They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different result each time. I always have felt like I’m different then everyone else, but I never truly believed that I’m crazy.. Well, not loony-bin crazy, at least. I just think for the most part I’m a product of my environment, and as the years have gone on and I’ve been through so much pain and bullshit, I am starting to see the steady deterioration of my mental health. God, I wish I could turn back time. I mean, at 13, I knew I’d been abused as a child, and I had relentless night terrors beginning around that time that served as a great reminder to me, but- for the most part, I was happy. I hadn’t madeÂ irrevocable mistakes yet, I had yet to rot my body from the inside out with years of drugs and eating disorders, and my family still loved me in more of the “blood is blood” kinda way. Damn, all that budding teenage angst really is feeling ironic now. I am so completely devoid of any hope, and really of any feelings. I know how I’m supposed to react, so I seem normal to outsiders, but really I have spent too many years pushing the hurt and emotions so deep down into me that I don’t know how to let myself feel them for real… Although, I have to admit, Â the feelings of Â resonating isolation and an anger that urges me to stab the girl’s chest bloody red when I see her in the mirror each morning is only growing stronger like a disease. And it is consuming me. I cannot do anything right, despite my good intentions (we all know how THAT saying goes). I am just not a fully functional human being, and I ruin everything good around me. I try so god damn hard, but I always seem to fuck it up. My family barely talks to me- really, my mother is the only one and she is sick of me because she helped me out and I had every opportunity to make a good life, and I fucked it all off. Disappointed her, betrayed her trust, let her down- AGAIN. My grandpa has always been #1, and he’s dying and won’t even meet me for lunch. I swear, if he goes- I go- end of story, cuz he is the only one who really loved me. I know my mom loves me, but not like how my grandpa did. I’m so fucking sick of letting everyone I love down, and always being the black sheep.
I am completely without any hope right now, and I don’t know what to do. I just haven’t been on here for a couple months and I figured might as well let someone out there know, let it out even if its to a multitude of strangers. That’s fitting anyway, considering I am constantly feeling like I’m walking through life a ghost, and that no one can see me or hear me scream and I am honestly believing I really am crazy now. I miss my best friend, I miss how it was easy. And I keep beating myself up over it…. I just want to stop it all.
I have been in a rocky, controlling relationship with a man I have been head over heels in love with for about a year now. He was never very nice, always controlling, very jealous, and extremely verbally abusive… A tall, sexy, tattooed from head to toe punk rocker, I fell in love immediately. we both have had hard lives, and he was from New York in Oregon (where I’m from) because he knocked a girl up in New York who was from Oregon, and he moved to Oregon to be the father. They didn’t work out. Anyway, we started a relationship, had a lot of fun, but things were never normal. He would call me a whore, a mudshark, fat, ugly,…. alot of really mean things… I thought it was just him trying to be an “asshole cool guy” and that eventually the bullshit would stop,…. it never did. We moved in together and got an apartment.. we would make each other laugh all day long, had fun, but I would never know when I would make him angry about something, anything- it could be me not picking up my clothes to something a friend texted me to something I didn’t even understand…. I was never good enough for him, never did anything right. My amazing self esteem I had worked years for was slowly getting ripped apart. I wasn’t allowed to talk to much less see friends, especially male friends. My family relationship deteriorated, I never saw them either… Then the fights became bad. I was so depressed I would cry myself to sleep every night. Drank more and more, and so did he. My life became so automated, wake up, get us both to work, go home, drink, sleep, try not to make him angry. Then thingsÂ got really crazy. He slit his throat in front of me one night. Afterwards I was diagnosed with PTSD. I’d slit my wrists and cry in the bathroom. Whenever we fought he would have his baby mama pick him up, and that was the most devestating to me, because he would spend nights over there and it killed me. The last time he did this, I slit my wrists (badly, blood everywhere in my apartment) and then hung myself…. I woke to the police kicking open my door. He called the cops on me from his ex’s house… I spent the night sobbing uncontrollably in a padded room. Got out, we got back together. About a month after that I came home to an eviction notice and a note from him. He left to NewÂ York, took all our rent money. Said it was for us and that he loved me and wanted to marry me, and I believed him…. but, within two days he was calling me from a pay phone telling me I was a whore and that he hated me. So I was done, moved on with my life and stopped speaking to him. Fast forward to June (a few months ago). I was a heroin addict (picked up the habit the night he left me for New York).. I sold my car and called him and told him I’m coming to New York (I guess a piece of me wanted to believe his note was sincere and he really did love me and do it for me)… I sold my car and got on a plane that same night. Now I’ve been in New York since June 18th, 2012. It was hard, especially at first, because he was in multiple sexual relationships although he lied to me, I just recently found out the extent of his lies. And everything has been terrible since I got here. He is more controlling and jealous and mean to me then ever before. I have no friends, no family. I just recently got a job. I found on his FB all the bullshit withÂ him and other girls. Tried to kill myself once and ended up in a psych ward….. and I just feel hopeless… I can’t make him love me, I shouldn’t have came. I think he would be happier if I ended everything… for good. Sorry this is scattered. I don’t want him to see what i’ve written.