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About Zoe--Anastasia

  • Birthday 06/10/1993

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    New Jersey
  • Interests
    writing, blogging, reading, The Sims

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  1. I just woke up from a "nap" (I fell asleep at 6, woke up at 9:30) feeling incredibly sad. I went in to my roommates bed and laid down next to him and told him I was feeling depressed and he asked me why but I found myself having trouble communicating, which happens often for me. I told him I wasn't sure why I was feeling that way but I think I have a pretty good idea of why. A lot of has happened in this last week. In my prior posts I talked about staying at my moms, at my roommates (ex boyfriends) request but I came home on Monday and now I am back in my apartment. First, I found it hard to adjust to being back in the apartment. I thought that the nightly panic attacks would dissipate once being home but that wasn't the case. Still dealing with the insomnia and the panic that likes to rear it's ugly head. Change is difficult for me, so going from my moms to back home, affected me. I felt dissociative, out of touch and a little uncomfortable. Per our agreement, upon returning, we would need to have a conversation about what I am going to do to better my self care, as well as what I am going to do to better protect him from my emotional outbursts and dissonance. I have been having trouble starting this convo and have been in a state of slight avoidance. It didn't happen on Monday, or the next day or the next. Something always seems to come-up. And I think a level of my depression is disappointment in myself for letting my (what I'm trying to make OLD) habits, get in the way. Old habits such as avoidance, coldness, and lack of communication. I have not been living in a state of full dissonance. My attitude has been good. Surprising enough, him "kicking me out" for those two weeks, and setting his own boundaries for how I treat him, gave me a huge sense of respect and admiration for him. Before, I would often shut down around him and get angry when he would pry but I am done with that, I have to be with someone I love. Ex-boyfriend or not. I have made the personal choice to enter into an outpatient program for mental health. I am taking a LOA from work and will be attending a three month program at the hospital in my town. The program consists of 9 hours of group therapy a week, 1 one-on-one therapy session a week and medication management bi-weekly. Right now groups are virtual but that is subject to change. This measure was a decision made between me, my mom, ex and my therapist because though I attend therapy regularly I lack a commitment to talking about my trauma, as well as properly executing coping mechanisms. Medication, I think, is also a must at this point. My anxiety and panic has become a relentless everyday battle that I can no longer ignore. This, is the "what I will be doing to better my self-care" part of the agreement. I am nervous, mostly about the start of whatever medication they put me on. Another thing that is increasing my depressed mood is that my panic affects my ability to be alone. I am never alone. This conflicts with my roommates schedule. He is an athletic and active person who likes to go to the gym daily, and goes for long runs. When we first moved in to together it was right before quarantine and he couldn't do any of those things so this wasn't too much of a problem. But now, since gyms are back upon and so forth, it's been difficult. I've spent this week, going back and forth between my apartment and my moms house, feeling a little out of my own control. I wish being alone in my apartment was a joyful experience but it's not. So I often feel moved around, like a burden to him and my mom, as well as displaced and somewhat "homeless" in the sense that I have no location to live in which I am fully comfortable and able to enjoy my time. Also, because of my agoraphobia, the drive back and forth almost daily is so painful. Though I'm with my mom and she's driving, I struggle with the 10 minute drive. Clutching on to by bag at some points, heart racing, terrified of the town I grew up in and the streets I spent roaming for 20 years. When I first met my ex, and we were a couple, I would get in the car myself and drive to him almost daily...with no problems, not even a thought of anxiety. I miss that person. In therapy today I talked about my jealousy for the carefree people that I see in the world. Like the young woman sipping wine on her fire-escape with her dinner, and the man walking down the street after having gotten off a bus and the old lady who pushes her cart 8 blocks to the supermarket. All independent, safe and doing what they have/want to do. I haven't been able to live like that in a long time. A part of me always feels as if it is missing. This takes a toll on me mentally but also physically. The lack of sleep and constant anxiety creates bad inflammation in my joints (I already have autoimmune disease) and I get headaches. I don't want to seem like I am only complaining but better to communicate somewhere.
