MonaLisa
Greenlighter
My first relationship that lasted more than three months, lasted for just over two years. I could never have imagined the challenges we would face together. Major family issues, addiction, serious health problems, and my deteriorating mental state along with anorexia and cutting. And a majority of these issues all occurred in Mexico City while we lived in utter squalor in a hotel room for 6 months. I worked two jobs, learned enough spanish to get by, and chain smoked to my heart's content. My boyfriend was also a chain smoker and heavy drinker with a crippling condition that has yet to be diagnosed or properly treated.
These factors led up to his mother flying to Mexico City and pulling us both out of there and allowing us time to recover in their home in Texas, for 2 months. Then we moved to my family's house in NY, for 5 months. I spent most of the time in NY seeing a psychiatrist and losing my mind on the wrong medications.
Back to Mexico City for my best friend's wedding to a man she hardly knew. She is an alcoholic, he is schizophrenic. They got married, we lived there for about 3 weeks before I punched her in the face for being a cunt to not only me, but her husband and my boyfriend. She pulled some shit telling my parents I was suicidal, looking for drugs, and anorexic. All of which are true to a certain degree. Before I knew it, before I even had time to smoke a cigarette in the hotel room we rented after escaping a brawl, I called my parents to tell them not to worry, but bf and I were kicked out and finding a new place to stay. My dad responded with a false family emergency that put both my bf and I back on a plane to NY to recover some more. This time I was manic and psychotic.
I saw a new doctor, a psychologist. I went through tons of brain cognition exams and talk therapy. My bf and I were finally able to move back into our apartment that we had been subletting and I was a mess. Temper tantrums and incessant tears. I was not able to get a job and my bf was supporting both of us.
I finally go to a psychiatrist and have been put on increasingly more and more medication. I began to feel fantastic. Some switch was flipped. Then, before I know it, my bf is gone on a three week trip and I am slamming beers and flirting with my parent's friend via facebook. I came on very strong, straight up asking him to come to my apartment and fuck. He didn't come over that night. It wasn't until the following night that we met up at a shady bar near Penn Station. We were both nervous, he is literally twice my age.
We began having an affair, I would lie to my live-in bf in order to spend the night at his place. We have incredible sex, by far the best of my life. So, I broke up with live-in bf and explained my affair. I still love him, but it isn't "like that" anymore.
Almost 4 months into dating my new, and far older, bf, I am really fucking in love! I don't know what to say. I want to discontinue all of my medications (anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, a "medical food," and mood stabilizer) and I want to have a baby with this man. I have never been happier. I feel inspired and motivated. But I am 25 and I seriously want to have a family with him as soon as possible. If I could stop all of my drugs this minute, we would probably be trying to conceive.
How fucking crazy.
Who the hell am I?
Am I even sick at all or was I just terribly unhappy and flamboyantly dramatic.
These factors led up to his mother flying to Mexico City and pulling us both out of there and allowing us time to recover in their home in Texas, for 2 months. Then we moved to my family's house in NY, for 5 months. I spent most of the time in NY seeing a psychiatrist and losing my mind on the wrong medications.
Back to Mexico City for my best friend's wedding to a man she hardly knew. She is an alcoholic, he is schizophrenic. They got married, we lived there for about 3 weeks before I punched her in the face for being a cunt to not only me, but her husband and my boyfriend. She pulled some shit telling my parents I was suicidal, looking for drugs, and anorexic. All of which are true to a certain degree. Before I knew it, before I even had time to smoke a cigarette in the hotel room we rented after escaping a brawl, I called my parents to tell them not to worry, but bf and I were kicked out and finding a new place to stay. My dad responded with a false family emergency that put both my bf and I back on a plane to NY to recover some more. This time I was manic and psychotic.
I saw a new doctor, a psychologist. I went through tons of brain cognition exams and talk therapy. My bf and I were finally able to move back into our apartment that we had been subletting and I was a mess. Temper tantrums and incessant tears. I was not able to get a job and my bf was supporting both of us.
I finally go to a psychiatrist and have been put on increasingly more and more medication. I began to feel fantastic. Some switch was flipped. Then, before I know it, my bf is gone on a three week trip and I am slamming beers and flirting with my parent's friend via facebook. I came on very strong, straight up asking him to come to my apartment and fuck. He didn't come over that night. It wasn't until the following night that we met up at a shady bar near Penn Station. We were both nervous, he is literally twice my age.
We began having an affair, I would lie to my live-in bf in order to spend the night at his place. We have incredible sex, by far the best of my life. So, I broke up with live-in bf and explained my affair. I still love him, but it isn't "like that" anymore.
Almost 4 months into dating my new, and far older, bf, I am really fucking in love! I don't know what to say. I want to discontinue all of my medications (anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, a "medical food," and mood stabilizer) and I want to have a baby with this man. I have never been happier. I feel inspired and motivated. But I am 25 and I seriously want to have a family with him as soon as possible. If I could stop all of my drugs this minute, we would probably be trying to conceive.
How fucking crazy.
Who the hell am I?
Am I even sick at all or was I just terribly unhappy and flamboyantly dramatic.
