What next?

July 8th, 2008by Arose06

I am a 20 year old female that has wanted to die since before I can even remember. When I was thirteen I was the “wanna be” party animal that hung out with all the older kids that drank and did drugs. I only smoked pot once in a while and I drank a lot, but I was always too afraid to try other drugs. It wasn’t until I was 16 when I started overdosing myself on things such as tylenol, advil, anything that you can find in a normal home in the form of a pill, I would take way too many. I called it Killing the Pain. When I was thirteen and at a party with a friend of mine I was raped and beaten by one of the older boys at the party. I wouldn’t dare tell anyone for I was afraid that people would say that by being at that party that I was asking for it. Nobody would ask to be almost beaten to death, raped, and to have to wake up on a cardboard box wondering what happened to them. I went almost three years without saying anything to anyone. The way I told someone: I played it off like it was a joke because I was afraid of what they would say. She didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t even try and help me when I told her I was feeling suicidal. Once I realized that my best friend didn’t even care, I lost all hope. I used the break-up of a boyfriend as an excuse for my parents the first time I tried killing myself. So to them, I was extremely boy crazy and acting stupid. My mom told me to pack my bags the day after we left the hospital and dropped me off at my grandparents house. I thought that I was only going to be there a week, but I didn’t hear from my mom for another six months and that was only after my grandma didn’t wanna handle me anymore. I met an amazing guy during all this and I felt at times like he was my only way out of this depressing life. He was the only one that could make me smile, the only one that could make me laugh. His parents didn’t approve of me for obvious reasons which now that I look back, I don’t blame them. They forced him to choose between me and them. He chose them. So again my world was crashing down all around me and without him I felt there was no hope left for me. I met another great guy that summer after my breakup. For that time we decided to remain friends because he lived pretty far away. The next couple months I met an awesome christian guy and just like my first love, I clung to him for support and love but he showed me other ways to feel love. He taught me about God. Unfortunately, when my relationship ended with him, so did my relationship with God for the most part. My friend that I mentioned before came back into my life and became much more than a friend to me. My parents didn’t approve of them so they kicked me out of their house and I eventually moved in with him. To this day he is the man that I love most and the one that hurt me the most as well. I spent three years with this man. Most of that time I was extremely depressed. It wasn’t until I lost our first child together that I started taking medication again. I upgraded myself to prescription drugs because I had built up such a high tolerance to tylenol that I would have to take a huge bottle to feel much of anything. My drug of choice was Vicodin. I always had or found some excuse to get some pain pills from a doctor and knowing my past, they gave them to me without any questions. I started to get impatient waiting for something to happen to me so I thought I would start speeding up the process by drinking alcohol, which created an alcohol addiction as well for me. I kept overdosing myself and my boyfriend kept finding me laying on the floor or bed, out of it from all the drugs and alcohol. He took me to the hospital once and I had to drink charcoal (I wouldn’t recommend doing that) and then we went home and it was as if nothing ever happened. I stopped taking pills for a while but my drinking continued. I got pregnant again and lost my baby when I was two months along. I lost it at that point. My self destruction got much worse and I started feeling like I was losing the only person in my life that I thought loved me and I had just lost another one of our children and the doctors were telling me that I might not be able to ever have children. On top of all this, few months down the road, he left me. He left me with the apartment, the bills, no car, no money. Just painful memories and a broken heart. He was in the process of moving out his stuff and I decided that I was done with life and that now was the time to end it so I took every pill in my apartment that I could find, grabbed a glass of water, and ran into my bathroom. I sat next to my toilet popping every pill one by one and started to pass out. He came into the apartment, sensed that something was wrong and picked the lock to the bathroom and found me laying on the floor with an empty cup in my hand. He asked me what I took and of course I lied but my slurred speech gave everything away. He walked out of the bathroom to call an ambulance and so the paramedics came and took me away to the hospital. I decided while I was in there that I was going to check myself into a rehab center. I was told to stay away from the mentally and emotionally abusive boyfriend but I couldn’t do it. And apparently all the abuse that he did was not enough so I continued seeing him. He never moved back in, but we were still dating and I wont say that things were okay because they weren’t. He was cheating on me with who knows how many other girls without me knowing and I didn’t find out until he got married to one of them and left me for good. Or so I thought. To this day he still calls me, wants to see me, wants to sleep with me. And I do it. It makes me feel worthless and like a piece of shit. But I do it. Just to hold onto the person that I love the most and that seems to care about me more than anyone, until I sleep with him. He changes after that. I may be a horrible person for sleeping with a married man, but you have to understand that I spent three years with him and I was working on being his wife. I didn’t give him my all so that he could marry some girl he only knew for about a month. His marriage is not well at all. The whole time he has cheated on her with me. There was only a month where he was not with me at all and that’s because I was ignoring him. I tried telling his wife what was going on but she chooses to not believe it even when provided with proof. Everyday I think about him and everything that I have been through the last several years. Every memory hurts me and brings me closer to the bottle of pills in my bathroom. I see a set of stairs and my first thought is: Fall! I see a bridge and I stop and think: Jump! I have to smile for my friends because I am Amy Rose. I am the happy one that loves making new friends and likes to have a good time. I am the one who finds a guy wherever I go and can get anyones number. But I am just me. And what I am, I am not really sure, but I know that I am none of what anyone thinks because I do that all so they think I am doing better and that I am back to normal. I feel hopeless because in order to get any help with what I am going through I need money and that is something that I really do not have right now. I am tired of being told that time will heal my pain. Is twenty years of depression not enough time? It will never end. And when it seems to end, it was really just put on pause for a little while cause some guy made me forget about my issues. I pray to God everyday for his forgiveness and ask him to forgive me for acting so crazy. But really I think I should just kill someone and plead insanity so that I can get locked up somewhere for free and get help. I really do think this kinda stuff up on a daily basis. I wonder how my friends feel knowing that they have such a crazy friend. Well, this is my story of my suicidal journey through life. Don’t worry, there will be more to read in the future I am sure. A journal entry doesn’t make life better, regardless of what the shrinks say.

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