We’ve all been there. We’re doing something totally opposite from our typical behavior telling ourselves “I’ve lost it.” Here’s a place to blog about a time you did.
Comments are here for you to tell your story. Please don't use them to respond to other bloggers' posts.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
When I was about fifteen, I experienced something that could be likened to a traumatic event. I didn't lose my mind... I lost being present in the moment, which is really the same thing. I would stare into space a lot, and not be aware of what was going on. Sometimes big things would happen, like, I'd be in a car that hit a raccoon, or someone would say something huge... and it would take me thirty seconds or so to realize it had happened.
Ten years later, I still have trouble being in reality when I get stressed out. It is as if I am looking at life through a foggy window, or something.
Not the best story, not the worst.
After the fifth 19 hour day I couldn't hang anymore. It was 2 am and everyone was screwing around and I couldn't get them to listen to me. They were a group of immature assholes... It was like talking to a wall. I had no effect on them.
I went out back, sat down and cried. My body hurt. I mean really, really hurt. My mind was overheating from months of organizing and supervising. I was feeling sorry for myself.
My best friend of many years lit my cigarette and reminded me of the time it takes to gain respect from these people.
After some time I gathered the melted globs of my brain and squished them back together well enough to be presentable again.
Jade and I went back out on the floor and put our boots up all of their asses.
I felt much better.
Last fall I fell in love with my roommate. She said she was in love with me, too. This wouldn't necessarily have been a bad thing, except for she'd been dating my good friend for four years. Oh, and did I mention we all lived together?
I'm not the cheatin', lyin', betrayin' type. At least I thought I wasn't. But I couldn't help myself. We started running around behind his back; I sent her little notes and wrote her songs.
On New Years Eve she pulled me under a doorway and told me she never got a New Years kiss, so I gave her one. That was the first time we got physical, but not the last. After that I lost my mind. I couldn't handle lying to her old man, living with him, pretending to be his friend, or watching the two of them pretend they had a normal, healthy relationship. But I didn't have the balls to confess or move out.
We got more and more reckless when we hooked up. I think I wanted us to get caught, to get it over with, and eventually we did. But He took her back, she cast me off, and we all but disappeared from one another's lives. I lost my friends, I lost my self respect, and I definitely didn't get the girl. In short, I got exactly what I deserved.
I think back to the way I behaved, the people I hurt, the friendships I betrayed and can't believe it was actually me. I must have been outta' my mind.
It was a normal, beautiful, frosty shining, autumn day. I felt comfortable, the day seemed calm. I was just lounging around watching TV and drinking hot chocolate.
It was around 1pm in the afternoon when I realized that He wasn't up yet. "Why is he sleeping so late?" So I got up to go wake his but up before our parents got home. (They would probably give him crap for not cleaning the backyard like he promised). I walked in to his room and kicked his bed "Hey _______, get up". two seconds later I noticed his skin on his arm was purple. My breathing stopped. I just stared at him for 5 seconds, en then grabbed his arm. -it was ice cold. I ran out of the room, stood in the hallway and let out the most tremendous scream of my life.
In the midst of hyperventilating and crying - I started laughing... I was laughing so hard, it was ridiculous... I had lost my brother, and my mind.
after graduating college, i was, well, stressed out and completely lost. it's my excuse for my behavior.
my roommate and i threw a cocktail party. a friend of mine brought me gin and i played hostess all night making sure people always had enough to drink. when i'd fill up someone else's cup, i'd also fill up my own. suffice to say, i misscalculated how much i drank.
outside, some folks were smoking. i didn't join in on the cigarrettes, but i did on the weed. i don't normally mix weed and alcohol, but i figured i was at my own home, so what could go wrong?
at 2 am, the bars on capitol hill emptied into our apartment. word at linda's was that the corner we lived on was where to go. i spent some time walking around introducing myself to strange men.
'Hi, I'm ----. What's your name? Ohh! Nice to meet you. How'd you come to this party? You were at the Cha Cha... cool. Me? Oh, I live here. Make yourself at home.'
At one point, i met a man with something sticking out of his shirt pocket.
'What's that?!'
'Shrooms.'
'What? Nooo...!' (They didn't look like shrooms)
i circulated the room again. later on, all i remember is being fed 'shrooms. i don't know if i asked for them or not. but i ate a lot of them.
a friend of mine who had somehow miraculously remained sober helped me kick out all the strangers later on. i spent the night siting on the kitchen floor, huddled in a ball, freaking out. all i wanted was my cell phone which i had thrown in the bushes earlier that night (it took me a week and a half to remember that).
finally, well after dawn, i forced myself to change into sweatpants and climb into bed. it took a lot more convincing than it normally does.
I was only 18 and in a relationship. I am the relationship type, I guess. But I started flirting with this guy on the internet - would've been embarrassing, but I knew him in real life. Well, knew of him, I guess we had maybe said "hi" once or twice - he's the singer for a moderately successful metal band. I didn't think anything would come of it, and from the start he knew I had a boyfriend, I knew he was living with his girlfriend. But then there we were, having coffee. Then there we were, making out in a damn outdoor supply store (I don't even go to outdoor supply stores). My lowest moment, probably the time I realized I had lost my mind was when I sucked his dick in the empty practice space of his band. I remember my knees aching from the concrete. So that should have been it, but it wasn't. I got in way over my head and really lost my head. I spent hours analyzing it with my best friend who was sworn to secrecy. Was I a groupie? Would he leave his girlfriend? etc etc. I would meet him at their apartment when she was at work. I remember being weirded out that she and I used the same beauty products. I always had to turn around the photos of the two of them - but I don't think he ever noticed. She eventually found out, and wrote me a threatening email. My boyfriend never did find out. I don't think it would have ended if I hadn't moved away. I still go see their band some times. He calls me gorgeous, kisses my cheek, tells me he misses me.
I guess I don't really regret it, even though it was completely crazy, and since then I have never cheated.
Post a Comment