yourdogwalkerhasanonlyfans

[yourdogwalkerhasanonlyfans]

pt. 2

story continues in the spring of 2016. i was completely reeling from a miserable existence. things were going pretty badly in all areas of my life: at work, in my romantic life, and with my personal health. i got out of one of the most horrifying relationships of my young life and felt so free for the first time that i went on Tinder, which lead to all sorts of debauchery. simultaneously i was planning to meet up with some friends to have my first MFF threesome (i guess i should talk about my first ever threesome which was MMF sometime).

i was also royally fucking up my financial situation by maxing out any credit card that i could get my hands on. pretty much all the things that someone does who is spiraling .. i was doing them.

over easter holiday i booked a super nice hotel room with a jacuzzi (that i could not afford) for a few nights and invited someone from Tinder one night, had that threesome with friends one of the nights, and had just a platonic friend who was driving through town come by for a night. i think i was alone maybe one night. i know i spent a huge amount of money on credit cards, ordering room service, being high and drunk the whole time, just really checking out from life.

not long after that bender, on mother's day evening, exactly one year after i graduated from college, i got into a fight with the guy i was sleeping with / mostly living with at the time (who i met on Tinder). we had been drinking all day at his family's house, then we smoked a bunch, then kept drinking which was usually a pretty good setup for me to blackout. remember - at this time i am also on a heavy dose of psych meds + struggling with an eating disorder; might have weighed 90 pounds at most. so it's 2 or 3AM, there's me, him, his two pit bulls, and my siamese cat. at his apartment, which is located above his family's business (a porn shop). i was a complete mess. screaming and fighting and acting physically violent. i locked myself in his bathroom, poured a bunch of my Klonopin out into my hand, looked at myself in the mirror, and took the pills. i probably peed, then lit a cigarette, and went back out to the couch where he was sitting. i guess i doubt he was just sitting there - i'm sure he was following me around and trying to get me to tell him what i did while i was in the bathroom. either way, i know i was still actively drinking a beer when i told him that i took a bunch of pills. he was clearly not happy about that confession. i was probably starting to fall asleep at this point. all i really know is that he was probably all pissed off, because he didn't want to call an ambulance and attract attention, which forced him to drive me in his work van to the ER. in the shuffle of us being extremely intoxicated & fighting we had misplaced the keys to my car. which in hindsight was actually probably a good thing that we couldn't find my keys because i know before i took the handful of pills i had been trying to leave his house and drive away because it was that unbearable to be there - i would have probably died and/or hurt other people if i had gotten behind the wheel that night.

i wasn't driving, however, my very drunk and high boyfriend did have to drive the somewhat short distance to the closest ER. i literally fell out of his van onto the pavement when i opened the door, which i had many bruises from & confirmed happened, due to my lack of memories. i guess i was rude and belligerent to the ER staff. my BAC was 0.2 and i had an alarming amount of THC & benzodiazepines in my system. i think i had also been taking some pain killers here & there. either way, i was basically a zombie of a human. they flushed my system with charcoal because too much time had passed since taking the "handful" of pills to pump my stomach. i'm sure that i was considered borderline emaciated, as well.

i woke up around 1PM on that Monday with IVs in both my ankles & both hands. i was severely dehydrated in addition to needing to be detoxed. i was alone in a room. i could see the nurse's stand outside the door and started yelling for someone to come help me because i didn't know what was going on. no one was paying any attention to me and i was frustrated. i started banging my arm against the bedrail. someone eventually came in to tell me that my sister was on the phone, which was very confusing to me because i didn't even know where i was.

