So, as I’ve tried to tell several people, I am quite literally on a knife’s edge of a breakdown.
I know all the signs, I’ve been here before. It’s been forever, but you just don’t forget how being on the edge feels.
I know some of y’all might think I’m just being a drama queen,, and to those people I say with the utmost love and respect…
Go fuck yourself.
Until you’ve been staring face to face with every single one of your demons, you doubts, your fears, and lose the ability to laugh in their face…Until you stare at that bottle of booze or pills, fighting down the urge to pull the trigger and sink into blessed oblivion…
Go fuck yourself.
Until you don’t know who you can trust, including yourself. Until you hit absolute bottom, and look around and realize that the people you thought would be there with you, helping you back up, aren’t?
Go fuck yourself.
Until you’ve had someone, anyone, that’s been telling you that you can tell them “anything” refuse to reach out to you….
Go fuck yourself.
Because the truth is, when you get this low…there isn’t anyone, anything, that can help you but you. Either they are too busy, or think you’re being dramatic, or they just aren’t who you thought they were. Or at least, that’s how it feels in your head, when the truth is, everyone has their own problems.
Until the one person that you should be able to reach out to, to lean on, is the one person that seems to not get it all and despite the fact that they say they get it, keeps giving little love taps (intentional or unintentional) that make that edge crumble even more.
You guessed it, go fuck yourself.
I’m struggling, barely hanging on, and mother fucker, the harder you push me the more I’m not going to give a shit about anything…so keep pushing. I’m at the point where I simply don’t care anymore.
But I get the feeling that’s what you want….and it makes me so fucking angry. But not at you…at me. Because I fucking CHOSE you to be here for me, and you’re not…which tells me that there is something fucking wrong with me.
Instead of support, and talking what do I get?
I get accusations of being “off my meds.”
I get screamed at over a couple of fucking drinks, because it’s “your alcohol and I’m drinking it all.”…not because I’m fighting down the urge to drink myself into Elysium, not because I wanna pull that fucking trigger and get so blackout drunk that I forget everything for a while. Because I’m drinking “your alcohol.”
Thanks for that.
Thanks for all the times that you’ve shattered me, for the times that I’ve been curled up in a ball on the couch, crying my eyes out because you’ve been so blotto drunk that you’re screaming at me for shit that I had nothing to do with.
Thanks for acting like if I would take a “mental health” break, I’d be inconveniencing you because “who would do everything”.
Thank you, so so, very much, for gaslighting me all those times into thinking that I’ve lost my mind…because now that I’m on the verge of it…I see those efforts for what they really were.
You’ve been trying to break me for a long time…and now that I’m finally at that point, you just keep playing with me like some kind of cat and mouse game. This is fun for you isn’t it?
It makes me wonder how many times you’ve done this before…to how many others, because Goddess knows….you’re good at keeping me on that fine line.
What you’re not used to, is I’ve been here before.
Rock bottom was my home for 40 fucking years. You forget, you asshole, I lived and grew up with the ultimate asshole. He’s the only one that has ever completely broken me…but…
You wanna know a secret? No, never mind, you don’t deserve to know that about me.
Keep pushing, fuck around and find out. The results may shock you. Be careful what you wish for, that’s all I’m saying.
(There…there’s a lil bit of that fire, that keeps me going….that’s kept me alive every time I’ve needed it). Thanks, I was wondering if it was still burning…and it is…slowly smoldering. Be careful you don’t pour any gasoline, because I’ll burn everything down at this point, even if it takes me with you.
Ah yes, my self-destructive behavior.
Calling work and asking for some time off this morning wasn’t what you expected was it? No, you expected me to fly off the handle in a rage and quit…you expected me to bow my head in defeat…I’m not that person. I’m fighting back, trying to keep what I have…and unfortunately for you…I’ve got someone in that corner, rubbing my shoulders, giving me the time I need to get my head right….sucks doesn’t it?
Next I’ll be sleeping with him too, right? GOD, I know your M.O. so damn well. If you don’t accuse me of fucking him, I’ll be downright amazed.
I don’t know where to go, what to do from here. I’ll admit that. But I’ll figure it the fuck out, I promise you that much.
Keep pushing, keep poking.
Because all you’re doing is pushing me to a decision to take you down with me….I hate that. I really really do. I hate me for even considering it. It’s not who I am, and if I do that, you still win, you son of a bitch.
There was a time when I used to think that having the kind of power, the kind of influence that I hold over your whole damn life, would be a power trip. But sitting here, I hate it. If I do that, I’m no better than you….
And I am worlds…galaxies…universes, above you, even at my lowest.
How do I know this?
It’s simple…If I weren’t, I would have destroyed you years ago, just because I can.
Even as low as I am right now…the thought crosses my mind, and I immediately dismiss it, because…well..Karma is a bitch that I know too goddamn well, and to anger her intentionally…no no…we just don’t do that. I’ve got too much wiccan goddess in me for that shit.
But make no mistake.
I’m done standing up for you. Am I going to intentionally put you down? I’m gonna try like hell not to, but if it comes out of my mouth, I’m not going to apologize for it anymore. If someone accuses you of something, am I going to correct them? Nope, let them think what they want.
You wanna call me your girlfriend? Or whatever? You do you, darlin, but you’re shit to me anymore. I don’t answer to you anymore. I sure as hell don’t respect you.
There they are…flickers of flame…the fire’s not fucking out yet.
I got texts today from an unexpected place, telling me that someone is out there to take care of me, because I take care of him. Twist it how you want…but that’s friendship, that’s respect…something that you’ve never shown me.
You don’t grasp that kind of thing though do you?
He cares, he’s barely known me six months, and there he is….willing to back me until the end, because of shit that I’ve done to help him.
I’m crying again…dammit.
I just want peace dammit. I’m tired of this fucking push me-pull you type of relationship….you push me to the brink, and in return, I pull you up out of the gutter where you belong, over and over again.
I’m tired of everything being my damn fault. I’m tired of being gas-lit. I’m tired of twisting in the winds of your damn hurricanes. I’m just fucking TIRED dammit.
It shouldn’t be like this…and I’m tired of living this way.