Hi everyone. This is my first post here. I’m just under two months into the discard phase. She contacted me for the first time on Saturday. She updated me on her life, what’s she doing, how she’s finding herself & that she’s never been happier. She somehow found a group of heads in Oregon to trip on mushrooms with. She sent a photo too, pupils dilated, face painted diamond psychedelic. It was clearly an attempt to make me feel bad. I responded back, wishing her well & giving her a very general update on my life. Her response? “You haven’t changed at all. Always thinking about yourself. Selfish to the bone. I’m blocking you again.” Two days later & I’m here. Starting No Contact yesterday.
The highlights: we were together for 4 years. She insisted I move in with her almost a month into the relationship. I did. We were ecstatic together. Yes, everything was a dream.
Two months into the relationship, my best friend & brother committed suicide. I went into a dark depression, which allowed her to reach as deep inside of me as she wanted. She took this opportunity (I hate that I have to call it that - an opportunity) to slowly, but completely cut me off from my world. Over the following six months, I wasn’t allowed to work or apply for jobs. I lost most of my contact with friends & family. Eventually I wasn’t allowed to leave the house on my own. We were both using opiates during this time, so living life in a pain-free haze was my number one option. I am not innocent in this.
She kicked me out of the house twice during this time, because, of course, I was cheating with multiple ex girlfriends. She always snuck right back in, though, apologizing profusely, telling me how she made it all up, begging my forgiveness, begging me to stay. I did.
At some point, I started to wise up. I landed a well-paying job in a new town. She flipped out about this at first. But we moved together. Life was okay, again, for a while. I thought she was helping me heal. We both got off opiates together, we were eating very healthy, exercising daily. It was fun again. I was feeling things. I thought it was love.
And then the LSD started. I had used it in the past & really enjoyed the experiences. So we tried it together. She went full blown psychotic for 8 hours. She believed we were two gods, creating heaven on earth. We were made of gold. She kept chanting, All I want is love, all there is is love. I had to restrain her from running into the street completely naked. She started screaming that I was murdering her.
She had very little memory of the trip. But she loved it. So that was just the beginning.
Around August 2019, she met a psychedelics dealer. She immediately became best friends with this woman & we really went off the rails at that point. MDMA & LSD was our vibe. We used weekly, at first. The passion was incredible. I can still feel our souls aligning as one beneath endless shining 3D branches of the Milky Way. We started going to music festivals. I’m not going to lie: this period was the funnest
PLEASE READing ride of my life.
By November, she was dosing me with LSD 2-3 times a week. Dosing me as in encouraging me to take it. As in cutting the tabs as I woke up. This continued for a few months. She kept insisting that I take more & more. I did. I was trying to push the limits. I am not innocent in this.
When the pandemic hit, I was taking acid 4-5 times a week. I worked in a position that required my constant creativity. This was also an essential job. I somehow made things functional. She started driving me into work each day. This is when I started to attempt to make at least one friend. All I wanted was one friend. Picking me up after work one day, she found me speaking with a female coworker (a ground rule was that I was NOT allowed to speak with subordinate females). I don’t even recall what the conversation was about. Something benign while standing in a parking lot. She didn’t accept this.
The next morning, as I was showering, she broke the majority of my electronics (laptop, phone) & threw all my belongings to the bottom of the stairs. I grabbed what I could & left. I stayed in a hotel that night. In my head, I knew the relationship was over at this point.
But I went back.
We met up the following day on the beach. She had found a gram of MDMA (we’d been in a MDMA drought & that was our drug of choice). So we rolled. We forgave. I moved back in.
The LSD continued.
She got into a huge blowout with our landlord, so we had to move in June during the height of the pandemic. The only place we could find was a small 1 bedroom apartment. She stopped working & it became my responsibility to pay for all our living expenses. We were literally tied at the waist. Being so physically close all the time, she naturally forced her way into my entire being on an even deeper level. I had to delete all my social media (despite some of my income coming through instagram), provide her with all my bank account information, email passwords, the whole gauntlet. She had access to my phone whenever she wanted. Of course, I was always cheating, looking to cheat. She’d blow up & we’d make up. It was a pattern I was conditioned too. I knew when the storms were coming, I knew the script. I was living life on a psychedelic autopilot.
In July, she decided we were going to take a big dose of LSD & camp out in the woods near the ocean. So we did. At the peak of things, she was screaming about how we are the same person. Again & again & again & again. Her voice echoing off the trees. I couldn't believe no one came to our aid. I had to restrain her as she was trying to find a knife (which, yes, she did bring for cooking) so she could kill one of us so she could finally understand the truth. It ended when she took off sprinting down a trail. I found her fully clothed, lying soaking wet in the ruins of high tide.
Our life continued on this up & down spiral until December. She was still encouraging me to take LSD. Which I did. She thought it helped me beyond belief. Which I agreed with. I believed it did. I was making plenty of money off the things I created while tripping. It’s not an exaggeration to say I took a psychedelic drug for at least 300 days of 2020.
I had a former female professor reach out to me in December. This is someone who is 20 years my senior, married, with multiple children who are just younger than me. But for her, this was the final straw. This showed that I loved someone else. That all along, I’d been planning this revenge. There was no talking reason to her. Logic was lost. Things became heated, often. From the moment she woke up, she was in a rage.
This is when she started to drink again. 2 bottles of wine every night. 3 bottles. Hard ciders. Whiskey. Bourbon. More wine. And
PLEASE READ was she a nasty drunk. I quit all substances during this time because I was so edge.
In mid January, she woke me up around midnight & told me: You need to leave right now because I’m going to hurt you. Is that a threat? I asked. Yes it is, she said.
I packed my bags & left for a hotel. She called my professor that night & gave her this whole story about what a
PLEASE READing monster I am. Mental & physical abuse. The countless times I’ve been caught cheating red handed. I woke up to dozens of alarmed texts. She had told my mother I had gone off to kill myself.
After a week at hotels, we agreed that I could come back to the apartment. Which I did. When I tried to get in, the locks had been changed. She answered the door. She was topless.
I walked right by her. I told her I was done with her anger & that I wasn’t going to bow down anymore. I think that was the exact moment she discarded me. Within three days, she had found a new place to stay.
While at work during one of the following days, she called my boss & told her some lie about how the police were on their way to arrest me, so make sure I don’t leave the property. My boss told me immediately. I was just frozen. I didn’t know what was happening or what to do.
After nothing happened, I came home to a completely empty apartment. She took everything, except the plants she had bought as gifts for me were all snapped in half & the many cards I had written her were shredded & left as a mosaic in the middle of the kitchen. That was the last of her.
As you can imagine, I feel pretty
PLEASE READed up. Unwinding the threads with old friends & family has provided me with perspective. Assuring me that this is not normal. Everyone I have reached out to has been so overwhelmingly empathetic. They saw me suffering for a long time. But it takes two to tango.
I am actively searching for a therapist who can help me. I’m on antidepressants, which are somewhat advantageous. I’m fortunate that I never allowed her access to bank accounts (she only monitored every dollar I spent), so I’m still financially secure.
That’s the surface of my story. There are many winding side paths & deep holes, but that is the overall narrative. I look forward to engaging with this community.
