My abridged story.

Hello all, first time poster here, and I know not how long I’ll be around to post again.

I was born just as any other fortunate kid – to a loving family that deeply cared for me. When I was young, and growing up, I engaged in many of the same activities a kid from my time period engaged in: television, Nintendo, sports when the weather permitted, etc. I was never abused by my parents, and only received discipline when I stepped out of line (which I deserved). I was also a bit spoiled as I grew up – my mother brought in a salary of about 50-60 grand a year, and my father about 30 grand, so I had access to all sorts of video games, and toys, everything a kid could imagine. But despite all this, as I aged, things started to head south.

The constant reclusive behavior, enabled by the spoiling, led me to become the “fat kid” everyone knew in school. This would lead to problems down the line, which I will go into. But despite my gaining weight, I was happy, until I fell victim to sexual abuse by an older neighborhood boy when I was around 10-12 years of age. The abuse was frequent, and scary enough, and I never told anyone, because I was too afraid of being labeled a “******” by my family, and my friends, for being molested. Depression sunk in at a very young age, I started to withdraw more, cut my social contacts, and lock myself away.

Then, puberty struck, and high school. The absolute worst time in my life. I was bullied constantly, for my size, for my lack of friends (and when I became part of the outcast clique, for my choice of friends). Despite being viewed an outcast, and overweight, it did not stop me from getting into relationships with the opposite sex. Despite not going anywhere because I was too afraid at the time, it was a little boost, in a dark time, but the emotional torment of all of the bullying came to a head. The friends I did associate with, we smoked pot, and often times we would robo-trip, or snort percocets, to try and make it less painful. When I graduated high school, I disappeared, practically, and became lost in a life online, one where I felt fulfilled.

For the first time in a long time, there, I felt alive. I made friends, and formed relationships that fostered and grew, that are maintained to this day, despite never meeting them. However, even though I found worth somewhere, my real life, was suffering. When I turned twenty, I turned to a life of alcoholism. My depression had consumed me entirely. No drugs I took, to alleviate it, worked well enough to get my mind straight, and I took to self medicating. Many nights, I would often drink a liter or so of vodka, in the hopes of dying due to alcohol poisoning. This continued on for about two years, until I decided it was time to at least try.

For two years I struggled, trying to conquer my health problems, both physically and mentally. And for a while, things were working, but after that two years, hope began to dwindle. I hated the job I had been working at for four years – a soul crushing office job, with an asshole manager, and an even bigger dick of a boss, with a bunch of people I cared not to associate with. Not one year later, that February, I decided it was time to take my exit. I was only twenty five.

I purchased a 12 gauge shotgun, and stewed on the idea for a while, as February passed by. Many days, I thought of grabbing it, and just doing it, but for some reason, I held on. My friends kept me around. Near the end of the month, however, things got dark, but I finally saw a glimmer of light, and I desperately dashed for it.

I met someone, online. And she was absolutely amazing. Everything about her, her voice, her smile, her kindness, and genuineness… she was an angel, and she pulled me from that brink, despite her not knowing it. That april, we entered into an online relationship, and by October, I traveled across the country to be with her. I still remember that first day, so fondly, the awkwardly exchanged greetings, the hugs. I remember when we got back, how we embraced, and held each other for the longest time, and listened to music we had bonded over, and how we fell asleep.

For the six months we were there, things were great. It was magical. I never felt so alive before, in my real life. It was like a dream. When the daunting task of needing to move occurred, we traveled back across the country via car, and settled down back near I lived. We made a nice little home, she got a job in her field of study, finally, and things were improving… but the demons were coming back. And it was leading me to make poor decisions that restricted her social life.

We got engaged 6 months after we moved back, a year after we had been living with each other, and things were up and down from time to time, but were generally, alright. We were happy enough, we had paying jobs, and we loved each other, but depression, and anxiety, created an unhealthy life style. She enabled, and I kept her too close, and not a year and a month after we got engaged, she walked out on me, right before Christmas.

That was two months ago. And I’ve been desperately struggling to keep my head above water. But this 16 years battle, is taking it’s toll on me. I don’t find enjoyment in anything I used to do anymore. Her departure ruined my desire to read, to write, to game, to work, to exercise, to maintain myself, and to be honest, that’s okay. She was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Something you’ll have, and you’ll never see anything like it again. And that, coupled with the scars and damage I’ve endured over my battle with depression and anxiety, have led me to ultimately seek a way out, which I intend to go about soon.

But I’m going to give it one last try. Because I deserve to at least try for myself. I deserve to confront it, and not run, and try and come out alive. Whether I do, or not, I guess is up to fate.