my sister told me that my friend had contacted my boyfriend on facebook after she received a really concerning voicemail from me the previous night. i, of course, have no recollection of this, but when i arrived to the ER and they said they had to admit me, i made two correspondences. i emailed my boss and told him i wasn't going to be at work due to "hospitalization for dehydration." then i called my friend and left her a voicemail telling her a similar story. apparently i told her that "[boyfriend] had taken me to the hospital but that i am okay." so my friend wakes up, gets that voicemail, gives me some time to get back to her, when i don't respond she panics a little and starts looking on facebook for the boyfriend. once she got in touch with him, he told her where i was, and that he left because he had to go to work, and didn't know how to get in touch with any of my friends or family. my friend then contacted my sister, who i guess after calling the hospital and confirming that i was indeed there, she left work & called my mom, telling her to prepare herself to be picked up because they had to go see me in the hospital. i guess it was a simple and not-too-surprising phone call for my mother to be receiving. everyone kinda knew what it was about.

my sister said on the phone to me that her and my mom were coming to see me .. not to pick me up. which was confusing for me to hear. not sure the exact order of events, but eventually a case worker came into my room and explained to me that i was at risk of hurting myself and the hospital couldn't release me to my family. they explained that i would be moved to another hospital & put on a 72-hour psychiatric hold. they said i would be able to talk to someone there about being released after a few days. they said i could either do this voluntarily, which was highly recommended and positioned as the best choice, or else the hospital would have to involuntarily commit me, which sounds pretty much as bad as it is. if committed involuntarily, it means you can be held at the psych hospital for much longer, as you'd have to appear in front of a group of case workers and essentially explain why you think you know better than doctors and other medical professionals. people who recently overdose aren't usually thought to be able to make smarter decisions than doctors, which means the appeal is 99% of the time denied, causing the patient to be scrutinized even closer, and as i said, held at the hospital for "liability reasons" for even longer than if you had just gone of your own volition. long explanation shortened: if you admit you have a problem and need help, go get the help, show people (/make them believe) that you want to continue to get better, then they will let you go out into the wild again. play the game and do what they tell you to do and it'll be over way faster than if you fight it.

as i reflect on this and write about it now, these words come to me easily. they make sense to me, as i exist now. of course i needed to go somewhere for treatment. but at the time it felt very confusing. i was not aware of these types of protocols. i really genuinely did not understand why my family was coming, but i wasn't going home with them. even though i was thoroughly confused, i signed the form to voluntarily commit myself.

it took a while but eventually they found a bed for me at a psych hospital. they said i'd have to be transported on a stretcher via ambulance, for liability reasons, but that my sister could ride with us, with my mother following behind in her vehicle. it took at least 30 minutes to get to this other facility, and it was getting dark outside, if not dark already. i remember joking around a lot while in the ambulance .. i always make jokes when uncomfortable or in tense situations. good ol' defense mechanism. i was encouraged when the EMT person told me that the facility i was going to allowed smoking cigarettes (this was not true).

we arrived to the psych hospital, and i remember when they were wheeling me inside an elevator, still on the stretcher, someone made a comment to my mother about ".. she is quite thin, isn't she .." this fuzzy memory is something i won't ever forget. my mother solemnly nodding, as if she hadn't really really noticed how bad i had gotten until i was laying down on a stretcher with sharp cheekbones, dark sunken eyes, chapped lips, protruding collarbones, bruised arms, & hip bones poking out from under a thin hospital gown & even thinner hospital blanket. i guess some things are easier for complete strangers to see.

my experience while at the psych hospital is something that will take up a lot of my time & mental energy, so i will continue with that next.

if you read this, thanks for your time.

