Tag Archives: addict

a letter for you

I miss you so, so much. I miss everything about you and I miss all the moments we shared. I miss all the moments that we didn’t get to share and I miss the things that we were supposed to do together. I miss you, completely, entirely.

So much has been happening since you died. Saying passed away doesn’t really seem right, as you didn’t die of a natural cause. I have been trying really hard in school, or so it feels like. I got a new job, and quit that job for a better job. The job I have now is working at a funeral home. It is a little funny how death follows you around. Working here has been a different experience than I thought it would be. It isn’t scary. And I don’t see the bodies as being alive.. if that makes sense. They are just bodies. There is no one there.
Seeing it that way makes it a lot less scary. I have realized that often times, the funerals that are being held are more for the families and friends to get closure. Seeing heir loved one in such a state can really solidify the fact that they are no longer there.

I think that that’s one of the things I am still sad about. I never got to see you. The last time I had officially seen you was on Valentine’s Day. How fucking terrible. I’m sad that even though you were cremated, I didn’t get to see or be around your ashes. I think that seeing that would have really made me feel at peace. You weren’t happy in this life anyways. And you weren’t even really “living” anymore. You were trying to get by the best you could. That also makes me sad. But I do wish that I had gotten to see you. Instead, the first I had heard that you had died, I couldnt believe it. I don’t mean that I was in disbelief. I genuinely didn’t believe that you were gone. I tried to see you. I called the morgue that you were in. But they said that I had to pay to come see you and also have permission from the family. I think I would have had a good chance for you r mom to let me see you. But I didn’t have the money they required. So I couldnt see you.

I went to the memorial your town held for you, hoping to have some type of closure there. I ended up feeling angry and I left before the service even started.

Your family released your ashes into the ocean. You always said that you wanted to be a mermaid.

I don’t think that your family likes me very much. And that hurts, because I don’t know that they know the severity of the things that you and I had gone through. I try to look past it. But it just sucks.

I have been thinking about you a lot lately. Well, I always do. But even more so lately. Bad things have been happening lately and I haven’t been talking about them with anyone. I have been keeping them locked up. I haven’t even really talked about it online. I’m scared I’ll annoy all my online friends too. besides, whenever someone brings you up, I don’t really know what to say. I’m still in shock. But sure enough, I know that I will go home or rush to the bathroom and let a few tears fall out, or just turn into a complete mess.

Something I have been thinking about it how much I took you for granted. You didn’t need to do so many things for me. But you loved me so much that you did. I think that I tried to make up for in when you were going through your addiction. I wanted to be there for you, idk you had been there for me. You had been with me through my worst times, and I wanted to be there for yours. But god damn, it was so hard. It was hard because I loved you so fucking much, that I didn’t care about anything else. I just wanted you to get better. I didn’t care about my own mental health. I just wanted you to be ok.

I eventually had to let you go, you see. and it wasn’t because I stopped loving you. But I was so angry with you. I was so angry that you hadn’t beat your addiction, despite having been in and out of rehab so many times that year. I was so angry that I didn’t talk to you for months. I found out through someone else that you had died.

I’m still so fucking sad. I wish you were here more than anything. You were honestly so pure and so good. It was all the addiction turning you differently. Even so, you tried your hardest not to change. You tried so hard to not be a horrible person. I miss everything about you

I miss talking to someone every day abut what happened throughout my day. I miss talking to someone about those things and having them actually listen and give a shit. I miss having someone that isn’t just waiting their turn to talk but rather, is listening to me and gives me feedback about the things I say. I miss being with someone that doesn’t just want to talk about themselves. I miss being with someone that actually cares about how I’m doing. I miss having someone that cares about me and doesn’t just ask, “are you ok?” just to gossip. I miss being able to share the stupidest things with you. I miss the inside jokes we had. I miss being silly with each other. I miss being silly with each other and saying the dumbest, grossest things and still loving each other more and more. I miss having someone that I can talk to about my bad days.

I miss someone that will tell me they are proud of me for even the small things.
No one does that anymore. If I don’t do as well as I would have wanted in a class, there is no, “I am glad you tried your best.”
It is, “why didn’t you do better? all you do is go to school.”
I miss that you would congratulate me on the small things ; like getting out of bed, showering, eating, going to class. I miss you. I miss how supportive you were.

I miss listening to music with you. I miss going to concerts with you. I miss having you sing to me and play guitar. I miss talking about music. I miss hearing about all the details and the history of certain bands that you know. I miss listening to podcasts with you on rainy days. I miss playing video games with you. I miss having spa days with you. I miss eating together. I miss snacking together. I miss that we wouldn’t judge each other because we were both lil chubby babies and it didn’t matter. I miss sending you pictures of cute, fluffy corgi butts. I miss crying at dog videos with you. I miss taking pictures with you. I miss playing words with friends with you, even when we were sitting right next to each other.

