While I do think my boyfriend is abusive, I've been thinking maybe it's my fault, like some people say. I always want money to spend, because it makes me feel so much better, and I have so many things I want. Plus, I'm always asking my boyfriend to get things for my medical and mental conditions, such as powder or Lotrimin (I chafe, get skin tears, and get infections under flabby skin and skin not open to fresh air, like under my abdomen, breasts, underarms, thighs and where they join my private areas, and other areas, plus my feet and shoes have fungi, and all of these areas smell), gloves, dental picks, baby wipes, bed pads, incontinence underwear (that doesn't even fit, because the stores--and my boyfriend prefers to buy everything at Walmart, plus their brand, and most of it is crap), and more, plus things to make me a little more comfortable (I wear bandanas to keep my hair out of my eyes and because my boyfriend seems to almost always want the temperature opposite of what I do, and when he wants it warm, I sweat, especially after coming out of the bathroom, because it takes so much out of me). I'm morbidly obese, my teeth are a disaster area, I have OCD, I have panic disorder, I'm a hoarder, I'm physically disabled in many ways, I need glasses, I'm out-of-shape, my eyes always have gunk in them and are irritated, I'm always asking my boyfriend for help or to get things (like storage bins) so I can do the things I can do myself (but he can't afford it), and I could go on.
The worst thing is, I beg him for help with my cats, getting food, even feeding them, or at least giving me money for these things, plus I want to order a couple of hoodies, because it's less cleaning for me when I'm done--that's one thing I use baby wipes and gloves for. I can't give them up when we move, which is why I want to get my own house where I can keep them all. He used to help feed them, take care of them, and seemed to care about them, but he immediately stopped once he legally lost the house. I can't do that. I love them. I want to take them with me. Last time I was there, one of my cats let me pick her up and climbed on my shoulder, just the way she used to when we lived in the house. I cried.
I need to stop being a burden to my boyfriend. Maybe I deserve his snapping, yelling, and criticism, but I can't stand how it feels. I get overwhelmed with all the forms I have to fill out, and get anxious talking to people, asking for help. I say the wrong things. No one understands my OCD or my physical issues. I'm a loser.