NightmareTour
Specialist
- May 13, 2020
- 398
Unfortunately still a part of the land of the living. It's been a rough few months, so I'll try to sum it up, if that's even possible. Feel free to totally ignore this because it is definitely way longer than I intended.
(If anyone is wondering why I'm now referring to my ex as "he", I found out that he was only claiming to be trans to appear more relatable to me, and he dropped that very soon after we split up)
Things got REALLY nasty with my ex. He ended up basically moving his previous ex into the house we were sharing with a few other residents. Everyone, of course, thought this was perfectly fine. When I showed the tiniest bit of discomfort with this, it became a whole thing. He ran off with his previous ex, threatening that if I was still in the house when he got back, he would kill me. Ultimately, after a stream of the most horrible messages I have ever received in my entire life, and being totally humiliated in the household group chat, I made my attempt to ctb. Of course, I messed up a vital step and it failed, and I ended up running off. because I'd made the mistake of sending a few friends and family members some final messages, the police got called. I ended up being followed through the city with an actual helicopter, and found by police at a train station. Once I got my phone back (after 8 hours sitting in a hospital, which achieved basically nothing) I found a stream of "concerned" messages and apologies from my ex, but as soon as he found out I was home and safe, the abuse continued. When he got back, there was more violence, which everyone else in the house ignored, as usual. I developed a moderate coke addiction, which, of course, meant to everyone else that I was a horrible person. Ultimately, I ended up harming myself very badly while high. My ex found me, gave zero fucks, and told my parents I was their problem. They didn't take me to the hospital because it was "too late at night", and gave me some antiseptic wipes, and some dressings to stick over my gaping wounds. Lovely.
I eventually managed to move out of the house I shared with my ex, who promptly beat the living shit out of me once again. The concussion that he gave me put me in hospital, where I got a CT scan. They told me that there was no serious damage from the attack, but I needed an MRI scan for something else they spotted. (More on that later.) Moved into a shared house with two lovely old ladies who have spent most of their lives in that fucked up system. The place was falling apart, but it kind of felt like a home. That is, until the roof in the kitchen fell through and the place flooded. The landlord couldn't be bothered to fix it and was planning to just rent it out to get some cash out of it until it became totally uninhabitable anyway, so we got moved again. After being put into a tiny room on the top floor of an equally tiny house that definitely wasn't made to house the three of us, let alone the total of seven residents that were supposed to eventually live there, I realized that the idea of having manageable living conditions is basically just a delusion at this point. The horrible conditions, combined with my declining mental, neurological and physical health and the fact that getting to and from the third floor (basically a wallpapered and carpeted attic) of this house was basically impossible for me with my disability, forced me into moving back in with my parents. Ultimately, I weighed just over 7 stone (around 45kg) when I moved back.
It seemed alright at first. They were treating me like an actual human being now, which was a nice change. My ex and his other ex stopped seeing each other, and she started talking to me to "support each other". I ended up getting back in contact with some old friends, too. My parents started trying to get me some help for my mental health, but there was no help available.
I guess I should have learned by now that when things are looking up, it means they're just going to get WAY worse. First thing was finding out that my ex's ex (confusing I know) who I had been speaking to was just trying to sleep with me to get back at him. Next came the massive decline in my health. I went from struggling to walk distances, to needing a stick. I started forgetting more and more. When I tried to chase up that MRI scan I was meant to have, it turned out that nobody had requested it when they were told to. My stepdad started getting aggressive towards me again, my mum went back to reminding me what a burden I am because of my health. Ended up making another attempt to ctb, and got dragged off of a bridge by police with a bottle of vodka in my hand. Spent another 8 hours in a hospital, once again got sent home with no help.
Finally, the total mess that has been the last few weeks. I ended up having a seizure for the first time in a couple of years. When I didn't really recover after a week, my parents finally decided to seek medical help. I ended up spending a week in hospital, and finally got my MRI. I was really hoping for something deadly and incurable at this point, a brain tumour that had been left so long that there was nothing they could do now, something like that. What I got was being told that the only thing they could spot was the damage from 10 years ago, that they had totally failed to tell me anything about or give me any treatment for. They did change my anti-epileptic meds though, and I managed to quit the coke, so... yay?
So... here I am I guess, in the present day. No explanations for what's going on, everything is getting worse, and the story of my life the last few months sounds like some sort of cruel, awful sitcom. Everything hurts, I panic every time someone raises their voice at me, and I can't spend a single moment without some sort of distraction or my mind does horrible things. My new meds give me permanent double vision, which I apparently just have to learn to deal with. I haven't been outside apart from to go to the hospital for about 2 months because human beings in general are awful. I would absolutely love to ctb, but apparently I'm terrible at it and I've been constantly reminded how horrible it would be for everyone else, despite the fact that they don't care while I'm alive. Guess I'll just have to find out what happens next.
