Life Beginnings Part 6


So I moved to a bigger city college town. I was newly single, had an okay job, and my mania was just starting to kick in. Life was feeling great from my point of view. And I’m sure you can guess what happened, I stopped taking my meds because I thought I was all better again.
My closer friends didn’t think so, but I didn’t really care. I was fine right.
I had a few buddies that I paired up with and pulled into my manic episodes. We started our drinking early in the day, right after work. We got out of work average time of 5:00 pm. But to have in five pitchers of beer by 8:00 pm was probably a bit much looking back on it.
We drank every night. Until we stumbled around, fell down, and finally to drive home.
As the days went on, the more I was drinking. It started taking me more to get drunk, and I was beginning to have higher mania episodes. I remember being told I drank for seven hours straight one night. I started with beer then moved to Bourbon. By the end of that night I passed out and ended up with alcohol poison. I slept for 3 days and didn’t wake up. Friends were scared I had died, after the third day of not hearing from me they broke in my house and forced me awake. That’s when I found out what happened. Got checked in to the hospital for another day. But that wasn’t enough for me.
I found more friends that partied even harder.
I got hooked up with a group that did drank, smoked weed, and did lots of cocaine. Wow did we ever party.
That’s when other needs kicked in. I made myself a private pact. I wanted to have sex with a many girls as I could in a one year time frame. I ended the year with somewhere in the neighborhood of 15-20? Not completely sure, there was a few I was only told about since I had no recollection of what so ever.
At some point I got a different job, can’t remember when, but it was a little nicer. Made a little more money. Meet more new people. My buddy ended up working with me there too. We got to hanging out with our coworkers. I started flirting with one of them too, of course. She was married. But unhappily married. We hung out a few times. Then I finally met her husband. He was a young punk. Taller but not in shape at all. Looked like a pear. One night his mom came out with us all. She was a little older, maybe 40? Hard to tell, I didn’t care. All I knew is she didn’t look bad. Specially after a few drinks. So one night after flirting with the wife, they left an it was just me an the mother. Yeah, I took her home too. She was pretty good too. We became fuck buddies for an anytime booty call. For those who don’t know, that’s a hey you busy? No? Ok, I will be over in ten minutes. We would have sex, then she went about the rest of her night. The best one was when we all went out and husband was out of town. It was just me, the wife, and her mother in law. Lol.
Every time her mother in law left the table or room, she would jump on me. I don’t think she knew I was screwing her. At the end of the night we dropped off her mother in law first because we were trying to keep it quiet, then we went to her house an had sex. Meanwhile, her mother in law texted me an asked me to come over. So…I finished up at the one place and wandered over there next. Thinking back, that is probably why the wife had gotten upset. Turned out, the mother in law was watching the wife’s kid the next morning. When she came in, I was still in the bedroom and my car was parked out front. Yeah, I think that was it.
After the wife was mad, I wanted even more sex. The mother in law started to get clingy. So I started not answering the messages or phone calls. I remember the last time she just came over and I said my phone was acting up. She was so crazy horny, she ended up staying the night. That was the last time we were together.
It was somewhere around here that I thought to myself, I should probably get some medication again. I went to a new dictor. Didn’t tell him much, just that I didn’t feel right an was depressed. I figured if I took some pills that were prescribed for me, maybe I could slow down a little. I was wrong. Very wrong. The new doctor was one of those pill doctors. Let’s try this amount, then a few weeks later, oh how about more? I ended up being on 75mg of paxil by the time it was over. No mood stabilization. I think this is what started sending me over.
All my life I had more female friends than male. I was a smooth talker. Lol. So I felt like my sex wasn’t enough, so I started having sex with them too. I had sex with four of them before I realized that I had lost a few along the way. It didn’t even dawn in me that having sex with them may cause issues.
There was so many nights I didn’t know how I had gotten places. So many nights I woke up in the courtyard of my apartments in the grass. Or on my floor. Our in my car. Or in someone else’s car. There was a lot of nights I woke up and couldn’t find my car. I had to call people I knew I went out with that night to track it down.
After endless nights of drinking and random sex, I could feel myself slipping away mentally. My mania progressing, and it started getting to a danger point. I was cutting again just because I wanted to. There was no release. Just wanted to see my blood. I tried killing myself probably five times. Lots and lots of pills.
The last time I had taken a very large amount of pills. Lots of alcohol. Lots of cutting. And finally I said the hell with it and got out the rope. I was pretty far gone that night, didn’t fully think about it. My ceiling wasn’t that high. And it didn’t have a lot of solid spots in it. I think I put like five holes in the ceiling before I found one that would support my weight. Falling out of the chair and hitting the ground four times had just pissed me off. The last time I pulled on it until I thought it was good.
I was in the chair, crying my eyes out, bleeding from both arms, and finally ready to end it. Just as I got up the courage to jump off. The police knocked on the door. I started getting scared. I was frozen in place. When I didn’t open the door, they kicked it in. Said an anonymous person had called in a disturbance. Needless to say, I was taken away and locked in a cell. I stayed there for three days. A cold, all white cell. I only had a pillow, no case because that could be dangerous is what I was told. A plain wool blanket, no edges sewn. And no sheets, just a vinyl pad.
The lights stayed on the entire time. I wasn’t ever let out. The only people I saw were the one guard who brought me food every day.
When my mom had to pick me up from jail and bring me back to my place was the ending point. To see her face when she looked around at all my blood. The rope still tied on the floor. It was all too much. That’s when I had an intervention with everyone. Friends and family. It was the worst day I’ve ever had. My best guy friend talked me into leaving the area. That it wasn’t safe for me anymore.
I’m not sure at what point it happened, but I has lost touch with my best girl friend from high school. I think it was somewhere along the failed marriage. Then as I started spiraling down, I just simply didn’t call her.
I may be wrong, I think I called her occasionally to fill her in on my escapades. But we lost our connection.  Yet one more reason I hate myself. She was always there for me.
Honestly some of what happened during that two year craze is fuzzy. I drank so much. Did so many drugs.
I regret so much. I know I hurt people along the way. But being bipolar I just didn’t care. The only one I cared about was my high school girl. I’m sure she will deny everything and say it’s fine. I can hear her now, no it never bothered me. We talk a lot now a days, which I will get to in time. But I’m still ten years behind now.
So my next step, the big move…
(To be continued)


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