Bipolarmuse ♥ He is “OUT”

He is “OUT”


B must be out of his favorite painkiller and has inevitably decided to take it out on me. Happens every single fucking time.

When he is not riding the amazing feeling of Vicodin, he becomes the hugest asshole on the face of the planet… especially when he is COMPLETELY out.

What the hell did I just walk into?

Every single photo of us together has been taken down from the wall and the frames are stacked up empty.

Are we having a fight I am totally, inexplicably unaware of?

B is in a frenzy. He is edgy, fidgety, flighty, and in the throes of a clammy cold sweat. Oh yea, he is detoxing BIG time. Poor B… no more pills for you. (SMILE).

~Where the fuck are our pictures B?~

The fucking cackle… it is his trademark.

His eyes are darting to the spare bedroom. His smile wicked. His eyes wild. His face is pitiful. He was in his haughty, smug element…which was becoming the new “norm”.

I glance into the spare room, and to my fucking amazement he has torn every single framed picture of us together into tiny little pieces. Not large rips that could be repaired, but like fucking confetti.

~Why the fuck did you rip up all of our pictures?!~

B is frantically getting his shit together. He puts on his shoes… grabs  his wallet and car keys… and throws on his leather jacket.

~Uhhhh, where do you think your going? And what about our fucking pictures?!~

– Baby girl, we have more pictures, and it isn’t your business where I am going.-

The cackle, the wild eyes, his blatant rude and cruel mood. I am fed up and seeing red.

I begin crying hysterically.

He decided to rip up our pictures and then give ME this attitude like I have done something wrong.

All that is wrong is that he has an addiction to pills and he is apparently OUT of them. Who better to take it out on than me… right?

My makeup is running into my eyes, tears are running off of my face, snot is streaming down my nose, and my anger has reached an all new high.

I block B from the door because I KNOW where he is going… he is going to go find pills.

He is trying to push by me but I am relentlessly pushing back, hitting him in the chest with my fists, trying to rip his jacket off his fucking body.

~Don’t you love me?! If you loved me you would fuckin try to get better!! You are so fucking cruel! ~

I snatch his key and chuck them across the room.

Now the cackle turns into the “you stepped over the line” smirk and humph sound he loves, second only to the cackle.

His eyes tell me that I better fucking stop. I have crossed the line.

My mascara is running down my eyes and face…my eyes feel so puffy that I can barely see. I am crying to the point that I cannot breath. My fists hurt from hitting him. Our fucking pictures are ripped into smithereens.

What matters to this asshole? The pills.

He retrieves his keys, pushes me aside and holds me at the entryway hall with one arm while opening the front door with the other.

I watch him with the stare of death and lost hope.

He closes the door behind him.

He is “out”.

An hour later he is back… loving, sweet, cuddly, and affectionate.

And his pupils are the size of a pin dot… looks like he found what he was looking for.

© bipolarmuse 2012

** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **

30 thoughts on “Bipolarmuse ♥ He is “OUT””

  1. wow — i went through essentially the same thing — only with my best friend & his heroin addiction. i used the same lines, we had the same fights & they always ended in the same way. at one point i had him handcuffed to a support beam for 3 days, watching him detox into buckets & beg for me to release him. screaming at me; oh, how much he hated me. eventually he calmed down, we had a 6 hour talk about how bad his addiction was & how glad he was to have my support — he was wanting to go to treatment, etc. finally uncuffed him — he wanted to ‘go to the bathroom without me hovering over him’, i believed him so i relented.

    he came back calm, with the pinpoint eyes & a prick on his arm too. i remember the utter confusion; not comprehending how my love wasn’t enough to save him. he died of an overdose/suicide about 8 months later.

    incredible how such a substance can change someone so completely. fucking addiction.

    thanks for sharing — cathartic to get it out, isn’t it?


