I'm so sorry about the loss of your dad. I lost my dad, too, two months ago. He was very lovable, and he was my best friend and my hero, so it's sheer agony to lose him, but no one is perfect. I almost wish he hadn't been so nice, so I wouldn't feel so guilty about every time I wasn't as kind as I should have been towards him. I regret every time I ever complained to him about anything -- I should have been just happy he was alive, but we can't treat people like they're dying all the time, because if we thought about losing them every day, we'd be a nervous wreck (like I am now that I have lost my dad). I remember telling my father many years ago I'm sorry that I'm not the perfect daughter, and he replied, well, I'm not the perfect father either. We loved each other just as we were. Before he died, I again asked him to forgive me for whenever I wasn't a good daughter and he nodded. I know he loved me just as I was and as no one else will ever love me. I am crying again. I remember reading that sometimes a grieving person will denigrate their deceased loved one as a coping mechanism. Anger is one of the five stages of grief that were first proposed by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. I don't know, but maybe your mom thinks your grief will be less if she reminds you of your dad's faults or maybe that's how she's coping with her own grief. She could be trying to protect you both from the pain. It's good that she did care for him, which proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that your father was a good, lovable person. I know too many divorced people who hate their ex, but there is a fine line between love and hate. I've had plenty of relatives be mean to me, but I still love them, because they're my people. I might not talk to some of them anymore, but I wish them the best, and I would be sad if they got hurt or died. Sometimes, love is a one-way street. I think what you wrote shows the beauty of the unconditional love that can only exist between a parent and a child. That's not to say all parents love their children. I'm pretty sure my mother didn't love me, but she was mentally ill, so she couldn't help it. It still hurts though. I was raised by my father and grandmother, and my mother literally phoned her role in. She called me about once a month when I was growing up and only visited me on my First Communion and graduation. I know it helped me after my mother died to remind myself that she didn't really love me, even though she told me she did sometimes, so I shouldn't grieve too intensely. As a narcissist she did what made her happy, even if it was being mean. I mourn what might have been more than what was. I still loved and admired her, but more like a fan than a daughter. Lots of movie stars aren't nice either, but they still have their fans. In spite of her indifference, I'm glad she was my mother, because I've seen some mean moms who make her look like an angel! My mother could be charming and funny when she took her meds, and she became rather sweet in her last years. I hate the way she treated my father during their brief marriage, but if he could forgive her, then so could I. I'm so glad that on our last visit, before she got her stroke which robbed her of speech, she finally admitted that my father was a good man and she should never have divorced him. Even after her stroke she was amazingly cheerful and affectionate. I regret that I didn't visit her often enough, but I blame my half brother, because he didn't make time for her, and he was the one who used to take me to visit her. But he had more to resent about her than I did, because he had to live with her growing up. Just the same, all she had to do was tell me she missed me and I would have walked over hot coals to be by her side, but she never did. I've been going through her things, and she was very good about keeping journals of her activities. She had calendars where she wrote where she had lunch every day. How I wish we could have met regularly for a cup of coffee, but she never invited me! I did get to dine with her occasionally as an adult, but the only meal I remember her ever cooking for me was French toast when I was about five years old. I think God gave me a wonderful father to make up for my absentee mother, but now that he's gone, I'm devastated. The greater the love the greater the grief. I'm almost afraid to love anybody anymore.

I wish I had a counselor as kind and compassionate as you, dear KayC. Here in person, I mean, though I'm lucky to have you in the forum. I've struck out three times already on the therapists. I'm crying my eyes out right now -- not about the therapists, but because I'm missing my dad again. I just sent an email to my cousin for her birthday. She's celebrating in Buenos Aires, and that reminded me of the tango singer Carlos Gardel whom my father liked. Why didn't I put on a Carlos Gardel movie or song that last night my dad was here? Maybe it would have cheered him better than that stupid downbeat movie we watched. I can't buy into the inner baby thing. My suffering is too intense -- all I can do is cry out to God for mercy, the way my dear father did. I'm sorry to be such a downer, but this forum is to express our grief. I think I had better go see the priest at St. Peter's Church. He seemed genuinely compassionate. I've never been so miserable in my life. I don't know who to turn to anymore. I prayed at St. Anthony's Church this afternoon. My heart was pounding after my mile walk and my vision was shaky as I looked at the beautiful stained glass windows. I shouldn't have had two pisco sours at the Peruvian restaurant. Mea culpa.... I was spacey before we even got to the restaurant (I went with my cousin Randy). I could speak perfectly well but I felt lightheaded and weird. Must be the benzo withdrawal. Well, it was good to cry though it's agony during the tears. I've never felt such despair. I have cancelled with the psychologist. I want someone sweet and kind -- if I want to argue the finer points of therapy, I should have that privilege. How can he say I don't love myself? Would I be spending a small fortune for therapy if I wasn't trying to be kind to myself and that brat inside me? Poor joke, I know.

