Get ready for a long one

So, this is what has been happening to me lately. I'm going to be jumping around a lot, first I'll focus on friends throughout my life, then whatever else but I'll start back at the beginning. You'll see.
I'll start at the beginning, way back, in elementary school.

My mom used to be a full-time babysitter, and through her work is where I met my real friends when I was very young. I had 2 real friends at this point, Adam and Trillion. By second or third grade, Adam had moved and Trillion and I stopped talking, probably because Trillion became an ***. I didn't bother to replace them, I always knew real friendships came naturally, so I waited. I did have other friends, but none that I would hang out with after school or really talk to. I had plenty of relatives at home, and they were my friends when I was younger. But I really didn't care about anybody from my elementary school, that's what I'm really getting at. The friends I knew since birth were gone.

Middle school came around, and I was a weirdo child by then. Some of my family members moved out, but there were still either 5-6 in the house, depending on my brother who was a trouble maker. None of my friends from elementary school carried over to middle school, so I had to find a group to be with. I didn't have one at first, I would either walk around or find 1 person who was also lonely and do stupid things with him, like see what would happen if we tried to perform a slide tackle on someone on the asphalt (yeah, we did that, it ends with a nasty scrape). I eventually did find a group maybe half-way into 6th grade, and I stayed with them until the end of middle school. I hung around them a lot at school, but only twice outside of school. They weren't real friends; they made me walk around by myself whenever they wanted to talk about anything, because they didn't want me to be a part of their conversation. And they only enjoyed my company because I was a weirdo that did weirdo things, and it made them laugh. I met one of their brothers a few years later in high school, and he said, "David Parker?! I know you! my brother would talk about how crazy you were all the time!" That felt like a punch to the balls, especially when he started laughing at me after he talked. But yeah, that's that, I managed to go all through middle school without any friends I cared about.

After what happened in middle school, I was glad to be out of there and in high school, where I was hoping to find some real friends. But my freshman year, I really enjoyed time by myself a lot more. I grew paranoid around this time. I've had a a few too many friends show their true colors (Feucht point) to me, and I just didn't want to see anyone. I messed around with sympathy, and by that, I mean I told several people that I was depressed, and then suicidal, to see their reactions. It was like a science experiment to me. I thought it was fascinating how just by making **** up, I could get closer to people, and they would believe the made up ****! I get that they didn't want the suicidal kid to kill himself, but really, I wasn't. I was really happy. Just had a fresh start away from my old 'friends' and I was ready to spend the rest of my life alone. I didn't realize how hard it was to do that, though. I was so alone, and that's what I thought I wanted. By this time, there were only 4-5 people living in the house. Besides my parents, my sister Amy and I lived together, and if Nolan ever lived here then he did, too. He really jumped from house to house, more detail about him later. He needs his own section.

I lied. I did have a friend that I knew from 1st grade, but every time I count my friends, I miss him. Sometimes we have some problems, and lately we've been growing apart, so he wasn't around my entire life. But in high school, he was the only one I was really around because I was able to stay at his house for literally 90% of my life. I didn't like my house that much. Still don't. Anyway, my sophomore year was spent playing video games probably at his house, or by myself at my house. It was a boring year. This is also when my loneliness and everything else started to make me depressed and angry.

My junior year was the worst year in my life. I was extremely depressed (actually, this time) but I didn't trust anyone. I was also extremely paranoid, and I really did just want to die a lot of the time. I didn't see a point in life, and to be fair, I still don't. Even when I'm happy, I don't see a point in life, but I can never bring myself to actually commit suicide. I've thought about it long and hard, and I have actually come up with a way to slip unconscious before I die in my sleep, peacefully. I could have killed myself at any point, if I really wanted to. A lot of my life, all I did was take things from other people, and I was really elfish. Part of why I couldn't kill myself is because I knew how selfish I was and I wanted to make things right. Suicide is selfish. There are tons of people that care, and even if I don't count that, my parents took time and energy and love and they sacrificed so much for me. And besides all of that, there's only one chance to live. Some people out there have no choice and they'll die early, but I have a choice, and if I chose to die early I'd feel like I'm rubbing my balls on all of those people that had no choice. My body works, fine and I want to use it to help other people that need it. I can donate blood and my organs, but I'm not going to save the world by myself. I've come to realize that I'm only around because I make other people happy, and that's all I want to do for the rest of my life. I'm good at it and it's the only thing that actually makes me happy. But anyway, I've been really really dying for some sort of break from everything, because I haven't been carefree since the beginning of middle school.

