ElySioNs
Mercenary
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2021
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Trigger warning: abuse, suicide, death, r*pe
This is going to be a long, complicated story. I've carried this with me for so long now and really just need to get it off my chest.
I met my boyfriend and began dating him 4-5 years ago. We'll call him Max. We dated for almost 3 years. Things were perfect during the first year and a half of our relationship. Or at least I thought they were. I was young and naive and wanted my first love to work. We both had alot of issues with trauma. I was severely abused physically and emotionally as a child and so was he. His dad committed suicide when he was 14. My dad was severely ill my whole life and I struggled with depression, anxiety, and self harm. We loved each other alot though.
Things started to go down hill a year and a half into our relationship after I watched my dad die in front of me in the car on the way to the park together. His heart just stopped and his eyes were wide open, devoid of life. When the ambulance arrived they performed defibrillation on him. They were able to get his heart beating again but he was on life support with a ventilator for a week. He was able to recover from that by some miracle but it left me with really bad ptsd and I started having nightmares and becoming paralyzed in my sleep, like I was laying there half awake but unable to move or do anything for hours. I felt helpless and terrified.
I began having panic attacks and crying spells that would last for hours. I would sob and feel this giant hole in my stomach of just pure terror and go nonverbal. The longest one lasted a day and a half of just constant sobbing and hyperventilating. Looking back I believe I was age regressing to a state where I just felt like a small child incapable of doing anything but crying. Naturally, this really started to wear on my relationship with Max. He would try to be supportive but I think eventually what he saw as his inability to fix things and my inability to control my emotions started to make him really angry.
He would scream at me and say horrible things to me and I would just cry and curl up in a ball begging him to stop. He would get so mad and frustrated with my inability to stop crying that he would tell me I made him want to "blow his fucking jaw off". Eventually he began to get physical with me and would hit me. He would force sexual acts on me. After he hurt me he would hold me while I cried and soothe me like a baby. That was really all I wanted. I became addicted to the way he treated me. I wanted him to hurt me because it made the pain stop temporarily. At this time in my life I truly wanted nothing more than to die, but I couldn't leave my dad as his sole caretaker. I took up self harming again as a way to make me disassociate from my body. I started drinking to numb the pain.
I just wanted my boyfriend back. I wanted the Max I knew when we first started dating back. Some days he would be there, empathetic and caring and sweet like I knew him, and others it was like he was a completely different person. We took several breaks and things would be better again for a few days but it never lasted. At the time I was living with my dad as his caretaker and his lease was about to end and he wanted to move. We moved 40 minutes away from where Max was staying and Max and I went on another break, but this time for 30 days. I felt myself completely emotionally detach from the relationship. Like I just turned off a switch. The feelings for Max were still there, but I couldn't feel them anymore. I didn't want to go back to the pain he caused me anymore. It was like someone else took over and stuffed the hurt and broken part of me that still desperately wanted him and loved him into a jar.
I began to distance myself from him and started to do better. He went downhill and became severely depressed and suicidal, drinking everyday. I wanted to help him but I was afraid. We would still text sometimes. One day I woke up with no texts from him. His brother called and asked me if I had heard from him and so did one of his friends. I tried calling him but his phone was dead. My stomach dropped. I felt like something bad had happened. I ordered an uber and told my dad I was going to go for a run outside.
The whole 40 minutes to Max's place I was in denial. I kept picturing myself just finding him asleep. He must have just not woken up to his alarm to go to work. He must have just forgotten to charge his phone. I would knock and he would answer the door and everything would be ok. He would see how much I do still care about him. I would be there for him and help him get better and we would work on our relationship. Those were the thoughts going through my mind. I just wanted so desperately for him to be ok. I felt all of the feelings I had stuffed down about our relationship come rushing back.
When I got there I knocked. No one answered. I used the spare key to open the door. There was alcohol bottles laying all over. I saw Max laying face down on the couch. On the coffee table next to him were all of our special things. Pictures, letters, gifts I had given him. I walked up saying his name. When I got closer he had a pistol in his hand pointing towards his jaw laying on the couch. I was still so in denial. I remember feeling relief thinking "Oh he must have fallen asleep with it there". When I reached him I put my hand on his shoulder and said his name trying to wake him up. His body was stiff and cold. He didn't wake up.
