I'm 25, an artist, a bisexual, and in pain

[Tristan]

        Hello. These last few years of my life have been the most emotionally and mentally painful  times than any others. They have also been the most successful (in the physical world). I don't know about everyone here, but only when things in my life are going great do my disorders flair. I live in Seattle and go to art school. I have been diagnosed with panic and generalized anxiety disorder, and have also struggled with depression. Depression is rearing it's ugly head lately, and the panic attacks are increasing. I live with my boyfriend and we have been together for a year and a half. Through this time he has supported me through many horrible attacks of crying and screaming, attacks of feeling like death is near and that all that I am working toward is a hoax due to the fact I am a woman in a mans world. However, his career is taking off, and it takes him away from me for long periods of time.
       I am unhappy with myself. I keep a constant stream of negative thoughts aimed toward myself in my head as I go through my day, and it is like a demon in my brain berating my for being a flake, being a phoney, etc. I am unhappy with my relationship, because I feel like the only real attention I get from him is when I have a panic attack or demand it from him like a squealing pig. Last night was the worst, because I realized that because of my disorders I am being controlled by the person I love, just by the fact that I almost can't stand to be away from him...what happens if I have an attack? I go to him, and he comforts me. But what happens when he is gone? I go mad, because we have fostered a relationship on dependency; mine on him, and he knows it, and keeps me like a domesticated woman in my house that is not really mine but his.
        I feel like I cannot trust anyone with my love. When I love people, my aura drains and pours out of me and into them, often leaving nothing for me, and I do not get what I need back to refill. I am a social creature with specific people, and I feel many times I am a source of energy for them. But I cannot reach out to them because they don't understand.
       I am an artist. I know this because if i do not create, the energy backs up and causes rot. The most severe depression I have ever gone though was when I denied the art in me and it stagnated and caused severe agoraphobia. The last 3 years I have channeled this power into my schooling, and this year is my last. When I am in gear and the anxiety and depression is at bay I see my path clearly. But with the problems I am having at home with my boyfriend, my symptoms have become unbearable.
     Yesterday I cried so hard and so long I look like I have black eyes. I am at work right now trying to keep normal, trying to keep unnoticed, but I work in a very public place and people ask me "are you all right?" I want to scream NO! I AM NOT ALRIGHT! But I cannot. I cannot go to the doctor because I have no money, and I refuse to become a pill zombie again because it blocks the creative flow in and I would die. But I feel like I am dying now.
      I am confused about my sexuality. I am attracted to women. This is not acceptable. I cannot talk to my family, it makes everything a hundred times worse. I cannot talk to my friends, I scare them with my pleas and with my silences. I cannot talk to my boyfriend because he never gives anything back, besides he is never here. I cannot move out from our home because I don't have money and I am attempting to get my BFA. I DO NOT NEED THIS NOW!
     I soo need to focus this pain into my art. I just cannot do it, people might then know. But all this pain has to go somewhere, and it is eating me inside, and the art is a very demanding Mistress and I am pulled it two directions all the time.
     I feel like I will die before I can say what I need to say through my art. I feel like I don't know who i am, and my future is black. This shadow haunts me. If I fail at this, at going to school, I will die! But how can I succeed when I am in such termoil?

Desperate, Tristan