My senior year is when I really wanted to get my life turned around, and I did. I started being more positive, talking to people, and I started the long process of scrubbing away my past. I met my three best friends that I'm never going to let out of my life because they were the first ones that I met when I started getting happy, and they were there for me because my transformation was far from over. My therapist praised me for how quickly I turned around, and for how much progress I made in only a few months. It was the best time of my life.

Fast forward to a few weeks after the year ended, I really started getting close to the one female best friend I had, and yes, we decided to date. But the problem was that she was going to be going on trips, and then moving to San Francisco shortly after those trips, but we decided to give it a shot even while she's in SF. Our time together/time apart ratio was maybe like 50:50, and it was hard dealing with the separation.

Anyway, on her last trip which was 3 weeks long, **** started to hit the fan for both of us. I was getting depressed and paranoid while she was gone, and she was having a hard time with the people she was staying with, her car got broken into and her wallet and phone were stolen, her grandpa died, on top of not seeing me at all to help. I felt useless, and she was going through hell. When she finally got back from her trip, the day after she got home we spent the day together and I noticed that she was getting more and more depressed, and later that night she broke up with me. At first, she didn't know why she was. She felt like it needed to be done. But then she pulled a reason out, and she broke up with me because she wanted to be alone. She wanted to sit in the corner and cry until she fell asleep, only to wake up and start over again. I wanted nothing more than to just be there for her, have her cry with me around so I could maybe be of use, and I really stressed that to her, but it was over. She would have stayed with me, but she was moving to San Francisco in a little less than 2 weeks, and she didn't know if she would be happier by then and she didn't want me to still be attached to her when she left because then we really wouldn't see each other. This all hurt even more because we didn't have to break up, but we did. And we both agreed to trying out a long-ish distance relationship, but she cut that off 2 weeks early. And this was right when she got back after 3 weeks of being gone. I finally got to be there for her, and then I felt like I was being forced to not care about her. We hardly talked for the next 2 weeks, she refused to say goodbye because she didn't feel like we were really leaving each other. Which really hurt, because I guess it was far enough away for us to break up, but not far enough away for her to just say goodbye. This is just how I feel about it, I'm not saying she's wrong, there's no arguing with emotion and this is just how I feel about it.

And now, I get to the reason why the time between when she got back to now, almost exactly 3 weeks later, was the worst time of my life, and why I am typing all of this up. This is all within a 3 week timeframe, starting with when I was broken up with to now.

Before I start, I found that there is no good place to put this in, but right when my ex left for 3 weeks, I sprained my left elbow pretty badly. I am still not able to use it after 6 weeks, and I have barely been using it for this entire time. My right arm is significantly larger than my left arm. This really got annoying because people would tell me, “oh you just need to find something you like to do.” It sucks because the one thing that I really love doing, rock climbing, I am unable to do. My knees are really bad and can barely handle walking, and my left arm is bad enough where I can hardly use it for anything.

This is where it might get disturbing, as I talk about some symptoms I was having that were really not nice.

So she was gone for 3 weeks, came back and dumped me, didn't say goodbye and all of that. So that's that. 3 weeks later, here I am.

When she first broke up with me, at the time I didn't realize it, but my anxiety medication was not working as planned. It was causing insomnia, extreme depression and suicidal thoughts. I was so extremely depressed from what I thought was the break up, I only found out they were side effects because about 2 weeks later, I started getting extreme diarrhea and stomach pains, along with an absolute zero appetite. I got less than 5 hours of ****** sleep per night for 2 weeks plus one day, and every day I had maybe a granola bar with water, sometimes more sometimes less. I called my therapist, and he said yeah stop taking those pills, we'll talk about it later but for now just quit those pills.

So I was hungry and tired. Still am. Ok, how could that get worse?

