Those are the concrete steps I fell in a freefall backward, in which I could have died by breaking my neck. How I survived that fall with just some stitches on my head and a broken wrist, I shall never know. Of course, we all know the culprit – alcohol, which is ridiculously accessible during these times – even delivered to your door via the Drizzly app. An interesting thing isn’t it – that such a deadly substance is obtained so easily now, and many, many people are drowning their sorrows in it, especially for those of us losing certain unemployment benefits as of this week.

But that’s not the reason for my post today.

I was supposed to get married a week before that fall down those steps, and my parents and my fiance’s parents being what they are, canceled our wedding in some sort of punishment as if we are both teenagers recklessly in love. There is some truth to the reckless love part – we have almost nothing in common, except of course music – which unites us in a way 90’s R&B and rap songs usually do – it brings us back to a time in our life when things were simpler, more comfortable and just made sense.

I have spent a good portion of my life looking for true love. There were times in my life I thought I have felt it, but this man, the one I am going to marry, makes me feel the love so deeply that it moves me to tears even as I type. Our primary common bond is, of course, mental illness, in which certain parts of it come out of both of us, bad and good.

He hears voices and conversations and has delusions I try and cope with and understand, while he deals with my constant yelling and flip-flop moods of this horrible bipolar. We are hardly the perfect match, but the abundance of love that comes from the both of us to each other is undeniable – oh and as a bonus, two people who have incredibly vibrant mental illness issues have, without a doubt, the best sex life on the planet, at least for me it is.

But besides the sex, which is explosive and out of this world, on top of all things, I picked up a drug habit that I share with him now. I explained a little bit about this in my last post, and, ironically, I spent my entire life avoiding hard drugs and now I am a full-blown addict on top of my bipolar disorder. I have kept it quiet, of course, not broadcasting it on social media or even to any of my friends, but I know this drug addiction is killing our relationship. All of our fights, and I do mean all of them, have been around this habit – either fighting about money to get it, or the fact that he sits there and watches hours of porn in front of me as we do it together, (I won’t even go into how many fights there were about that one), it’s just the fact that I don’t want to do the drug anymore.

There is something to be said about incarceration or, in my case, 10 months in a psychiatric hospital. I spent most of 2018 and 2019 in a hospital (this happened twice), and honestly, I believe it cured me of any addiction I have ever had. I had a bad alcohol addiction most of my life – mostly, which I blame my violent, drunk father for (like father like daughter apparently), but I was really cured of it before I met my fiance.

Experimenting with cocaine has been an invigorating experience, and when I got the chance to mix it with both Vicodin and alcohol, suffice to say, I was hooked. That freefall came from a night of coke and alcohol, both of which the Emergency Room found in my blood, but luckily my landlord only knew about the drinking when he called my parents – (oh yeah, the cops were called, and they thought my fiance pushed me down the stairs, and my landlord threatened to kick us out).

After that incident, I haven’t touched an ounce of liquor, but I have been drowning more and more down the cocaine drain. And when we do it together, we’re okay for a while, then the worst comes out in both of us when we want more, and we just don’t have the money for it. I am currently negative $377.00 in my account due to the last binge, with rent due in a week or so. My fiance is working delivering pizzas with my car, which I can’t afford the payments on either, and we plan on getting high tonight, or at least he wants to, and I feel almost forced because I need some sort of pick-me-up.

This vicious cycle goes on and on, with every binge we break each other’s hearts, and I don’t know if it’s the fact that he has nowhere to go and I have nowhere to go that we stay together. We are so co-dependent; and we are both abusive – me calling him a worthless piece of shit and a loser, and telling him that I hate his guts – to him calling me an ugly whore and on and on. I have never been in such a volatile relationship, but we hang on to each other tightly because we know each other’s “crazy” really well. I once told him, “my crazy knows your crazy” because it really does.

I don’t know what will come of this – all I know is we hide this from everyone, employers, parents, friends, family, and landlord – and when we do it, we always want more, it’s never ever enough.

All I know is I’m trapped, and I am screaming on the inside every day. The cocaine brings me high and makes me incredibly focused, something I think rich people get off on; that’s why they are so successful, I mean stockbrokers are cranking in billions a year. But I know it’s my downfall and either my fiance or I am going to get really hurt – I mean I almost died down those steps so what’s next?

Probably death or jail.

Stay tuned