As you all (may) know, I recently told Nate I was on Suboxone and he’s not taking it well. Like, not at all.
His main issue is that I broke his trust by keeping it from him for so long, which is true. I did. My bad.
But, from my perspective, I was always waiting for the right time to tell him. He’s in prison with murderers for Christ’s sake. He has Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar II, and General Anxiety Disorder (at least, according to his last psychiatrist) and is either not medicated or not properly medicated. He has anger problems and, at one point, was diagnosed with Oppositional Defiance Disorder. And he’s in prison with murderers. Excuse me for not wanting to set him off, so he doesn’t go and get himself killed.
I know I was wrong. I do. I just, I don’t know. I was afraid to tell him. Not because I would get in trouble, but because telling him jeopardizes my son potentially losing his father completely. That’s a serious possibility, and one I’m terrified of every day, not to mention on days when I’m the cause of Nate being upset.
Now Nate wants to know everything I’ve ever kept from him. Which, in all honesty, is a decent amount.
The reason I’m on Suboxone is because I relapsed, which I never told him. I had been on Methadone for a year and a half, and Nate helped me get off it. I still felt like death after two months, and then Nate got arrested for stabbing someone, and I just lost it. It’s something I have to deal with for the rest of my life, this chance of relapse. At that time, it just wasn’t a chance; it was a reality. So, in order to do the best thing for my son and myself, I got on Suboxone to keep me off the heroin.
Maybe if I had just told him from the beginning what was going on, things would be better. But I was afraid he would try to have my son taken away. He may have, he may not have. But now we’ll never know and it’s going to take a fucking lot for us to get over this.
I had an affair with someone, before Nate decided to allow me to sleep with other people.
There was a period of time during which I really didn’t think Nate and I would make it. He wasn’t growing or maturing and was driving me nuts and I didn’t think I could handle waiting 15-30 years. However, like I said above, I didn’t know how to tell him. Back then things were really bad with his mental health — he was always depressed and about to give up hope and I just couldn’t figure out how, or when, to tell him. So I didn’t.
I instead had a short fling with one of my friends. Yes, we had sex. Yes, we liked each other. But that’s really all it was. We didn’t fall in love or anything. We didn’t officially date. We just had a fling. Which, again in my favor, isn’t really that bad for someone with their significant other in prison for 15-30 years. But it was still wrong of me to do; I should have had the balls (or vagina) to tell Nate how I felt and we probably would have worked everything out.
I also did drugs. Some of you may know, most of you don’t, that I still indulge occasionally. I get a sitter for a few days and do shit like ecstasy or acid or shrooms. It’s never around my son and I’m always as safe as possible, although I know there is no real way to be safe when it comes to drugs. I haven’t done anything since my birthday in March, but last last summer I did a decent amount.
Nate has actually allowed me to do these drugs. So long as I get a sitter and all that. But I didn’t ask him if I was allowed to until recently, so when I was doing them before I was doing them behind his back and not telling him about it. That’s where the problem comes in. Now I’m not sure if we can get over it.
I fucked up. I fucked up a lot. I kept things from my significant other when I shouldn’t have, and I have to pay for that. I’m just not sure how bad things are going to get.
I wrote Nate a letter explaining all of these things. Everything’s coming out at once. And I’m fucking terrified.
So, kids, don’t lie. Don’t omit the truth, either. Because it all comes out eventually.