Life Beginnings Part 5


To recap from my last part, I had been doing a lot of drugs. Probably mostly acid. Doing acid or LSD, you have a lot of crazy thoughts. See lots of crazy things. I never had a really bad trip where I freaked out. But a lot of bad ones. Thinking back, I’m not sure now if being bipolar had any adverse effects or not. Few times I got very panicked, thought I was being followed. Thought everyone was watching me. Those were rough nights.
Had a good night where I sat in front of a party store for two hours watching people go inside. Apparently it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen because I laughed the whole time.
And one more item I figure I should add in, my grandfather passed away. That happened around the age of 16? I’m not sure. But it was yet another precursor to my high school madness.
Looking back over my life over the years, I began to notice a trend form. About every few years I had a manic cycle. Then fell into a depression following for what seems like forever.
And all of these events seem to have happened surrounding a death of a loved one. I don’t have one of those big families with countless relatives who’s name I don’t remember. Mine is very small. So when someone passes, it’s felt and taken hard. From what I can tell, these seem to be the events that trigger my mania. Then follows is the depression. It seems the closer I was to the relative, the longer the depression stayed with me.
Anyways, before my daughter was born I decided to move away from the crazy life I had lived. I knew if I had stayed there, I wouldn’t have lived a very long life. Probably be dead by now.
We moved to a small town. Barely 5k people. And I attempted to live a normal life for a change. It was a unfamiliar thing for me.
Normal. . What is normal?
I went about my days, doing the normal 9-5 work. Pretending none of the past events didn’t happen. Pretending I didn’t have anything wrong with me. At this point I had never taken any prescription drugs for anything. Hadn’t been diagnosed with any problems. Just thought I had a messed up childhood and life.
Those times after my daughter was born were nice. I almost thought there was a possibility of quiet. But sadly I was wrong. My first wife was a horrible person. I should have known better, friends told me not to stay. But I had my daughter now. I had to make it work. Things got gradually worse. My wife, one who had three years ago paid me for sex, started to get angry. She was used to having money. Money to do what ever she wanted. In our little town, that want happening.
So the arguments started. I hated my new quiet life. Only thing I had was coming back to my little girl. It pushed me into a deep depression. I stayed there for a few years. I knew I should have left, but didn’t care.
The only comical thing about all of it was the irony. To me, it was very symbolic. My wife was a bad. Our relationship was terrible. And to prove it…. Our anniversary for our wedding was 9/11. The worst event in American history. I always joked about the fact or marriage was the worst event in our history. Lol
Then the time finally came. My depression made me pull back so far I could have cared less what happened. Wife an I barely spoke. Only thing we still did on a normal basis was have sex. We all had lots of sex. Before and after we didn’t talk. Guess I must be good at one thing right.
Apparently I wasn’t good enough, she wanted a divorce. That triggered me again. It hit me hard. Mostly be sure I was losing my daughter, not my wife. I didn’t love her, never did. I started cutting again quite a bit. I explained it by stating I was working on my house. It needed duct repairs. For those who don’t know, heat ducts a re e made from sheet metal. Edges are very sharp. Well, the people at work believed that for a while. But after two months of it getting worse and still “working” on the same project I couldn’t keep that lie going. I tried cutting other areas less obvious, but it wasn’t the same. For some reason I needed it on my forearm. The legs just didn’t work for me. So after three months I stopped. It made my internal pain escalate. I tried to kill myself then with pills. Probably about three or four times. Obviously it didn’t work, so I kept trying different combinations. All I ever got was a bad stomach ache or slept a long time. As they say, all good things come to an end. So I said the hell with that place an moved to a bigger city. I was still close enough to see my daughter, but since it was bigger I could also party more. What made it even better, it was a college town.
But…that brings me to the end of this cycle of my life.


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