Kaya
Perhaps short of a marble
[potential triggers of drug use, suicide attempt, mental illness and death]
The past three years were nothing but an endless fight.
It all started shortly after my partner and I came together; my great-grandmother died after years of battling cancer. We were very close, always had a deeper kind of understanding each other, despite the several decades of age between us. She was one of the most important people in my life, and then she was just gone.
Shortly after, I started to slip into a dark spiral of exhaustion, depression, helplessness... Got diagnosed with a burnout and had to give up my job to get out of that hole.
That's when my best friend, who was like a sister for me, dropped me because we were, quoting, "never going out and doing fun stuff together anymore".
I spent weeks on explaining that I just didn't have the strength to do anything right now, that I just, after countless times of helping her with her problems, needed her help now.
She never talked to me again and convinced another friend that I had just replaced them with my new partner.
Which, as I said, I had explained a hundred times, I had not.
Thats when everything just went downhill even more. My partner pushed me into doing things I didn't want, and I was too in love and too scared to tell him no. He told me that he wanted to try and stop smoking, which was great, of course, but he became aggressive and took it all out on me. Don't get me wrong, he never lay a hand on me, but I think we all know that often words can hurt more than any hit and punch ever could.
He blamed me for not supporting him, blamed me that I was the reason he'd even attempted to stop smoking because I had terrorized him with it (all I did was mention once or twice that I was worried for his health).
He knew he was hurting me and how unfair it was, but he didn't care.
At some point he started smoking again, which, by the time, almost was a relief.
However, he always was someone to talk himself out of everything and blame everyone but himself. He couldn't admit that he just couldn't do it.
So when he started to smoke again he said 'I'm not gonna smoke more than four cigarettes a day anyway'. I told him that was a promise he wouldn't be able to keep, but he insisted. So I made a bet with him, hoping that, once he'd lose it, he'd realize that making empty promises was just not going to work: let's see how long he'd be able to stick to four cigarettes a day.
A couple of weeks.
When he decided to smoke more again, he told me that I couldn't tell him how much he could smoke and I reminded him that I never did; I just made that bet to show him that he was making promises he couldn't keep to somehow shed a better light on himself, make himself feel better, whatever. He complained I could've just told him that, to which I said I had. Several times, but he insisted.
So that was cleared, though he still brings it up in every fight as some half-assed attempt to blame me for something, anything, I guess.
I'm not saying I did everything right.
But I'm not gonna take the responsibility for the shit he does.
He was cold, distant, then again friendly and almost clingy.
At that point he was diagnosed with borderline, and I told him that it was okay. I'd support him however I could.
He started to smoke weed more and more at that point, but at least he didn't when I was around. He knew that I hate how he changes when he's stoned.
The following months (years, really) were an endless spiral of taking care of his problems, him getting into a mountain of debts for buying games with money he just didn't have, lost his job, twice, and just a bunch of empty promises, he would just lay on his bed playing games on his Playstation and I'd sit next to him feeling benched and like I could just disappear and he wouldn't give a damn.
Then his best friend moved into the same town and suddenly he spent every day with him.
Told me that he hadn't seen him in so long (he went to meet three days a month when he still lived way further away) and I just had to accept that he was going to spend every day with him for the time being.
I told him that all I wanted was that he'd get his ass out of his bed for once and go out with me, or at least just put his controller aside and acknowledge the fact that I even exist.
Some time later I went to a day clinic because burnout, depression, yada yada, to get my problems under control. In all this time he never supported me.
Fast forward several months he tried to kill himself and was brought to a clinic where he suddenly changed so much. He talked, he spent his time going on walks with me or cooking or playing ball games with the other patients. He told me that he had finally realized that he had been living in a dream world where everyone would take care of him and he understood that it couldn't go on like that.
I was so damn proud of him, he started to be like the open, friendly and funny man I had fallen in love with again.
And then yesterday.
He was trying to remove a piercing he wasn't supposed to remove and apparently it was some thing that could only be removed my the piercer (which does make sense, imo).
He was so frustrated he closed the bathroom door in my face when I asked him if I should help.
When he had calmed down I calmly told him that I'd like him to tell me if he wants to be alone and not just slam the door on me.
He went right back to his old habit of making excuses, blaming others, blaming the circumstances and being offended.
Then he told his best friend to hide everything sharp and pointy and I told him to call the clinic if he's worried he might hurt himself again.
I had to go at that point (or rather, he told me to go because he wanted to go to the city with his best friend) and asked him to keep me updated, to which he agreed.
Never got a message since.
So much for keeping me updated.
Then the vet told me today that my cat would have to be put sleep as her kidneys are failing and there's nothing that can be done to help her.
She's been with me since I was a child, she's like a little sister to me and now I have to say goodbye. I'm not ready for this... I'll never be.
I called him, hoping that he'd just for once support me instead of expecting me to support him. He didn't even pick up, and I know he always has his phone with him.
I'm so hurt, I feel so betrayed and alone, I've always put him first, always supported and helped him, always given him another chance, and he can't even be there for me this one time.
I can't be strong anymore, I feel like my life's breaking apart piece by piece and no matter how hard I try and how much I do, whenever I fix one thing, the next thing breaks.
I just needed to leave this somewhere, I don't even know why, but maybe writing it down will somehow help me...
