Tag Archives: Personal Life

Pushing Them Away

It occurred to me a few days ago that I’ve driven away most of my friends and I can tell you now, that’s not a good feeling.

Over the years, I’ve had a lot of friends, from school to high school, from college and university to different jobs. I can tell you now that I am only friends with one of the people I knew in primary/junior school. From high school, I’m friends with about 3 people still and even then we don’t talk as much as we used to.

When I went to college I met a whole loaf of new people and while I’m friends with some of them still we don’t talk or see each other as much as we used to. Then when I moved away to university I met so many amazing people, the kind of people that you just know you’ll know for the rest of your lives… and I messed up.

I entered what would be the darkest time of my life, I took so much for granted and took a lot of wrong turns, a lot of which I regret now. I pushed everyone away, I entered my own bubble and now there’s only me.

The people I thought would be my friends through life now do everything without me. They all stayed connected from different parts of the country, they all enjoy things together. I know it’s not their fault and I’m trying to reconnect, I’m trying to improve my friendships and I’m trying to fix it.

I’m trying to better myself.

My Experience With Time

Time heals all wounds

It’ll get better

All you need is time.

Those are phrases I’ve used in conversations to friends that have been hurting. Those are phrases I’ve said out loud to people, but what if I don’t believe them. What does that make me?

I’ve always tried to be a person of comfort, I’ve always prided myself in being a good friend, maybe I’ll go a while without talking but nevertheless my friends know I’m there for them, through it all.

Yet, when I tell people it’s all going to be okay, I’m a liar. I’m a liar because I don’t think time does heal all wounds. I think that those wounds will always be vulnerable and fragile, and that they’ll open at a moments notice.

One thought, one song or a phone call and everything I know could come crumbling down. There’s absolutely nothing I can do to control it, it’s all part of human nature and coupling those realities with severe anxiety results in my constant stream of depression and panic attacks.

I’ve been wanting to write about this for a little while, but I could never find the right way to phrase it, and today after a brief cry I finally figured it out. I had to just do it.

When I was fourteen I lost someone, I lost my best friend, I lost a part of me, I lost all hope when my Nanna died. Still to this very day, 11 years on, I cry, I cry like it happened yesterday, I cry like I was at her funeral only this morning. Every single time, and I mean every single time I hear the song that was played at her funeral I break, something inside of me snaps and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Every version of the song, no matter who sings it, those lyrics will be burned into my memories forever. I remember the exact lyric the exact moment in the song that they closed that curtain and she was gone forever. I remember everything I felt that day, I remember waking up with such fear and such dread that I couldn’t move. I remember sitting in the crematorium with my dad to my left and my cousin to the right. I remember seeing the look on my mums face, I remember the atmosphere and I remember feeling empty. It hurts me so much and to this very day I can not forget it… and I don’t ever expect to, it’s something I have to live with.

When I was sixteen I got my first boyfriend, and I’d like to say he was sweet and thoughtful but he wasn’t, I just didn’t know any better. He was my worst enemy. My life for those 11 months was a constant stream of endless nightmares. It was because of him that I drove away all of my friends, it was because of him that I almost lost my family. It’s because of him I have nightmares still, almost 10 years later. He threatened me, he hurt me and left me with emotional scars. I remember the feeling of his hand around my throat, I remember the panic of the moment I grabbed my shoes and ran for my life out of the fear that he was following me. My feet pounding on the ground in the rain trying to get away. I remember exactly where I was and what day it was when I told him it was over and he told me he was going to come to my place of work, jump over the counter and slit my throat. That night I had to call my mum to pick me up from work, because I couldn’t leave there alone. Even now, I’m scared, I’m scared that he’ll find me, that one day it won’t just be a nightmare anymore.

Life is full of hard times, and I’m by no means saying that my experiences are worse than someone else’s. Everyone copes differently, everyone deals with things in their own way and I… I don’t know how to deal with death, I don’t know how to deal with pain and hurt in this capacity.

