Sorry for the long post, got started and decided to tell the whole tale of my ill-fated and botched life
I understand feeling alone... a lot of different mistakes I've made and happenstance have contributed to making me feel more and more alone. I always had friends growing up and a relatively supportive family, yet I distinctly remember being 7 years old and thinking that it would be better if I died before I turned 8 because I noticed that the older people around me got, the more unhappy they seemed generally speaking. Nevertheless I didn't die, and in 4th grade I had a verbally abusive teacher at a Christian school, despite my nearly perfect grades, literally a 98 average, granted elementary school is easy, I was lumped in with the rest of the class and was punished for others misbehaviors on a daily basis. That year was the first time I ever verbally threatened to kill myself, my mother threatened to make me talk to one of our pastors, I begged not to be forced into that.
My parents switched me to a better private school, not because of the depression I was experiencing, but because they wanted me to have a better education. Well, I was behind in English and Math, enough to hurt my grades but not enough to keep me out of the new school. Because of my grades at the Christian school the new school put me in the strongest Math class, where I was really behind and well I started to drown. I made new friends and despite being bullied a little, I persevered and became best friends with the bully ultimately. Well, my grades were lower and my father was pissed, my advisor said I had standardized test scores of a straight "A" student and my grades were low A's through mid B's, awful grades right...,.. sarcasm. Well I was put in this useless after school tutoring program where I relatively learned nothing, lost a lot of free time, and my parents expected that my grades would rise, well they didn't.
6th grade was worse in terms of grades, all B's, same great standardized test scores, basically I was constantly being accused of not trying my hardest, well I got fed up and quit trying all together; suicidal thoughts kept me up at night. 7th grade, low B's and C's, same great standardized test scores, suddenly I had become the shortest kid in my class, was basically brainwashed by my parents and the church, seen as a goody goody, secretly suicidal all the time, picked on by many people, life was spiraling out of control.
My dad got promoted and we were set to move to Hartford, CT. I was ecstatic, a fresh start to not be a loser, I decided to focus all my energy on having a social life, fuck school, I got the best score ever on my new school's entrance exam and finished it in a third of the time, God Bless standardized tests. We moved, new school, made friends, was having fun as an 8th grader and somehow my grades got better without really changing the amount of effort I put in, despite the fact my new school was even better than the last one. High School, the people I hung out with in 8th grade were split up due to a doubling of our class size and new homerooms, well the people I chose to focus on being friends with turned out to be at the bottom of the social hierarchy, back to being viewed as a loser by many and being physically small was not helping my cause. This being said my best friend at the time hit it off with one of the new girls, so I got to know her through him, well they had a falling out about 2/3rds through 9th grade and next thing I know she's my best friend and then we were dating, that was great, but everything else grades and overall social status were crumbling. 10th grade, there was envy having to do with Victoria, my girlfriend, and I's relationship and a few of the guys in my group of friends decided to pick on me, I was already a target for bullying being physically small and being depressed/lacking confidence. My grades were slipping to an all time low b- was my highest grade through D+ as my lowest, my teachers still thought I should be a straight "A" student and my parents were constantly telling me that I had to see more tutors and that I wasn't trying and that I wasn't going to go anywhere in life, my depression was leading me to being suicidal again. I decided it was time for a change, I made the decision to actively switch my group of friends to the "popular" kids by making friends with my varsity squash teammates and working from there, my old friends who picked on me were angry when my plan started to work and I took a lot of heat from them; at the end of tenth grade I was diagnosed with EDD, executive function disorder, better know as a ADHD subtype, however the doctor did not tell me or my parents that and thus I didn't get medicated for it and my schools specialist on coping skills didn't really know how to help me with "EDD." Thanks doc for being helpful..... more sarcasm.
11th grade, well I completely abandoned my old friends and had new ones, my relationship was getting stronger and deeper every day, and I was going to get my driver's license, things were looking up. I started smoking pot out of curiosity and to get even more of an in with the popular guys, pretty soon it was all day every day and I started selling as an excuse to spend even more time getting to know lots of different cool people in my school. I wasn't big time or anything but I got to know a lot of people I wouldn't have had the opportunity to bond with by selling them pot.