I even miss your snoring. And I even miss when you would randomly fart in the middle of the night when you were sleeping.

I miss doing things with you. I miss going to the lake with you, and to the movies. I miss making plans with you. The reservations you had made in advance on Facebook have expired. You haven’t made a reservation to an event in six months. You never will anymore.

I miss talking to you. You were always one of the only people I actually liked talking on the phone with. I miss that we were both into the same things. I miss being able to talk about stupid shit with you. I miss sending you memes. I miss sending you funny clips. I miss discovering new restaurants with you, even if the food I order is shitty. I miss that you genuinely thought I was beautiful. You weren’t just using me for sex or for validation. You really, actually loved me. And it was so beautiful.

I miss sharing clothes, even though you couldnt fit into mine because I was much shorter than you. I miss cooking and baking together. I miss waking up groggily to the sound of your voice. I miss when you would rub my back just to make me feel good. I miss making playlists for you, and you for me. I miss silly face snapchats. I miss talking about gross situations with you,like whether or not you would eat my toe jam if I offered you money. You always said yes.

I miss literally everything about you. I miss how no one else is like you. It really feels like I will never find anyone as close to being as perfect as you were. You were so selfless. You were the person everyone should strive to be. I miss you so fucking much that it feels like I can’t handle it. It feels like it is too much. I am having a really hard time without you. I am having a hard time coming to terms with your death. In my mind, it still feels like you will come back for some reason. I don’t know. I’m just being stupid. But I miss you so fucking much, I couldnt even explain it even if I tried. My heart feels forever broken. And no one gets it. No one understands. No one could begin to understand the pain I feel from missing you so much. I wish so badly that you would come back. I really, really need you to come back. I really don’t know how much more I can take without you.

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Therapy 9/14/16

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I had therapy yesterday. The first thing my therapist says to me whenever I come in is, “so how are you? what’s new?”

Except this time, those questions were followed by, “you seem depressed.”
You might think that this is a silly thing to say,considering I’m so neurotic that I am depressed so often. But I hadn’t been so depressed in my sessions with her lately. And if I was, I had been managing it. The truth of it is, is that I haven’t been doing well lately. Not at all. I’ve been really depressed and haven’t found it in me to do something about it. I just don’t care. I’m feeling a little better this week but I’m still really bad.

 

Sometimes I realize that I don’t really need a therapist. Not REALLY. She doesn’t give me any new information that I don’t already figure out myself. Because I’m someone that worries a lot and really mulls things over, I come up with a lot of different conclusions for situations. I can find the reasoning in everything, eventually. And so when I tell her, my depression this time was sparked by the B that I got in a class. She had said that even though I got a B, it was still good, considering everything I went through summer term. And I do know that. Actually, on a different blog, I wrote a post about it. The reason i have two different blogs is that on my other one, it is more of a public audience. I have hundreds of people that read my material, including people that I know in real life. I can’t truly, honestly say everything I want to say.

Anyway, in the post, I had said that I was really proud of how far I’ve come this term. My boss had sent me an email that she wanted to offer me to keep my job (which was initially a seasonal position) because she admired my work ethic and reliability. It felt good. I also noted that even though I didn’t get an A in the class, like I thought I would, a B wasn’t that bad either. I had to give myself credit for both situations. Molly died six days after the term started. Molly died the same day that was my first day at that job. My brother had also gotten really sick, and was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. So despite everything that happened, I still managed to pull it together and try to get on with my life. I am the kind of person that gives up really quickly. I pull away the moment I sense failure. But I didn’t give up this time, despite all the times I felt hopeless.
My therapist basically reiterated this to me and though it is appreciated, I already knew it. Most times, I can figure things out for myself. I guess I still go to her though because it feels good to talk to someone. Sometimes I get so depressed that I just need someone to talk to. But I HATE feeling like a burden, so I would rather keep it in. She is someone that I’m basically paying to listen to me, so I don’t feel so bad.

 

In this therapy session, we talked about how depressed I had been felling, due to the amount of pressure I put on myself. We also talked about Molly a lot. Ever since I got out of classes, I haven’t really had anything to do. And because I’ve been so depressed because of my grades, I have been pulling away from everyone and really kept to myself. I have more time to think about things and to overthink them. My depression comes out in the worst ways and the way that it shows up most often is isolating. I isolate a lot when I get depressed. So I think that when I had to focus on school, I didn’t have much time to thin about Molly. Not all the time. But I don’t have anything to do now so I DO think about her all the time. When I talked about her, there would be times when I just couldn’t articulate what I was saying. It was hard for me to even say the words I wanted to. I was crying too hard, to the point where it would be hard to breathe.