(If anyone is wondering why I'm now referring to my ex as "he", I found out that he was only claiming to be trans to appear more relatable to me, and he dropped that very soon after we split up)
Things got REALLY nasty with my ex. He ended up basically moving his previous ex into the house we were sharing with a few other residents. Everyone, of course, thought this was perfectly fine. When I showed the tiniest bit of discomfort with this, it became a whole thing. He ran off with his previous ex, threatening that if I was still in the house when he got back, he would kill me. Ultimately, after a stream of the most horrible messages I have ever received in my entire life, and being totally humiliated in the household group chat, I made my attempt to ctb. Of course, I messed up a vital step and it failed, and I ended up running off. because I'd made the mistake of sending a few friends and family members some final messages, the police got called. I ended up being followed through the city with an actual helicopter, and found by police at a train station. Once I got my phone back (after 8 hours sitting in a hospital, which achieved basically nothing) I found a stream of "concerned" messages and apologies from my ex, but as soon as he found out I was home and safe, the abuse continued. When he got back, there was more violence, which everyone else in the house ignored, as usual. I developed a moderate coke addiction, which, of course, meant to everyone else that I was a horrible person. Ultimately, I ended up harming myself very badly while high. My ex found me, gave zero fucks, and told my parents I was their problem. They didn't take me to the hospital because it was "too late at night", and gave me some antiseptic wipes, and some dressings to stick over my gaping wounds. Lovely.
I eventually managed to move out of the house I shared with my ex, who promptly beat the living shit out of me once again. The concussion that he gave me put me in hospital, where I got a CT scan. They told me that there was no serious damage from the attack, but I needed an MRI scan for something else they spotted. (More on that later.) Moved into a shared house with two lovely old ladies who have spent most of their lives in that fucked up system. The place was falling apart, but it kind of felt like a home. That is, until the roof in the kitchen fell through and the place flooded. The landlord couldn't be bothered to fix it and was planning to just rent it out to get some cash out of it until it became totally uninhabitable anyway, so we got moved again. After being put into a tiny room on the top floor of an equally tiny house that definitely wasn't made to house the three of us, let alone the total of seven residents that were supposed to eventually live there, I realized that the idea of having manageable living conditions is basically just a delusion at this point. The horrible conditions, combined with my declining mental, neurological and physical health and the fact that getting to and from the third floor (basically a wallpapered and carpeted attic) of this house was basically impossible for me with my disability, forced me into moving back in with my parents. Ultimately, I weighed just over 7 stone (around 45kg) when I moved back.
It seemed alright at first. They were treating me like an actual human being now, which was a nice change. My ex and his other ex stopped seeing each other, and she started talking to me to "support each other". I ended up getting back in contact with some old friends, too. My parents started trying to get me some help for my mental health, but there was no help available.
I guess I should have learned by now that when things are looking up, it means they're just going to get WAY worse. First thing was finding out that my ex's ex (confusing I know) who I had been speaking to was just trying to sleep with me to get back at him. Next came the massive decline in my health. I went from struggling to walk distances, to needing a stick. I started forgetting more and more. When I tried to chase up that MRI scan I was meant to have, it turned out that nobody had requested it when they were told to. My stepdad started getting aggressive towards me again, my mum went back to reminding me what a burden I am because of my health. Ended up making another attempt to ctb, and got dragged off of a bridge by police with a bottle of vodka in my hand. Spent another 8 hours in a hospital, once again got sent home with no help.
Finally, the total mess that has been the last few weeks. I ended up having a seizure for the first time in a couple of years. When I didn't really recover after a week, my parents finally decided to seek medical help. I ended up spending a week in hospital, and finally got my MRI. I was really hoping for something deadly and incurable at this point, a brain tumour that had been left so long that there was nothing they could do now, something like that. What I got was being told that the only thing they could spot was the damage from 10 years ago, that they had totally failed to tell me anything about or give me any treatment for. They did change my anti-epileptic meds though, and I managed to quit the coke, so... yay?
So... here I am I guess, in the present day. No explanations for what's going on, everything is getting worse, and the story of my life the last few months sounds like some sort of cruel, awful sitcom. Everything hurts, I panic every time someone raises their voice at me, and I can't spend a single moment without some sort of distraction or my mind does horrible things. My new meds give me permanent double vision, which I apparently just have to learn to deal with. I haven't been outside apart from to go to the hospital for about 2 months because human beings in general are awful. I would absolutely love to ctb, but apparently I'm terrible at it and I've been constantly reminded how horrible it would be for everyone else, despite the fact that they don't care while I'm alive. Guess I'll just have to find out what happens next.
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