My previous male therapist (a former prison chaplain) tried to raise my self-esteem with compliments, but when I sent him an email saying I wouldn't be able to come to more sessions for a while, he didn't even reply, which rather defeated his efforts to raise my self-esteem. He gave me a discount of $40 per session, when his regular rate is $150/hour. This was after he admitted that as a minister he should be counseling me for free. Once when he told me something he thought was particularly insightful, he said, "I should charge you $150 for helping you realize that." Even though he was just kidding, that comment didn't sit well with me. So when he complimented me later, I said, "I did pay you to say that so why should I believe it?" He replied that if he lied to his clients then he'd be out of business. I only said that because I didn't think he acted very warm or compassionate for someone who thought so highly of me. He didn't use little niceties like "how are you?" or "hope you feel better soon". He sometimes used salty language, probably from dealing with convicts. But the worst thing was when I told him people tell me my dad's spirit is still in the house. He replied, "Bull****". Hardly appropriate language for a "minister". I enjoyed talking with him, but he lost his credibility so I had to drop him. Even the psychologist could stand to be a little more sincere. As I was leaving I told him, "Have a nice evening." Instead of wishing me the same, he said, "I fully intend to." Maybe I'm nit-picking, but I would expect a therapist, of all people, to be warm and affirming. It's like you can't even pay some people to be nice. The taxi driver would be a better therapist than the three I've tried so far. He said to me, "You should talk to me instead of them." I probably would if he had given me his phone number. I told him he should be a motivational speaker.

I'm wishing you the best on your birthday, too. God bless your mother and you. If you would like to read about how my first session with the psychologist went today, please view my original thread.

I'm very sorry you're dealing with cirrhosis and diabetes. I'm insulin-resistant so I need to increase my exercise, but it's so hard when I'm depressed. I didn't go out walking much during my dad's last two years, because I didn't want to leave him alone too long. I wish I had pushed him to get out and walk more, but his drug of choice was watching movies and sports. It took his mind off his troubles. Well, I went to the psychologist today and he said that tears are good and not crying is ok, too. We should express our grief in whatever way feels right at the time. My first therapy session was free so I can't complain about that. I did most of the talking because I had to tell him my situation, but he stopped me sometimes so he could comment. I apologized and told him if I'm rambling on it's because I haven't talked to anyone in person for six days. Basically, his advice was to think of myself as a baby, that we are all babies and as human babies we deserve to be loved. When I keep thinking negative thoughts such as guilt and regret, I am being cruel to my inner baby. I need to love myself before I can love anybody else. He said to me, "Your problem is you don't love yourself." I asked him, "Are you saying I didn't love my father?" He got annoyed and said, "You didn't come here to argue with me. You're going to have to take my advice if you want to feel better." He has a point there. Whatever mind games it takes to distract myself, I guess I have to play along. I asked, "What if my baby is bad?" He answered, "No baby is bad. All babies deserve to be loved the way they are, even if they have problems or flaws." I'm just paraphrasing, but he said every time a negative thought or sad image comes to mind about my experience, then I should embrace my inner baby and give myself comfort. My homework is to write out what we talked about in our session. I feel like he wants me to take notes for him, but I'll do it. He recorded our talk (I almost walked into the elevator with the microphone still on my jacket). At least he has a recording machine (unless the microphone was just a prop) -- neither of my previous therapists had one, although my previous male therapist would type notes on his laptop as we talked and then email them to me with his brief comments. I will go to at least one paid session with the psychologist and then decide if I want to continue. If I don't, I'll tell him baby doesn't want to come anymore. I received a nice mini therapy session from my cab driver. He said that five years ago he lost his father at age 55, his wife divorced him and he lost his house, all at the same time. He was devastated and couldn't afford a therapist. So he started running and yelling if he felt like it. He lost half his body weight -- he used to be 300 pounds and showed me his driver's license to prove it. His photo was unrecognizable -- he looks good now! He lives with his mother and has full custody of his three children, so he has to support four people. It's difficult, but he takes it one day at a time. There isn't a day that he doesn't miss his father. I told him he's lucky he still has his mother and his children. I could face anything, too, if I had someone with me. All I have is my inner baby.

Thank you, KayC. I think my current doctor must be getting ready to retire, because he takes frequent vacations. I have been doing a lot of research on medications, but I get scared off by the side effects. I wonder if I'll ever get used to living alone. I know how to appreciate solitude, but it's only pleasant when it's a choice. Even when my father couldn't join me in the garden, I knew he was just inside the house, so I wasn't truly alone. After my great uncle died in 1998, I felt sad whenever I went into the yard, because my uncle used to spend most of his free time working in the garden. Since our house is on a hill, the yard is lower than the street, so after my uncle suffered a stroke, the only way he could get to the garden was when someone strong would help lower his wheelchair down the steep stairs. I remember on his last visit to the garden he loved, my normally stoic uncle shed a few tears. I feel sad and anxious just thinking about it. One of the last things I tried to lift my spirits was the supplement SAM-e, which was first sold in the USA in 1999. I took it for one month. It seemed to help me, but I don't know if it was time that healed me or the SAM-e. I'm tempted to try it again, but two of the possible side effects are anxiety and insomnia.