  2. I feel angry right now. I feel so JEALOUS. I suffer from insufferable panic attacks. This week I have been doing something I shouldn't, where I am taking Klonopin around 9pm to help with my night time anxiety. I always tell myself and others, I only take it when I need it, as to not come off as some drug addict. Completely ashamed every time I reach for the bottle. Tomorrow I have to call my psych and tell her my script is running low, even though she only filled it 3 months ago. I know she's going to wonder and question me and my biggest fear is that she won't refill it. This isn't because I like to take them to get high but it is because they are my only relief when I find my heart racing and I am in a state of fight or flight. Sometimes I'll take them preventively, because I hate waiting the 40 minutes for them to work when I feel scared. I know I should be using my grounding techniques, deep breathing and meditation but I get so uncontrollably scared. I feel jealous because I wonder what it must be like to live anxiety free. I wouldn't even mind some slight social anxiety or a jittery feeling here or there. I was on Youtube a little while ago and I found a channel of a young girl who recently went through a lot of weight loss and now she's in a state of self-discovery. She's 24, she has her own apartment, she makes herself coffee every morning, she walks outside alone, she takes busses and trains, she visits her boyfriend at his job where he is a bartender. And it all looked so beautiful and free. I remember that feeling, I remember getting in my car and driving to Dunkin Donuts (on my own) and getting my coffee, and sipping it while I drove 20 minutes to MY boyfriends apartment... hair done, makeup done, feeling so incredibly confident and free. I am in literal tears as I write this right now. Now, I'm 27. I have never lived alone and I am unable. I no longer drive, I haven't in two years. I also am never alone because I panic and freak out. I can't remember the last time I relaxed, enjoyed and was calm. 100% calm. No jitters, no worry about a panic attack, no tenseness in my jaw, my knees and my wrists. I don't walk outside by myself, no more than 2 blocks. I don't travel back and forth anywhere. Boyfriend...gone. Confidence...gone. Triumph... I don't remember what that feels like, because it is always influenced by the company of someone I trust (mom or ex boyfriend-that's it) or medication. I have never been so desperate, depressed, sad... and oddly enough, lonely... because I never get to experience the time to be alone where people are excited to see me and I am excited to see them. I don't drink coffee anymore, I check the caffeine level of EVERYTHING, I'm scared to be in an elevator, I'm scared to get locked in rooms (???) so I check doorknobs, one time, two times, three times... opening and closing, twisting the knob over and over. I become paranoid... there's someone watching me... This week I started the journey of searching for a partial care hospital program. I am terrified of what that is going to mean for me, how that is going to alter my life. But at the same time I am excited. I can't feel this anymore, I can't do this anymore.
