January 2, 2017

Today, January 2, 2017, I was diagnosed with PTSD: Posttraumatic Stress Disorder.

On November 19, 2016 I got an anxiety psychosis. Since that day, I’m in an epiosde of depressive thoughts, suicide, anger issues, amnesia, feeling lost and not feeling the need to eat.

On January 1, 2017 I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. His argument was: it hasn’t been easy for me, too.

 

This is where it all begun:

In 2015 I’ve been sexually intimidated by a collegue, a cook. I’m a waitress. It lasted from October 2015 until April 2016. In April 2015 I’ve told my manager I was suffering from this. She made an agreement with me: she would punish him, and if it ever happened again, he would be fired. The cook ignored me ever since April 2016. In September 2016, he started to talk to me again. I even got a preferably treatment from him. In October 2016, he started touching me and making sexually explicit comments again. In November 2016, a girl told me she didn’t feel right around him. I was scared. I wasn’t alone. I should protect her, and tell my manager again.

On November 11, 2016 I made an appointment with my manager to tell her what’s going on the last months. She was shocked.

On November 13, 2016 I had to work again with the cook. The whole day I cried because I knew I had to go to work. My boyfriend at the time called my manager. I was dismissed: could stay at home. But I had to tell my parents why I suddenly wouldn’t have to be working anymore that evening. My dad was furious because it was happening again and the manager hadn’t done anything since our talk on November 11. He visited the restaurant to talk to the manager. Later that night, my dad was being called by the boss. The boss got knowledge of the case, and wanted to make an appointment to talk to me and my dad.

On November 16, 2016 my dad and me talked to the boss about the case. We were certain he wouldn’t tolerate this behaviour, the sexually intimidation, from his staff. But he just wouldn’t fire the cook. I wasn’t protected by my boss.

On November 18, 2016 I had to work again. There was an arrangement set up: the cook wouldn’t come near me. But he did.

On November 19, 2016 I had a psychosis.

On November 20, 2016 I got oxazepam to sleep.

On November 23, 2016 I stopped with the oxazepam; they didn’t work for me.

On November 28, 2016 I got to school again. I was being confronted with the next subject: psychosis. I’m studying Social Work. I cried and went home.

On December 1, 2016 I spent the afternoon at the police station for a declaration. They said they couldn’t help me, because the “crime” wasn’t in the criminal law. They didn’t protect me. That evening, my boyfriend decided not to come around.

On December 11, 2016 I broke up with my boyfriend. He chose a party before me. I didn’t think that was the right mindset about priorities in life. I couldn’t live with that anymore. Later that night, my dad told me the appointment with the psychologist was canceled. I wasn’t protected by that psychologist.

On December 12, 2016 my boyfriend told me he would give me a last chance: he would stay at home for me and cancel the party. He couldn’t stand my anger anymore.

On December 21, 2016 I had an appointment with my psychologist. She told me she thought I would be diagnosed with PTSD.

On December 24, 2016 my boyfriend stayed at home from another party because of my suicide. I had to beg him the whole day to stay with me. “Please don’t leave me.”

On December 26, 2016 I couldn’t attend to a family-in-law meeting because I was scared of the social pressure of being okay. Being not weird at all. Being happy. After 3 hours of crying in my boyfriends bed, I found the courage to wear a mask to attend.

On December 27, 2016 my boyfriend and I had another fight because he couldn’t stick to his appointments with me. I hit him.

On December 31, 2016 my boyfriend and I spent new years eve with friends. My psychologist told me not to drink too much alcohol. I tried to get drunk: but it didn’t work. I tried not to feel anything. I found out that night my boyfriend was cheating on me. That night I spent the night at his place. But searching trough his phone for evidence. I found it.

On January 1, 2017 I hit my boyfriend again. I hadn’t slept a bit. Just searching his phone. I was so angry. Then the suicide hit in again. I got held of a knife, but my boyfriend was stronger. He read a letter I wrote for him: it was about reasons I loved him. I cried to sleep. I slept for a couple hours. Then I woke my boyfriend up to talk. I asked him so many times: “why?” His argument was: “it hasn’t been easy for me, too.” I wasn’t protected by my boyfriend. Another suicide episode kicked in. I held scissors, knifes, nailpolish remover and pills. My boyfriend called my parents for help. I said goodbye to my lovely parents-in-law, but not to my boyfriend. I didn’t say a word to him. He still haven’t contacted me. My parents took me home. Since I got home, the only thing I could do is relive it all and cry. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.

On January 2, 2017 I had to see another psychologist with many experience. He told me I would be diagnosed with PTSD. He told me my weight was concerning: I’m underweight. I hadn’t eaten in 2 days. My boyfriend, or ex (?), never felt tbe need to contact me again. I’m crying because I feel like I need him.

 

Now, I’m feeling lost.
Now, I’m crying.
Now, I’m feeling empty.

 

 

 

 

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