Long story short, I've been through mental hell due to childhood PTSD. I'm certified broken. Maybe not as bad as I think I am, but I feel pretty broken. I see a psychiatrist, the same one he does, and for the two years we've lived together he's had next to no issues dealing with his stress and depression after losing his dad.

Meanwhile I feel like a basket case in comparison. I've been doing my best. I've fought like hell to keep my sleep schedule normal, I've cut off my psychotic immediate family, and I've pushed through debt issues and other financial troubles. I've been through enough to make anyone snap and never return. I've attempted suicide twice, but don't feel that way anymore.

But the ease at which stress can shut me down now is nuts. Even with therapy I'm incredibly sensitive. Even physically I can't endure much anymore. My sensitivity to things like spicy foods is a great example of how my body has changed in response to social stress.

But because of this I feel guilty. My husband has been nothing but amazing and that isn't fair to him. It isn't fair that he has to put up with me. He loves me, but I honestly wouldn't blame him if he didn't want me anymore at the drop of a hat.

I'm just getting things off my chest. I've been stressed lately.