  3. I have trouble with the passage of time. The beginning of last week started out really painful and emotional. I was out of my apartment because of the situation I wrote about two blog posts ago, and I was facing two weeks at my mothers house. I was in a state of complete anger and delusion. I was redirecting all that anger towards my roommate/ex/best friend because he was, "kicking me out." Now, those two weeks are almost up. Things don't feel as painful or emotional and I don't feel as angry and upset. But I am a paranoid person and I know how my mental illness works. Time is fleeting, we experience high's and we experience low's but how does someone deal with the possibilities. Right now, I feel relatively calm and ok with myself. I feel somewhat like maybe I've been dissociating a little bit. But what will two weeks from now look like? It's a paranoid and scary thought that sometimes throws me off my self-care track. I mean, just two days ago I was sitting in bed, on the phone with my ex screaming that I wished I was dead, that I hated myself, that I hated him. No, I am not "normal" but I find myself faced with the polarizing reality of "craziness" and "sanity" and what it all means... I started this week still blocked from talking to my ex. The only mode of communication I had available to me to him was email. He set up the boundary for himself that I could email him when I was ok to talk on the phone, in a non destructive and toxic way. (I know I must be dissociating because I am having trouble recalling my week as I am typing). On Monday he called me while I was doing my classwork, I saw my phone ring but I didn't pick up because seeing his name automatically caused intense anxiety and fear. I knew that picking up the phone and talking would result in me having to display an amount of vulnerability that I struggle with. I knew he would want to know how I was dealing and feeling, that he would be his usual introspective, psychedelic self (the man I fell in love with) and I would find myself constricted at the throat. Completely aware of how shitty I treated him just a few days prior, how there couldn't possibly be ANY way I could express how deeply sorry I felt, how much I missed him and how much I loved him. So I ignored the call and let him leave a voicemail. He was happy and cheerful, he told me he had just taken an E pill and that even though we were experiencing what we were experiencing, he is thinking of me, he loves me and he misses me. That night, I was sitting on the couch watching T.V with my mom and I couldn't stop thinking about him. So I sent him an email, asking, "how are you feeling?" because I knew he had taken the E and was probably feeling pretty good. He emailed me back, that he was feeling great and he asked me to come over for a bootycall (he was joking/flirting). Immediately, it triggered me. I was sent in to an anxious spiral. This is our issue in our relationship. I have known him for many years now, he has never once abused me, taken advantage of me or hurt me... he has been an amazing (though sometimes complicated) man to me. He always asks me why I can't see him and treat him as the man he has proven himself to be, instead of the man I see him to be based off my trauma. So, I was triggered. I started to overly explain why I couldn't, feeling guilty because I didn't want to...than feeling anger for him asking me to begin with. It turned in to a back and forth, him asking me not to take it too seriously and me taking things too seriously. He ended up calling me and through an hour long conversation of me crying, we agreed I would go over to the apartment in the morning in an attempt to have a positive experience between the two of us. I tossed and turned all night, and woke up around 8 in the morning where I composed a short email basically saying I can't come, I'm too nervous, he would be better off if I didn't come. Of course, he was upset, disappointed, hurt... He called me later in the morning angry. I reacted angry too because I hate when people are angry at me. It is a huge trigger for me, every time someone is angry with me (whether I have done something wrong or not) I respond with extreme, volatile rebellion and aggression. We eventually hung up the phone and I texted him, telling him everything that triggered and upset me. His response was sweet of course, pleading with me saying why didn't you tell me these things in your email or over the phone. Truth is, I am not entirely sure. We were overcome by sexual desire and attraction. I did end up going to the apartment. It was nice to be in my room again and it was nice to see him. I did feel a bit strange at first. Worried that I was doing something sexually toxic. He kept telling me that if I wasn't comfortable, we didn't have to do anything. But we had amazing sex, for hours. This is something we haven't been able to do in months. The next day, I went back to my moms. Friday, technically tomorrow, he is supposed to be coming here so we can officially talk about what needs to be talked about. A game plan for how to deal with these episodes, so that they don't hurt and affect him. I am incredibly nervous, because sometimes the actions in these episodes feel out of my control. But, I think I know why I have been feeling dissociative since I left Wednesday. Just like the contrast between crazy and sanity, there is the contrast between intense, emotional connection and being alone. How do I maintain a sense of -being- through sexual intimacy and vulnerability, without becoming scared and paranoid that my personhood is being taken away from me. Every time I have a vulnerable emotion, a romantic moment, or really wonderful sex... I get the overwhelming fear that I am being taken advantage of and the wall is built back up again. Sometimes it makes me mean and cold or distant and away. How does everyone cope?
  4. So far, I am incredibly grateful and surprised with how inviting and sweet people are on here. The internet is such a scary place and often people are so mean and cold to each other, so I was hesitant to even join an online community like this. I thought, how could a website offer me support? But so far, every anxious night where I'm not sleeping...logging on, chatting, emphasizing and receiving has been a huge emotional support. Thank you to all who responded.