#eating disoder trigger warning #mental health crisis trigger warning #addiction trigger warning #overdose mention #struggle #smoking #addiction #hospitalization #life story

[yourdogwalkerhasanonlyfans]

pt. 1

i was born outside of Houston, TX in 1991. there’s not too much to mention about my early childhood. i have a sibling. my parents are still married. probably just basic childhood stuff. but real quick i will mention that i actually don’t have many concrete memories from my childhood & i’m currently working on recovering memories in therapy.

my family moved from Houston to southeastern Pennsylvania in 2000. i went to public school. i was involved in a lot of activities: girl scouts, dance classes, gymnastics, band, chorus, theater. in middle school i was on the morning “radio” show (it was basically your standard morning announcements with some current news & weather information sprinkled in). throughout middle school & the beginning of high school i mostly associated with the “smart” kids. i was in advanced classes & got decent grades without trying very hard. in high school i stopped doing a lot of those extracurricular activities and focused on mostly just playing tennis. i took lessons outside of school as well. looking back on it my parents definitely did everything they could to set me up for success, encouraging me to put in as much effort as i could. i wasn’t the best tennis player on the team but i wasn’t the worst either; over my life i have learned the art of mediocrity, doing just enough to be deemed “successful” but not striving for any sort of excellence, which now as an adult who goes to therapy i understand that my actions were largely driven by fear of failure, so i artfully designed my life to not have many opportunities to fail too hard. 

as most people of my generation, i was expected to go away to college. i come from a Penn State Family, so i was mostly expected to go there. i applied to a few other colleges as well as Penn State, & was accepted to all that i applied to. towards the beginning of my senior year of high school i declared i would go to Penn State, sent in my deposit, and tried to maintain my grades. 

backing up a tiny bit in the timeline here .. when i was about 16 years old i started to experience a lot of emotional issues, which we all know is super common (puberty is a fucking bitch). i started fighting with my parents, rebelling, sneaking out of the house at night (sometimes taking the car my dad got me), drinking alcohol, smoking pot & cigarettes, taking pills, sneaking boys INTO my parent’s house, having sex, lying, cheating, stealing, skipping school, the list goes on and on. i had a job at an ice cream shop, i’d had this job since i was 14 or 15 years old. i would lie to my parents about working and i’d go hang out with people who i wasn’t supposed to associate with. my parents responded to my undesirable actions by first making me go to therapy and take psych meds. they tried taking things away, mostly any freedom that i had. i wasn’t allowed to do anything outside of school and work, which pushed me to just lie and sneak around even more. by the time i was 17 years old i was deeply disturbed psychologically & rebelled harder. i’d try to run away from home a few times, always reluctantly going back home. 

that changed when i turned 18 in December of my senior year. i had started to date an older guy when i was 17. i kept the relationship a secret from my parents for the better part of a year.   they found out that i had been spending time with a “man” who they felt was inappropriate, and tried to keep me from him (Danny). so pretty much as soon as i turned 18 i tried to run away from home. my mother tried to use her body to block me from leaving the house with my duffel bag. i called the police and told them i was being held against my will. cops came to my parents house and told my mother that since i was an adult, she could not legally make me stay there. i felt validated & like my point had been proved. i didn’t leave that time, but i knew that once i wanted to leave i could and my mother couldn’t do anything about it. 

one day in January my father dropped me off at my therapy appointment. i went inside the vestibule of the office building, watched my dad drive away, and walked back out the doors towards Danny’s house. he had just recently moved in with some friends in a neighborhood literally right next to the office where i was supposed to have therapy. i hid out at his house for a few days, only turning my phone on once a day to text my parents a simple “hi” so that they couldn’t report me missing. i didn’t go to school for probably a week. i don’t remember the exact details of some of the events that followed (hello trauma brain) but i guess at some point either i was able to go back to my parents house to get some clothes or my parents may have even packed a bag for me, i don’t know. i think maybe what happened is my best & only friend at the time (Melanie) asked if i wanted to come stay with her & her parents for a while, so that i could get back to going to school & my parents could at least have that peace of mind, that i was staying with another family instead of “shacking up” with my older, bad boyfriend. my parents probably let me & Melanie come by to get some of my stuff. well i gave it a try for maybe a few weeks but it didn’t stick. living with Melanie’s family just felt as stifling and restrictive as living at my own parents house, so i left again. back to Danny’s, i went. me & Melanie had a bit of a falling out after that happened. me & Melanie tried to patch up our friendship but that was derailed when we got in trouble with the police for underaged drinking over spring break.