Sorry for the long rant.
The past three years were nothing but an endless fight.
It all started shortly after my partner and I came together; my great-grandmother died after years of battling cancer. We were very close, always had a deeper kind of understanding each other, despite the several decades of age between us. She was one of the most important people in my life, and then she was just gone.
Shortly after, I started to slip into a dark spiral of exhaustion, depression, helplessness... Got diagnosed with a burnout and had to give up my job to get out of that hole.
That's when my best friend, who was like a sister for me, dropped me because we were, quoting, "never going out and doing fun stuff together anymore".
I spent weeks on explaining that I just didn't have the strength to do anything right now, that I just, after countless times of helping her with her problems, needed her help now.
She never talked to me again and convinced another friend that I had just replaced them with my new partner.
Which, as I said, I had explained a hundred times, I had not.
Thats when everything just went downhill even more. My partner pushed me into doing things I didn't want, and I was too in love and too scared to tell him no. He told me that he wanted to try and stop smoking, which was great, of course, but he became aggressive and took it all out on me. Don't get me wrong, he never lay a hand on me, but I think we all know that often words can hurt more than any hit and punch ever could.
He blamed me for not supporting him, blamed me that I was the reason he'd even attempted to stop smoking because I had terrorized him with it (all I did was mention once or twice that I was worried for his health).
He knew he was hurting me and how unfair it was, but he didn't care.
At some point he started smoking again, which, by the time, almost was a relief.
However, he always was someone to talk himself out of everything and blame everyone but himself. He couldn't admit that he just couldn't do it.
So when he started to smoke again he said 'I'm not gonna smoke more than four cigarettes a day anyway'. I told him that was a promise he wouldn't be able to keep, but he insisted. So I made a bet with him, hoping that, once he'd lose it, he'd realize that making empty promises was just not going to work: let's see how long he'd be able to stick to four cigarettes a day.
A couple of weeks.
When he decided to smoke more again, he told me that I couldn't tell him how much he could smoke and I reminded him that I never did; I just made that bet to show him that he was making promises he couldn't keep to somehow shed a better light on himself, make himself feel better, whatever. He complained I could've just told him that, to which I said I had. Several times, but he insisted.
So that was cleared, though he still brings it up in every fight as some half-assed attempt to blame me for something, anything, I guess.
I'm not saying I did everything right.
But I'm not gonna take the responsibility for the shit he does.
He was cold, distant, then again friendly and almost clingy.
At that point he was diagnosed with borderline, and I told him that it was okay. I'd support him however I could.
He started to smoke weed more and more at that point, but at least he didn't when I was around. He knew that I hate how he changes when he's stoned.
The following months (years, really) were an endless spiral of taking care of his problems, him getting into a mountain of debts for buying games with money he just didn't have, lost his job, twice, and just a bunch of empty promises, he would just lay on his bed playing games on his Playstation and I'd sit next to him feeling benched and like I could just disappear and he wouldn't give a damn.
Then his best friend moved into the same town and suddenly he spent every day with him.
Told me that he hadn't seen him in so long (he went to meet three days a month when he still lived way further away) and I just had to accept that he was going to spend every day with him for the time being.
I told him that all I wanted was that he'd get his ass out of his bed for once and go out with me, or at least just put his controller aside and acknowledge the fact that I even exist.
Some time later I went to a day clinic because burnout, depression, yada yada, to get my problems under control. In all this time he never supported me.
Fast forward several months he tried to kill himself and was brought to a clinic where he suddenly changed so much. He talked, he spent his time going on walks with me or cooking or playing ball games with the other patients. He told me that he had finally realized that he had been living in a dream world where everyone would take care of him and he understood that it couldn't go on like that.
I was so damn proud of him, he started to be like the open, friendly and funny man I had fallen in love with again.
And then yesterday.
He was trying to remove a piercing he wasn't supposed to remove and apparently it was some thing that could only be removed my the piercer (which does make sense, imo).
He was so frustrated he closed the bathroom door in my face when I asked him if I should help.
When he had calmed down I calmly told him that I'd like him to tell me if he wants to be alone and not just slam the door on me.
He went right back to his old habit of making excuses, blaming others, blaming the circumstances and being offended.
Then he told his best friend to hide everything sharp and pointy and I told him to call the clinic if he's worried he might hurt himself again.
I had to go at that point (or rather, he told me to go because he wanted to go to the city with his best friend) and asked him to keep me updated, to which he agreed.
Never got a message since.
So much for keeping me updated.
Then the vet told me today that my cat would have to be put sleep as her kidneys are failing and there's nothing that can be done to help her.
She's been with me since I was a child, she's like a little sister to me and now I have to say goodbye. I'm not ready for this... I'll never be.
I called him, hoping that he'd just for once support me instead of expecting me to support him. He didn't even pick up, and I know he always has his phone with him.
I'm so hurt, I feel so betrayed and alone, I've always put him first, always supported and helped him, always given him another chance, and he can't even be there for me this one time.
I can't be strong anymore, I feel like my life's breaking apart piece by piece and no matter how hard I try and how much I do, whenever I fix one thing, the next thing breaks.
I just needed to leave this somewhere, I don't even know why, but maybe writing it down will somehow help me...
Sorry for the long rant.
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