Welp, it's over.
I've spent about 2-4k on taking care of him over the past few months. He asked me to take care of him throughout his withdrawal. He wanted to get off Suboxone within the first week we were together because the sex was empty and not satisfying for me. Throughout the withdrawal, he treated me like shit, taken advantage of me, was exceptionally passive-aggressive, demanded things from me, and had the most ridiculous temper tantrums and anger outbursts.
In New York, he relapsed and did heroin all week. He cheated on me twice and justified it, with an ex of his (Shanna Carpenter) and with a girl that he'd do heroin and have sex with (Catalina Saldana, a mutual friend of Caleb's).
The justification was that, a few weeks prior, we had a fight. I could not handle the mistreatment and him not acknowledging that he was treating me poorly. He would yell at me for not obliging his every want and I'd end up crying. That day I woke up to him chastising me, and of course I cried. I cried to him if we could finally talk about and confront everything that'd happened over the previous month of his withdrawal. He did not want to talk about anything throughout his withdrawal, and expected me to keep my mouth shut about it all because he was "in pain" and the only thing that made him feel better was the "cyberwar" and "destruction." I cried that morning "Can we finally resolve this? Can we resolve everything from the past month an a half? I can't take this anymore." He agreed. But then he had a Russia Today interview and Caleb was coming in town. He was to hang out with Caleb in Austin for SXSW. I was going to go but I was far too encumbered with work to take a vacation. I asked if we could resolve things that evening. He said no, being that his friend was in town. I asked if I could pick up my pipe. He agreed. I picked up my pipe and the tiny nugget of weed that was left. I'd spent about $250-300 on weed for him over the previous three months. I smoke only about $20 worth every two months. I smoke so little it does not even show up on a drug test. Since he was going to go out of town for a week, I figured taking the tiny nugget of weed was fine. I mean, like...Austin, etc. After picking up the pipe and tiny bit of weed, I joined him and Caleb at the bar. I took them out to Caleb's favorite dive bar in Dallas, Ships. Barrett was tired and whined about going home, though Caleb was enjoying himself, we conceded to his request. At home, Barrett asked where the weed was. I told him I took it. He exploded at me, berating me that he was going through withdrawals (though it'd been a month and a half after he'd quit). I couldn't take it anymore, so I threw my phone at him. I yelled at him. I was patient for so long. I threw punches at him. I screamed at him that he was a degenerate, weak boy that couldn't take care of himself and couldn't get me off and couldn't even find my clit (which was true - the sex was not that good because he only focuses on getting himself off and never paid any attention to whether or not I was getting off). My knuckles were bloody when I left.
A week later I stopped by to drop off a note, telling him I loved him and that hopefully our paths will reconverge in the future. He asked me to sit down. He kissed me on my lips. He was loving towards me, like nothing ever happened.
The first week we met he said that he wanted to get off of Suboxone for me. I told him he should do it slowly and to do it for himself. He told me he loved me after two weeks. He told me he wanted to marry me. He told me he didn't want an open relationship. He told me he would do whatever it takes to make sure no one takes me away from him. He told me he wanted me to bear his children. I told him if he relapsed he would lose me.
He asked me to be patient with him throughout his withdrawal.
Saturday morning in New York I found out he was shooting up again. He told me that he didn't like me anymore and was going to have sex with Catalina. I cried, asking him to please not. He agreed, after i completely insulted myself, apologized for whatever wrongs I'd done to him, and begged for him to not sleep with her because it would destroy my heart. I spent the night at my friend's place in Lower East Side. The majority of my friend's live in Manhattan. Sunday evening I came home. I was in a great mood. Hanging out with my friends was rejuvenating. I was happy again, like I was before Barrett started the withdrawal. He told me he didn't have sex with Catalina. He went on saying he'd fallen off the wagon, but was back on it again. He was going to lead a healthy life. He held me and kissed me and called us a power couple again. He promised to go to dinner with my friends Monday evening, one of whom he'd wanted to meet, since he's the Director of Special Projects at
http://www.facebook.com/l/822adMZBcJ8JH7y3PkRc05LXGmw/DoSomething.org. Monday Barrett was sleeping off his heroin withdrawal. I gave him a couple of my mood stabilizers to help with that. We missed the dinner. We were going to grill steaks on my friend's rooftop in Lower East Side. I stayed to pack my things. I woke Barrett to ask his simple opinion of whether or not I should go to that friend's place anyway to hang out, even though the friend would have to go to sleep at 10 or 11 and I'd only be able to hang out for an hour. He suggested I hang out with him because I'd only been able to see him three time over the past six years. I debated whether or not it was worth it because I didn't want to carry my luggage up six flights of stairs (since Barrett and my flight was the next morning). Barrett held my hand, looking me in my eyes and said "why don't you stay here tonight...with me?" I obliged. We watched TV. He was smiling and laughing. He held me as we fell asleep.