As an atheist I don’t believe in a god, I don’t believe in heaven or in hell, but I am afraid of death. I am terrified that one day it’s going to be over for me, this thought overwhelms me to the point where I can not breath, where I am afraid to be inside of my own head. I need to believe there is something other than nothing at the end, but I can’t.

In the end, it’s mother nature’s twisted tale that tell us all when it’s over, when it’s time.

I’m not alone

For the longest time I thought I was the only one. The only one having weird, unexplainable things going on.

Ever since I was little, I’ve always woken up, or so I’m told, screaming and muttering on about a hanging rope or a hand. But I never recall any of it until I’m told what happened. I used to share a room with my twin growing up, so when I was “awake”, so was she. These episodes scared my whole family. They never knew what to do. And neither did I. But how can you try to fix something you can’t even explain or remember? You can’t.

One episode stands out to me the most. I was staying the night at my grandmothers when it happened. I was upstairs sleeping in one of the many guest rooms. I woke up screaming bloody murder. It woke up my grandmother and she came in to check on me. Only, I wasn’t in the bedroom where I had started my episode. She looked in every room and couldn’t find me. She finally came down to the basement and found me standing in the middle of the dark room with my eyes wide open in terror and tears streaming down my face. I don’t remember any of this.

From age 14 to about 21 my episodes has stopped. I thought I out grew them. My sister and I decided to move in together with a close friend. That’s when it started again. One of the firsts nights in the new house, I woke everyone up with a blood curdling scream. My sister knew exactly what was going on. When she came into my room, I was staring at the ceiling l, pointing and saying “the rope! The rope! The rope!” Repeatedly. Again, I remember none of this. She took my blanket and covered my face with it so I didn’t have to see it anymore. It still happens from time to time.

Thinking I was the only one who had this problem made me feel crazy. But I met someone who goes through it. Now I don’t feel so alone.

I wish I could make it stop. I wish I could figure out why it started happening in the first place. But, this is just something I’ll have to live with until my brain decides to stop playing nasty games with me. At least I’m not alone.

Drink, Drugs and Depression

I’m just going to keep the title plain and straight to the point.
It started pretty light, I moved away from home for university, met a load of new people, started smoking and then it escalated*.

I’d never really done anything more than underage drinking when I was younger, sure I’d tried a few cigarettes here and there when I was in school, had to keep up with the cool kids, but that soon fizzled out as it wasn’t something that interested me and I decided I’d rather spend my £3 a day dinner money on food rather than paying the extortionate 50p or £1 per cig that kids charged.
Following that, when I hit 16 and left school I entered into what ended up being an abusive relationship with my first boyfriend who I met through some friends. We all used to go out drinking – sometimes just on a nearby field with a bottle of vodka and some WKD, telling our parents we were staying at each others houses – and if I could do it all again, I wouldn’t. Thankfully that ended when I was 17, after 1 year and 2 months.
Then when I turned 18, I did what every 18-year-old did after finally hitting the legal drinking age, I went out with my friends, I experienced clubs and pubs and I went to house parties – proudly flashing my ID to show I was old enough to be there. It was there that I started smoking socially and only when drinking.

Fast Forward a year, I got into university, which meant that I was moving away from home, and I did so in 2012. I moved into a student accommodation, a small single room with an en suite bathroom – let’s face it, I was never going to share a bathroom with anyone. I bonded with my flatmates on the first night and we gradually grew our friendship group with others in the building and soon we were this huge group of people from all walks of life, all bonding and experiencing these new things together. There was drama, there were laughs and tears, there was love and hate… and soon drugs and more drugs – and one time we put a flashbang in a box of Cheerios.

When it began, I remember the night quite clearly, I’d went into one of my friends rooms where others were already gathered listening to music and just chatting. There was a joint being passed around and when it got to me I took it and the rest is history. I’m not sure why I remember the night so clearly, as I usually have a pretty terrible memory. From then I just smoked weed with my friends on a night after classes, we used to get together in someone’s room skin up, play games and watch TV – It doesn’t sound like much, but in the rooms on those nights we all bonded with each other.

