I have found that very few people care about how I, or anyone else for that matter, feels. They only care how I behave. Then I try to remember they are fighting their own unacknowledged battles and attempt to expect nothing. I also try to remember that everyone I meet has their own grief and may hurt me with the same words they use on themselves.

I am increasingly isolated as I am grieving so much loss and spend most days on the verge of tears. I have little to nothing to do with my sisters and am very careful around my mother whom I live with. She did acknowledge the other day that she never really showed me any love. She thought it was more important that I know how to behave. I know which utensils to use during an elegant dinner party.

I often feel that people avoid me because they do not or can not deal with the rawness of my pain. I make it a point to be open and vulnerable to provide an opening to others who want to talk. Listening to someone else never fails to make me feel better, so I invite people to talk and then try to be a good listener.

I send the two best hours of my day at the fitness center. I smile and say high to everyone. At first I'm not sure anyone knew what to make of me. I'm sure more then one woman thought I was hitting on her and at least a few guys probably thought I was gay. But now everyone says high to me. I don't talk that much to anyone in particular. It just nice to be around people who seem to be pleased to see me. I go out of my way to appreciate things other people are doing; we all want to be appreciated.

This is how I deal with the horrible things that the people who profess to care about me, (including medical professionals), often say. That and I have one friend who has also suffered greatly who cares as much about how I feel as I do about how he feels. We have breakfast together every Saturday.

Most days I just want to the day to end by whatever means necessary. I miss my ex-wife and children so much I can hardly breath. They are just the most important of everyone and everything that the treatment I received for the illness I may or may not have, took away from me.

Today I was training at the gym next to a young man who has severe mental illness, everyone avoids him. His is angry and unpredictable. He yells for help when he has tried to lift obviously too much weight and then curses those who rush to help him. Today when he yelled out I asked him if he was okay. He barked back that " he was always "angry, anxious and frustrated and he doesn't know why." I responded "me too".

I am lucky at least I know why.

I hope everyone finds the peace they deserve.