The boyfriend told me I need to get out more, since I got winded from going to and from the store across the road. I told him that I got winded because I'm stressed and that makes the muscles in my back tense up so I can breathe only shallow breaths. He asked me why I was stressed. Because we don't have any money, I told him, but that was only the partial truth. I had an anxiety attack because I had to calculate in the store how much we could afford to buy, because he spends his money building a huge CNC machine in my living room that he won't be able to use until he gets a garage which won't happen until he finishes uni and gets a proper job, and then I got anxious because this lady wouldn't move so I could reach the tomatoes, and then the bf took ages picking out a cheese (JUST PICK THE SAME AS ALWAYS FOR FUCK'S SAKE) and then the guy in the check-out line said howdy (tjenare) instead of simply hello (hej), and then when we got back from the store someone was carrying a shitload of things into the stairwell, and then we couldn't take the lift because of the things that were being moved in so we had to walk two floors, and I hate walking up the stairs before him because I am always afraid he's going to grab my ass, because that is what my dad did when he was alive. I can't tell him those things, though, that EVERYTHING I do brings on anxiety, even the smallest (to him) insignificant thing, because he wouldn't understand. My whole life is just one anxiety attack after another.
And just now I can hear him fidgeting about in the kitchen. It turns out that he's making dinner for himself since I haven't started it yet and he was hungry. It didn't occur to him to, perhaps, I don't know, tell me he was hungry right away? So, yeah, anxiety upon anxiety.
I just want to