Lish
I, too, shall burn
- Jun 4, 2024
- 33
Hello, everyone.
I never thought I would find myself here, speaking so openly about things, but, as someone who has lurked around here for a while, I believe that it is an accepting place with many other like-minded people.
I want to tell a story, my story, and make this the first step in the final chapter of my life.
I was born into a single-parent household, mother but no father. From what my mother told me, my father had mental issues and a traumatic background. My father had been abused in the foster care system and forced to eat out of dog bowls. He also had issues with his biological mother later in life. After he threatened my mother, when I was a baby, my mother pulled a knife on him and he left. I never met him. I don't know if what my mother told me was true but her story never changed so I suppose it is.
My siblings are all older than me and, well, they are my half-siblings. All of us came from a different relationship. Learned that later in life. Two of my siblings, my sisters, weren't really in my life. My brother, though, I admired him just like any little brother would. He pushed me away, though. Locked me in closets for hours when my mother worked night shifts. Didn't want to hang out with me. Saw me as annoying. Then, he abandoned me for the military, leaving me to grow up in the family home with my mother.
I realized soon that my mother also had mental issues and trauma, which she only addressed through religion. She would take Valium and other medications just to calm herself down from rages. I could never be myself. The things I liked, the people I loved, the goals I had, were, in her eyes, demonic and worldly. So, for thirty years, I was not myself. I had to be someone else. The only place I could be myself was online. For seventeen years, I bonded with people all over the world. They pulled me out of my depression and dealt with my BPD. They got me here until they didn't.
After seventeen years of friendship, the friends went their own ways. Some showed their true colors and some simply left. When I got my own place, and was finally on my own, I realized just how socially stunted I was. I was never allowed to leave the house until late in my life. I had no real life friends. I binge ate. I attempted several times. I've been cheated on in every relationship I've been in, including the one I'm currently in. I've been lied to and betrayed. I've been the verbal and emotional punching bag for many, including my mother. Sometimes physical.
Every time I opened up about my mental issues or what I've been through, it's immediately discarded and I've been told to "suck it up". Or it's the trauma Olympics where, if I didn't have it worse than them, it didn't matter. So I kept it inside. I've had mental breakdowns. Been so angry, I've vomited. There's so much I could put but I think a broad stroke does it better.
Two years ago, I had SN. Didn't have all the other accoutrements to go with it but having it made me feel so much better. Like it was a way out. My current partner, who was a former dealer and user, learned about it and tried to use it. I stopped them, knowing it wouldn't work and it would only put them in extreme pain. When they came down, they made me promise to throw it out and I did.
Two years ago, I was planning on ctb but I met my partner througha dating app and decided that I would at least try to help them get a home, get a job, get a future instead of being homeless and addicted. I tried my best and it didn't work. Now, they're going backwards and my life has no meaning once again. Except, we have a third. I did it again. The crazy part about it is that, even if I'd never met my partner, even if I wasn't in a massive amount if debt I can't get out of, I would still be miserable.
No one wants to read my fucked up writing. My body is too fucked to keep consistent with fitness and diet. I have body dysmorphia, depression, BPD, C-PTSD, and I can't afford to have a life worth living. So, now my partner is going to be dealing again. Which probably means the worst case scenario. And my family will eventually find out and cut me off completely. They already hate that they have a child who is everything their religion stands against. What's one more thing?
I'm planning on securing SN with the necessary accompaniments or N. My life is not getting better and it never will. I am empty. Unless an utter miracle changes my entire life, this is the beginning of the end.
I want to take N and ctb in the remote wilderness. I want to be alone when I go. If anyone's seen the movie 1408 where John Cusack is speaking to the room on the phone about express checkout or starting the hour over, that's how I feel. I can't take another hour. I need to get ready for checkout.
I apologize if my writing comes off as ramble and incoherent in some places. As someone who has a degree in writing and whose only passion is writing, it never feels like enough. Part of me wishes I wrote well enough to bring things to life. That's the only thing I'll miss and regret --- that I wasn't enough to honor my talent.