Life was good for now. My grades went up as a started smoking weed, weird according to some, but several doctors have told me that weed treats ADHD fairly well for some people, guess I was part of that some people. 12th grade, I kick ass on the SAT's, apply early decision to Rollins college because I wanted to go to school where I could smoke weed under a palm tree, started trying other drugs just a pill here, opium there, maybe a line or two of coke, nothing crazy, I'm definitely one of the popular kids by now, my girl adores me, and my parents catch me smoking pot 4 times and are suspicious I'm selling. They were happy, I had to press pause on smoking pot and I was forced to start seeing a therapist, not so bad, until I find out my girlfriend has a rare brain disorder and is terminal according to her doctors, she starts missing about 20% of school days, her parents start getting a divorce, one they'd been planning to get once she left for college. She tells me to keep her illness a secret from my friends and I choose not to tell my parents because I don't like them and don't want their support, I'm all alone in coping with her sickness without pot, scared and sad, but I try to be her rock. Victoria's mother steals her college fund to buy a new house and car, steals her jewelry and unopened barbies from the last 15 years to help pay for stuff for her new house and pay her lawyer. Victoria is devastated, sick, unable to afford University of Chicago and Harvard and has to settle for 70% scholarship to Mount Holyoke, had I known Victoria was sick in time, I would've chosen a school in CT or Mass to be close to her, but she didn't tell me in time. The rest of 12th grade is fun, despite Victoria being ill, we live like there's no tomorrow when we are together, but when I'm alone I start to dabble into more pills to take the pain away and smoke pot by myself at night to calm the nerves.
I graduate high school and my family is moving back to NJ where I was born because my father was promoted again, I realize I'm going to barely ever see my friends going forward because when I come home on college breaks, it'll be to NJ not CT. Also I won't being seeing Victoria everyday or even every week, her illness is still my secret and I'm alone in it as I can't lean on her for support when she needs me to support her as she gets sicker and sicker. I delve deep into pills when I move to NJ, my old neighbor has literally a closet full of fun prescriptions that his parents haven't used, he hasn't used, its crazy how much doctor shopping must have gone on in that household, and then to just store it all in a closet, he sells me thousands of benzos, opiates, muscle relaxants, ADHD meds, etc.... for next to nothing, a few hundred dollars, which I make back in a day of visiting my high school friends in CT, without even selling 1/10th of the stash. Victoria comes to visit me in NJ and for the first time I see her have an episode where she gets a migraine and then goes unconscious for half an hour or so, I'm unable to wake her and I don't know what to do, when she comes out of it she is disoriented, doesn't know where she is and it takes her awhile to realize she's in NJ visiting me and she explains these episodes are beginning to happen more frequently and are more severe. Obviously she is barred from having a driver's license at this point which makes the coming years hard as I have to be the one to go see her or get her father to drive her and he is super protective and didn't really like me for a long time. The rest of her visit is bitter sweet and we cry a lot knowing the coming times are going to bring her deeper into illness and mean we'll see each other less being that are colleges are far away from each other. She leaves, I delve deeper into drugs,I leave for college, I can't focus in college as I'm constantly worried about her, I feel alone, I don't want to drag people into my worries, and I basically do drugs and sleep and find solace in whoever will hold me for a semester while I ignore my school work. I pick Victoria up from college when her first semester gets out and we are having sex when she suddenly goes unconscious and begins to fall towards the floor from the bed, I catch her and she goes into a brutal seizure for two minutes while I make sure she doesn't hit her head or arms on furniture or the floor. I didn't know how bad her condition had gotten and I thought she might die or I'd have to call an ambulance and then explain what happened to her father, he would not have been thrilled with me I'm sure.