I just want to say, jame57, that everything you're feeling about your parents, I'm feeling, too, about my parents, especially my dear father who passed away just after Christmas. He raised me as a single dad after his divorce (with the help of my grandmother). I lived with him all of my life (55 years) -- he was a wonderful father and my best friend. I was his caregiver, so I am suffering a lot from survivor guilt, even though he was 86 and had a lot of health problems. With my help he had overcome diabetes and peripheral arterial disease, but he lost his battle with congestive heart failure and kidney disease. I feel like I failed him, because there are some things I would have done differently in retrospect. His death caught me totally off guard, because I thought he would bounce back like he had several times before. Having to place him in Comfort Care was especially traumatic for me, even though there wasn't much choice and it was his decision. It's especially hard because after watching his older brother die in hospice, he had told me, "Please don't ever put me in that death house." He died in the hospital which was a better environment than that hospice where his brother died or even at home, but he had thought (hoped) he would die suddenly in his sleep at home. Instead he suffered for three days on a ventilator under sedation. Thank God he was weaned off of it and it looked like once again he would come through, but this time the odds were against him. To see him in respiratory distress broke my heart. Also, I regret that he knew he was dying -- I wish so much that he could have had some hope, even false hope at the end, to make him feel more at peace, but we had to know if he wanted the heart operation or Comfort Care. He chose the latter because he didn't want to go back on the ventilator and the odds of his surviving the operation were virtually nil. I'm glad that the morphine and removing the nasal gastric tube made him more comfortable. I treasure those last moments when he was his calm, adorable self again -- if I didn't have that last chance to interact with him while he was comfortable I would probably be feeling much worse. But he quickly fell unconscious and then began my sad, lonely vigil at his bedside for 36 hours. I'm grateful that my half brother and my niece came to visit during his last three days, but I was alone with my father when he passed, except for one of the nurses. I had just nodded off to sleep in the chair when he left this world. I don't feel guilty about that -- I think he waited until I was asleep. My mother passed away in October in a nursing home after a second stroke at age 89. She had bipolar disorder and toward the end Alzheimer's disease. We were not as close as I wished we could have been. I blame her mental illness, which caused her to do some selfish and spiteful things, but I still loved and admired her. I mourn what might have been. Because I never married or had children, I am now suffering from deep loneliness along with the most intense grief I have ever experienced. I was once a happy person, but right now even the happy memories with my father make me sad and anxious. I can still laugh and smile, because I'm just glad when I'm able to talk to people, but inside my heart is broken. I was seeing a couple of therapists with limited progress. They both seemed to be just chasing after money. On Tuesday I'm going to try a psychologist with a PhD. He sounded more compassionate and intelligent on the phone than the other therapists. He also costs more than the others, but I'd pay anything to feel better at this point. I realize that no one can wave a magic wand and take away my pain, but maybe he can help me cope better. At age 82, he has had a lot of experience in his profession, so I am hoping for the best. I wish you the comfort and healing that I also wish for myself. I hope we both can come to terms with our new normal and find purpose in our lives.

Thank you for your good wishes, Hooverla. I also have anxiety and am afraid to take Xanax, even though I have a bottle of it sitting right in front of me. I'm already hooked on Ambien and Ativan. This evening I posted about my struggle with sleep meds on my original thread, but I just wanted to say again how I truly sympathize with what you are going through, especially lately that my anxiety seems to be worse, perhaps from benzo withdrawal. I still suffer from negative thought loops, flashbacks of my dad's suffering, worrying that I should have done some things differently, etc. My recent lab work confirmed I'm ok except for high cholesterol, but I'm afraid to take statins. If it were up to me, I'd take even more tests, for my own peace of mind, but doctors and insurance don't work that way. I'm not a hypochondriac -- before seeking medical attention these past two months since my dad died, I had only seen a doctor in 1999 and 2009 for an ear infection/tinnitus and chronic insomnia. I don't mean to discourage you or anyone from taking a medication that is helping you, but I have a friend who tried to take cholesterol lowering medication and it made her very anxious. Statins made another friend throw up nine times. My late neighbor's niece, an opera singer, appeared on national television a few years back talking about how statins caused damage to the tendons in her legs. There's also an interesting video on YouTube called The Lipitor Paradox. However, I know that statins help some people who don't suffer any side effects. Both my half brother and his wife take cholesterol lowering drugs and they have helped lower their cholesterol without any problems. I'm just mentioning all this to explain why I'm afraid to take cholesterol lowering drugs. I'll be going to see a psychologist on Tuesday, God willing. If he has any good suggestions about grief, anxiety, depression, guilt, etc., I'll pass them along. I sincerely hope you continue to feel better each day.

