i don't know how to title things but anyways i'm having an awkward problem with my boyfriend right now and this is the only place i think i can safely convey it. it'll probably get cyberstalked and thrown back in my face someday but whatever.

my mental illness is a weird amorphous blob of complex ptsd with occasional bouts of psychotic depression. within a year of going on zoloft people said i was a completely different person, no longer cold and distant but something alive and almost thriving. relationships tend to throw a fat monkey wrench in that sort of thing for me though. here comes the boi.

boyfriend is a sweet and caring person with... a lot of needs i can't fulfill. happy combination of trauma and side effects makes it hard to even do vanilla missionary sex anymore, let alone the weird stuff i used to love. i don't miss it, i don't crave it, i'm just empty sexually. i've even been questioning my sexuality at this point -- after two perfectly sweet boyfriends who haven't satisfied me at all physically, maybe i'm just a big lesbian after all. i digress though. sex disgusts me to nausea, panic attacks, open sobbing. when my partner sees that he does his own panic, beating himself up for pushing it, which compounds my panic, and it's a clusterfug from there.

here's the thing though. after a stint of forgetting my meds for several days, i had a flicker of a sex drive. we went three times in one weekend, which is a lot for me. i think i spoiled him with that. over the last weekend i had taken my meds, and i wasn't in the mood at all. after i rejected his advances a couple times he got incredibly pouty. the room went stale and stifling. whenever he gets in that kind of mood he just kind of wheedles me with questions, like "do you like sex with me? am i good enough? are you even attracted to me at all?" everything ends up about him and his faults, even when i stress that this isn't about him, he's perfectly fine, and lie about liking the sex because it really has all the appeal of laundry day for me and that can't be good for the ol ego. that weekend it ended up a huge argument, and i gave into the pressure after a cooldown period. laundry day. dish duty. scrubbing the toilet. smile and take it. he told me during that argument that he wants to have sex four times a week preferably. four laundry days, four toilets. it turns my stomach. he's already had me start birth control for the sake of his needs. first we screw my hormones up, now we screw my brain back up.

i don't know what to do here. i haven't taken my meds since friday, and he's encouraging me to taper off them, but the meds are all that keeps me functioning. i live a boring life in a dead end job making just enough to get by but not enough to get out, in a city i hate and a relationship that's probably getting stale but is my only source of a social life (he runs the only successful meetup group in our city and if this ends i'm sure i'll be banned), and i feel like the only way to keep things intact is to stop taking the meds that keep it all intact. i've already been communing with the same entities that made my life hell before the zoloft, i've been fading from reality bit by bit, i've felt the same anger and despair rearing up, and i've made another one of my little "if you haven't transformed your sh*tty life by the end of the year it's Time To Die" suicide pacts with myself. i don't think i can stop the ruin either way, but outside input would be nice from people with similar intimacy issues.

(if this is in the wrong section i'm sorry)