Thank you for reading.
I never thought I would find myself here, speaking so openly about things, but, as someone who has lurked around here for a while, I believe that it is an accepting place with many other like-minded people.
I want to tell a story, my story, and make this the first step in the final chapter of my life.
I was born into a single-parent household, mother but no father. From what my mother told me, my father had mental issues and a traumatic background. My father had been abused in the foster care system and forced to eat out of dog bowls. He also had issues with his biological mother later in life. After he threatened my mother, when I was a baby, my mother pulled a knife on him and he left. I never met him. I don't know if what my mother told me was true but her story never changed so I suppose it is.
My siblings are all older than me and, well, they are my half-siblings. All of us came from a different relationship. Learned that later in life. Two of my siblings, my sisters, weren't really in my life. My brother, though, I admired him just like any little brother would. He pushed me away, though. Locked me in closets for hours when my mother worked night shifts. Didn't want to hang out with me. Saw me as annoying. Then, he abandoned me for the military, leaving me to grow up in the family home with my mother.
I realized soon that my mother also had mental issues and trauma, which she only addressed through religion. She would take Valium and other medications just to calm herself down from rages. I could never be myself. The things I liked, the people I loved, the goals I had, were, in her eyes, demonic and worldly. So, for thirty years, I was not myself. I had to be someone else. The only place I could be myself was online. For seventeen years, I bonded with people all over the world. They pulled me out of my depression and dealt with my BPD. They got me here until they didn't.
After seventeen years of friendship, the friends went their own ways. Some showed their true colors and some simply left. When I got my own place, and was finally on my own, I realized just how socially stunted I was. I was never allowed to leave the house until late in my life. I had no real life friends. I binge ate. I attempted several times. I've been cheated on in every relationship I've been in, including the one I'm currently in. I've been lied to and betrayed. I've been the verbal and emotional punching bag for many, including my mother. Sometimes physical.
Every time I opened up about my mental issues or what I've been through, it's immediately discarded and I've been told to "suck it up". Or it's the trauma Olympics where, if I didn't have it worse than them, it didn't matter. So I kept it inside. I've had mental breakdowns. Been so angry, I've vomited. There's so much I could put but I think a broad stroke does it better.
Two years ago, I had SN. Didn't have all the other accoutrements to go with it but having it made me feel so much better. Like it was a way out. My current partner, who was a former dealer and user, learned about it and tried to use it. I stopped them, knowing it wouldn't work and it would only put them in extreme pain. When they came down, they made me promise to throw it out and I did.
Two years ago, I was planning on ctb but I met my partner througha dating app and decided that I would at least try to help them get a home, get a job, get a future instead of being homeless and addicted. I tried my best and it didn't work. Now, they're going backwards and my life has no meaning once again. Except, we have a third. I did it again. The crazy part about it is that, even if I'd never met my partner, even if I wasn't in a massive amount if debt I can't get out of, I would still be miserable.
No one wants to read my fucked up writing. My body is too fucked to keep consistent with fitness and diet. I have body dysmorphia, depression, BPD, C-PTSD, and I can't afford to have a life worth living. So, now my partner is going to be dealing again. Which probably means the worst case scenario. And my family will eventually find out and cut me off completely. They already hate that they have a child who is everything their religion stands against. What's one more thing?
I'm planning on securing SN with the necessary accompaniments or N. My life is not getting better and it never will. I am empty. Unless an utter miracle changes my entire life, this is the beginning of the end.
I want to take N and ctb in the remote wilderness. I want to be alone when I go. If anyone's seen the movie 1408 where John Cusack is speaking to the room on the phone about express checkout or starting the hour over, that's how I feel. I can't take another hour. I need to get ready for checkout.
I apologize if my writing comes off as ramble and incoherent in some places. As someone who has a degree in writing and whose only passion is writing, it never feels like enough. Part of me wishes I wrote well enough to bring things to life. That's the only thing I'll miss and regret --- that I wasn't enough to honor my talent.
Thank you for reading.
