Jessica
  • Female
  • Chagrin Falls, OH
  • United States
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About Me:
I'm a recovering heroin addict. I have a son, whom I had at 18. My son's father and I decided to place him for adoption. We found amazing parents for him and continued to see him (very infrequently at first because it was so difficult.) We began using again, then we got on a methadone program and got clean. We were inseparable. I left him to go to a treatment center (to get off the methadone) out of state, and then, I saw a new life and decided to stay. I missed him. After awhile, I got into a relationship with an abusive guy. He wouldn't let me talk to any man, let alone my son's father. I still did, at first, but then I stopped because it became so stressful. I moved back to my home state, but I was weary of reconnecting with my son's father because I knew he was still using. After a month or two, I learned he was clean, and we began talking again. **I tried to condense this story as much as possible. They was an insane amount of trauma throughout, of varying kinds: rape, living homeless, emotional torment, etc... After losing my son's father, I can't function. He's everywhere and no where. I cry everywhere. Every spare moment, I go to places where we'd spend time together. I break down at the most random moments. I talk to him and get angry when I don't hear him. I'm not crazy, I know he's dead. I don't believe in God anymore. In fact, I am furious with this stupid, made-up, "all-powerful" lie. I want so badly to see him and say all the things I didn't get to. I'm terrified that he is JUST GONE. I don't want to keep going. I just want to lie down in his arms. I want to go back in time. I want to stop.
About my Loss:
My son's father sent me a confusing, yet (hindsight being 20/20) telling message. I asked if he was ok, and he made it seem like everything was fine. He was my anchor. I took his life for granted, like he'd always be here and we'd always have each other. I loved him in a way that makes me now terrified of loving anyone else, but even if I wanted to, I don't think I COULD love anyone else that way. Three months ago, he relapsed after the longest period of being clean in the last 13 years. One month after that, under the influence of PCP (wet, water, etc...), he walked out of his house in only his boxers, slippers, and a light robe. It was below 50 degrees that day. A little more than 24 hours later, they found his body in a field near his house. There was foam coming out of his mouth and he was laying down. He had apparently told his mom, after recently discussing suicide, "I'll show you how it's done." These are all facts I've gathered through the police, his mother, and his friends. I have yet to see the toxicology or autopsy report, but supposedly, he took a bunch of sleeping pills before he left the house (while he was still high on PCP). His mother, I believe and according to my son's father, was on drugs, *@ least up until a month before died was the last time he tlld me of her use* so I have a hard time believing what she says. She was using oxycontin daily when I had lived with her, years before. The day before he died, he saw our son for the first time in two years. I KNOW he wouldn't have killed himself if not for the PCP and his mom. She was wicked to him, and at the same time, she made him feel like she was his only real friend. While we were physically together, he knew that wasn't true, but I know she manipulated him after I left the state. Our last conversation, we both cried and made plans to see each other. He also had plans to see one of his friends the weekend he died.

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My mom died 4 months ago

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