I was diagnosed with BPD and PTSD in 2017. I had been spiralling down and out of control before then for years. After my diagnosis, I started going to group therapy, seeing a therapist, and a psychologist,  because I didn't want to lose my shit and drive my car off a cliff. 

The group therapy was the first to get out of control. I made friends with people there who would ask me for shit, rides, free art, etc. Like I'd get calls from the other people in my group like once a day. That became a real source of stress and dread for me so I stopped going. 

The therapist made me feel like a freak. It wasnt her fault. Just when I told her about how my dad raped me for years as a child, she kept saying how sorry she was. I'm sorry too. But I didnt want to open up to someone who felt sorry for me. 

The psychologist said she wasnt going to prescribe me medication because she thought I was really high functioning. I am a person without health I surance in america, so what is the point? I spend $100+ a month to be told sorry, you're functioning, and get stressed the fuck out by other people? When I make $12 an hour??

I stopped going. Since 2017 I've tried 3 other therapists. I usually really like it at first, one therapist blew off our appointments twice and that fucked me up so I stopped seeing her, the other 2 I stopped being able to afford. 

I started to self harm again this year. I've gained 100lbs. I have fantasies of doing something terrible so my boyfriend will hate me so I can go out into the woods and blow my brains out. I started smoking cigarettes again this year. I guess maybe at one point I was high functioning. I dont think I am anymore. 

Worth mentioning that until recently, I've always had extremely difficult jobs. I worked in an animal shelter for 1.5 years, a vet for another 1.5, working like 50 hour weeks for 3 years. This year I decided I couldn't see any more dead animals, or deal with any more hysterical pet parents, or see any more abuse or neglect or horrifying accidents involving animals. It makes me sick thinking about it. I tried call centers until I got to a point where my self harm was becoming an issue, because to anyone else someone screaming at them is bad, but to me it's the worst thing that could happen. So I tried a contact lens technician position, and quit when my boss tried to have me carpool to a different location with a man. I am so afraid and uncomfortable around men. Guess why. I tried reception at a staffing agency, but the people I worked with seem to personally come at me at least once a day, to the point where I was having rage filled outbursts and stopped showing up out of shame. 

Now??? Now I work 20 hours a week as a cashier at a dollar store and for a second, I felt normal. I could work a full shift without any overwhelming, crippling feelings. Without splitting. I could go to work, do my job well without sucking shit because I'm so emotional/without having a panic attack/without trying to fight my coworker, and then go home and actually be like, wow what a good day. I had a full conversation with my partner before I took the job, we talked about finances and if this was a move we could afford. He said yes at first but last night I found out basically, he isnt okay with my job. He is happy I'm happy but he cant continue to build his savings as he has been unless I bring in more income. 

That really sent me in a spiral. And hes so sweet, he tried to reassure me he didnt mean anything by it and that I can stay at the job I'm at. But you know what, it doesnt matter that he said that. Because I got a small glimpse of what he really wants. As in, hes okay with this, but I saw for a second that he really wants me to go back to normal and get back to work. I cried myself to sleep last night because that's the theme of america: you are what you work. That's it. Realistically if you're not making money, you're not good. 

I woke up this morning and started my soul crushing job search again. I want to die because I know that I ruined my career by jumping around so much and quitting so many jobs like a dick. I dont care about anything. There isnt a line of work that inspires me. I just want to preserve what I have left of myself. I'm afraid that I will jump back into 40 hours a week and these feelings will start to eat me up again. And I know it's what I have to do. 

I wish I could just turn it off. Like go to work at an office job, deal with Brenda being rude to me without feeling worthless and hurting myself or without feeling provoked and wanting to hurt her, for 40 hours a week, then come home and do all my regular shit: cooking dinner, cleaning the house, taking care of the animals, the stuff I do every day that is my basic responsibility. I wish i could handle that and a regular job. I wish i wasnt a failure. 

On top of this I have an extra serving of wanting to die-ness because I freaked the fuck out again this morning, cried and hyperventilated, and after my partner calmed me he asked if I wanted to have sex. I said yes even though i definitely didn't want to. I was extremely weird about it and then started sobbing in the middle of it and we had to stop. And now I have all those awesome feelings of being violated for no reason other than I wanted to do what he wanted. And I feel disgusted. And I want to fucking die. 

Thank you for reading this idk I just have nobody in my life at all who I can talk to Nd who would potentially understand. I'm home alone today and I just feel really lonely and hopeless.