We talked about the current partner I have. My partner and I had a long phone conversation yesterday about how they’ve been feeling really neglected and lonely because I’ve been so busy with school and being depressed. I felt bad. But I also told them that i didn’t like that they were making me prove that I liked them by giving them physical things. For example, they would say to write them a letter, an email or to send a package. Sometimes I would do those things. But whenever I didn’t, they would get upset. I don’t think that I should have to prove myself if I’m still with them. I also told them that I have no way of knowing when I will get depressive episodes, and that I also have no way of knowing how long they will last. Not to say that they need to deal with it, but that it is something that I actively struggle with. I told them that I do understand why they feel that way and that they’re right, I have been neglecting them, as I haven’t put any time or energy towards the relationship. But they have codependency traits that I also had to bring up. I was codependent with my previous partner, as they were an addict and I constantly wanted to help them and wanted them to be ok. I was putting out more energy than they were giving out. Though I realize that they had no way of putting energy towards our relationship, when they couldn’t even put every towards themselves. It was a selfish thing to think about.
But because I’ve been in the same position once before, I recognized that what they were saying wasn’t healthy. I told them that while I do understand, I felt like they shouldn’t base their own happiness on the wellbeing of our relationship. That is being codependent and that they need to find ways to cope, regardless. That’s what I think. Maybe I’m heartless.

I do like them a lot. And I do love them a lot. I think our relationship has been on my mind a lot lately. I feel that maybe I am not in a good place right now to have a relationship. I feel like I’ve been grieving over Molly a lot. I know that I will be depressed a lot and I can’t be with someone who doesn’t understand why I will be depressed. Oh, also, whenever I would tell them I’m depressed and told them why, they would say that it wasn’t “a good enough reason.” That bothered me a lot. But anyways!!! I also feel like we are both in completely different points in our life that I don’t feel will work out, long term. They are seven years older than I am. And I don’t feel that it’s the age. But they’re just so different. We are not alike enough for me to think that this will work out long term. I guess for me, I also think, why would I be in a relationship if I don’t think that it’s going to work out? i don’t want to be in a relationship just to not feel lonely. That’s not what I want.
I guess, ultimately, I don’t have the energy to put towards this relationship. I will be going back to school in two weeks and I need to focus this term more than I ever have, because it’s crunch time. I need to get good grades, I need to memorize, I need to pull it together. I need recommendations from these two instructors so I need to be spending time REALLY participating in class and going to their office hours, so that they get to know me. So that i’m not just another student trying to get by.
I just have too much going on, and though I know I need to have a social life too, it can’t be all work, relationships require a lot of work. It is hard to keep up with relationships if you don’t have the time for them. I have been thinking about this a lot because it also isn’t fair to keep giving them hope, that we’ll fix this. I think they’re just ready to settle down. I’m not. I’m not even 21 yet. I’m just getting started with my life.

idk. So that’s what I’ve been feeling and what’s been going on. Wow, this was a long post.

Bitterness and Forgiveness

I am often a bitter person. Being wronged by someone upsets me. It upsets me because many times, I feel like I really put my all into someone or something. To not be recognized for that or to be sort of backstabbed is hurtful. It makes me feel bitter and petty.

The last time Molly and I officially talked to each other, we got upset. I told her that I was tired of being jerked around and treated like I didn’t matter. She said she felt the same way and that she was tired of being manipulated.

That upset me a lot because I felt like I put in SO MUCH towards her. I tried so much and, essentially, deteriorated and wore myself away because of trying to take care of her. Because I was codependent. I didn’t think I was manipulative, I thought she was. It was annoying to hear that I was the one being manipulative.

I told her goodbye. We left it at that. We were already kind of sick of each other I think. Not on a big picture basis, but we just kept getting on each others nerves. I was constantly upset because I felt like she wasn’t trying to get help for her addiction. I felt that she wasn’t trying. She would be upset with me because I nagged her about doing a lot of things; i.e. going to therapy, calling for appointments, etc. I thought that I was being helpful. I should have just let her figure it out for herself. My mindset was that I didn’t want her to fuck everything up more than she already had.

Anyway, she went off to rehab again and we didn’t talk for more than two months. I was still very hurt, but I secretly wanted to know how she was doing. I would check her social media every day to see how she was. To see if she missed me.

I didn’t actually know when she was getting out of rehab, until I decided to check out her twitter one day and she had posted about it. It felt like my heart sank to my stomach. I was scared. I was scared because honestly, the relationship between us was tearing me apart and I would get so bad in terms of mental illness whenever she got back. I was scared I would give in, talk to her again, and fall into the codependent cycle again. But, god, I knew that deep in my heart, I missed her so much.

I had decided to cut her off. I did it because I knew I needed to. But I also did it because I was still angry, petty, and bitter.

She sent me a message on snapchat maybe a week after she got out. I had forgotten to block her on that and so that’s how she got through I guess. The message said, “I’m sorry for how I talked to you last time. I was out of line.”

But it wasn’t enough for me. I was SO angry. The anger just stemmed from me really putting myself out there and then feeling like I got slapped in the face for it. I never replied.

I was so angry that I never wanted to even talk about her. I got upset if someone tried to talk to me about her or asked me how she was doing.

