Hey, I think I posted a story here some time back. Something about a pocket watch belonging to my (passed) father.
I came here so write a follow up, it's gotten worse and I don't know what to do.
I have a boyfriend now, maybe I did back then. Lately my memory's been blanking, especially when I get anxious so I don't really have details of anything anymore. I don't really remember the event that made me write this, but I thought I'd put down some of the consistent, ever-present things that worry me nowadays. Because of these huge, nearly constant lapses in memory I can't remember the things my sister and mother (who mostly just lets my sister off and then yells at me for over-reacting) do, I only remember the last minutes and the results, so they will never be held responsible for their actions. And because they always confirm and validate each other in these situations, they'll never realize that they're doing anything wrong. IF they're doing anything that is. I'm really starting to wonder if I've just been terrible all along.
With the anxiety, I've taken to compulsively scratching and picking at myself. My sister saw me clenching and relaxing my toes once while she was trying to do something with a computer (it was a one-man job but she wouldn't let me leave, when I couldn't google something for her properly she just made me sit there uncomfortably while she got progressively angrier at the computer) she said "Oh stop it. F**king attention seeker."
My main issue though, for the past year or two I've mostly been comforted by my boyfriend, since my stepdad has to keep up a show of neutrality. My mom is ahead of me though, and whenever something breaks out she accuses me of going off and lying to my boyfriend about how horrible she is, which is something I used to do but since she believes I am a compulsive liar I can't without confirming what she believes about me.
So that's why I'm posting here, because I no longer have a confidante. Thought this may not be the best place to post it, but it's the only one where I feel like the lack of interaction gives me anonymity. I can't kill myself because I have work to do. I'm a coward and I worry for my boyfriend, but I still may do something drastic, and that worries me. Sorry if this is badly written or disjointed, thank you for reading.
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