    1. Wow… your story is so heart wrenching at all. I can remember always thinking “doesn’t he love me enough to change… or how about his kids”. It was a never ending roller coaster and it was drowning me…. dragging me under.
      I am sorry about your best friend. Addictions are brutal and they hurt so many people.
      It does feel therapeutic to get these stories out of me… something I have needed to do for a very long time.
      Thank you so much for reading and sharing your experience. :)


      1. a roller coaster for sure. shortly after the above happened i “checked out” & removed myself from the relationship — it was too hard to watch helplessly. still one of my longstanding regrets, but sometimes you have to save yourself first.

        onward & upwards :)


      2. Precisely. I constantly felt like this man was a sinking ship and he was taking me with him. Took me 2 years to walk away for good… and then he committed suicide. Very traumatic.


  2. I just love these stories…. I can’t help my self but seriously feel like this all is happening to me. These stories are so addictive…. What are you doing to me with your stories?!

    Hehe Good job though [: Keep it up! As I will be needing some of your ” pills”


  3. you don’t know how much it warms me to see the way you are inspiring people on here with your writing. i am so excited for you to jave found your voice (in prose) and to not hold back.
    i am so lucky to have known you. :)


  4. This breaks my heart. I’ve been in this same position with someone I love. Addiction robs us of so much. Robs our loved ones of so much. You wrote this so well, with such passion and poise. I love this writing style.


  5. wow.. I was with someone that had..still has an addiction to painkillers. I felt it reading your story.. the cruelty when they are out ..the confusion of what did I do.. the knowledge that when they walk back in the door seemingly alright its because they got their fix… the up and down rollercoaster of that bullshit on top of being bipolar is a nearly impossible situation..surely the intensity and ..passion we crave and understand but on such a unhealthy level. Nothing else ever comes close to it and the only way to ever really get over it is …I


    1. Back then I was just beginning my mental health adventures. I got my first diagnosis while in this relationship and I sort of chalked it up to being in such a volatile environment even though the clues were there long before hand.
      It was insane and intense. Still to this day, this is the relationship I think of the most when it comes to passion and cruelty. LOL. Nothing has ever came close or compared… and somehow I have this pegged for “love” which completely distorts my vision of what love is and should be.
      I am not sure there is a way to get over it… if there is… I haven’t found a way to do so yet. Many years have passed and I have had a-lot of time to heal yet I have much to reconcile with this relationship.
      Thank you for sharing… it is hard to grasp unless you have been through it… which clearly you know. ♥


      1. I too was diagnosed during the relationship that was .. at first my parents thought it was him that he brought out this stuff in me that the diagnosis was just because of his crap…but since he is gone and no one can blame him anymore..there are a thousand puzzle pieces that were laying around with no place that finally fit in where they should… . was the most passionate, cruel, loving.joyous and devastating relationship… I recently went to no contact .. but he is part of me.. I of him.. I hear from friends he is not doing well ..talks about me all the time…more and more pills everyday.. gets more and more fucked up and calls his wife by my name… oh yes in the halls of fucked up shit that addiciton and mental illness… you know… I will never get over him, but I will get beyond him. I have. I just ….miss him


      2. I understand what you mean completely. You said it perfectly.
        He and I split mutually though he was under the impression that we would reconcile. Not long after finding out that I was completely done… his death came.
        The pill thing got worse with him too and he would go through everybody’s medicine cabinets in pursuit of pills. I have more stories I will be writing about his adventures in pills. He would convince “friends” who had boob jobs/surgeries to get refills and give them to him, he conned his ex into giving him some after she had their child, he stole them from his dad (who also had a problem), he stole a prescription pad and got caught and “red flagged” as a pill popper (however that happens). It was a never ending battle. The night he killed himself, he was high on pills. I would like to get the story again, as I have had to get second hand accounts. But I am still friends with his ex-girlfriend, who I just wrote about, and she is married to his old best friend and he was one of the people there the night he died. I just hate to ask her. She is sweet and would probably rehash the story for me… she knows I write of him and likes the poems… she doesn’t know I am writing my life story with him. She has told me the story of B’s last night but somehow I have blocked much of it out. I have lost some memories of him. For the longest time I couldn’t even remember his face… but that has come back.
        I feel for you. I know what you are going through… the waiting for that other shoe to drop… and I too miss B. Always have and always will.
        And you are right… it is not a process of “getting over” him… it is a process of getting beyond. Learning to re-love in a healthy way (which I am still not catching on to).


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