  5. @Dg5’4” Thank you so much for your response. I have tremendous sympathy for the pain you went through. I can't imagine if my father lived so close to me. I wouldn't be able to sleep or function, idk how you do it. But I know what you mean, I don't expect things to automatically get better. My frustration sometimes is that it's been almost a decade, and (TW**) sometimes the pain, not from life itself, but the physical pain and mental pain caused from consistent anxiety and depression, has me considering suicide. I am very honest with my therapist about this, and I don't think I would kill myself but, like I tell her, I really understand why someone would. I always thought that people kill themselves because they are sick of life or they've been selfish but relentless pain could make anyone want to end their life. I really do hope things get better. My biggest fear is that they won't ever. It is interesting how you say that a person will never forget their abuse. That has been the hardest thing for me. Sometimes I feel so mentally and emotionally ill and crazy that I wish I could forget everything that has ever happened to me. And when I can't forget, I am consumed in self-hatred, frustration and anxiety. It is a strange manifestation of something I wasn't responsible for, but that I hate that I am forced to be responsible for. That is what makes me so angry. Thank you again for the kind words. You have no idea how much they mean to the manic, 27 year old woman who doesn't sleep at night. You seem like an incredibly strong woman. Much Love ❤️
  6. @Enigma87 Thank you so much for your response ❤️ It is nice to hear that someone out there relates to this constant battle. When I am falling asleep (hopefully soon) you will be a reassuring thought and I am thankful. What are skills grouping classes? I also don't know what an EMDR Therapist is, would you mind explaining? Right now I am not on any meds (besides anxiety meds that I take as needed and a CBD oil that I purchase for myself and take a lot of). But my psych keeps pestering me about starting medication. Medication terrifies me, I seem to always suffer from the worst of the worst of side affects. I was on Zoloft about a year ago and I suffered from migraines and brain fog that triggered an intense panic attack while I was driving my car. Seemed counter productive... It is reassuring to me as well that someone out there experiences the same things. Sometimes I feel like such a freak or that my body and mind are collapsing within themselves and I have no control. It is terrifying. I find that I have not had the best of luck with my DBT. I don't know if it is because of me or her or if it is because of me but she is letting me figure things out on my own time but I can't seem to keep focused on a topic. In one session she will say lets work on this issue for the next few sessions but then the next session I will manically cancel or change the subject or the topic or the issue. I am most likely avoiding. I also run away from the coping skills she proposes to me, which is silly. I can most definitely relate to you talking about your difficulty with expressing your emotions. I am the shut-it-down queen. I won't talk about anything with anyone, and than wonder why I explode so violently. It pains me to read that you were beat for showing emotion growing up. I was ignored, or belittled for sharing. I am also a survivor of incest, so I learned from an early age to pretend, ignore and lie to keep myself safe. I work outside of the home but lately I am always calling out. I am considering intensive outpatient therapy for borderline and anxiety. I was thinking that since I have such a hard time staying consistent with therapy and myself, that maybe a program where I have to attend daily will keep me attentive but I am not sure. Thank you for reminding me about self compassion. I love to hate myself and I do it often. I never give myself compassion. I hope you can stay consistent with your self love as well, and your self-care. You deserve it and thank you so much for sharing with me, you have no idea how much it means to me.
