I blew it. I pushed her so far away that she's moved on and now I'll never have the perfect life with her... I thought I was ready for a real relationship, but being with such an amazing woman forced me to see that I'm still immature when I get emotional. I've never had a legit father who I could talk these things about and I'm so fucking sad that I wanna curl up in a ball and die right now, but i have too many responsibilities and too much to lose. I would never do that, that's just how bad I feel about hurting her... I was such an idiot.

I wasn't authentic. I hid a part of my life from her because I was afraid she'd leave me. I lied. I'm an addict and I lied about being on methadone from a year before we met, to two weeks before she left me because I was ashamed. I successfully tapered and even this fucking existential dread couldn't make me go back to coping with drugs. It's not who I am anymore. I've developed some coping mechanisms but thanks to repressed trauma and this subconscious fear whenever someone I love pulls back from me, I still managed to lose my cool and make her feel too unsafe to even acknowledge my existence. I can't stop crying right now and it's been a almost a month since she spoke to me. Shouldn't I be over this by now? No amount of women I sleep with is helping, no amount of meditation, no amount of diving into my work, none of it. I can't figure it out.

I was raised by young alcoholics who hated each other and "stayed together for the kids" and was babysat by drug addicts and other alcoholics when they were out shooting pool and getting hammered at the bar. I was physically abused, sexually abused, they made my older brother and I fist fight each other while they egged us on, among countless other things that have been flooding back into my conscious memory over the last few months. Why didn't my parents love me enough to quit drinking sooner? Why did we have to raise ourselves? Why did we have to call the bar so many times before you'd finally come home? Why would you gamble all of your money away in the slot machines and force us to eat pb&j? Why did step-dad order himself whole meals and give us each 1 fry? Why did we have to teach ourselves to cook, embarrass ourselves in class because we were so traumatized. So many people tried to help, but mom couldn't accept that she was a terrible mother... she still can't... and tries to gaslight me.

How do I heal from all of this? I can't figure it out. I'm trying so hard to be a mature adult and act my age, but I never had anybody around to show me how to do that in a healthy way... I just start panicking and trying to pull them back in, just like we would call the bars and beg mom to come home and feed us.

What do I do dad? I can't figure it out on my own despite how hard I've been trying. I need help. I wish she would let me start over. She's the best thing that ever happened to me and I know I can do it right if she'd just trust me again. I'd never fuck it up again. Fuck what do I do?