Throwaway – I need to just write
I’d been drinking since 16 casually, but took it to another level when I turned 21. I’d always had a hard time navigating and managing my love and sexual life healthily, and fell in love wholeheartedly for the wrong people- letting them destroy me, and in turn destroying them as my addiction grew stronger.
I met a guy online when I was 20, and knew him pretty extensively. He traveled to my state to meet someone-but when that fell through met me instead. We spent two nights together and they were the best nights of my life until that moment. Casual drinking,walks around the city,sex & I’d never had so much fun or been so infatuated with a boy or a man. I was in ignorantly head over heels.
He left and lived 2,000 miles away after the short irl fling & communication faded for some months but was still flirtatious. I was single, depressed and pouring my heart into my work to avoid the sadness of missing him. I wasn’t drinking much at this time, but I was a bartender, so it was casual for me to engage occasionally.
Fast forward a few months later, he asked me to be his roommate among other friends we’d known online. I’d never been more excited in my life to leave my state and live alone and far away, even more independently than before. I was so elated and had high hopes.
Was lots of traveling and settling but when everything was said and done, things were great for a while. I lived with my best friends & and the dynamics were amazing for a large number of roommates in a large house for a while.
Of course one of my biggest hopes of this experience was to finally see again in person & hopefully rekindle my relationship with guy .
It happened almost immediately, and we continued to have casual sex for a few months as roommates (NOT SMART, we both knew this but continued regardless)
As you can imagine this was severely mindfucking to us both, we were hiding it from our other roommates, sneaking around & it wasn’t a healthy dynamic. He recognized this sooner than me, I didn’t. He’s older, and had just gotten out of a relationship & as it grew more casual to him, it of course grew more serious for me.
The party scene & clubbing for the first times in my life were some of the best memories I’ve had, and the scene around us was prominent. I started drinking more and more, the occasional recreational weed & shrooms but nothing I wasn’t already used to. The alcohol was just always around, a staple.
Eventually, and inevitably probably, my roommate did not desire me anymore. It happened in a really slow traumatic and painful way since there was an ex lover involved again with him, and in his eyes I turned to useless dust. I didn’t know until later of all the lying and two timing but I should’ve expected knowing he was a particularly promiscuous person.
This is when I fully gave up on my life, and gave into the bottle. At this point all of my previous mental illness I’d been working hard to suppress with meds, hospitalizations & therapy came back full force. It’s been a battle my whole life, but my mind shattered then
I was stuck in a house with someone I loved who didn’t love me. I barely left my room. I neglected my other amazing friends whom I loved around me, also in the house. I couldn’t socialize normally with them without shaking or being manic. My paranoia, anxiety & depression became so extreme I was scared to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t see him around the house without running away and crying. I realized I was weak, and not as strong as I once was. I gave up on working, couldn’t even bring in enough money to pay the rent. I was hoarding alcohol and drinking from the moment I woke up, because I couldn’t leave my room without feeling at least more than a little buzzed.
Then I started doing stupid drunk angry depression shit at the expense of others (punching walls, etc.) realistically I was a nightmare of a roommate but I had redeeming qualities to be kept around long enough.
I still tried to be a good person, and care for my friends around me who tried so hard to help me, but I kept falling short. I supported them best I could and for the most part I was able to still sustain some of these friendships and relationships. I knew I was strong and capable enough to break the cycle, but it only could’ve been possible if I moved away, which was the last thing my heart ever wanted to do.
I’d always sit in my room alone and cry, drinking & just writing plans on how to be better but never following through. As more drama occurred in the house and bled into my life, it only kept getting worse. I knew what I had to do, kick the shit and stop, work harder, support my friends, be financially independent and be happy. I just couldn’t move an inch in that direction.
The biggest guilt is I didn’t try hard enough for myself. By the end, I’d destroyed all of my relationships & had a DUI.
I’ve been sober 6 months, I’m on my own and doing just fine again surface level, starting to be financially successful and working hard now that I’m away, great distractions.
I get angry a lot still because I want to blame my own alcoholism on the trauma I was put through by this man, both physically and mentally. it’s hard to navigate what’s your fault if there’s a specific catalyst that isn’t you, but you yourself become the match.
Another regret is that when I became this careless monster, the people who loved me and cared still saw a glimmer of who I truly was and what I was capable of -but they never fully got to know me before I turned, and there’s no chance for redemption, so they’ll probably still never know the real me. I still love and miss them, even the one who fucked me over. I want to apologize but I feel silence is better for everyone.
The most realistic fucked up lesson I’ve learned from all of this is yes, life is this cruel, and if you can’t swing, you’re out. I’m very glad I didn’t end up giving up, but came very close with multiple attempts.
Being sober is feeling shameful but I’m healing.