  7. Hi everyone, I am here because I had a moment of desperation. I found myself talking to my roommate, explaining that I feel it is really hard to find someone to talk to and share in the experiences I have had as a survivor because I often don't meet people to talk to about these things. I can't consistently burden my roommate or mother, especially when they are not survivors of sexual assault. So, I am here so that I don't feel so alone. I also started a blog, if anyone wants to read. I didn't come here expecting to come across that feature. Anyway, thank you to whoever reads. ❤️
  8. I have never owned a bird but they have always fascinated me. She is beautiful, as are you. ❤️
  9. Let me know if anyone can relate... I have three therapists. One is a talk therapist, where we discuss past traumas and day to day stressors. One is a DBT (dialectical behavioral therapist) therapist and with her we try to work on my anxiety disorder as well as my borderline personality disorder. This is the therapy where I create my tools and learn how to implement them. Meditation, grounding techniques, deep breathing. Lastly, I have my psychiatrist. This woman is a Dr. and nothing more. She prescribes me my Klonopin and begs me to take Zoloft, which I refuse. All my therapists have one thing in common, they try to teach me about my personal responsibility and ability to be in control. They also warn me of the behaviors that can trigger anxiety, depressive mood and full blown emotional outbursts. I constantly hear from them how my anxiety is in my control, it does not come from outside of me but inside of me and I have the power to control it, it does not have the power to control me. It is empowering and beautiful, and easier said than done. What I struggle with the most is, "these are the things you should not do." Let me list them. eat bad foods overeat starve yourself sleep all day stay up all night don't follow a routine lack a self care routine don't exercise stay in the house all day isolate yourself speak negatively about yourself over medicate Through personal research I know I should also avoid... porn (excessive, manic masturbation-which I am very guilty of) excessive social media scrolling T.V From my research I know it is important not to do these things because they overstimulate us (which can trigger panic and anxiety), they distract us from our self care and they can trigger dissociation. Which is my least favorite symptom of my PTSD because I consistently dissociate and consistently pretend "everything is fine," and than always act surprised when everything is not fine, I still have mental illness and I still suffer from the things I suffer from. This is when I overeat taco bell 3 times in one week, stay up all night, sleep all day, isolate myself and stay in the house, and overall lack a self care routine. This usually always results in some type of emotional outburst. It can be a panic attack, leading me to over medicate, it can be an act of anger and rebellion, or it can be a full blown 5year old's tantrum. It is a perpetual cycle that creates more stress, more drama than what is needed and more pain. You may read this and think, "wow this person is really self aware, she must handle her issues very well." My issue is that no matter how self-aware I am, I don't do anything to stop what is avoidable. So I am writing this because I found myself falling into a cycle of abuse. I'm laying in bed, I'm restless, I'm having trouble getting tired, like I usually struggle with at night. I washed my face, even though I struggled mentally to want to do so. I did my night routine (for the most part- I have this self hating compulsion to never brush my teeth). I am lying in bed but I started the sequence. Checking FB every 5 minutes (nothing new), scrolling through instagram (nothing new on there either), compulsively checking youtube for things to watch (watched it all) and doing everything but the things I probably should do... read meditate turn off the light journal And then my favorite compulsion arises. My obsessive need to watch porn and masturbate. Instead I picked up my laptop to write this blog that no one will read BUT even as I am writing I desperately want to lay back, open up xvideos and spend a good 30 minutes entering a world that is pure fantasy and escapism. I am not saying there is anything wrong with porn and masturbation but I do not have a healthy relationship and that cycle ALWAYS triggers a panic attack. 'Cause it is 2AM now, I will watch and cum, I will then listen to music, watch again, cum again and I will overstimulate myself to the point of pure anxiety. I have to take the time to understand why I would want to do something like this. I feel a little lonely, I am not happy still with the situation I recapped in my last post (refer) ...and I am overall avoiding the obvious. I need to do what is good for me. I need to love myself, and I need to care about myself. Again, let me know if anyone out there can relate or if anyone out here has anything to say. I know I might be typing to a void, I don't care. I would really love my blog to be an open space to talk about anything and everything. Where we can say our deepest, darkest, nastiest thoughts that make us "hate" ourselves. I know us survivors find any reason to hate ourselves based off of traumas we didn't ask for. Love, Zoe