I’m not sure what came next in my timeline, but I’m pretty sure it was a couple of legal highs. The one I distinctly remember was called ‘Dust Til Dawn’ it was a cocaine substitute, a fine white powder that you snorted. There was a small group of us that took it, it was totally different experience, it didn’t feel like much at the time, but it was. We were sat in the dark with a lava lamp on, playing two specific games on PS3, one was ‘Flower’ and the other ‘The Unfinished Swan.’ Everything was slow, visuals and colours were enhanced and we didn’t really say much, it was calming in a sense. No one is 100% sure how long we were in the room for, but overall myself and one of my friends didn’t sleep for 72 hours and didn’t eat for 36 hours. That was the only time we did it.

Then without much thought behind it we switched to real cocaine, it didn’t have to be a special occasion, just whenever we felt like it. It could be for a night out, or just a quiet night in. Not going to lie, I liked it (When I’d got together with my then boyfriend we once got 2g in, gathered a load of blankets and pillows in the living room and just had a night in). It was different for me, it wasn’t a drug I’d go out on, it didn’t have the energetic effect on my that it seemed to have on everyone else – although, I did once, go out with some, and do some lines in the toilets of a club with my best friend.

My favourite however had to be MDMA
Which was the only one I was cautious about before I took it, it was the only one I looked up online before taking it, this was primarily because I’d heard some horror stories when I was younger about it. The one I remember was during a drug safety talk at school, it was a video of a house party, they’d all taken it in pill form and a girl got so dehydrated from it she drank and drank and drank and drank water until she eventually drowned herself. In the end I decided to give it a go.
After taking it, it was simply a waiting game, it took about 30 minutes for it to take effect and when it did it was non stop movement, I was zooming around the house, I was talking really fast, interacting with everyone I came across, I was seeing lights brighter than before, I was feeling happy and energetic, I was blissful.
The comedown on the other hand wasn’t nice, it was a slow transition to sleepy and worn out – which is understandable considering all of the energy I probably used.

Another experience I had was acid (LCD). It was something that friend has acquired off the dark web, why not, I’d tried everything else. I’m not sure if it was legitimate acid or not, because it didn’t produce any of the same effects pop culture describes, it was weird. There were hallucinations but I can’t remember much more than that – I remember we’d all agreed prior to dropping, that we wouldn’t go outside… obviously I ended up outside, sitting on the step of the house I’d moved into with 5 of my friends, every car that approached no matter what size or what speed I saw blue and red flashing lights, it wasn’t until it’d actually passed me that I realised it wasn’t a police car. I remember seeing people in dark hallways, screaming and running, only to find that they were in the room I’d run to and not lingering in the hallway. I remember the comedown quite well, I was in my bed, I’d woken up after a couple of hours sleep, I remembered thinking ‘That’s it, it’s over’ then I looked to my Breaking Bad poster and it was moving – it wasn’t over. This happened a few times, and I thought it was never going to end, it was always going to be like that, but eventually the posters stopped moving and everything went back to normal.

When my then boyfriend and I broke up, I sunk into a pretty deep depression, and I turned to drugs to help me. I had a gram of coke left over and half a bottle of tequila – that was me for the following 48 hours, I did some shots, I did some lines and I smoked some weed. It eventually got to a point where my friends were seriously worried about me, they’d told me later down the line that it’d got so bad that they had to make sure someone was with me most of the time, just in case. It was awful to hear that, because in my eyes it had never gotten that bad, but it had.

That was the last time I’d done anything harder than smoke weed – which I also quit eventually and I am now, as of 2018, 1 year drug sober and I have never been happier. There are still times when I feel down and times when I just want to be by myself, but no matter what corner I turn or what dump I fall into my knight in shining armor is always there to rescue me and to him I say thank you.

(*I’m not condoning or promoting drug use, this is simply a review of my experiences.)

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