Nightmares and memories

Nightmares are a normal part of life for so many people. For me they are usually triggers. Like a movie or show with a particular type of scene, it triggers memories. Memories trigger nightmares which compound all of the issues. Stress levels climb, anxiety overwhelms. I don't want to leave my house or see people. So many don't understand, and how can I explain? I don't even have answers.
'Did you remember your meds?' B will ask. He knows how bad things can get for me and he tries to understand. He knows what situations will set me off. Crowds of people, clammoring to talk over one another. Social situations, especially with people I don't really know, and people who don't know that I have hearing problems.
I don't dislike people, I am not angry or cold. I am sick. People don't understand the difference. People don't know what OCD really is. No, I don't want to clean your house, but thanks for the stereotype. I will count everything I do in my head though, and I will use numbers and habits for everything I do, and if I can't then I won't do it. If I don't have 12 sugars to put in my tea, I wont drink it, and I dont want pre-sweetened tea. This is an issue for me and people can't understand why I can't just 'get over it'. There are so many little issues like this for me. Besides the OCD, I grew up with a dissociative disorder that went long unrecognied until I joined the military. Back then I was far too ashamed to tell anyone about it. There is a stigma associated with mental illness. When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder as well, I wasn't surprised. I knew it wasn't exactly normal to stay up for several days straight, writing and spewing creativity, then crashing and not getting out of bed for a week. The medication was more than I could handle though, I hated being a zombie. I also missed writing. I couldn't have both, my mind was too fuzzy on the meds. I took myself off of them and stopped going to the doctor. At the time I would rather hit those lows so that I could have the highs too. Later, things began getting worse. I began hearing things, and I was always afraid. I would sleep in my closet with the door wedged shut because I was so afraid someone was going to break in. Still, I was afraid to tell anyone I knew. They would judge me, think less of me. It wasn't until after I had my son that I decided to get help again. I didn't want my kids to have to deal with my problems.
I went for several months, but it didn't help. He unlocked memories that made things so much worse for me, and he wasn't helping control any of my issues. I became more and more reclusive, not leaving my home hardly at all, only socializing via internet. The thought of dealing with people in person brought about a sense of dread that would make me sick if I had to ponder it at all.
Years went by, I stayed alone, pretty much dealing with only my family and my anxiety got worse. Depression began weighing me down more and more. The highs left, all that was left was the low.
Finding facebook helped a little. I began talking to people again, getting in touch with people I had known once, including B. After years of separation, my divorce became final and B and I started seeing each other. My anger and depression was almost too much for him. He convinced me to try again to get help. My depression is under control now, with the help of medication, but the other things are a constant trial for me and for him. The anxiety, the OCD, the bipolar disorder, the dark dreams and swings, the fear of social situations. I try especially hard for B, but I know his family and friends have a hard time understanding me. I know I should no longer feel ashamed of my issues, but part of my problem is being able to express myself face to face with someone. Writing has always been easier for me.
While things have been better for me in the past year, most especially because of how patient and understanding B and my kids have been, I still have some lows and issues. Usually triggered by memory dreams, memories after particular scenes in shows and movies, and sometimes even facebook and poeple mentioning things. B has a hard time dealing with these things. How does he explain to people that they can't just stop in to our home on a whim because I might be having an anxiety issue or panic attack? He is a social creature and very close to his very huge family. I love that about him and hope my kids take after him and not me, even encouraging them to be more outgoing. Also, things are different out here. People still see mental illness as a bad thing, and not just the sickness that it is. They will support a community member who has cancer, but look with disdain at someone who is bipolar or 'crazy'. It's a hard thing to deal with alone. I am glad B is here for me now!