You have heard the expression "it's better to have loved and loss, than never to have loved at all."
Lies, what folk often forget is the psychological and emotional toll that multiple failed relationships have on people, each one chips away at your mental health and adds baggage that stays with you for most of your life.
I have no idea what day it is today but I start each morning with tears flooding my face and a crippling desire to not exist anymore. I'd like to drop my life story here on the offhand that someone, somewhere, reads this and can relate with me on some level - throwaway for good measure, brace yourself for a really long read, location: UK/NO
Early life:I was lucky enough that my family could afford to place me in a posh school for pretentious wizards. Unfortunately this education was wasted on me as my depression unwillingly began when I was thirteen years old, yet I could not comprehend what depression was at this age. I was also addicted to the video game: world of warcraft (WoW). Both the cloudyness of being down and the constant thought of when can I get home for my 'fix' left me void of motivation to partake in education.
University life: I had zero social skills due to 200+ days I had racked up in WoW but somehow managed to land a girl from a club, let's call her X, X was half British and half Norwegian, she was shy, family orientated and equally inexperienced in life. We did nothing but watch TV, the rest of this chapter is boring, let's fast forward.
UK worklife: Through the aid of a lecturer I scored a job working for a top US ISP in a data centre 5 hours north where I lived, the city was dirty and work gave me crippling anxiety. When you're anxious + depressed your judgement is clouded, colors are less vivid and all food tastes the same. I constantly made elementary mistakes which only made the anxiety and depression worse, I never focused in school and the stimulation from gaming destroyed my attention span. Four years past and although she never vocalize these words, X really wanted to start a family. X was also an engineer and quite intelligent. We had spontaneous intercourse one night and later I worried it could lead to a pregnancy, she reassured me it was impossible on her current cycle. I return after a twelve hour night shift to discover a positive pregnancy test, prominently left on the bathroom counter. I was twenty one years old with no life experience, shocked and dismayed, did I even love X or did I simply love the security a relationship brings? I push for an abortion and she reluctantly agrees (I know, I'm an asshole). Things get weird, nothing is familiar anymore. I'm tired of my job, hate the dirty city and pose the idea to X that we move to Norway, she's fluent, I'm lost, what could go wrong?
Grand adventure: I got a job for another US tech company before leaving UK, we travel to Oslo with our possessions and Gandalf the dog and ferry and drive our way across UK, up Denmark and across to Norway. I did not integrate well, mostly my fault and the fact we moved based on a semi ultimatum. X is unemployed for 6 months. We had been dating six years at this point, I had an emerald engagement ring. X finally gets a programmer job but cheats on me with the guy twice her age who mentored her. I spiral hard, new country, confused, lost, heartbroken, they speak great English in Norway but I didn't know any Norwegian and this blew my anxiety and depression up. I drink for a week straight. I got into bitcoin and crypto mining as a hobby before it exploded, then I discovered this could be used to buy narcotics off the darkweb.
Twenty six years old and I'd never touched a cigarette or drugs other than alcohol. I buy benzodiazepines off the darknet. This opened the floodgates as it temporarily cured my 'issues' and my quest was to try the rest.
V: Before online dating turned to shit I met V, half Norwegian half American, lots of fun, I kept up the drug routine and expanded my desk draw with a variety of disassociatives, psychadelics, depressants and stimulants. I wanted to move to California with V as our vacations there were eye opening, I got denied after roughly 150 job applications, serendipitously I got a targeted email from a renowned tech company doing R&D work in the video conferencing market, dream company and dream job, depression and anxiety prevail. V and I still had fun but I went crazy and occasionally psychotic. I pushed V away and we split and then realised I was back to square X, this prompted my first suicide attempt using a litre of sambuca, 50mg diazapam and a gram of mdma in the hopes my organs would cook whilst I was in a benzo sleep state, I took the pills and put the bottle to my head, I passed out before I could reach for the mdma baggy. I woke up in hospital ICU 36 hours later. When I woke the first thing I tried to do is strangle myself with the beeping machines power cable, staff intervened and I was placed in a psych ward for a while.
The dream: The job was perfect, I should be happy, I was under qualifyied but these people enjoy the stories and bullshit I spew in interviews. Two years pass, nothing changes, I'm lonely, abuse takes over. Usual life is pointless angle, I've tested all the drugs at this point except opioids. I order heroin with the sole intention of permanent overdose. No toleranse I snort there entire bag, I sink into my bed, no, further, I sank through the ground and down into the earth's crust. It felt horrible. A part of me didn't want to die, just sleep forever, I call my Swedish friend and explain the overdose, he calls and ambulance.