I gave him my mood stabilizers since the New York trip, and his mood and general disposition was much improved. He wasn't showing any symptoms of mania (like he'd had over the previous few months). He's only been prescribed antidepressants, which for someone that is bipolar, causes mania (as was evident throughout his crazy obsessions with the IRC "cyberwar" stuffs and his obsession with calling up CEOs and harassing them and declaring war on the Pentagon).
He seemed like he was improving. He held me and asked me to be patient with him while he continued to attempt to make progress. I'm broke right now, and he's been stressed about trying to make money to somehow try and support me like I had him. Sober, on mood stabilizers, he'd acknowledged the things he's done and wanted to make them right...I think. I guess. When a friend was over at my place the other night, Barrett went into my room because he "felt sick and wanted to sleep". My friend that was over was a guy I'd dated a couple years ago that makes like 170k a year. He had this concept for a TV show that seemed right up Barrett's alley and would have been a great collaboration, or so I thought. A couple hours later, as I was getting ready for bed, he asked for a glass of water. I turned on the lights and handed it to him. His eyes were red and puffy, like he'd been crying for over an hour or two. I held him and we went to sleep.
The next day (yesterday) he went back to his place to try and finish the screenplay and Skeptical Inquirer article. He was focused on trying to actually do paying work and make money. I guess it's because I'm broke. I quit working for this ongoing client that would flip out at me every 3-4 months where he'd scream at me, insulting my abilities, character, and competency, and demanding triple the amount of work than what he pays me for.
Barrett was showing actual progress on the mood stabilizers.
Today I found out he bought heroin last night. He said he bought it to be able to get his work done. He said he can't write without it.
I packed up my stuff and left.
Overall, I was simply going to ask if I'm a fool for having believed in him and his ability to overcome all of this, or if he's just simply always been this way and always will. Or, if, you know, there was some hope, and if, you know like, the tumultuous turbulence of this relationship was simply transient and would pass and that he'd get back on his feet again...hopefully soon.
Welp, apparently not.
All my friends have told me this entire time that I shouldn't have been with him and that I deserved to be treated better. I gave him my everything. When I met Barrett, rather, within the week or two after meeting him, I turned down this Stanford MBA/JD that bought me a first class plane ticket to hang out with him and his Goldman Sachs friend in NY (it was purchased a month prior). I had plans to move in with this boy who works in venture capital, went to highschool with Prince Harry, and whose uncle won the Nobel Prize for inventing the laser. I had a date lined up with this guy that was on the team of ghostwriters for George W. Bush's memoirs and whose parents live next door to Mark Cuban. I had to cancel on this guy that was going to buy me a ticket to LA to have a ridiculous weekend at this crazy expensive five star hotel.
And those were all just simply the dates I had lined up for January.
But I turned them all down for Barrett.
Sigh.
I'm dropping off the stuff I have at my place with his mom in the next couple days, and I'm deleting his number from my phone.
He needs to go to rehab. He can't depend on the people that love him to take care of him and clean up his mess anymore. He needs to learn how to take care of himself. He needs to face the consequences of his actions. It's the only way he'll be able to survive.
If he doesn't overcome his drug dependency he'll probably end up dead. I've seen it too many times.
Sorry for the long message, though I felt you were probably curious as to what was going on. You don't need to send a reply. I don't expect a response.
I'm just going to move on with my life.
