One Big Mess

I recently found out that I have BPD. Before the doctors said I was Bi-Polar, but someone noticed that I cycled to quickly through my emotions and took a look at my relationships. So though now that I have a diagnosis that fits, I feel that it may have made things worse or just didn't help at all.

I mean right now I am just sitting hear, after a day of doing absolutely nothing but sleep and I am depressed, anxious, sad, and angry at the same time. I hate myself, I keep talking to myself in bad ways, and I just want to die. I have taken up drinking a lot more and trying to figure out what else I can do to relieve some of this pin. But yet, I know that in a few hours, a few minutes, or a few days, I will be completely fine and that is the most irritating thing ever. And yet I can't even look forward to that. I get so stuck in the moment that I can't even look forward to the brighter future.

Yesterday, I asked a close friend to help me through this, to just make sure I am doing the thing the therapist is telling me too. And also since I spend a lot of time with him, that when I start having problems to just walk me through the steps for dialectical behavior therapy. But, once I asked him, I felt bad for asking him or anyone I knew for help. I feel bad for asking for help for anything, I feel bad for being alive most of the time. And I don't want to put that on anyone, especially if they are compelled to to "yes" to something like that just because they think it would help me not because they actually want to.

I just hate this so much, I hate that I can't control myself or my feelings, I hate that I can't just be happy, I hate that I can't except people who care about me, I just hate me. I know "me" is really BPD, but when it interferes with everything in your life. I feel like its all just me.
chaoskidd chaoskidd
22-25, F
3 Responses Nov 27, 2012

Me too!! Finally someone put it in words that make sense. Once i tried the approach of thinking i was better than everyone, everything was an inconvenience and for a few weeks my mind that looks like a picasso picture on meth got a swift kick in the ***.

I try to reach out to people, but they don'y know what to do. And once I mention suicide, they panic. And I don't want to make them feel anymore helpless so I just don't tell them anything. I don't have anyone to talk to other than my therapist, who also seems clueless. I just try to get through the nights, as best as I can without doing something stupid.

Rapid waves of unexplainable emotions. Actions others see as erratic.
Pain so deep it crushes. All these things are true I know.


Love so deep it bursts from your heart.
Devotion without limit.
Willingness, even eagerness to protect others.
A love of all music, poetry, art. You probably do them all, perhaps in secret.

Your sleep is fit full, dreams are complete stories with plot and setting.
People think they know you, you fear they truly will

All I can offer is that you are not alone, there are those who understand.