Nonsensical

The dark side of the moon.

This is my life story, or rather the parts that most shaped who I am. It’s long, I cried while writing it. It’s not proofread.

My name is Kathryn Marie but I only hear that name when I’m in trouble. You can/will call me Kat, or Katie, whichever you prefer. I grew up in a small town in Massachusetts about 5 minutes away from the New Hampshire border. As much as I hate that town, I also love it. Things were rough with my family. I hardly ever saw my dad because he worked all day every day when I was little. When I did see him, I was terrified of him. He would get drunk and yell at my siblings, me, and my mom. I’d hide in a closet until it was over. Now I’m clausterphobic. My parents got separated when I was 10. I’ll never forget that day. They got divorced officially about a year later. I would go see him on weekends. I hated it. He wasn’t a drunk anymore but he still didn’t love me like he said he did. My mom’s boyfriend is more of a dad to me than he ever was. I don’t call him dad because I’m so used to calling him by his first name but he knows that he is my dad at heart. They finally got engaged last year, after about 7 years. I’m happy for them.

I was a drug addict. I don’t know how I got to that point. I can blame it on depression, stress, peer pressure, curiosity, whatever. The truth is, I didn’t fall to the wrong side of the tracks, I jumped headfirst. I was practically the poster child for not doing drugs before my life turned itself upside down. My mom started drinking a lot and so did her boyfriend. It was like my childhood all over again and I couldn’t handle it. It started in 8th grade with weed. By sophomore year the list of drugs I had done would take up pages. Mostly prescription stuff. I did LSD once and had a bad trip and would never do it again. That and coke are the hardest drugs I have done. It took a long time to come to terms with this. My mom sent me away junior year to live with my aunt, thinking it would stop. For a while it did. But I would come home every weekend, score anything I could get my hands on and be strung out for days. I moved back home after first semester. My mom had given up on me. Everyone had, even I had. It got worse. In the first 2 months I almost died twice and my heart stopped once. I could lie and say that made me cherish my life more, but it only made me want to do more drugs to get the thought out of my head. That’s all I really wanted to do. You cannot escape yourself though, no matter how hard you try. Your thoughts always come back eventually.

My mom announced in March that we were moving to Cape Cod. I ran away and don’t remember what happened in those three days. I was eventually dropped off at my house. My mom didn’t say a word. I yelled at her for about an hour. I didn’t want to leave. The next few months are a blur. Somehow I got straight A’s at school. After school was over my mom started living at the new house. I used the old house as party central. I had 2 jobs and somehow juggled it all. I don’t remember most of the summer.

It took the man who brought me back to life being killed in a car accident to wake me up. It was August and my parents were on the Cape so I stayed in my room for three days straight. At this point, I was taking drugs every single day. I was always fucked up on something. I was so sick. I couldn’t move. I felt like someone was sucking the life out of me. My brain was going in every direction. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. I had my friend staying at my house to make sure I didn’t die, try to kill myself, or leave. The cravings were unbearable. I chewed a hole in my lip and bit all my nails about halfway down my nailbed. I wrote some crazy stuff but can’t remember where it is. After three days I started to calm down. I had been drinking all sorts of things to flush out my system. I finally felt good enough to leave my room. I wandered around my neighborhood for three hours. I must have looked a hot mess.

After I got back to my house I took a good long shower. Really I just sat there and let the water run cold. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. The whole time, my friend didn’t say a word. He just held me until I was done. I went back to sleep and didn’t wake up for 31 hours. I didn’t dream. When i opened my eyes it was dark outside and my friend was still right next to me. I asked him why he hadn’t gone home yet and he said that i needed him more than anything. I’m glad he stayed. He got me to eat something and I realized how hungry I actually was. Over the next few days I tried to get my life together. I got a new phone number so that my “friends” would stop calling me. They could think I was dead for all I cared. I wrote a lot, I learned to play guitar. I decided i should focus on school. Even on drugs, I was a really good student. I used this to justify what I was doing.

The first few days of school were miserable. The first day of school I ate lunch in the bathroom. I didn’t want to go back. I just wanted to get high and forget all of it. Eventually people were nice to me and I have made a few friends. I have a job and I’m focusing on school, or trying to. I have no motivation. I’m trying to treat this as a way to start over, but I feel that I can’t do this without the support of my real friends. I still go back to my old town when I can. I miss them all a whole lot. There are less opportunities to get into trouble here because I am choosing my friends wisely. I don’t want to go back into a downward spiral. The only place I will end up is rock bottom. I don’t want to go there again.

I don’t want you thinking that I am some depressed mess. I am actually a really happy person most of the time. Mostly it is with my friends. When I’m alone and my thoughts wander, I am that depressed mess. Thats why I try to keep myself busy with this job, school, and the internet. Don’t think I hate my family either. I love my family despite their flaws. My brother was a drug dealer and got caught. I bailed him out. He wasn’t convicted. He went to college for a year and a half and is “taking this semester off.” My oldest brother went to college for a semester and then went into debt. He’s a starving musician living with my dad. My dad has had every kind of cancer you could imagine from smoking cigarettes. He’s hanging in there but probably not for very long. My mom and her fiance still drink til they pass out. They aren’t as angry but they mostly forget everything I tell them. I don’t tell them anything. My “step dad” has mostly opposite views of me. I still love him. Me, I’m living one day at a time. Hoping to be the first of my family to go through college. I don’t want to be the failure I started out as. My mom doesn’t know half of what I have done. She doesn’t even know what happened that day my heart stopped, or those 3 other times I’ve had to go get my stomach pumped. She expects too much of me. I’m going to try and be as good as she seems to think I will be. I’m trying, and thats all I can do.

This blog helps. I read a lot of what other people write and I can relate to it a lot. I also share writing that I have never shown anyone before. Tumblr makes me feel less alone. I thank you all for that. Maybe now you can understand why I have such low self esteem, why I don’t trust anyone, let alone myself, why I’m scared, and start to realize how deep my scars go. Thank you for reading this if you got through it all. It’s surreal to see all of this written out. It doesn’t even begin to explain the half of it, but at least its a start.