When I was broken up with, both of my best friends were busy, one with work and one was busy packing for moving away. My family members were going through their own crap, one was on a trip in Hawaii, and everyone I tried to talk to said that they weren't able to help. It was incredible. It got to the point where I just scrolled down my contact list and called everyone, literally no one talked to me. I had no one to talk to for nearly 3 weeks about any of this. It baffles me that I couldn't get one living soul to just say hi to me. I really wanted to talk to people just to get things off my mind, not anything really serious. On top of that, I had to say goodbye to one of my favorite 3, who moved to Kansas for school, my sister who moved to Santa Monica for school, a friend that went to Pittsburgh, and on that went to Colorado. Oh, and the one that broke up with me went to SF, too (we agreed to stay friends because we both still care about each other, it's a weird time I'm still trying to figure things out).

Hungry, tired, no one wanted to talk. Had to say goodbye a few too many times. What else?

Pretty much right on the 2 week mark, I started getting black diarrhea. That was alarming. I went to the hospital, and the fact that it was black made it clear that it was my stomach that was bleeding, not my intestines. The word 'ulcer' was thrown around a lot, but nothing was clear until my blood tests came back. A few days later, (First appt was on Saturday, this was on Monday), I went to the hospital for a 10 AM appt to discuss my blood results. Everything came back normal, but there was still blood. So next step was to get an Endoscopy, scheduled for Wednesday. Until that day, I was told to eat only soft food (this was RIGHT when my appetite came back, which is mega lame), and if I got dizzy at any point or light headed, go right to the ER because it could mean my stomach is bleeding a lot. I got home at around 11:30, and an hour later, I started getting really lightheaded. My mom took me to the hospital. The nurse started out by putting an IV in, and by nurse I really meant to say intern paramedic that didn't ever do this before. She went through my vein, and tried to put the catheter INTO my arm, not the vein. It's been almost a week and it STILL hurts to bend my arm. I was at the ER until about 4 that day, and my brother had to leave work to come pick me and my dad up, which took about 20 minutes.

So that day kind of just sucked. I was at the hospital for way too long.

Tuesday was boring and anxious because I didn't have anything to do except think about my upcoming Endoscopy. It was a really normal day other than depressed and hungry and really tired.

Wednesday morning, I had the operation. I woke up at 6 AM for no reason, did a bunch of things and then left for the hospital at 9 AM. I had to sit around for maybe 45 minutes while waiting for the doctor, but I was all alone in a waiting area. My mom had to leave my side at that point. Time didn't feel like it was moving for those 45 minutes. I was in a little curtained off area while I waited for an operating room to open up. I wasn't scared or nervous, really. I just was really bummed that I had to go through all of this. None of it was fun, and I haven't had fun or enjoyed a day at all these last 3 weeks. After the operation, when I finally woke up (they gave me medicine to relax, but it has a tendency to put you to sleep shortly after), I really wanted a cheeseburger. I dreamed of being able to eat whatever I wanted to, because I haven't been able to eat anything good for almost 3 weeks. My mom and I went to Five Guys, bought the food to go, when we came back out one of the car tires was popped so we had to walk home. I was really loopy and everything was confusing me. I met up with one of my friends, finally, and he wanted to go to the car wash. It took over an hour for his car to be washed because he bought the deluxe package that did everything, so we sat around waiting for the entire time wondering if his car was stolen because we couldn't find it anywhere. The day ended in frustration when another person really started to bug the ever living **** out of me with how stupid he is. Oh, and the operation revealed nothing wrong with my stomach. It was "just a virus or something" that made my stomach bleed for a few days.

