What It Reminds Me Of & Other Stuff


I’ve been having a hard time processing Wade’s death and I couldn’t figure out why. I mean, yeah, he was my godkids father. So, yes, I feel beyond horrible with what they are going through, and with what my best friend is going through, but I just couldn’t place why it was eating at me so bad. I mean, I never dated him, never slept with him, and honestly, I didn’t even like him all that much. I grew up hanging out with him though. So, according to my therapist, it’s normal to feel bad. However, I felt more than bad. And this is why…

Wade’s overdose keeps reminding me of my fentanyl overdose from when I was like 23-years-old. I died, like, literally died. I even had a heart attack. I can’t help but wonder if Wade went through the same thing, but wasn’t found in enough time. I know I felt no pain. It was honestly quite peaceful. There was no more pain, no more stress, drama, or worries. Just peace like I had never known before. I think I had slipped away before I even had the heart attack. If not, then I was just too messed up to care. I can’t help but wonder about Wade again. Did he feel pain? Or was he at peace like I was?

Even though I wasn’t too fond of the guy, I wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer. No one deserves to suffer. I wish I could bring him back, for his family’s sake. And then slap the sh** out of him for doing what he did. He broke so many people’s hearts and he abandoned three beautiful and wonderful children who are now fatherless. His overdose reminds me of my overdose to the point where I’m like, damn… that seriously could have been me laying in a casket. Not too many people know this, but I have died more than once and was obviously brought back each time.

I’ve ODed more times than I can count, and there have been times where if I hadn’t had multiple drugs in my system that counteracted each other, I could be dead right now. And it’s so surreal to think about. When I was first brought back from the fentanyl OD, I was actually mad because of how peaceful and blank everything was. Now, I think I am glad I was brought back. Maybe I was even brought back for a reason. But right now, since my family is so mad at me for the choices I am making… they could probably care less if I died tomorrow. But hey, I’m Bipolar, and my thinking is distorted, so what do I know?

But right now, since my family is so mad at me for the choices I am making… they could probably care less if I died tomorrow. But hey, I’m Bipolar, and my thinking is distorted, so what do I know?

I just can’t shake all these memories of the dumb shit I have done, and how lucky I am to be alive. I’ve had alcohol poisoning twice, prescription drug overdoses, illegal drug overdoses, and a combination of everything combined. Most of which has been years since I have done, but I am still here. Still going strong.

When I am feeling down and in like a bipolar depression, I can’t help but wonder why “Why am I still here? Why couldn’t those things have killed me?” God knows I’ve tried. I am a suicide attempt survivor. But when things are going good and I am on like a bipolar manic high I’m all like, “I am glad that I am still here. I am here for a good reason! Maybe I can help other people going through some shit!”. On my bipolar mixed days, I’ll feel like, “Ugh, f*ck, I’m still here. But I’m kind of glad.” I can cycle through these three things at the drop of a dime.

I’ve been spending a lot of time at Mike’s. We got the all-clear from the couples therapist for me to move back in. Which I am going to do much sooner than anticipated. I just feel like my family hates me, and I don’t like that feeling. I started to feel uncomfortable while at my mom’s house because everyone just seems to have an attitude towards me. They can say that they don’t, but that would be a total lie. Not to mention, the walls are paper thin. And the remarks that get made… I think it’s just better for everyone if I leave sooner than later. I honestly don’t know if I am going to be returning at all, other than to get my stuff that is. When I told my brother my plans to move out, he even told me that they will not be allowing Mike in to help me move my things. So, I am like wtf am I supposed to do now?

My brother said he would help me carry my stuff up, but I don’t know. I mean, he was the one that carried it all down to the basement for me. I have a really bad back, so if I try moving shit myself it is a guaranteed trip to the ER later on. And the issue with my dog, earlier today when I stopped by my mom’s house to pick up another day of pills by brother kept making comments about my dog being there. And I believe I had mentioned in an earlier post that I was unable to bring him with, so apparently, my family is not happy about watching him, so I found him a good home. He is going to be going to my best friends house. Which, I think it will be good since her kids just lost their dad. Now they get a puppy to love. It won’t replace their dad, but when their mom mentioned the idea to them, they got happy. My best friend said that was the happiest her kids have been since she broke the tragic news to them about their father. I’m glad that I was able to make them smile.

And the issue with my dog, earlier today when I stopped by my mom’s house to pick up another day of pills by brother kept making comments about my dog being there. And I believe I had mentioned in an earlier post that I was unable to bring him with, so apparently, my family is not happy about watching him, so I found him a good home. He is going to be going to my best friends house. Which, I think it will be good since her kids just lost their dad. Now they get a puppy to love. It won’t replace their dad, but when their mom mentioned the idea to them, they got happy. My best friend said that was the happiest her kids have been since she broke the tragic news to them about their father. I’m glad that I was able to make them smile.

I am so worried my mom, my one sister, and my two brothers are going to stop talking to me after I move out. If they make that decision, obviously there is nothing I can do about it. But seriously, if they do that is pretty petty because this is my life, so it should be my choice how I want to live it. I mean, nobody is perfect. They didn’t stop talking to my mom after she let Pete move back in with her. That would be pretty F-in hypocritical of every single one of them. I think as is, they are all being hypocritical. It seems like it’s always been, “Oh, it’s just Samantha… so F her.” If they don’t like a decision someone else makes, it’s okay. But when it comes to me, if they don’t like what I am doing, they are so quick to judge, criticize, talk shit, and abandon me. It’s happened my entire life. I have never turned my back on them, never. But they’ve already turned their back on me.

-Samantha♥ 

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