Today was effed.
I'm supposed to go to work for the first day after covid. Anxiety to the roof.
Morning began shitty. Wanted to have a good start and finish something I have left undone- came to the kitchen, poured away old food from a bowl to put into dishwasher, except my bf had took the sieve thingy away from the sink. Had to scoop out cold tomato chunks out of the sink. Told him not to take and leave the sieve out anymore. Tried to wash the sink, water is not going down. Either a blockage or the sieve is not in the right position. Told my bf this was not what I wanted to do with my morning. He grumbled, took over. He asked why I even had to  pour stuff in the sink. Like I used the sink the way it was supposed to... I couldn't have expected this to happen, it was literally the first time the sieve was not in place. I told him to please not leave the sieve out anymore.

I washed my coffee cup, wanted to take coffee... He 99% wakes up first and makes coffee. Yesterday after we came from store he remembered there was no coffee. We agreed he will use old wrong model coffee pods I had bought in the past to make french press.

There was no coffee. I asked why he didn't make coffee, he rose his voice at me, asked why I am trying to start something. I told him I wasn't. Then, overload. I burst out crying, removed myself from the situation, went to the bedroom. At one point I heard him go to the balcony to smoke.
Went to the kitchen, started to open the coffee pods to make coffee. Couldn't breathe. I sat down on the kitchen bench. What I do in the beginning usually is that I cover my eyes. When it is dark I can concentrate on breathing better. I heard him come in and he ignored me. This time I was full on wheezing trying to breathe. It hurt to be ignored, it made things worse. He kept ignoring me for at least a couple of minutes, then told me to breathe. It made me angry, told him to leave me alone, managed to get back into the bedroom, collapsed on the floor, full on panick attack. He followed at one point, just told me to breathe again, like duh! I can't! Told him to leave me alone. He tried to take my hands away from my face. I hate to be touched when I have an attack due to PTSD. He kept trying, crouched next to me, intermittently calling my name and telling me to breathe. After he touched me yet again after I told him to not touch me and to leave me alone, I pushed him and he fell. Throughout the panick I kept forcefully pushing him away when he touched me and telling him to stop touching me. I scratched my skin a bit, pulled my hair, it was bad. I hugged a blanket and cried into it so noise would be muffled not to annoy neighbours. He tried to take it away and touched me away. I told him not to touch me and he told me he wasn't touching me. I yelled wtf, why is he lying. He apologised, telling me he didn't know why he denied it. I called him a psycho- he walked past a person he supposedly loves in the kitchen having a panick attack, keeping on touching me when I tell him to stop knowing it makes things worse and then literally gaslighting me about the touching. He apologised again and again and again until he had to leave to catch a bus to work.

I am now in the kitchen alone. I am not crying anymore but I want to so bad. It is so hard to breathe. Everything feels hopeless and I feel shame for pushing him and calling him psycho. 

I don't want to go to work. My face is patchy and puffy and red.