She died two weeks later. I still feel so bad and I am filled with so much regret that I had built up so much bitterness and anger towards her. I really did want to be friends with her again.

I’m sad that I was so angry about what she had done that I never wanted to talk about her. All I want to do now is talk about her. Constantly, constantly, constantly.

I think that by ignoring her, I was being manipulative a bit. I think I am manipulative in small, subtle ways. I always want to be the victim and I always play myself out to be so.

But, I did eventually want to reconnect. I just needed time to process my anger.

It feels like that feeling when they describe in books or movies where someone regrets not talking to their parents or being mad at them, and then something happens to them, like they get in an accident or something and then they die. It feels like that sort of regret.

Since then, I have been trying really hard to dispel my bitterness quicker. I still do feel the initial anger and bitterness. But instead of feeding it and constantly thinking about it, letting it build up, I try to rationalize what is happening. I try to think, “is this worth getting so upset over?”

It usually isn’t.

It has also caused me some sort of trouble though.

The other day, I got upset with my mom. After I had gotten upset, she left to go run some errands. I started thinking, “shit, what if something happens to her and I never get to tell her I was sorry?” I didn’t want that to happen to me ever again. I wanted to call her and tell her I was sorry. But then I thought, “what if she answers while she’s driving, gets distracted by me, and she crashes?” I thought, hmm maybe I should text her. The thought that followed was, “what if I text her, she tries to look at the text while she’s driving, and she still dies?”

I’ve just been having a lot of intrusive thinking lately.

The point of this post is that I have been trying to not be so bitter. I know that what happened to Molly isn’t my fault. I try really hard to remind myself that. But I do feel a lot of regret towards how our relationship as lovers and as friends ended.

I really don’t want that to ever happen again.

i think of her every day.

I think of Molly every day. Sometimes it is just a passing thought. Sometimes it is a thought that I’ll focus on more. Right now, I am continuously thinking about her and wanting so badly to have her here. I’m trying so hard to replay all of our shared memories together. Sometimes it is hard to remember and it makes me so sad.

In general, it is easier to remember the bad things that have happened to you in life more than the good ones.

I am remembering more of the bad parts than the good parts.

But I do think of the good parts. Sometimes it’ll be as simple as a car ride, other times it’ll be an event we both went to. Other times, it was just the calmness of being able to lie next to each other at night, hearing the ins and outs of our breath.

I am so angry with myself for having cut her off. I know I did it for a good reason. But sometimes, I also tend to view myself as the victim in ever situation. Was this one of those times?

I’m angry with myself because other people got to be there for her when I wasn’t. Other people were able to talk to her the day before she died and I didn’t. And it is literally my fault. It is all my own doing. I did this to myself.

She was such a good person. She was, besides her addiction. She had the most beautiful heart. Everyone saw it too. I’m so sad that all of these things happened to her. She didn’t deserve it.

Sometimes I think that it is me that wore her down. Sometimes I think that I was too much. I am so fucked up. I feel like that got to her. She had such a beautiful heart that she always wanted to make sure I was ok.

And people don’t get that.

She was there for me so much. She was literally the only person I had as a support system my entire year at university. I had no friends (in fact, I had enemies), my parents didn’t talk to me because they found out I was gay. It was bad. It felt like nobody cared about me. Nobody but her. And so yes, I did rely on her a lot.

I tried so hard to be there for her too when her addiction started getting bad. I honestly feel like I was the one that was there for her the most. Not to invalidate everyone else. But I tried so fucking hard. I wore myself so thin to the point where my friends would be asking me if i was ok and that it was noticeable that i wasn’t doing well.

but i didn’t care. and i stayed with her. and i wish even now that she was still here. we loved each other so much. when we broke up, neither one of us cried. there was nothing left to say. it wasn’t that we were sick of each other, but all of the emotions that could have been experienced had already happened. for me, i had already spent so long begging her and pleading her to get better. it was making empty threats of “i can’t stay with you if you’re going to keep doing this.” it was crying every single day on the phone with her because i wanted her to get better. and when i finally broke up with her and nothing was felt, i knew that wasn’t her fault. i know that it hurt her too. but i know that she wasn’t capable of feeling anything. she didn’t care. the addiction took over and she didn’t care about anything. not even herself.

it makes me so sad to think that. even though we didn’t shed tears i told her, “i know that we are soulmates. i just know it. theres no way we’re not. we are perfect for each other and the only thing that is getting in the way is your addiction. please get better, we can be friends, and we can even be back together again.” i loved her so fucking much. i wanted so badly for things to be ok again. i wanted her in my life so badly. even when things turned sour, i checked her twitter and her tumblr every single day, multiple times a day. to see if she would be talking about me or just to see what she was doing in her life. I’m so fucking pathetic.

i miss them so much still. i miss all the different ways they told me and showed me that they loved me. i miss having her as a best friend. i miss being silly with her and literally just being myself around her. i had never been able to do that before. she was the first person that was ever truly “myself” with. i wish so badly that she was still here. i miss her so much. i know that it must get old that i keep making posts about her and that they all say that i miss her.

but i feel so guilty that iw aunt there. i feel so stupid. all i can say is that i miss her. i miss her i miss her i miss her. i miss everything about her.

