If you want to skip the background information, I don’t blame you. That shit is depressing. Scroll until the bullet points stop.
Before I used, I was in the darkest place I have ever been. In a nutshell:
- My younger children’s father had called CPS because he thought I was having a manic episode. Why? Because I wasn’t doing what he thought I should be doing. I had been diagnosed Bipolar Type 2 the first year after my third born’s birth, but I had told him multiple times the psychiatrist who took 15 minutes to diagnose me was wrong. He didn’t want to hear that at this point. Before any usage, he threatened me multiple times he wasn’t going to give me my children back after the weekend. (Summer/Fall 2019)
- Once CPS is in your life, it’s nearly impossible to get rid of them. The stress of having them around actually caused things that deserved them being in my life. That’s what you call irony and poor choices. Instead of relying on the more gentle parenting I had learned, I fell back into the type of parenting that I had as a child. That shit is not healthy and I cannot begin to explain the regret I have for falling back on that. (Fall/Winter 2019)
- I had sent my oldest two semen demons (aka children) to live with their grandmother because I could feel things crumbling around me. I miss them every day and feel like the biggest failure for not stopping the snowball right there. That should have been my line, but I still believed I could make everything work. Honestly, my heathens and wanting to get my life in order for them is the only reason I quit. I didn’t care enough about myself at this point. (January/February 2020)
- COVID shut down restaurants, made me part-time for the first time ever. I had to figure out how to make ends meet, so I started sewing masks while waiting for unemployment in FLORIDA to come through. I needed to focus, overcome anxiety, and keep up my energy… ADHD meds are amazing. Further proof that I’m not bipolar. Hyperfocus, depression, and anxiety are all symptoms of untreated ADD, especially in adult women. (March 2020)
- Stimulus hits, unemployment comes through, meth is introduced into my household, Ex starts disappearing, set up cameras in the house, catch Ex bringing a girl into the house, hear Ex fucking girl in my house, get gaslit so hard because I wanted to believe him, restaurants open back up. I’m working two restaurant jobs Thursday thru Sundays to have totally devoted days to my little ones. (Spring/Summer 2020)
- Friends and family have dropped off. Not because of Ex. I have my doubts he’s a true narcissist vs a highly damaged individual because he always encouraged me to have friends and family over, but I naturally became isolated due to COVID making everyone scared of being around other people. COVID made things worse, but I accepted the behavior. I failed to reach out.
Things are going off the rails, but my bills are paid.
That’s what matters, right?
That’s the marker of a real adult, right?
Except I’m watching my friend of years destroy himself.
Except I’m watching the relationship that brought me back to myself slipping away.
Except I’m feeling more and more like I’m just not enough.
One day, Ex brings home a pistol. For reasons, it was kinda sorta necessary. It was in a safe place in my room next to his stash. This is important because of the next part.
Ex is off somewhere. Weeks later, I learned that he was with a chick, but at that point, I didn’t really care. I had heavy mental blanket suffocating me. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t talk to anyone because we’re still in COVID times. Everyone’s life is rough. Why would I put my burdens at someone else’s feet?
It’s probably around noon? Noon feels right, but I’m not sure. I’m still laying in bed. It’s a Wednesday, so the last day of having the little ones before giving them to their father who started the CPS domino effect and a hellacious 4-day weekend of 60 hours. I’m researching meth and pharmaceutical usages.
Did you know doctors can prescribe you methamphetamine hydrochloride for the most extreme cases of ADD? Clinical meth in controlled dosages.
The thought of the pistol and the stash goes through my head. I’m so alone I figure that one or the other of those is going to fix my problem right now. If I can get the dosage correct, what’s the difference between the pharmaceutical version and this?
(Spoiler Alert: a fucking lot)
I stand up and look at the shelf. One of these two things has the potential to fix me right now. The darkness in my head feels like it’s squeezing the breath out of me. My chest is tight, my vision is blurred. Am I crying? Am I really that weak? What’s the difference? They’re both kinda shiny. I can feel the weight of all my fuck ups sitting in my gut. Everyone I failed… I mean the kids would get survivor benefits checks no matter how it happened…
Everything hurts. Why can’t one thing be easy? Little ones start fighting in the living room.
I grab the baggy, grab the scale, grab some water to wash it down.
Am I a fuck up? Absolutely. But I still am.
After about an hour, it kicked in. I started crafting with the kids and cleaned the whole house. Without knowing what I had done, Ex showed up and said,
“I like you like this.”