Hell: I wake up in hospital very psychotic, everyone is trying to kill me, the walls are caving in and extremely colorful smoke floods the room, the tv gives reports of a male rapist and the possible suspect is me, I feel the hospital is in on the jig and see them trying to take DNA from me (blood) in an attempt to frame me for this non existed crime (why would Norwegian news be in English?). One night I escape, I run far but I don't know where I am or how to navigate the hospital, security track me down and escort me back to my bed. The next day a tall in stature, ripped, private security guard appears at my door. Yes! Finally protection from the nurses with no faces and the snipers outside that I've been ducking all week. Wrong, so, so, wrong, I later found out he was there to stop me escaping and to protect the staff from me. I cried in broad daylight when I figured this out. Doctors told me they ran MRI's in the extended duration I was unconscious to check for brain activity, no dignity left at this point. Fast forward, back to the psych ward, familiar faces.
Realization: I was staying in this country simply for the job yet I was still insanely depressed, lonely and no ambition to integrate with the knowledge of the fact that I'm here only because of X. I met another girl called Y, we bonded over drugs unfortunately, this is what my life has become, she was nice but attraction faded, we lived together for six months on and off, work was getting more intense I was making more mistakes due to the usual three things, Y had a hash smoking habit, we smoked a lot but I couldn't handle the pressure anymore and I decide to move back to England.
Familiar land: My tech job and incredible manager let me teleconference work from home for a bit whilst I landed on my feet. Problem is I never landed, I stayed with my mom for a bit, she has bipolar and schizophrenia. This is after my parents divorce, my dad was an esteemed doctor, saw the signs, tried his best but couldn't help as she did not believe there was a problem but everyone else is looking at the fucking huge elephant in the room - I'm talking about the mental health stigma, not my mom, she's only mildly obese. She is money obsessed, she divorced my dad for cash. She knew I had an engineer job and wanted me to fund renovations on the house she got from the 60/40 cash split in the divorce. I did not oblige, and called her irrational over some remarks she made. Her response was "well atleast I haven't been in as many psych wards as you" I got mad and flipped a table in the hall, nothing got damaged, heated reaction. She called the police on me for... not paying her lifestyle, or making noise. Anyway, her property her rules, the really friendly and pretty cool police obliged and drove me to my dad at a secret location due to being afraid of what my mom is capable of. I don't want to go down this road but my father lives a lot of secrecy and I could write a book on the psychology that binds his half of the family together.
New beginnings: I rush and find rented accommodation. Things seem good. I meet a new girl Z. Now Z is incredibly rude but I was attracted to her dark and dirty side. Relationship moves fast, she drunkenly says I love you multiple times but then forgets it happened at the two week mark. I meet her entire family, we argued over some trivial things, she also lived 80 minutes from my 'home', she broke it off after a pitiful six weeks. I make new guy friends and the next months go well. However, depression kicks in full drive, I can't focus, function, I just want sleep, or constant sleep? I order a bunch of oxy and heroin and this is attempt four (shan't speak of #three as it was really dumb). I nodded out and awake god knows how many hours later which is really confusing and at the time more depressing. I can't even off myself, how depressing is that! I was out for a very long period of time and developed a blood clot or some issue requiring ultrasounds and blood thinners on my leg. The next two months were painful.
Goodbye Tech: last October I just couldn't handle the stress, anxiety, guilt of underperforming, so on and so forth. So I yolo resigned and went travelling. I went through Japan and I went to one of my best friends who lives in Washington, US. I had an incredible time, my friend in US understands me on all levels but our time came to and end. I'm back home, the past three months have been spent laying in my bed, in my room, abusing myself with zero ambition to even search for a job whilst burning through my savings. These four walls will be the death of me. I'm in therapy once a week (by choice this time) and I self medicate because I'm not only an armchair psychologist, but also an armchair pharmacist.
There are many stories omitted from this quasi autobiography but consider it 8 easy steps to fuk your life. There's a scene in Fight Club where the plane Edward Norton is on takes off too sharply and collides with another plane and the passengers either get obliterated on impact or sucked into the void. I travel. When I do I play that scene in my head and cross my fingers. Death by a carriers negligence? Sympathy flows, you're almost a martyr somehow. Suicide - you're considered selfish. Thanks society.
Written on mobile so apologies for format, please let me know if this should be posted to other subs that maybe more relevant. I'm not expecting the answer or boat loads of support - I just wanted to vent.
Tl;dr: I have no real family, I have friends but I'm too introverted and depressed to do anything with them or join them for events. Every relationship implodes for a variety of reasons. I'm. So. Fucking. Lonely. Help. Me.
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