Your memorial

I am feeling annoyed.That’s been a constant reoccurrence on this blog, hasn’t it?
The other day, Molly had a memorial in New York held by past friends. I got upset with one of them because they had said that it was ok to call Molly “Jamie.” She said to come to the memorial and call her Molly or Jamie, “whichever you prefer.” I don’t think it’s ok and I don’t think Molly would have thought it was ok either. That was her dead name, and she changed her name for a reason. The addiction she struggled with was fueled by the dysphoria that she experienced. There is no fucking way she would have been ok with being called her dead name. There just isn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered if it’s people that knew her before she became Molly. She wasn’t Jamie anymore. She was Molly. Everyone that was her close friend would agree. I know they would. Because they know that Molly didn’t want to be called Jamie anymore.
Anyway, I got upset with the person and they said I was being disrespectful and insensitive and that it’s not what Molly would have wanted. This particular person had literally posted that they hadn’t talked to Molly in three years. How would they even know what she would have liked?

In fact, how dare they even try to say that they know what Molly would have liked.
I’m grieving, still. And I’m sad, still. I’m slowly getting better. But I got upset a lot of times when people would misgender Molly or call her by the wrong name when we were together. 
Something I’m annoyed about now: Molly’s mom gave this person, who I know was one of Molly’s ex-girlfriends, items that were once Molly’s. And I suppose that doesn’t annoy me. It is nice to have things that were once a loved ones. What annoys me is that two of these items, that this girl is wearing, are items that I got for Molly. I got the bracelet she has from my trip to Mexico. I got the seahorse necklace from an obscure shop on Mississippi in Portland. 

And I am annoyed because these are both items that Molly frequently wore. Because they were her favorite, in addition to a mermaid necklace I had gotten her.
I am annoyed because this girl did not have the basic decency to respect who Molly was and didn’t even talk to her. She wants to make all these posts on her Facebook wall but if you can’t respect who she was, were you REALLY her friend? Did you REALLY care about her? And now that she’s gone, this girl is trying to make up for lost time? For what? What is the fucking point to act like you care so much and so deeply about her now?

This seems to be a common thing for people that knew Molly. All these people that would hurt Molly and were fucking assholes to her are coming out and saying “oh I miss you so much and blahblah.”

Why weren’t you there for her before? When she was alive? Why didn’t you treat her like a human being when she was still here?

But now you want to go and act like you guys were best friends?
I’m upset and it’s all coming out now. It’s been building up and I feel like I’m reaching my breaking point. I also feel like I’m in that stage of grieving where I’m just so angry at everything.

I’m just annoyed because Molly cried so much and was so sad and alone so often. She would text and message and call all of these people, even from rehab. No one ever answered. It made her sad. And it made her feel lonely and like she didn’t really have friends. I’m just really pissed off that these people are acting like they care about her when they really didn’t. It seems like they want other people to think they cared about her, just to seem like a good person or something.
It makes me angry to have someone say that they knew Molly better than I did. And they didn’t. I knew literally everything about her. The creepy things to the normal things. From what deodorant she used to what music she liked to listen to when she was sad. I knew this because I almost proposed to her. I knew this because I loved her deeply and she was my best friend.
I suppose that the items this girl has are just that –items. They don’t hold any significance to her other than the thought that maybe all the lost time between them can be made up by wearing these items, and possessing them. And I suppose I can recognize that the true meaning of these items are in my memory. And I suppose that I can recognize that throughout all of this stupid fucking bullshit, I know what Molly and I went through. And I know I don’t have to prove that to anyone at all. I know what she would have wanted. And I know that everyone who actually loved her knows that too.
But it’s still annoying. And I’m blocking the girl for my own sanity because I get #pissed every time I see her making an empathetic post on Molly’s Facebook wall. 

In addition, because I don’t want to make another annoying Molly rant post, I am angry because I am also angry at myself for not having been there for Molly near the end.

I know so deep down that I did it to protect myself. I know that I did it because I was destroying myself for Molly. I guess my own stupid reasoning is that if I had destroyed myself for just a little longer, maybe I wouldn’t be feeling such incredible guilt. And maybe Molly would still be here. Maybe if I had responded to her text that one time or not gotten upset with her that other time.