I really sympathize about having lost so many friends and having to do things alone. Some of my friends have moved away but most of them have died, because I inherited some of my favorite friends from my father and great uncle. Most of my online friends are older, too, because I relate to them better. I just came back from the garden. I had to prune a large ivy hedge and being so sleep deprived, it took a lot out of me. I know I'm so lucky to even have a garden and a home, but I had to cry because I miss my father so much. He would help me cut up the branches for recycling. Just being out there together was more happiness than I ever realized, even though it seemed like a routine chore at the time that just needed to be done. I feel so exhausted. It must be the benzo withdrawal, because I took Ambien CR the last couple of nights instead of the Ativan. I don't know which one or both is causing me to feel so out of it. I need to find a doctor who not only knows how to prescribe sleep medications but how to taper off of them, too. I'm not too happy with my current doctor, because he didn't send me a copy of my blood tests as I requested. He said everything was ok except my cholesterol is high -- I'm not surprised considering all the stress I'm under these days. I've weaned myself off of Ambien before, but this is my first experience with the benzodiazepine Ativan. I tried to taper down from 1 mg to 0.75 but when I tried to cut down to 0.50 mg I slept only three or four hours. I switched to the Ambien CR 12.5 and slept six hours on Friday night, but I had bad anxiety yesterday during the day. Ambien never made me anxious before, so it must be Ativan withdrawal. I was on it over a month. I almost checked into the ER last night, but the last time I went in for anxiety in January the nurse practitioner just said I was experiencing a normal grief reaction and didn't give me anything except for five Ambien because I begged her for them. She lectured me on sleep hygiene, but I think the insomnia I have goes beyond that. In my current exhausted physical and emotional state, I don't know if I can take all this anxiety. I have Xanax but I'm afraid to try it, because I don't want to get addicted to a third medication. A friend who works for a doctor said that most people who stop their sleep meds have to white knuckle it and deal with the rebound insomnia for a few nights. But I haven't had a decent night's sleep in two months, I'm worried that I'm going to have a nervous breakdown, because of my sleep deprivation. I've never had such dark circles under my eyes before. It's scary that even drugs can't help me, because they create problems of their own. My half brother who is an RN suggested this morning that I go on Depakote, because he had an elderly patient with dementia who was agitated and restless for several days -- the poor man couldn't sleep at all. The Depakote put him to sleep and now he's almost normal. I read that it's hard on the liver. I do feel a bit nervous when I go to bed, but it's not like I'm tossing and turning all night, thanks to the Ambien or Ativan, which ever one I take, but I wonder how it would be without any sleep med at all. My anxiety seems a little better than yesterday, but I'm still so tired and don't feel as sure on my feet as I normally do. My appetite is not good either and I don't even have much thirst. I have to force myself to drink something so I won't get dehydrated. The tinnitus in my left ear is bothersome, too. (My doctor just said tinnitus is incurable.) It comes and goes. Depakote is used to treat mania associated with bipolar disorder, as well as certain types of seizures and migraines. I don't think I have mania because I don't have that much energy. I can't wait to see the psychologist on Tuesday, but psychologists don't prescribe meds. Maybe he can refer me to a good psychiatrist. My current doctor doesn't know any.

Thank you, KayC. for your good wishes. I'm sorry you're so isolated living in the country. I hope we both find more friends to do things with. I can certainly relate to not wanting to go shopping, because it makes you miss your Mom. When I used to run errands, I would always rush home to be with my dad, sometimes with a treat to eat. I'd call him on my cell phone at regular intervals to make sure he was ok and so he'd know I was ok (he always worried about me). Now it's so sad and strange that no one is waiting for me at home and he's not there to call on my cell phone. Since I don't have a car and cabs can be unreliable, I order most of my groceries online. My dad would tell me what he wanted and make a list. As a child of the Great Depression, he liked having plenty of food and supplies on hand. Always eager to help, he would move the grocery bags closer to the kitchen as he was able to and fold the empty bags for me. Just doing simple chores like that together with him was fun. Now I don't order groceries online until I absolutely have to, because it makes me miss my dad. I went to my last session with my young female therapist today. She tried to convince me that I should keep seeing her as something to do for myself. I didn't want to tell her that I'm switching to a psychologist, because I wasn't satisfied with our sessions. She's a nice person, but she's too young for my particular case. I told her I have to declutter my house to make room for a partner or a roommate, now that I have my cousin helping me. I thanked her for everything and I said if I need more therapy after the project is done, I'll get in touch with her. She said she might not have an opening later, so I said if she can't fit me in then I'll understand. I emailed my older male therapist that I wouldn't be attending any more sessions indefinitely, for the same reason. I thanked him for his valuable insights and wished him blessings. He didn't have the courtesy to reply, not even to wish me luck. And he calls himself a minister.

