Friday, December 6, 2013


Whelp...PTSD has ruined the best relationship I've ever had. Not to say I don't hold some responsibility for what happened, but...

So I went to Wyoming to visit my family, and my boyfriend broke up with me via video chat (my cell phone didn't good service here). He's sending my stuff to me via movers. Since I'm not able to take care of myself right now, my only choice was staying with my dad, stepmom and two sisters. They live in a 2.5 bedroom trailer with only 1 bathroom. So I displaced my teenage sister from her room, and she is mad because I took down her posters.

As of this moment, I have a week's worth of clothes, an insufficient supply of meds, my teddy bear, and my guitar. Most of the rest of my stuff has to go into storage. I don't even have a place to put my clothes, because the .5 bedroom I'm using doesn't have a closet and my sister's dresser won't fit into my other sister's room. We're discussing moving into a bigger place, but it's the holidays....

I popped the E string on my guitar and gave myself a panic attack. Ridiculous.

I didn't choose to have PTSD, panic disorder with agoraphobia, nightmare disorder, chronic depressive disorder or the other assorted fucked upedness that I have, and these things have destabilized my life yet again.

I'm so fucking tired.

My sisters are so worried that they'll upset me that they hide in their room whenever I'm in one of the common areas. It makes me feel so fucking horrible that I can't even describe it. I'm 1000 miles away from the home I had last month, separated from my dog and my cats. I have almost nothing tangible of my own. My dad and mom are trying their best to make me feel better, and so I try to be positive when I can manage it and the rest of the time I'm just quiet.

They don't know how to deal with me. They love me and they try and I'm grateful, but I'm so lost most of the time that I don't know what to do.