I am angry because I know that all of the anger I am feeling is misplaced. I am probably not actually angry with these people (lol jk). I am actually angry with myself. I am angry and because I can’t actually talk to Molly and tell her all these things, I want to take it out on anyone that slightly pisses me off. I actually am pissed off at that girl though because I think what she’s doing is fucked up but w/e. We’ll just say my anger is misplaced and my [literal] ol’ bipolar ass will go back and forth between those feelings.
If I’m being reasonable, I know that what she is doing is her own way of coping. I do know that. I do know that she also probably feels guilty for not talking to Molly. I also know that everyone else that was an asshole to her probably feels that way too. It is just easier for me to be angry at them than it is to be angry at myself.

Molly: Anger and Denial

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The two stages I’m going in and out of are denial and anger.

I keep thinking to myself that Molly is in rehab still and that’s why we can’t talk. It isn’t because she’s dead. It is because phones aren’t allowed in rehab and that’s why. I know I’m lying to myself. But it is easier to think about it this way.

I keep thinking that I can text her or post to her Facebook wall, and that she’ll read it at a later time.

I have sudden realizations that Molly will never come back and it hits me hard.

Anger is a reoccurring emotion. I have anger towards the people she knew. I feel angry because when she passed away, naturally, people were offering their condolences on her Facebook wall.. but they kept misgendering her and using her dead name. They would post pictures of themselves with her, before she had started transitioning. She would not have liked that. She removed all photos from before she transitioned because she didn’t want anyone remembering her as a boy. The dysphoria she experienced was one of the reasons that she abused drugs. I know that if she were still here, she’d try to brush those images off as good memories. But I know that they hurt her.

I am also angry at the people that knew her. I went to a memorial for her a week ago and there were so many people there, acting as if they knew her really well. There were even people that she hated and that they hated her…pretending they were friends. Talking to other people as if they and Molly had good memories together.

her brother had posted on Instagram that he had traveled to the west coast with his family to release Molly’s ashes into the ocean. He also said that he was happy to have met some of the family she made over here. Who was the family? Her old bandmates and housemates. They did not treat her well. They ignored her, trivialized her addiction, and were not there for her. I would be taking her to the hospital, pleading them for someone to come help. None of them did. One of them even said it wasn’t a big deal. And now she is gone, and THEY are being called family????

I am also angry because I’ve been pushed out of the picture and I’m being imagined as being this huge bitch that left Molly in her time of need. And I can understand how you can see it that way… since I left her two months before she died. But I was the ONLY one constantly in her life. Taking care of her and being there for her. Ever since the beginning. I was the one that stayed up with her late at night trying to calm her down. I was the one waking up in the early morning hours, driving for hours to go see her, and then repeating the whole process again. I was the one begging and pleading her to get better. I was the one offering support. I was a constant force in her life. I was the one that knew her the best out of anyone else in the world. She even said once that I knew her better than her mom did.

And so, it really hurts that I’m being portrayed as this sort of demon for leaving her. It doesn’t matter that I was the only one that was constantly there for her. It doesn’t matter that I was the one staying up all night taking care of her. It doesn’t matter that I was the one driving her to doctor visits and to the hospital. No. All that matters is that even though I was there for her for two years, non-stop, it only matters that I wasn’t there for her those last two months.

I left her because I cared about her so much, I was wearing myself down. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was putting all of my own energy, into her, hoping that she would get better. She never did, and to me, it felt like she wasn’t trying as hard as she could. That is why I left her.

I feel bad because I knew that she was hurting. I knew that she missed me. I blocked her on every single thing so that she wouldn’t be able to contact me. But I was still so very much in love with her. I would check her twitter and tumblr every day, several times a day, just to see if she would say anything about me. She did. At that moment, I felt very angry. Because she was missing me but she still wasn’t trying to get better.

She tried to get my new number two days before she passed away. I hadn’t given my number to any of her friends, and so no one knew it. I blame myself for having not given it to her. I know she needed support. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she had gotten my number anyway. The outcome would have been the same. I had blocked her from my phone as well. The texts and calls would have never reached me.

I blame myself for thinking I could be there for her. But deep down, I know that I would have been pulled back in and would have dug a deeper hole for myself. I know that I would have destroyed myself for her if I hadn’t left.

But knowing that doesn’t help with the anger, and the bitterness, and the sadness. It doesn’t help the guilt. It doesn’t help with the “why are all of her friends moving on with their lives while I’m still so fucking depressed and sad?”

I think that if her friends had been better friends and had been there for her, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way it did. I know it’s pointless to think that way. It is what it is. And there is nothing I can do to change that. But I still just wish everyone had cared just a little bit harder. Or at least pretended that they cared about her like they pretended at her memorial.

I never thought it to be true and I thought it was an exaggeration when they say in movies and in books that everyone pretends to have known you really well after your death. But I experienced it first-hand for Molly. And now I’m left wondering, out of the people I know, who will do this fact same thing? Act like they’re so torn up about my death? Act as if we were best friends and they helped me out with so much? As if we had such good memories together?

I’m angry and I am bitter. These feelings are hard to disperse. I miss her so very much. This isn’t fair.