It is so hard to be alone. I've never lived alone before and there are so few places to meet people in my immediate neighborhood besides bars and churches. I would try to find a group or club related to movies or music, but I still can't enjoy these things because they make me miss my father too much. I didn't even watch the Academy Awards for the first time ever, because I always watched them with my dad. I've tried going to church, and even though I was asked to bring up the host to the altar at mass, I still feel like an outsider. I'm too young for the seniors and too old for the young married people with families. Most church activities are geared towards children or young singles. I've never been to a local bar by myself before and only a handful of times with friends when I was much younger. My father, grandmother and great uncle didn't approve much of drinking, aside from wine with meals, champagne on special occasions, and a little brandy or rum in eggnog. I've thought about going to a local bar that has a trivia night on Tuesdays, but going alone is intimidating. I know my father wouldn't be pleased to see me in a bar, but there's not much else to do around here except eat, drink and dance. I don't feel like dancing when I'm grieving. The only cousin I know who would go with me to a bar is an alcoholic, and I'm afraid he might drink too much. This same cousin has started doing odd jobs around the house for me. We've been going to lunch at restaurants and that has helped me feel a little less sad and lonely. However, I still find myself wishing my dad could have joined us or view the home improvements which would have pleased him. It's a pity my cousin wasn't available when my father was still alive. My cousin knows about loneliness firsthand -- his wife divorced him after 16 years of marriage. He didn't pine for his ex, but loneliness and money troubles caused him to cut his wrists in front of a casino after losing all his money -- it was a call for help which he got. Now he's living with a nice Buddhist lady. I still plan on joining a bird watching group eventually, but for now I'd rather try to find activities closer to home since I don't drive. The closest bird watching location is on the other side of town. One glimmer of hope on the horizon is that I have an appointment with a psychologist for next Tuesday. He is 82 and has over 40 years of experience with psychotherapy, including grief counseling. He also treats PTSD, depression, anxiety and anhedonia. On the phone he sounded more professional and compassionate than the two therapists I was seeing before. He also charges more than the others, because he's a PhD, but if he can help me feel better, it will be worth it.

I waited eight hours after drinking the alcohol before taking the Ativan, to minimize the harmful effects. To hopefully minimize benzo withdrawal, I am going to try to wean myself off the Ativan by tapering down the dosages very slowly. I want my brain to get used to making its own GABA again -- that's the neurotransmitter that helps calm the brain so you can sleep. Ativan mimics GABA so the brain says: "I guess I don't need to make so much GABA because this Ativan stuff is here, so I'll only make 20% of what I usually make." I keep putting off starting the tapering schedule, because I have to expect some rebound insomnia and other withdrawal symptoms, until my brain adjusts to the lower dosages. Since the grief support group I attended is at a Catholic church, the emphasis was on embracing our suffering. The deacon recommened reading the 2015 Magnificat Lenten Companion for inspiration and comfort. Another coping mechanism is to imagine the day when we will be reunited with our loved ones.

I just got back from my favorite Peruvian restaurant. I had three Pisco Sours, my favorite cocktail with Peruvian brandy -- that's my record. I know it's not right to medicate with alcohol, especially when taking Ativan, but it's the only thing that lessens the pain of my grief. Not to worry, I have a liquor cabinet full of boozed which I don't touch, I'm just a social drinker. My neighbor across the street insisted on picking up the tab. She has lost her mother, and three brothers over the last thirty years, so she also medicates herself with alcohol, while remaining functional. Earlier today I went to a grief support group at a large cathedral downtown. It was sad to see so many people struggling with grief, some facing their own mortality, people with cancer whose faith remains strong. The meetings are held once a month. I plan to go to the next one. Before my father's death, I never knew there was so much sadness in the world. I've always known about poverty, wars and illness, but there is this silent world of grief that no one enters until they've experienced a devastating grief of their own. In the meantime, I've developed a crush on my new doctor. I just met him on Friday -- he's older than me, so I guess I'm looking for a father figure. I haven't had a crush on anyone in ages, so It's the only happiness I've known since my father died, aside from the Pisco Sours. His friendliness is probably just his bedside manner, but it's what I need right now. Some kindness to ease the aching loneliness I feel. He's lonely, too, he's been divorced three times. Probably nothing will come of my attraction, but one can dream....

I also thought that my mother was much better off at the nursing home, and she was lucky to get into one of the better ones which has a very long waiting list. She hadn't lived with me since I was three years old, so I don't have any guilt about that decision. She did ask me at one point if I was willing to take her in, but that would not have been fair to my father. It was her mistake to divorce him after all, but in the end it worked out to everyone's benefit, because she received very good care and had access to medical facilities on the premises. My father and I went to visit her when we could. She appreciated our visits and it was good to show the staff somebody cared about her. She complained sometimes about having to take her meds, but never about the service she received. Still no word from BetterHelp -- so I just cancelled my subscription -- the seven day free trial ends tomorrow -- I didn't want to forget and get billed. Instead I gave a donation to this site which has offered "better help" to me. Just coming here to post, helped distract me from some painfully nostalgic thoughts about my father. Even the good memories are still sad for me at this point.