Now onto my brother Nolan. First off, my family has a history of violence, anger problems and is known to everyone within the family as dysfunctional. Nolan has a very bad history with drugs and alcohol, violence, and the cops would be called to my door on a regular basis just to get him to calm down. He's been violent to everyone except me, he has stolen from my relatives, he basically kidnapped my mom and my sister at one point during the week, and that got my entire family to be mad at each other. Everyone was mad at each other, like it was a free-for-all. It was incredible. It was basically all about how we should deal with Nolan. Some think he should be given another chance, some don't, some think he should be left on his own and some think we should have him put in jail right now (which is completely possible, all we would need is permission from my mom because she's the only one that can press charges against him). So everyone is mad at each other and my mom is in the center. My dad also has anger problems, and he was close to getting violent, too. They all argued in front of my 11 year old nephew, which isn't good. And all of this happened right as I left for a birthday dinner party at the Cheesecake Factory at the end of week 1. I just couldn't handle the stress and I had to go into the bathroom to cry for a while. No one asked if I was ok, no one asked how I was doing. There was one person who knew I was going through a hard time just by looking at me (we never talked, but we knew each other and we enjoy each other), and he tried to cheer me up by making fun of everyone and doing stupid things with the butter. He was the only one that tried to make me happy, and just thinking about that almost brings me to tears today. A lot of the depression my pills caused made me feel like no one cared. And because I'm generally really paranoid, I only believe people care when they show that they care, not when they tell me. I simply have a hard time believing anyone that says they care about me if they don't follow it up by showing that they do. This is because I've had a bunch of friends tell me that we were friends, but then they never showed it (Trillion & middle school and part of high school).

Anyway, today is Thursday, the 21st of August. I don't know what else to do with my time. I really have lost a lot of emotion after all of this. I just figured, hey, if I typed everything up, I won't have to try and remember anything that happened. I've been typing for a while now. I'm not used to this feeling where I can do whatever I want to with my day. I can eat whatever and do whatever, but I really just don't know what I want right now. I want to be happy, but I don't know how to be happy. It'll all heal with time, I suppose.

I've had one person tell my my life could be made into an anime, one person told me that it is straight out of Wilfred, another told me that it's like god is rubbing his balls on my life, and a fourth person told me that I made way too many enemies. They all don't know each other is the greatest part.


Ok, so I went to the bathroom right after I called myself done with this, and it has been 7 minutes. I really am forgetting everything that has happened to me. I think this is what I really needed, is just to let it all go without actually letting any of it go. I’ll be fine.


Now it is Saturday. I think this is more of a diary or a journal at this point. I had around 3 and a half hours of sleep. I’ve never been this tired in my life. This morning, the only girl that meant anything to me was visiting in my area from San Francisco. I really didn’t know if she wanted to see me, and I really told her how I felt about everything, and how I think I shouldn’t be her friend. She’s been passive, not passive aggressive, just passive. She didn’t want to influence me; she wanted me to decide whether or not it was good for me to keep her as a friend or not, and it resulted in me really regretting what I was doing almost instantly. I’ve been crying all day, in front of friends, by myself, over the phone with people. Nothing makes me happy. It’s hard to find people to talk to that can help. I’ve been making phone calls all day, and everyone either says the same thing or doesn’t pick up. I called my therapist, he pretty much just said “hang in there until your next appointment (monday).” I don’t like talking to my family members because the whole family is somewhat separated, I feel like there’s too much bias and I can’t bring myself to talk to them. Everyone I talk to say “you just need to go find what makes you happy” or “focus on the good things.” I can’t find any positives, and there’s nothing that will make me happy. Getting my friends back would be a start, but I really think it’s too late for them. I feel like I ****** everything up and now I’m just having a hard time accepting the facts. I am really starting to lose hope. I don’t think I’ll ever be as happy as I was, and I think all of this has really taken its toll on my body. And because I had to stop taking my anxiety pills, I’m not only extremely depressed, but now I’m anxious about everything. This pain is really getting too much to deal with. I’ve already fallen asleep out of boredom and sadness twice today, once with my friends and then once when I got home, because all I was doing with my friends was sleeping. They really aren’t my friends though. I hang around them a lot because I mean a lot to them and they like to see me, but they’re so boring and frankly really stupid from a bunch of drugs over a long period of time. I lost all of my close friends already, I’ve tried all of the family members that I can stand to talk to, my therapists are busy, I really don’t know where else to go. I don’t know what I can do, even if I do get to the place I’m looking for. I don’t even think getting my friends back will help at all. I really just want this all to stop, I don’t know what will happen when I can’t handle it anymore. I’ve never thought of myself as capable of killing myself, even though I really think death is a great escape. I really don’t know what’s next for me. I’ve never felt this way before. I really want a hug.
ribbitfish ribbitfish
18-21, M
Aug 23, 2014