When realization hit me I became frantic and started screaming. I couldn't control it. I always thought the way they portrayed finding a dead body in movies was so dramatic. But I couldn't control the screams coming out of my mouth. I remember hitting my head on the wall trying to wake myself up. My whole reality crashed around me and I felt like I was breaking into a million pieces. When the cops arrived they asked me all sorts of questions. I was in a haze. I couldn't believe he was actually gone. I blamed myself. I dreaded going to sleep at night because every time I woke up I would remember that I would never get to see him again. It was the worst pain of my life. I just wanted to be close to him.
My dad tried to be supportive but his heart was breaking too. I started drinking and smoking constantly to escape reality. Max's family lived in another state so I flew there for the funeral and stayed with one of his brothers for about a month. We'll call him Alex. I felt this weird pull to be close to Alex because he looked, talked, and acted so much like Max. Alex and I ended up hooking up. First it started with innocent cuddling to comfort each other and be there for each other through the pain we were both experiencing. Then one night when we were both drunk and we ended up having sex. We had sex a few more times after that while I stayed with him. I just wanted to escape the pain and loneliness and to feel something.
I don't know why but at the time I don't think I felt guilty doing it. I was just going through each day not really thinking, just consumed with pain and a constant feeling of separation from everyone and detachment from the world. When I flew back home my dad's health deteriorated rapidly. He was admitted to the ICU for internal stomach bleeding and worsening heart failure. I couldn't see him because of covid going on. They sent him home after a few days and I did my best to care for him. He wouldn't eat and just sat on the edge of his bed or lying down just constantly nodding off and falling asleep. I couldn't keep him conscious enough to take even a few bites. He lost the little muscle he did have and became skin and bones. I couldn't sleep because I was so afraid I would wake up and he would be dead.
I remember calling my sister in the middle of the night crying and telling her he was dying and begging for her to come help me take care of him as it was just me and my dad alone in another state. He was admitted to the hospital again and his conditioned continued to worsen. He also required dialysis treatment for kidney failure but his heart was too weak to handle the treatment and everytime they tried he would start going into cardiac arrest. Without dialysis he would die in just a matter of days. The rest of my family flew to us and made the decision to put him on home hospice so he could be around us when he went. He died a few days later.
I lost my best friend and the only person I had left close to me. The moment his heart stopped all of the pain of finding Max came rushing back to me and I had a flashback and started screaming again. I know my dad's heart weakened because he couldn't handle the pain of losing my boyfriend Max, who was like a second son to him, and seeing me suffering. I still carry the guilt for both of their deaths with me, even though I know the circumstances were horrible. After he died I went back to the state where Max and I's family lived. I moved in with Max's mother. The next few months were the worst of my life. I had never felt so much pain and loneliness before. I watched the world go on around me and felt frozen in time. Stuck in place with all of my pain and grief.
Max's other brother (we'll call him Dan) lived close to us. Dan and I had actually been close friends before Max and I started dating. He was my best friend and the one to introduce me to Max. Dan and I spent alot of time together after Max's death and my dad's death. We ended up having sex for the first time while we were both drunk. I didn't even want sex. I just wanted to be close to someone. I wanted to feel someone's presence pulling me out of the numbness I felt. I wanted to be closer to Max and that was the only way I knew how. Maybe I'm just making excuses for myself.
A year later I look back on the things I did to cope and I do feel guilty. Who hooks up with their dead boyfriend's siblings? I feel disgusted with myself and like I'm a horrible person. I betrayed Max with the people closest to him. I feel so confused because I don't recognize the person I was during that time. Why did I do those things? Am I incapable of love? Did I ever even really care about Max? Sometimes I feel like a monster. His family anx friends don't talk to me anymore. I have tried reaching out but they're short with me. I know they dislike me for my actions, maybe even blame me for Max ending his life. I've tried so hard to escape my past.
After a suicide attempt a few months after their deaths, Max's mother kicked me out while I was in the hospital. I took my car and some of my things and moved across the country all alone, got a new job and live like a different person. But my past still haunts me. I'm afraid to love again. I'm afraid of myself. I'm afraid of being hurt and letting anyone in. I'm afraid to make new relationships and connections with people because they'll find out about my past and realize I'm a horrible, disgusting person. I'm not saying there is truth to these thoughts. These are just the truths to my feelings.
I don't know how to overcome my guilt and I blame myself for Max's death and for it leading to my dad's death as well. I know I caused Max alot of pain with my trauma and issues. I know I caused his family and friends alot of pain. I guess if blaming me helps them that's ok. I just want to heal and wish I didn't have these thoughts hanging over my head and controlling my life. I want to live a new life and be a new person without the past, but I don't know if that's possible.
