#content note suicide
Reaction Junkie leaned in close, his mouth against my ear, and started speaking in a low voice. He told me that over time, he will make me increasingly dependent on him. He will become the person I rely on for support. My social life will go through him. Our finances will be entangled, with him as the only one able to access the money. I’ll be living in his house. As he painted this picture, I realized how close this was to our actual situation. I spend a lot of time with him, the group of friends I have now mostly grew out of knowing him, and we’re planning to move in together once he buys a house. The future he was describing sounded extreme, perhaps, but not entirely unrealistic. It also wasn’t all that upsetting.
Then he continued. He told me that, after making me entirely dependent on him, emotionally, socially, physically, and financially, he will slowly withdraw from me. At first, he will just seem more distracted than usual when we’re together or having a conversation. Then he’ll start focusing more of his time and attention on other people, other partners. He’ll make time for them, but not for me. Initially, I’ll try to write it off, tell myself that I’m being irrational. I’ll think, “I must be imagining things. He wouldn’t just do that.” I’ll tell myself that, but his fade out will continue. And I’ll continue trying to pretend that it isn’t.
First, a text I send won’t get a response. I’ll try to ignore it, to counter that negative self-talk about him drifting away. Then, a whole weekend will go by without response. Even though we planned to spend time together. With this I’ll be so hurt that I’ll finally say something to him about it. He’ll apologize so profusely and sincerely, so genuinely, that I’ll believe him. But it will keep happening. He’ll keep fading out, giving me less and less, and I’ll keep trying to write it off, calling him out, and buying his apologies.
As Reaction Junkie spoke, telling me about my future, I started settling into a headspace where I opened myself up to what he was saying. I was ready to believe it, to accept what he was telling me as a real prediction of the path our relationship might take. I drew on memories of how it felt when people from my past faded out. That cold and lonely feeling in my chest, the hopelessness, that weird numbness in my fingertips I get during a really emotional cry, the desperate attempts to reconnect, to figure out what I did wrong, to bring them back to me.
I dredged up those feelings and linked them with Reaction Junkie’s words. It wasn’t hard. His description of slowly withdrawing and distancing himself hit home, and hit home hard. That’s a very real fear of mine. It’s happened in my relationships before, and I’ve been on both sides of it, really. You second-guess yourself, wondering if you’re just imagining it, just being irrational. You try to counter that negative self-talk, even while knowing deep down that it isn’t just your imagination, that it really is happening. The worst part is, you want to point out to the person that it’s happening, want to ask them about it, but you’re afraid of pushing them away. So you just sit and worry and wait, trying to hold the hurt in and ignore it. But you can’t. And it eats you up.
So, I opened myself up to what Reaction Junkie was saying, letting his words sink in and feel real. He told me that the slow withdrawal of attention, time, and affection will continue,getting worse and worse until, one day, he’ll be gone. I’ll frantically call him, email him, text him, anything to try to contact him. Finally, he’ll respond that he’s gone. He caught a cheap flight to start his round the the world trip. I’ll be stunned that he didn’t even bother to say goodbye or let me know what was going on, but I’m so far in by this point that I’ll just write it off again.
Reaction Junkie told me that as he travels, he be in contact less and less often. He said that he won’t respond because he’ll be busy “fucking some Polynesian chick.” In fact, he won’t even be able to be in contact because he’ll be somewhere without Internet access. It won’t matter to him because he won’t be prioritizing talking to me. He told me that “[his] blog will be less and less about [him and me] and more and more about the fun [he’s] having with other people.” I’ll feel rejected and abandoned and ignored. I’ll be incredibly hurt. And there won’t be a thing I can do about it. Hearing Reaction Junkie talk about fading away from me during his travels hit another real fear, and I curled up against him as he spoke, shaking a little.
He continued talking. By this point, I’ll be entirely dependent on him, including financially dependent. I’ll focus in on this, trying to take solace in the fact that he’s still taking care of me. Then, one day, something will slip. Maybe a mortgage payment, maybe a car payment. Something serious. I’ll send him a bunch of increasingly panicked emails and texts. When he finally responds, he’ll say, “I’ll take care of it, babe. Why are you getting so upset? Don’t you trust me?” What will I even be able to say to that? I won’t have a choice but to trust him. I’ll go on this way for a while, part of me telling me that it isn’t right, that I should get out, but by then I won’t be able to. As Reaction Junkie told me, “I’ll be your entire support system.” He’ll have isolated me from my friends and family. There won’t be anyone to turn to. I won’t have anyone else except him.
Reaction Junkie predicted that as more payments get missed, as he contacts me less and less, I’ll start going down hill. My physical and mental health will deteriorate. I’ll constantly worry about becoming destitute. I’ll lose my job, not that it will matter, since all of my paychecks will be going straight to his account. Eventually, once I’m as low as I think I can get, he’ll prove me wrong. He’ll send me a two word message, “We’re done.”
I gasped in dismay when he told me that, and Reaction Junkie held me tighter and continued whispering my future into my ear. When I receive that message, I’ll finally lose myself to panic. I won’t have anyone to ask for help or any way to get money. Finally, it will all be too much and I’ll kill myself. But not before writing a long, raging suicide note, blaming him for everything, cursing his name. Not content to tell me that I’ll commit suicide, Reaction Junkie added insult to injury “I won’t read it. Someone will probably send it to me, but I’ll see who it’s from and throw it in the trash.” He just won’t care. He’ll go on with his life. As told me, “You’ll be dead and I’ll be happy.”
