In May of 2015, my boyfriend of three years broke up with me. He was my best friend, and he stopped talking to me altogether. The stress and emotional turmoil on top of my depression and anxiety caused me to have to go to the hospital for mental instability. This was the year I graduated high school.
That summer I got better (mainly by being so high on the medicines from the hospital) that I went off to college that fall. The work load was so much on top of being drugged out of my mind that I physically could not do it, and to get a medical withdrawal, I had to go back to the hospital. Ever since, then my parents have bitched about me going back, but I don’t know what to do with my life, and I don’t want to waste my time or money to not do anything with a bullshit degree.
Ever since I dropped out I have had a job. In May of 2016, I tried to move out because of my parents being the abusive asshats they are, and my mom sent me to the hospital because “I obviously had to be crazy to not live with her.”
Once I got out, I still lived with the guy I was with, but two months later things didn’t work out, so I moved back in. I started dating one of my coworkers (let’s call him Jim) and we both got fired. I really loved Jim and he seemed to love me too. He lived with his mom, stepdad, and four siblings. We both found other jobs and he didn’t live far from me. Continue reading