  10. I understand this self anger all too well and you are not alone. When I was first abused as a child, I had no voice to say anything but because of that abuse and how it affected me I put myself in numerous situations that were self-harming and abusive. I often feel so guilty, especially now that I am much older and aware of how the decisions I made were only decisions that hurt me in the end. I become so angry and disgusted with myself. It is very difficult, I understand how you feel. ❤️
  11. Hello... Since this is my first entry, I will be giving some extra background. This week has been a stressful week. I live with my ex-boyfriend, who is also my best friend. On Friday he asked me to leave. It is hard on him, living with me. When I was a child I was sexually abused by my father. He was a strange man, bachelor, drug abuser, artist, poet, writer, photographer, abuser. There were things he did to me that I am not even honest with myself about half the time. The last time I saw him, I was 14, and I spent that visit desperately trying to get him to validate me. But he was either overly affectionate or distant and cold, there was no in between. After he left I spent a lot of time on the internet. This is 2007, so the "internet" was a vast space of untapped and unmonitored territory. Chat room after chat room, bright screen after bright white screen. So I spent my time online, looking for validation from men twice my age, sometimes three times my age. I never lied about how old I was, I was always honest, and I was always honest about what my intentions were. I was looking for a daddy and I would do anything to have one. When I was 15 I started a relationship with a man who was 39. In my high school, I told people about it. I was laughed at, I was called a w**re. He took care of me. My mom worked a lot, and I spent a lot of time alone and he was always there with me. I was not a virgin, I don't think I ever was. Even though, he was able to show me things I had yearned for but never had the idea or ability to manifest. Bondage, roleplay, violence. Sometimes he would hit me so hard I could no longer see or hear. He wasn't the only man, but he was the only one who kept coming back. I was a bonafide child prostitute, but I never made any money. Somehow, my senior year of high school I found myself. I lost weight, I stopped self-harming, I stopped seeing older men. I dated boys my own age. I went to prom. I wore a used, white, mermaid style dress that I bought off of my best friends older sister and the boy I went to prom with played football at the high school in the next town. That summer before college I went on a trip to Spain. I had always suffered from anxiety, since I was a small child. I was having panic attacks at five years old. So to fathom me getting on a plane on my own, going to another country without my mother and successfully enjoying my trip, was exciting. The Dr. prescribed me a small amount of anxiety medication to take with me and it was a successful trip. I have 100s of pictures of moments that I will never forget. Shortly before my trip I went to my first "college party". I drank a lot of alcohol, and I made a few bad decisions. There was a glimpse of the old me at this party. I ended up meeting and hooking up with the host of the party. I vividly remember straddling him on his couch, making out and taking off my clothes while my friends giggled and his friends cheered us on. We went up to his bedroom and had sex that night. He had two beds in his bedroom, one for him and who he was hooking up with and the other for a buddy and who they were hooking up with. Though this happened, I was determined to prove to him that she wasn't me. I went on my trip, I posted to social media and his likes and comments kept coming through but I ignored them, flirted only sometimes and played the "game" I thought I was supposed to play. Upon my return, after proving my good girl status, we ended up falling very much in love. It was a stereotypical love, the kind that you would watch in a movie. Two teenagers who can't do anything but laugh and giggle and touch and make love. We would hold each other late at night and stare into each others eyes in silence. Sometimes we would cry in that silence, from pure happiness and love. He liked to throw parties. They were huge ragers, people spilling out on to the street, girls free of charge, boys $5 to get in. His mom didn't mind, she thought that if she was supervising, than it would be fine. I loved it because I had never been popular and I also had never been normal. I felt so cool and accepted. Since we loved so deeply, I was very trusting. I looked past a lot of what I wouldn't now. He had an obsession with anal sex and I never would let him do it. He also liked to degrade me, but it never even came close to the degradation I had experienced before, so I never thought anything of it. One night, at one of these parties, I made my way up to his room by myself. I was drunk, I laid on his bed like I had done a million times and stared up at the ceiling as it spun, waiting for my eyes to rest and for sleep to sober me. He came up soon after as he always would, to check on me or, if I was sober enough we would