First of all: I've never been diagnosed with BPD, and I don't mean to diagnose myself. This community just happens to be the place where I can relate most. I hope me posting here is okay for everyone.

I'm 18 years old and have been depressed for several years. This dysphoria has slowly developed into a thought pattern I could never explain, which also kept me from opening up. Not only because of its complexity, but also because of the shame and the fact that my mood swings oscillate my self-perception between "just fine" and literally paralyzing feelings of hopelessness and suicidal thoughts.
_______________________________________________

THE ACTUAL SITUATION:

So a few weeks back, I had my finals. After my first (out of 4), I was really devastated because I had a major panic attack, so I most likely didn't write a lot. When my dad asked what's up, I could eventually open up a little.

He was understanding and affectionate, but said both could be caused by my weed use. My feelings kinda felt invalidated by him instantly blaming my feelings on weed without even really knowing what's going on inside of me.

I went to the doc the next day for a sick note, who also gave me a letter of referral to a neurologist / psychologist for depression. I called them, but couldn't get an appointment before August. Same with other docs.

I eventually got an appointment with a school-related advisor. My dad came along. She talked to me, asked me questions etc.. I really hated her. She seemed so fake and over-motivated. She repeatedly asked me about suicidal thoughts although I explicitly told her I didn't want to talk about it (I just didn't get what her business was - she wasn't even a certified psychologist after all). 

Apparently that really set her up: After our 20 minute drive home, she called practically the minute we got home, referring me to a psychologist in the same town, who apparently had a cancelled appointment right now. Since I hadn't gotten an appointment with any other doc, I gladly accepted.

The guy was super arrogant, a little shady and everything he said was kinda soapy. I explained why I was there and my dad had to help because talking about this kinda thing apparently sometimes shuts my mind off, making me unable to speak and stare around confusedly. 

At some point, he asked about suicide. I said I often had suicidal thoughts. He asked me if I can promise him not to kill myself, which is a stupid thing to ask a stranger imo. 

"Sure?", I said. At that point, suicide had kinda moved aside as solution to my problems, since I thought I'd now get help.

 "For how long can you guarantee me that?", he asked, which got me even more dumbfounded.

 "What?"

-"How long? Two days? A week? Four weeks?"

"Make it four weeks then, I don't know", I said.

-"Okay, that was the only purpose of this appointment", he said. He offered to put me on antidepressants, but I didn't trust the guy.

Since then, my parents have asked me how I was doing, but that's it. Dad had told me he'd ask the head neurologist in hospital (where he works) for help, but he hasn't mentioned it afterwards. For 2 and a half weeks.

Unfortunately, I went to business as usual telling them I was fine, which I automatically do. I still can't open up just like that, and the fact that my parents seem to believe it's not as bad (anymore?) makes everything worse than before.

After feeling so much love and thankfulness for my parents in these days, I kinda feel betrayed. I'm angry at myself about opening up at all, because it would have caused a lot less trouble. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have gotten as disappointed as I am now. So now, I feel more helpless than ever before