I can’t control my snappy and frustrated words. I’m ‘ready to blow’ constantly. Every small thing sets off my ire, my tiredness. 

What gets me the most is that I’m afraid of being cruel, particularly toward my boyfriend. I haven’t said mean words or called him names (he has a history of being abused and I take my responsibility to be extra-aware very seriously). He’s a hoarder and a bad listener and a really shit reader (honestly takes in 0.7% of written words). I have OCD and the state of the house makes my fxkn teeth hurt from clenching. Emotions and reactions I can normally cope with and work myself down from are getting the better of me. I am having such a hard time not barking and sounding like an angry teenager. I don’t know how to break this cycle because I can’t use my normal coping methods. When I’m stressed I clean. I can’t clean this house because my boyfriend panics and shouts about an object that’s been put away (like a book on a bookshelf) for the first time in eighteen years. 

What I know about myself: I also have Bipolar 2, and I know that this kind of anxiety and edge-of-my-seat volatility means I’m *this close* to drifting into a hypomanic or major depressive cycle. I’m trying so hard to stay ‘recovered’ from my last round of disordered eating and I’m starting to  feel like it will be the only thing that makes me better and take me out of this hell circle. 

My best friends live 1620km and 1980km away from me. I’m 29 years younger than my boyfriend, and our whole community is mostly seniors. This means our relationship is scandalous enough that most of them are afraid or disgusted. We have porch drinks and meals with our close neighbours (who accept our relationship easily but often outright dismiss my experiences), and they’re all 50-70 years old. I have no peers here. There isn’t even a café on this stretch of Old Highway One. 

Of course with C19 everything has been closed, but now that the world is opening by small measures, I’m still 80km from the next real ‘town.’  Yesterday I asked my boyfriend about a friend of mine coming to visit when her arrival isolation is over—she has moved home to her folks’ place for the indefinite future. My boyfriend has health issues that make visiting strangers difficult, yes; I don’t think he’s going to acquiesce in any case. I feel desperate for company of people my age.

I’ve met his longest friends, been the one to remember  birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas and Chanukkah and send a card from ‘both of us.’ They like me. They approve. 

My boyfriend hasn’t met my friends. I can’t change that my bffs are far away, but I have so many undergrad friends in the city (150km) and the next town (80km) and he just refuses. He’s not interested.

All of these things are piling and piling up. I have no physical coping methods to keep me from hurting myself or starving again. I have no people my age, let alone my friends, anywhere geographically near me. I don’t want to change my prescriptions because I know my weight will fluctuate, probably to gaining. I want not to be alone. I want not to be so damn sad all the time.