Birds are fascinating creatures. My great uncle used to raise ringneck doves. I'm already subscribed to a bird-watching forum online but haven't checked it out in a long while. I will look into it, thanks. Yesterday I discovered that my new doctor has gone bird-watching in Thailand and Ecuador. I told him how I'm having a hard time with intense grief over my father's death. He quoted the line from Shakespeare's "Hamlet": "But you must know your father lost a father, That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness." (Of course, that line was uttered by the villain Claudius who had murdered Hamlet's father.) The doctor said that his own father would have been better off in Comfort Care, because his heart operation and painful recovery only extended his life by six months. Three days have passed and still no counselor has been assigned to me by BetterHelp. I guess my grief is too complicated for them.

Thank you for your good advice, KayC. I wish you the best. I'm 55 years old, but have a youthful attitude (when I'm not grieving) because I've led a sheltered life. I also wrestled with the thoughts about how much was my mother responsible for her behavior. There were clearly times when she couldn't help it, but when she acted normal, you would never think she had a problem, but she'd still say something hurtful or insensitive now and then. That is amazing the way you found that church in answer to your prayer. On Ash Wednesday I was walking home from the therapist when I was compelled to turn from my path and walk by a local church. I hadn't planned to and hadn't been inside this church for many years. That's when I saw the parishioners receiving their ashes, so I got in line. I was the last in line to receive the ashes and then the priest said he would be hearing confessions. I stopped in my tracks thinking he was talking to me. People in a caregiver forum had advised me to go to confession to alleviate my caregiver guilt, so I decided to take the opportunity. The timing that I passed the church was so perfect that I felt it was meant to be. As the Ash Wednesday service is very short, had I arrived just two minutes later, I would have missed it. Since it had been 35 years since my last confession, I let other parishioners go before me into the confessional -- I wanted to be the last one for some privacy. I told one lady to go ahead of me, because I have a lot to confess. She replied, "So do I and I'm nervous." When my turn came, I started crying and the priest was very understanding. He said I should go to church at 9 am on Sunday, receive communion and offer a prayer of thanks for my daddy. As I left the confessional, I saw the lady who had gone before me crying, too. It's good that now I can pray in a state of grace. I had tried attending two other churches before this one -- I hope the third time's the charm. It is hard to find grief support groups in my city. Most of them are out of town and without a car that makes it difficult for me. However, I found one at a cathedral downtown which meets once a month. I plan to go to it next Wednesday. I wish they would meet more often. Of all the things you mentioned, I think bird watching appeals to me the most. My older therapist has a canary which was warbling away during our session. I was reminded of the many pet birds I had as a child. My father built a large indoor aviary for them. We had canaries, finches and a pair of Chinese nightingales. We also had parakeets and a cockatiel in those happy days. The therapist suggested I get a bird, but these days I prefer observing birds in their natural habitat. We have hummingbirds outside which my dad and I enjoyed watching. Now going into the garden without my father is sad. Life without him seems unbearable. I've never felt such anguish before. I like Felix Mendelssohn's quote in which he described death as a place "where it is to be hoped there is still music, but no more sorrow or partings".