This is going to be a long, complicated story. I've carried this with me for so long now and really just need to get it off my chest.
I met my boyfriend and began dating him 4-5 years ago. We'll call him Max. We dated for almost 3 years. Things were perfect during the first year and a half of our relationship. Or at least I thought they were. I was young and naive and wanted my first love to work. We both had alot of issues with trauma. I was severely abused physically and emotionally as a child and so was he. His dad committed suicide when he was 14. My dad was severely ill my whole life and I struggled with depression, anxiety, and self harm. We loved each other alot though.
Things started to go down hill a year and a half into our relationship after I watched my dad die in front of me in the car on the way to the park together. His heart just stopped and his eyes were wide open, devoid of life. When the ambulance arrived they performed defibrillation on him. They were able to get his heart beating again but he was on life support with a ventilator for a week. He was able to recover from that by some miracle but it left me with really bad ptsd and I started having nightmares and becoming paralyzed in my sleep, like I was laying there half awake but unable to move or do anything for hours. I felt helpless and terrified.
I began having panic attacks and crying spells that would last for hours. I would sob and feel this giant hole in my stomach of just pure terror and go nonverbal. The longest one lasted a day and a half of just constant sobbing and hyperventilating. Looking back I believe I was age regressing to a state where I just felt like a small child incapable of doing anything but crying. Naturally, this really started to wear on my relationship with Max. He would try to be supportive but I think eventually what he saw as his inability to fix things and my inability to control my emotions started to make him really angry.
He would scream at me and say horrible things to me and I would just cry and curl up in a ball begging him to stop. He would get so mad and frustrated with my inability to stop crying that he would tell me I made him want to "blow his fucking jaw off". Eventually he began to get physical with me and would hit me. He would force sexual acts on me. After he hurt me he would hold me while I cried and soothe me like a baby. That was really all I wanted. I became addicted to the way he treated me. I wanted him to hurt me because it made the pain stop temporarily. At this time in my life I truly wanted nothing more than to die, but I couldn't leave my dad as his sole caretaker. I took up self harming again as a way to make me disassociate from my body. I started drinking to numb the pain.
I just wanted my boyfriend back. I wanted the Max I knew when we first started dating back. Some days he would be there, empathetic and caring and sweet like I knew him, and others it was like he was a completely different person. We took several breaks and things would be better again for a few days but it never lasted. At the time I was living with my dad as his caretaker and his lease was about to end and he wanted to move. We moved 40 minutes away from where Max was staying and Max and I went on another break, but this time for 30 days. I felt myself completely emotionally detach from the relationship. Like I just turned off a switch. The feelings for Max were still there, but I couldn't feel them anymore. I didn't want to go back to the pain he caused me anymore. It was like someone else took over and stuffed the hurt and broken part of me that still desperately wanted him and loved him into a jar.
I began to distance myself from him and started to do better. He went downhill and became severely depressed and suicidal, drinking everyday. I wanted to help him but I was afraid. We would still text sometimes. One day I woke up with no texts from him. His brother called and asked me if I had heard from him and so did one of his friends. I tried calling him but his phone was dead. My stomach dropped. I felt like something bad had happened. I ordered an uber and told my dad I was going to go for a run outside.
The whole 40 minutes to Max's place I was in denial. I kept picturing myself just finding him asleep. He must have just not woken up to his alarm to go to work. He must have just forgotten to charge his phone. I would knock and he would answer the door and everything would be ok. He would see how much I do still care about him. I would be there for him and help him get better and we would work on our relationship. Those were the thoughts going through my mind. I just wanted so desperately for him to be ok. I felt all of the feelings I had stuffed down about our relationship come rushing back.
When I got there I knocked. No one answered. I used the spare key to open the door. There was alcohol bottles laying all over. I saw Max laying face down on the couch. On the coffee table next to him were all of our special things. Pictures, letters, gifts I had given him. I walked up saying his name. When I got closer he had a pistol in his hand pointing towards his jaw laying on the couch. I was still so in denial. I remember feeling relief thinking "Oh he must have fallen asleep with it there". When I reached him I put my hand on his shoulder and said his name trying to wake him up. His body was stiff and cold. He didn't wake up.