there are a lot of details about living with Danny that i would like to get into later, but to move this story along a bit, we can just hit the key facts & events. i deferred my acceptance to Penn State. i graduated high school despite missing most of the second half of the year. the only reason i graduated with a diploma and didn’t have to go for my GED is because i had a few teachers & guidance counselors who went to bat for me and made sure i did the minimum necessary to graduate. i even walked at my graduation ceremony, which is actually a painfully funny story that i will tell another time. i started going to the local community college in the fall.        

my life as being in a cohabitating relationship with Danny came to an end in January 2011, after dating for about two years. the break up was extremely difficult for me. i was 19 years old at this point & had aged a lot in those two years. i moved away from Danny and that area of PA. i moved up to northeastern PA to live with extended family. i got a job at a deli, decided i wanted to go to college for nutrition, went to a another community college to get my GPA up, then transferred to a small university that i had a good nutrition program. i moved from my family’s house into a dorm. i remember feeling like an imposter .. like no one understood me or could relate to what i had gone through during those previous few years. it felt very backwards for me to go from having my own apartment, to living with family, to then living in an on-campus dorm. it just all felt very surreal and strange. like i was living someone else’s life.

but i adjusted, as humans tend to do. i did my best at that small university for about 2 years. i got a lot of my general education classes done, but once we got into the more advanced science and math courses i started to struggle and decided i didn’t want to do nutrition anymore because “i didn’t like science as much as i thought i did” aka i actually had to study and put forth effort and i wasn’t interested in that. so i figured i’d try my shot at a business degree. i left that small university to attend the local Penn State branch campus. i wanted to stay in that area because i had actually developed quite a nice community. i was very involved with attending yoga classes, i had good relationships with my extended family, and i had a group of friends. i lived in various houses and apartments with friends, worked as a bartender and at a head shop, as well as selling weed. i even found a therapist who i connected with.

before graduating from college in 2015 i had dreamed of moving to Colorado. i set up job interviews and traveled there over spring break. i got some job offers, but my father also offered me a job at his company and convinced me that it was the best choice to move home for a little bit, save some money, and not live in a small apartment with roommates who i don’t know in a place i don’t know. he made a compelling argument, so i took his offer and moved home to work for my dad after graduating. 

as you probably guessed, living at home with my parents didn’t last very long. i was used to certain freedoms and it just wasn’t working out for me to be under the thumbs of my parents. so despite not having any money saved, in fall of 2015 i found an apartment close to my dad’s business’s office. i now lived alone, in a town i knew nothing about. 

lets take another moment here and back it up. towards the end of my time living in NEPA and going to college, i had developed a bit of a pill addiction. i was introduced to the Wonderful World of Xanax. as with most addictions, it started off slow, turning into daily use. i had stooped as low as stealing pills from family members, etc. all the addict things. when i moved back down to SEPA after graduating, i didn’t have connections like i did while in college and i knew i couldn’t just steal pills from people to support my habit, so i went to a carefully chosen prescribing doctor who i knew wouldn’t think twice about prescribing me whatever i wanted. so i told the doctor that i had bad anxiety, and i had tried Xanax and it worked for me, so he prescribed me Klonopin, which is a drug in the same class as Xanax, known as benzodiazepines, or benzos. i was now an active addict who had a legal and consistent way to acquire my drug of choice. score.

i wasn’t just taking benzos, though. i was prescribed a concoction of medications: anti anxiety meds, antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers. i was also drinking alcohol and smoking weed. and i had an eating disorder. so, needlesstosay, i was not thriving. i was barely surviving. i was chronically sick with strep throat or other illnesses.      

to be continued ..

(i'll pick things up with how i had a threesome then one month later overdosed & wound up in a psych hospital)

#addiction #xanax pills #mental health #eating disoder trigger warning #life story