have amazing sex. This time it was different. He was acting differently. He didn't come up there to make sure I was ok, he didn't reassure me that I would feel better in the morning. He climbed on top of me and began to kiss me. I remember laughing slightly and pushing him away, telling him I was too tired. He picked up my knees towards my chest and put his body weight on top of me. He pinned back my arms above my head and he penetrated me anally. I couldn't breathe. With strained breathe I was repeating stop, no, please. My last memory of that night was him getting off of me. I rolled on to my side and began to cry while he sat at the edge of the bed and cried too. I woke up in the morning with bloody underwear. I went about my life as if nothing had happened. I continued to date him and we never talked about it. Slowly though, my mental health started to deteriorate. I became my old self again. I became angry, toxic, manic, and out of control. I would run away in my pajamas in the middle of the night and he would have to chase me. This is when I had my first severe panic attack. I was doing my daily workout, which had become more intense after the rape. I would work out for hours and then I would meditate. I was resting on the floor of my mothers apartment, breathing, when the room started to move. The floor became the ceiling and I swore I was dying. I crawled to the bathroom with my cellphone in hand and I called my mother begging her to come home early from work. The anxiety never stopped. I stopped eating and I stopped sleeping. I would stay up all night in a terror and spend my days shaking and vibrating on the couch, my mom trying to get me to take bites out of dry toast. He would come over as he normally would and try and soothe me. I would crawl out of the bed in the middle of the night to sit on the couch in a ball and he would follow and sit across from me with deep apology and sorrow in his eyes. The relationship ended because I cheated. Of course that is how it would end up. I entered into a phase I have been struggling to get out of for the last 9 years. I struggled with drug abuse and I became the abuser myself. Dating men and treating them badly. I would throw big tantrums with the man I dated after that relationship. I would cut myself in front of him and blame him for it. I would walk out in the middle of the night and make him chase me. I would do drugs and drink alcohol to the point where I felt nothing. At this point I still hadn't told anyone about my father or my ex. I just lived in a void. I tried to become a porn star but instead found myself in another situation where I was beaten and raped. I drove myself home as if nothing had happened. I just did more cocaine. This is where I am now. I have been sober for about three years. I met my current ex boyfriend/roommate/bestfriend at a party. He was the host. We hooked up similarly, not too long after we met and we didn't date exclusively for a long time. He is a little older than me and before we became official I remember him telling me that this wasn't a joke, that he didn't want anything hectic, that he had experienced too much trauma and pain for another bad relationship. I took that information and I slowly, over the course of 2 and a half years, ground it up in a meat grinder. I broke him time and time again. I begged him to hit me and I begged him to hate me, and sometimes he would. He ended our relationship a year ago but we have remained somewhat involved and very good friends. He had a financial crisis and asked me to move in with him to help pay rent, I had never lived out of my mothers so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity. Then came the pandemic. It has been a roller coaster of very positive moments and my typical outbursts. A repeated cycle of distrust, paranoia, delusion, outburst, deep depression, distance and outburst again. I have seen him cry and beg me to stop hurting him. So he asked me to leave. He told me he was done playing this game. He asked me to pack for two weeks. He said I had two weeks to figure out how I was going to stop this behavior, so that I don't treat him like I have. My panic has not stopped over the course of these 9 years. For awhile drugs and alcohol suppressed it and for awhile I could still do the things I would want to do. But now it has been over a year since I have driven, been for a walk by myself or been able to autonomously leave my apartment on my own. It has been 7 months since I have been able to be alone. I am at a peak right now. I have been struggling with going to work. I called out yesterday and I am most likely going to loose my job. I was in bed tonight, at 2AM, when a wave of panic hit me. I tried my CBD, it wasn't working. My heart started to race, so I reached for my anxiety pills and they are working. Writing this is also working. I am not writing this for sympathy but for context. I need help. I need advice. I don't know how to break this cycle that has been with me since I was a child. I don't want to hurt myself anymore and I don't want to hurt the people I love anymore. I don't know if anyone will read this, it will be a miracle if anyone does. But this is a message from the person whose Panicking Right Now.
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