I'm so very sorry about your mother. I also wish I could have known my mother without the mental illness. I got to know my mother better as an adult, but by then I was so busy being a caregiver for several relatives in succession, I didn't get to see her much until she was already institutionalized which limited our ability to spend private time together. When she became hard of hearing, she refused to wear a hearing aid, so that made even phone conversations impossible. When she was on her meds she was sweet and witty, but she hated taking them. When she didn't she was a totally different person -- hostile, paranoid and sometimes nasty. My mother also became easier to deal with when her Alzheimer's started to get worse. Even after her stroke she remained amazingly sweet and cheerful. The patients and the staff at the nursing home liked her so much they held a memorial service for the patients who couldn't attend her funeral. When my mother was well enough to work and raise my half brother, it hurt that she didn't want to spend time with me beyond a monthly phone call. She was a piano and violin teacher yet never gave me music lessons, and it's not like she lived far away. She stayed in the same city as me most of her life. I'm sure my father and I were spared a lot of pain by not having to deal with her as much as my brother had to growing up. Luckily, I can play the piano by ear like my father, but I wonder if I'll ever be able to play the piano again, because my dad isn't here to listen and appreciate it. Now I wish we had played our keyboards together more often. Why did time have to pass so quickly! I have an online friend in Europe who lost both his parents. They were both professional singers. Years later he still can't play the piano anymore, because it makes him miss them too much. I have another friend who lost her brother seven years ago and she still cries every day because she misses him. They used to talk on the phone every day. I'm so lonely, I recently invited my neighbors to dinner at a nice upscale restaurant. One said she couldn't make it because she's writing her thesis and her dog has an ulcer. Another neighbor who had accepted my invitation cancelled last night. She has a reputation for being flaky but it still hurts. She had promised to attend my dad's funeral, but didn't, even though she liked him very much and has known us all her life. Yet another neighbor keeps comparing the loss of my dad to how he felt when he retired. He lost his own dad a couple of years ago, but he accepts it because his dad was suffering and he just wants to remember him the way he was when he was well -- the one who is still suffering is his mother because she spent a lifetime with her husband . They still haven't found a counselor for me on BetterHelp and it's been over 24 hours already. The male therapist called this morning asking to reschedule my appointment today for two hours later. Between all that and the yawning therapist, I feel like no one understands how bad I'm feeling, except the good people on this forum. My isolation makes me appreciate all the more how my dad was always there for me, even when no one else was, which of course makes me miss him all the more. I feel so guilty the way I sometimes took his love for granted. It depresses me to know that I'll never be as happy as when my dad was alive. All the movie and musical memories we shared together, which used to make me happy, now make me sad, because they remind me of my great loss. I find it difficult to even read a book. Yesterday, I had to ask my brother to turn off the car radio, because they were playing movie themes on our local classical radio station. I'm feeling anxious just thinking about it. Both therapists tell me these feelings will fade over time. So far it seems they are just being paid to listen to me. I haven't heard a lot of advice on how to cope with my grief. The younger therapist told me to treat myself to three gifts, but I already have enough stuff and nothing gives me pleasure anymore, except going to a nice Peruvian restaurant I discovered after my dad's death. Since it doesn't have any associations with my father, I don't get haunted by feelings of nostalgia there. I used to like nostalgia, now it's too painful. I've been to that restaurant seven times already, because the food is very tasty and the Pisco Sours dull my pain. I'm running out of people to invite. Dining alone would make me feel more lonely and awkward. I envy how my brother doesn't seem to be grieving the loss of our mother or my father, who was his stepfather. He was talking excitedly about his upcoming trip to Europe. He and other relatives have invited me to go with them on various trips, but I know I wouldn't enjoy it the way I feel right now. Even if I weren't in mourning, it's no fun being a third wheel, plus I need to conserve my money, because I'm living off savings right now. I worry about being able to find a job, because of my age and lack of work experience. I don't have any close friends who live close, because I was so focused on my dad, and the few I had moved away, drifted away or have died. I inherited a friend from my dad, but he doesn't understand about grief -- his mother died at 96. He was a dutiful son, but she was very unsentimental. She used to tell her sons when they visited her in the nursing home -- "Why are you here? You're wasting your time." She was very ornery, but she did like seeing her grandchildren. My dad's friend just comes over so I can order things for him online without his wife finding out. She's another ornery, unsentimental person who puts down his interests. He said he envies the close relationship I had with my dad. I want to make new friends, but haven't figured out how to do that yet. I'm even tempted to try Craigslist Strictly Platonic, but it's scary. A few years ago an acquaintance from a "good family" tried to hook me up with her nephew. I did a little research on him online and found out he is a Satanist. I recently considered attending a local evangelical church, just because it's close, and discovered it has ties to a mafia cult in Mexico. I recently have started going back to the Catholic church, but most of the people who attend are immigrants with large families and not a lot of time to socialize. I'm not the type of person that needs a lot of friends. Like other bereaved persons have said, I have people to do something with, but I want to find someone I can do nothing with and still be happy. I was happy with my father even when we were just sitting on the couch dozing together. I regret so much that I ever complained to my dad that I wished we could go out somewhere fun. Our friends and relatives had pretty much abandoned us towards the end. They were too busy having fun with their own families. Without a car it wasn't easy to get around and cabs aren't dependable. My dad replied, "Is fun so important?" Now I know that fun isn't so important -- it's being with someone you love that is most important. I'm crying, so I'll close.....