When realization hit me I became frantic and started screaming. I couldn't control it. I always thought the way they portrayed finding a dead body in movies was so dramatic. But I couldn't control the screams coming out of my mouth. I remember hitting my head on the wall trying to wake myself up. My whole reality crashed around me and I felt like I was breaking into a million pieces. When the cops arrived they asked me all sorts of questions. I was in a haze. I couldn't believe he was actually gone. I blamed myself. I dreaded going to sleep at night because every time I woke up I would remember that I would never get to see him again. It was the worst pain of my life. I just wanted to be close to him.
My dad tried to be supportive but his heart was breaking too. I started drinking and smoking constantly to escape reality. Max's family lived in another state so I flew there for the funeral and stayed with one of his brothers for about a month. We'll call him Alex. I felt this weird pull to be close to Alex because he looked, talked, and acted so much like Max. Alex and I ended up hooking up. First it started with innocent cuddling to comfort each other and be there for each other through the pain we were both experiencing. Then one night when we were both drunk and we ended up having sex. We had sex a few more times after that while I stayed with him. I just wanted to escape the pain and loneliness and to feel something.
I don't know why but at the time I don't think I felt guilty doing it. I was just going through each day not really thinking, just consumed with pain and a constant feeling of separation from everyone and detachment from the world. When I flew back home my dad's health deteriorated rapidly. He was admitted to the ICU for internal stomach bleeding and worsening heart failure. I couldn't see him because of covid going on. They sent him home after a few days and I did my best to care for him. He wouldn't eat and just sat on the edge of his bed or lying down just constantly nodding off and falling asleep. I couldn't keep him conscious enough to take even a few bites. He lost the little muscle he did have and became skin and bones. I couldn't sleep because I was so afraid I would wake up and he would be dead.
I remember calling my sister in the middle of the night crying and telling her he was dying and begging for her to come help me take care of him as it was just me and my dad alone in another state. He was admitted to the hospital again and his conditioned continued to worsen. He also required dialysis treatment for kidney failure but his heart was too weak to handle the treatment and everytime they tried he would start going into cardiac arrest. Without dialysis he would die in just a matter of days. The rest of my family flew to us and made the decision to put him on home hospice so he could be around us when he went. He died a few days later.
I lost my best friend and the only person I had left close to me. The moment his heart stopped all of the pain of finding Max came rushing back to me and I had a flashback and started screaming again. I know my dad's heart weakened because he couldn't handle the pain of losing my boyfriend Max, who was like a second son to him, and seeing me suffering. I still carry the guilt for both of their deaths with me, even though I know the circumstances were horrible. After he died I went back to the state where Max and I's family lived. I moved in with Max's mother. The next few months were the worst of my life. I had never felt so much pain and loneliness before. I watched the world go on around me and felt frozen in time. Stuck in place with all of my pain and grief.
Max's other brother (we'll call him Dan) lived close to us. Dan and I had actually been close friends before Max and I started dating. He was my best friend and the one to introduce me to Max. Dan and I spent alot of time together after Max's death and my dad's death. We ended up having sex for the first time while we were both drunk. I didn't even want sex. I just wanted to be close to someone. I wanted to feel someone's presence pulling me out of the numbness I felt. I wanted to be closer to Max and that was the only way I knew how. Maybe I'm just making excuses for myself.
A year later I look back on the things I did to cope and I do feel guilty. Who hooks up with their dead boyfriend's siblings? I feel disgusted with myself and like I'm a horrible person. I betrayed Max with the people closest to him. I feel so confused because I don't recognize the person I was during that time. Why did I do those things? Am I incapable of love? Did I ever even really care about Max? Sometimes I feel like a monster. His family anx friends don't talk to me anymore. I have tried reaching out but they're short with me. I know they dislike me for my actions, maybe even blame me for Max ending his life. I've tried so hard to escape my past.
After a suicide attempt a few months after their deaths, Max's mother kicked me out while I was in the hospital. I took my car and some of my things and moved across the country all alone, got a new job and live like a different person. But my past still haunts me. I'm afraid to love again. I'm afraid of myself. I'm afraid of being hurt and letting anyone in. I'm afraid to make new relationships and connections with people because they'll find out about my past and realize I'm a horrible, disgusting person. I'm not saying there is truth to these thoughts. These are just the truths to my feelings.
I don't know how to overcome my guilt and I blame myself for Max's death and for it leading to my dad's death as well. I know I caused Max alot of pain with my trauma and issues. I know I caused his family and friends alot of pain. I guess if blaming me helps them that's ok. I just want to heal and wish I didn't have these thoughts hanging over my head and controlling my life. I want to live a new life and be a new person without the past, but I don't know if that's possible.
