Schadenfreude
Member
- Dec 23, 2019
- 66
I've royally fucked up, perhaps, for the very last time. I'm at my wit's end. So is my family. I can feel it; they can feel it. We just choose to rear our heads the other way, feigning blissful ignorance. Time is ticking, and I'm just a walking time bomb, bottling everything up until it bursts like some lukewarm sewage pipe. Here's a bit of backstory:
I've suffered from depression, anxiety, and anger management problems throughout my whole life. Probably started when I was in kindergarten did it start to escalate. Thrown from one 5150 to another, transferring schools, abusing drugs, being abused by my family, being raped (not by family), the whole nine yards. I was taught at a very early age of materialistic love, but never the emotional kind. I've been with my boyfriend for roughly two years, and just last Friday, we haven't spoken since after an incident. I've been struggling with a crippling heroin addiction for about 5 years now. I was roughly 110+ days sober before I just impulsively went and scored some fentanyl the day before this incident. The morning after, I went and smoked just the tiniest amount and before I knew it I woke up to blurry images of paramedics and my boyfriend staring at me with these eyes. Those eyes were filled to the brim with betrayal and anger. He's the one who pulled through our hectic years of our relationship as I was in active addiction during most of it. His parents likely saw this event enfolding, and he was the one who called the paramedics. I never expected to overdose or get narcanned twice, because I've dealt with fentanyl before; after all, it was my go-to drug before heroin but even with the tiniest dose, I still overdosed. I relapsed. Again. And again. However, as I blearily opened my eyes, I was hoping that this was all a dream. Today is Monday, and it clearly is not. We haven't spoken, my family threw some flippant remarks and scathing insults, because they were already expecting my downfall one way or another. They were tired of it, I was tired of it, he was tired of it. I would have to say losing the love of your life and never having one is equally as painful, since I have experienced both at some point in my life.
Why do I do this to myself? Why do I actively seek misery? Can I just end it? For fuck's sake. Stop giving me so many chances and never wake me from my slumber.
As selfish as this sounds, I'm so sick of it; putting up with this shrilling monkey on my shoulder at every goddamn wake of the hour to the dead of night. I'm so sick of putting my family and significant other in constant worry and distress that I will go and do something reckless and kill myself, which I've done many times in the past. I just need to make this right, and permanent. I'm a selfish, manipulative sack of shit. Let me rest so everyone else can be in peace. :)
I've suffered from depression, anxiety, and anger management problems throughout my whole life. Probably started when I was in kindergarten did it start to escalate. Thrown from one 5150 to another, transferring schools, abusing drugs, being abused by my family, being raped (not by family), the whole nine yards. I was taught at a very early age of materialistic love, but never the emotional kind. I've been with my boyfriend for roughly two years, and just last Friday, we haven't spoken since after an incident. I've been struggling with a crippling heroin addiction for about 5 years now. I was roughly 110+ days sober before I just impulsively went and scored some fentanyl the day before this incident. The morning after, I went and smoked just the tiniest amount and before I knew it I woke up to blurry images of paramedics and my boyfriend staring at me with these eyes. Those eyes were filled to the brim with betrayal and anger. He's the one who pulled through our hectic years of our relationship as I was in active addiction during most of it. His parents likely saw this event enfolding, and he was the one who called the paramedics. I never expected to overdose or get narcanned twice, because I've dealt with fentanyl before; after all, it was my go-to drug before heroin but even with the tiniest dose, I still overdosed. I relapsed. Again. And again. However, as I blearily opened my eyes, I was hoping that this was all a dream. Today is Monday, and it clearly is not. We haven't spoken, my family threw some flippant remarks and scathing insults, because they were already expecting my downfall one way or another. They were tired of it, I was tired of it, he was tired of it. I would have to say losing the love of your life and never having one is equally as painful, since I have experienced both at some point in my life.
Why do I do this to myself? Why do I actively seek misery? Can I just end it? For fuck's sake. Stop giving me so many chances and never wake me from my slumber.
As selfish as this sounds, I'm so sick of it; putting up with this shrilling monkey on my shoulder at every goddamn wake of the hour to the dead of night. I'm so sick of putting my family and significant other in constant worry and distress that I will go and do something reckless and kill myself, which I've done many times in the past. I just need to make this right, and permanent. I'm a selfish, manipulative sack of shit. Let me rest so everyone else can be in peace. :)