Please accept my deepest sympathy for the loss of your mother and brother. I can relate to your post so much, especially the part where you said you began to suffer the same symptoms that your mother had. My father passed away seven weeks ago from CHF, kidney failure, heart attack and pneumonia of unknown etiology. He suffered respiratory distress before he died in Comfort Care in the hospital. Since his death, I feel like I am suffering the same symptoms that he had. I sometimes find myself feeling somewhat short of breath from a mysterious chronic bronchitis that doesn't respond to antibiotics. It started about the same time my dad developed walking pneumonia which also didn't go away completely with antibiotics. I also feel like Karma is making me feel these things, because I didn't pamper my dad enough during his last day at home. I was in denial and thought his fatigue the day before he entered the hospital was from not having slept well the night before.. Usually, I would stay up late to monitor him at night, but that night he couldn't sleep, I went to bed early because I was very tired. I wish I had stayed up that night so I could have comforted him. he told me he had not slept because he was thinking about a good movie we had watched the night before and was wondering what would happen in the sequel (which is still in production). I thought this was a benign reason for not being able to sleep. The following day he said he thought one of his medications wasn't agreeing with him. We were scheduled to see his doctor the next day, but he had to be admitted to the hospital that night for shortness of breath. I'm glad I stayed up late that last night he was home so I was able to monitor him and call 911. He seemed to be getting better in the hospital with oxygen therapy until he had a heart attack later the same day. My long post describes his ordeal in the hospital. My father lost his appetite in the hospital and I have lost my appetite since he died. I can still eat, but not like before he died. My dad had high blood pressure and now I have suddenly developed high blood pressure which I didn't have before. I sometimes feel nervous tension in my stomach, chest and throat. I am suffering from chronic insomnia -- I did before he died, but now it's worse. So now every day I feel fatigued and out of sorts -- like my father felt before he died. Sometimes I experience waves of heat over my body without having a temperature -- my dad felt unusually warm when his kidneys started failing, also without having a fever. I feel anxious when I think about his suffering or even the good times we had, because I'll never be able to enjoy his company again. I also feel like my dad's death will be the death of me, because I can't enjoy my life anymore and I'm having these strange symptoms. As my dad was detaching from the world, he no longer wanted to watch tv or listen to music. Now I can't watch tv or listen to music without becoming sad and anxious. I am seeing a doctor on Friday to find out if there's something physically wrong with me I wish you healing and comfort.

Many thanks for your kind reply. I'm sorry to hear what a turbulent marriage your parents had, but it is touching that your dad never stopped loving your mom . I don't think my dad still carried a torch for my mother, but he said he could never hate her because she gave him me. I'm glad that I was my father's consolation, but it's sad that he never found a woman who could love him unconditionally. It's funny how when he was an old man he got hit on by more pretty young girls than when he was in his prime. He had a longtime girlfriend he met at work whom he had considered marrying when they were younger, but he didn't like the games she played to make him jealous, plus her dystunctional family from her first marriage scared him off. He preferred the quiet life. I'm already seeing two therapists. This morning I caught the younger female therapist stifling a yawn. She's probably tired of listening to my lamentations. I just read an article called, "Tired or Bored: When Your Therapist Yawns" by Daniel Jay Sonkin, PhD which explains that your therapist might yawn because he's "feeling" your exhaustion and showing you in his behavior. Hmmm...... My older male therapist is more engaging. He doesn't want to talk about my grief so much as he wants to convince me to go back to school at age 55. The way I feel right now, I don't think I could handle it. I'm so exhausted I can hardly do housework, let alone homework. I recently signed up for an online counseling service called BetterHelp but they haven't found a counselor to match my needs yet. Thank you for the tip about Trazodone. I'll mention it to my doctor on Friday. My half brother took me to the cemetery to place flowers on my dad's grave. I cried when I got home. The older my dad got the more I loved him, because he became more like my child than my father. Now that he's gone I keep thinking about how much he suffered, not just when he was dying, but the various aches and pains of old age, side effects from medications, the pain of his foot operation (until it healed), that time he lost a third of his blood supply from occult bleeding. dizziness from an inner ear problem, and yet he bounced back every time. I was overly optimistic -- I thought he would overcome this recent pneumonia or whatever it really was. I think I was in denial. I thought his fatique was just lack of sleep. I didn't know he was dying. I'm crying again....

That's so true, KayC. I'm crying again. I was so lucky to have such a wonderful father, but losing him is all the harder. Because he was so good, I feel he deserved a perfect daughter, which I wasn't. I feel so sorry that he married such a difficult woman -- my mother had bipolar illness and was a narcissist. My father fell in love with her because she was a beautiful and talented pianist and violinist. He knew nothing about mental illness in those days. He would have stayed with her forever but she divorced him. My father was so burned by his brief marriage to my mother, that he never married again. My mother left him in debt from her compulsive spending. He paid child support for his stepson, my half brother, even though he wasn't required to by the court. My mother was such a narcissist that it wasn't until she was 89 years old that she finally admitted to my father that he was a good man and she never should have divorced him. Days after she confessed that a stroke robbed her of the ability to speak. I feel sorry for my mother, too, because she had problems with her own mother. She was sent to live with a wealthy aunt who could afford to give her music lessons. By the time she returned to live with her mother as a teenager, they were almost like strangers. They were both attractive and competed with each other over men like in the movie "Mildred Pierce" with Joan Crawford. I need to see a psychologist, but I don't know if even Sigmund Freud himself could help me. If only I could sleep better I think I could cope better. I was dependent on Ambien for chronic insomnia before my father died. Now I can't sleep without Ativan 1 mg. I hope my new doctor will help me wean off the sleep medications.