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Goodbye, Molly

When I first learned that Molly passed away, my world turned upside down. I blamed myself so much for so many things. I blamed myself for her death. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough. I was looking at our entire relationship and friendship through rose-colored glasses.When she passed away, I thought that she was the best girlfriend ever and that she was incredibly supportive.

And she was. Initially. But the last year of our relationship was not good. The last year of our relationship, she had been in and out of rehabs. I kept draining myself and pushing myself beyond my limits just to try to help her.

So, yes, I loved her so incredibly much. But I had also started to let go because she wasn’t capable of loving me. And I wasn’t content loving someone that wasn’t able to love me back.
Initially, I blamed myself for cutting her off. I blamed myself for starting to let go of her. I blamed myself because I thought, what if she kept using and died because she was sad about me?

But I can’t be that vain. Molly was an addict. She would have used even if she wasn’t thinking of me. And even if she was sad about me, yes, that makes me feel sad and bad. But I was doing so badly and I wasn’t taking care of myself because I tried to take care of her. I was putting all of my energy into her. I would starve myself and cut myself to feel better. I know that cutting her out of my life was the best decision for me.
I will always cherish the memories we shared. But I can’t keep thinking that our relationship was beautiful and perfect. Because that’s not the way it ended up being. 

She was a beautiful person and had a beautiful heart. She loved me so well, when she was capable of it. But her addiction ruined so many things. Ultimately, it ruined us.
I can’t keep blaming myself for things that she did. I cannot blame myself for her death.

I wish I was still in a relationship where both of us were growing, learning, happy. With Molly (Jami changed her name to Molly), so many things go through my mind. We have not been together for a while. When I told my therapist that I had broken up with Molly, she basically jumped with joy. Because she knew that I was really draining myself for Molly. But I still ache inside. 
The last time I saw Molly was on Valentine’s Day. I drove two hours to go see her. The entire time, she didn’t really seem like she wanted to be with me. She said that she was tired.. But I was tired too. I drive for so long to go see her. I tried cheering her up in some ways, or to get her to be more enthusiastic. I did her makeup and her. Still, it seemed like she didn’t care that I was there. Frustrated, I told her that I was just going to go since it seemed like she didn’t want me there. She said ok. I asked her if she was going to walk me to my car, and she just let out a huge groan. As if it is a chore to be with me. I left angrily. The next day, she walked a mile to go buy inhalants.

I had told her two days later that I would be cutting her out of my life. 

That I needed to focus on myself.

Well, that hasn’t been going as planned. I was pulled back in (I let myself be pulled back in) and fell back into the cycle of worrying about her 24/7.

So that’s where I’m at. Having a sliver of hope for the future, and wanting her to be ok. 

But she’s in jail right now because she abused inhalants in public. And no one even told me until I asked. 

Side note: I found out today that not even an hour had passed from when I told Molly I was cutting her off that she made a tinder and an okcupid. So while I was being a fucking stupid idiot, crying and mourning over a failed relationship, she didn’t even care and was looking for someone new. 
So many of Molly’s friends will probably read this and think, “Monica is such a bitch. Why is she leading Molly on.” But I’m really not. They have no idea what it means to love someone with an addiction. An addiction so deadly. It is constantly trying to comfort someone who is high, even though they’re calling you names and even though they’re texting other people, telling them what a bad person you are. It is trying to calm them down when they’re suddenly angry at you, convinced you’re trying to kill them. It is being pulled into the, “yes, I promise I will try to get better.” And trying to believe it. Because you know that at one time, they could keep that promise (though you damn well know they aren’t able to now). It’s always having a sliver of hope that they will get better, even though everything seems so hopeless.
You could think I’m a bitch for saying that Molly isn’t trying as hard as she could. You could say I’m a bitch for saying that she isn’t making an attempt.

But, sure, she says she wants to go to rehab again. But rehab is not a bubble to protect you from the world. You only go to rehab to learn crucial skills. There is a big difference between going to rehab and using the skills you have learned, and going to rehab and expecting everything to be ok and fixed automatically when you get out. Which do you think has been going on?
At one time, Molly and I were hopelessly in love. Growing and basking in each other’s light. Pushing each other to be better people.
But it isn’t like that anymore. And it hurts to admit it. It feels more like one person is bearing the weight of the other, trying to help them get better, even when they have no interest in doing so. 
It is no ones fault but mine for draining myself for Molly. I am not obligated to do so. But because I care about her so much and because we had been together for so long, it felt like I needed to. In my heart, it felt like there was still a chance at a viable, healthy relationship.
But here we are. Here.

Last night

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Last night was a horrible fucking night. Up until now, I have been suppressing my feelings about my failed relationship. It felt like I was going to be ok. Until I started feeling sad. And then sadder. And pretty soon, I was crying uncontrollably. I cried for hours straight.