Eventually we part ways for the holidays, again I'm alone in NJ with my family. My parents find out about my grades and placement on academic probation, I take 8 XANAX bars on no tolerance and sleep for 36 hours, decide to take a medical leave from school for depression, I get put on Paxil, Adderall, and Seroquel and things get bad, I mean I get extraordinarily suicidal, angry, drug hungry, lacking empathy.... I went from troubled to completely fucked in a months time. This causes a rift between Victoria and I, she says we need to take a break, I end up standing in a corner of my kitchen with a butchers knife screaming that if anyone in my family comes near me I'll kill myself. My mother weens me off the paxil, and in a couple of weeks with the help of pot, I'm back to being my normal depressed but not insane self. Things got crazy at points, but everything seemed to work out once I was back to my daily regimen of a few grams of weed, having a job, and getting back together with Victoria. Her sickness has progressed, but the doctors say she still has 18 months to 2 years left, she wants to be normal, whatever that means, and continue with schooling. I decide to go back to college in the fall because I can't stand living with my parents, Victoria and I decide that we should be able to see other people while we are 1200 miles apart and back at school I move in with an awesome girl that keeps me on track academically and away from hard drugs, she gets arrested for trespassing on a rooftop while smoking weed and gets expelled, Victoria and I start talking more and more and she calls me one night to tell me she's been offered an experimental surgery with a 10% chance of success, but she would be cured, I told her it's not worth losing 12 to 18 months of life to gamble on a 90% chance of dying, she passes on the surgery and the young man with the same condition of her who decides to have the surgery dies on the table. My stress levels are getting very high because I feel like I might lose Victoria permanently whether to a surgery or her terminal illness or a seizure and I get sucked into the drug world again. I fail out of school and ask my parents for mental health help; I get sent to a wilderness rehab in Utah where we are psychologically abused for 5 months and have no contact with the outside world, I figured Victoria might die while I'm in there, I make it out and her condition has actually begun to improve on a experimental treatment where she gives herself a shot of something everyday, they hadn't removed the terminal label yet, but her seizures had stopped. I ended up going on a bender due to some of the psychological trauma of the mormon run wilderness rehab and my parents threatened to send me back, I tie up a noose from a rafter in my attic and my mother barges in while I'm putting my head through and I'm taken to the emergency room and admitted to the psychiatric ward. 2 weeks later I get out, carefully medicated on zoloft, lithium, wellbutrin, trazadone and seroquel. I am still super depressed and I isolate from everyone except new MTG friends for a long time.
In the winter Victoria and I get back together, she's now a senior in college, I'm an assistant manager at edible arrangements, things go well until August when I accompany her to her mother's wedding to the man she cheated on the father with.... fuck. Victoria is distraught, not wanting to support her mothers new marriage and ultimately she takes out all her anger and sadness on me, I break up with her shortly thereafter because she said a few things that she couldn't take back. Plus I'd really given her everything I could, I understand that I was the only one she could lash out at without consequence, and it was time to walk away. My brother was leaving for college as well so I lost the two most important people in my life simultaneously. So I went to the liquor store after a year clean, drank for six weeks straight, detoxed at the hospital, sold all my stocks, got in touch with an old pill dealer, did oxy's (80's), heroin (white), and Xanax for two months in extreme excess and detoxed with alcohol, got sent to a top psychiatric facility where I got diagnosed and tested well for once, took till I was 21 to get a good diagnosis. Moved to a psych program for a year in LA, place sucked, I got worse there, was sent to alcohol rehab, for drinking 8 drinks a day, BS if you ask me, was psychologically abused at rehab in LA, moved home. Again I was alone, I got a dog, but I was lonely at home, my parents don't help even if they support me financially, they've never been able to support me emotionally, if I confide in them... they don't understand my feelings. Well, I slowly fell apart into a Manic episode and was eventually put on 800mgs of Seroquel, on which I became pre-diabetic and was sent to possibly the best psych hospital in the world. I was diagnosed, but not really helped honestly, they weren't good with meds and my anxiety prevailed and I OD'd, seizures continuously for some hours according to the doctors, and flatlined twice. I went back to that hospital two months later, stayed for another 6 months, got high for awhile, they got suspicious after a couple months and fearing my parents reaction to me getting kicked out again I drove my car into a telephone pole at 50 mph. I was uninjured, car totaled, admitted to a locked ward, got out with some med changes, felt like shit, got high, injured myself during a night I don't remember, pinched two nerves and damaged all the muscle in my lower back, left ass, left hip, all the way down to my left ankles. Half my leg is still numb, I can't kick my lower leg out at all indicating damage to the knee, I walk with a cane unless the pain is too bad and I have to use a walker. Yes, I get pain meds, no they don't help that much.
I'm 25, lonely except for my dog, suicidal often, intelligent but lacking a college degree (which matters in the United States these days), I don't have many if any friends really, sure there are people I can call to do things with. I get it, the loneliness thing, if you ever want to talk about it you can message me privately or respond publicly, I have no shame in who I am, well thats not true, but I'm comfortable discussing on bullfight, life is hard, some things make it seem life it's all worth it, other times I wish I would've died a long time ago, I don't want to kill myself because it would hurt my younger siblings but goddamn if die-ing in a painless accident doesn't sound beautiful sometimes, I hope you have better days to come, I hope I have better days to come, I hope most people have better days to come, and there a some people I hope suffer slowly and painfully for a long long time, best wishes
