After I left the doctors office I went back to may parents home and packed up what belongings I needed and moved in with my girlfriend. I didn’t want to have anything to do with them. I could not be in the same room with them.
My girlfriend was a rock in all of this. Had been from day 1. She was a single mother of a son who was less than a year old but she still supported me. We not only lived together we also worked together. If not for her I would not be alive today.
When I think back on this I remember that I was drinking a mickey of Rye a day (13 ounce of Rye) and taking prescription pills. The pills I was taking were coloured. I took them by what colour I decided looked good to me at the time because I had no idea what they were, nor did I know who gave them to me (still don’t to this day). All I knew was I wanted to numb my feelings. Between the 2 it was working.
My girlfriend would get me up in the morning to go to work, and at night when I passed out from the booze and pills she would make sure I was ok before she went to bed.
I was a mess. I was a mess for months. I was on a road to self-destruction. I didn’t care.
On days I was not working I would go out for a walk and when I saw women with babies I wondered if that could be my child. When I saw women with babies I was so distraught with pain that I could barely walk to get home.
During this time the birth father came back into my life to try and make amends. He acted like nothing had happened, I thought he would help me, I asked him to help me. I remember waking up in his car with him not there and not knowing where I was. I didn’t care — I just wanted it to end. He didn’t care. He left again soon after.
I was just a mess of booze and prescription drugs trying to kill the pain. To this day I don’t know why I didn’t die — I should have.
