I still have not completely recovered. Writing this brought up some old memories, but I just am no longer really sad. I just feel intense loss. I'm working on stuff still. I need to wake up and live,and stop thinking about my terrible choices. I still do opioids, but I don't pay for them, and usually rotate on and off in two week cycles. I stopped smoking weed. It just made me anxious, and my thoughts run. Citalopram (AntiD) made me feel suicidal which is far from me. Stopped it immediately. I take temazepam and clonazepam but not as prescribed, luckily I don't get much, so no large quantity to fuck myself with. Opioids are starting to rapidly get old. I don't pay for the ones I get (well I sell enough to make a few bucks and just keep 150 + pills), which makes stopping harder, but I'm sick about only caring about the next date they are available. At the same time I dread not having access to them. heh, I read what you wrote about bring addicted to cocaine when 17, same here. Stopped that year too. I did weigh 270 at one point, after my dad died my appetite left me. I was down to 160 at one point, so unhealthy. My appetite only increased about a month ago. No idea why. What I really lack is purpose, motivation. Watching DVRed shows is not purpose.
I had accepted my fate to die in those apartments. I'm so glad that didn't come to pass.
Both times I've taken classes I've just stopped going. What a waste. I will complete what I started... eventually. Some of the last advice my dad gave me was very applicable: "I don't care what youty choose to do, just do it," in his typical non-judgmental style.
I feel for you about people offering their help and not meaning it. Every time one offered me "anything I needed," I wanted to return with my Dad's classic humor "ok, I'll take your house keys, car title, and bank accounts, thank you for being so kind." I wouldn't give up in trusting everyone however.
As for your mother feeling pain, or having many coherent thoughts before dying, she probably went unconscious so rapidly, I doubt it. I feel for you and my brother, finding them. But you should be assured that unless you had a working defibrillator right there, it was futile.
I'm curtis what you think about what I've said, and look forward to your reply!
I had accepted my fate to die in those apartments. I'm so glad that didn't come to pass.
Both times I've taken classes I've just stopped going. What a waste. I will complete what I started... eventually. Some of the last advice my dad gave me was very applicable: "I don't care what youty choose to do, just do it," in his typical non-judgmental style.
I feel for you about people offering their help and not meaning it. Every time one offered me "anything I needed," I wanted to return with my Dad's classic humor "ok, I'll take your house keys, car title, and bank accounts, thank you for being so kind." I wouldn't give up in trusting everyone however.
As for your mother feeling pain, or having many coherent thoughts before dying, she probably went unconscious so rapidly, I doubt it. I feel for you and my brother, finding them. But you should be assured that unless you had a working defibrillator right there, it was futile.
I'm curtis what you think about what I've said, and look forward to your reply!