I started removing my ex from my life last night. I have found that, that is what helps me cope. I just remove them from my life completely. Reducing their carbon footprint in my life, never to be spoken of again. But it will be harder this time. I recognized this when I had just built up the guts to remove my ex from my Facebook page, and then I realized I was wearing one of her shirts. And then I still had small letters from her in my wallet. And then I realized my laptop was covered in stickers from her.

It was just a lot of small things and gestures that made me realize. Holy shit. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought. And through the process of trying to get rid of everything, i just had a complete meltdown.

This still doesn’t feel real. It feels like she’s just at rehab again. Or we’re mad at each other. And it feels like I’ll wake up in the morning to a text message that says “good morning, baby.” Though, I haven’t received those kinds of text messages from her in months.

So many of my fondest memories include her. And so many small, seemingly meaningless things, remind me of her.

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It is really, really hard to swallow the fact that this is really happening. We are really broken up. Life’s a bitch sometimes.

A Failed Relationship

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Lets see, lets see, what could I say about my most recent failed relationship. There’s just so much to say. It’s hard to even find the words.

First off, I know I play the victim a lot but I really feel like I’m the only one that’s hurting. I’m not sure if that’s because they really don’t care that we broke up or because they’re busy getting high. Probably both. Even so, I don’t think I’m hurting as bad as I thought that I would. Sure, I get really sad sometimes. But that’s normal. I feel ok for the most part. Maybe that’s how it is for them too. I think we were both just tired of dealing with each other’s shit.

I’m a little (a lot) disappointed that this last relationship didn’t work out. I really thought and was hoping that it would. In the beginning, it all felt really dreamy and surreal, which you could contribute to the infatuation that we were both experiencing.

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We spent a lot of time together, and it felt like we missed each other a lot, even we had only been apart for an hour. It felt like we were two pieces of the same puzzle. We both liked the same movies, music, food, etc. We connected in random ways, that you wouldn’t have imagined connecting about. We had a lot of good experiences, and first-time experiences together. It felt like they were my best friend. They understood me really well. They understood when I would react to something badly and would quickly apologize after. They didn’t chastise me for that. I liked that. I liked that it felt like even if I I was the craziest person in the world, they could see the good in me.

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But even though everything felt so dreamy, I think that things really took a turn for the worst when my ex-partner started relapsing and then left for rehab for 7 months. It was 7 months of not seeing each other and barely being able to talk to each other. It was 7 months of hearing dates of when they would come home, and then having those dates being pushed back, over and over again, because of them constantly relapsing. I think we care for each other a lot. We were together for 1 year and 5 months. Apart for 7. Life moves on, even if you’re not in each other’s life. I think that’s when we started falling out of love. I think that there is a clear, definitive point in time where you could really look and see, well, they’re not as in love as they used to be.

It is hard to think that at some point, everything was good. Everything was the way it was supposed to be. I think if they hadn’t started abusing drugs the way they are now, we could possibly still be together. There wouldn’t have been as much lying, deceitfulness, or disappointment. That’s what I tell myself, at least.

Today, we are no longer together. We are not even friends. I go back and forth between deleting them and their friends from all of my social media accounts. But I then find myself feeling frantic, wanting to know what they’re doing, and if they’re doing better without me. I find myself wanting to change my number, and feeling the imaginative joy I could feel when they receive an automatic reply that my phone number is no longer in service. I feel very spiteful, but I also feel very hurt.

I feel very apathetic and indifferent towards the relationship we were having. The past few months are indifferent to me. They weren’t good. Most of the time, they were bad.

But the memories, oh the memories. I am in love with the memories, and the memories and feelings of what could have been. It feels disheartening to think that I thought I had a soulmate. We were so alike and it just really feels like a punch to the chest.

  
Presently, our relationship was stagnant. Nothing was happening and in fact, it felt like the love we had towards each other diminished by the second. They didn’t care about themselves a lot, and I couldn’t handle it. I tried really hard to have things get better. But nothing happened. They just didn’t care. Or they did care, but didn’t do a good job at all of showing it. The last time we hung out was three days ago, on Valentine’s Day. I had been contemplating leaving them. We weren’t together. But we certainly acted like it. I think the thing that was the final straw for me was that, that same day, they groaned when I wanted them to walk me out to their door. How much is that, a couple feet? I left angrily, but forgave them soon after. The next day, they walked at least a mile to the store to buy inhalants to get high with. I always heard that the addict will always love the drug more than they love any of their partners or family members. I tried so hard not to believe it. In that moment, it became very clear that yes, at this point, I am not the thing that they love most.

I am still mourning our failed relationship. We were together for quite a long time, but apart for nearly as long. I find myself feeling stupid sometimes for how hard I tried to save our relationship. Or how badly I wanted them to save themselves.

 

This has been something that will be really hard to get over. It will take me a long time before I could even think about being with someone else. Even now, here I am, pouring my heart out. I know they will read this, and perhaps they’ll feel just as indifferent as I do. But still heartbroken over what could have been. We could have been so much more.

 

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