Tag: Meth

Update on nothing

Once again, I start something with lots of idealistic commitment goals – aaand disappear. I actually used to have an online thing through another site years ago, chronicling the day to day craziness of my methy life and I managed to keep that up till the site went down, so Ill get into a good rhythm here. Like anything else, just takes time & practice.

So, COVID 19. Messed up. My work is considered essential so my routine has basically stayed the same, just with more sanitizer and less impulsive spending. Still see my son on the weekends so that’s the main thing. My mom’s been having a bit of a rough patch health wise though, so thats been hard, and pretty scary sometimes. Not ready to go into details on that though.

Another tough thing is the lack of appointments with my son’s SLP. He’s been making some progress and I dont want him to regress too much (I know some is inevitable) We learned a couple new signs though – “help” and “why”. Id see him struggling with something, and half the time he’d get angry if I asked if he wanted some help, the other half Id keep quiet and he’d get mad because he couldnt do it… Now he’s starting to ask for help using the sign so that puts some of the control back in his hands, so to speak.

The “why” is so important though … I keep telling him there’s so much to learn about things that we dont always think to explain, and that him asking or signing “why” will let us know when he wants to know more. Fingers crossed, Im really gonna work on that one this weekend!

One of the downsides to waiting so long between writing, is that there’s so much to write that it just feels scattered and messy and too much… So Im gonna leave it at this, and try to get myself more mentally focused.

Gaslighting

I was reminiscing earlier… My son’s dad used to be my best friend. It was a relationship I never thought could happen, and when it did I fell head over heels. He was my Ever After. We promised eachother that drugs wouldnt ruin our relationship. We werent like the others – yes, after a couple years we could admit we were addicts but our love was stronger than our addiction.

Even when things were falling apart – our fighting, the accusations…his hallucinations and psychosis, all the lies… All that and I still believed we could make it. Because as long as some small part of me could still believe that a small part of him might still love me, I would fight for us. He told me once he never wanted to date a junkie. And I never picked up a needle. Didnt seem to stop him, though.

Then there were all those times when Id be crying in the bathroom as quietly as possible so I wouldnt wake him up, because I didnt want to make him angry by making him feel guilty. Those times when Id call hospitals after he’d disappear for a few days and he’d accuse me of invading his space. Or when he tried to burn down the house because the voices wouldnt stop screaming. Maybe if I could just love him enough, I could make the voices stop. After all, at first he never heard them around me. I was his safe place where the hallucinations couldnt get to him. Until something about me changed. I must have done someyhing to make him not feel safe with me anymore.

I didnt really start to understand the term “gaslighting” until a year or so after we broke up. Thats about when I started to realize that no one should ever have to apologize (Im talking a hysterical, sobbing, begging him not to leave kind of apologizing) for getting upset when their bf admits to sleeping with & having feelings for a mutual friend that was crashing on your couch. How dare I not consider how hard it was on him – and god forbid I get angry at seeing this person day after day after day, hearing the lies they were telling you about me that you were believing while I cry alone in our room just praying that Ill figure out why Im not good enough and maybe Ill be able to fix myself and you’ll love me again. I miss being the type of person you wanted to fall asleep next to.

Then there was the day after our son was born. I was stuck at the hospital for 3 hours after getting discharged, trying to track him down because he left me there sometime in the night, and I didnt want to leave without getting his name on the birth certificate. But I was the one in the wrong, calling a bunch of friends & family like a creep, making them think he was a jerk for leaving me at the hospital. Why couldnt I be more understanding of the fact that he was feeling anxious and needed space?

Somehow I dont think Im quite “over it” yet.