So I've just started my journey on confronting and addressing the symptoms of my quiet BPD, most of which I've been able to successfully internalize and hide from the people I love up until recently when I learned about my diagnosis. Since then, I've had a lot of moments where I felt like an absolute Monster because of this disorder. 

I told my parents about it, and while I didn't discuss all the dirty details of my symptoms with them, I know they've looked it up. I know they're terrified I'll hurt myself, or worse, and I know they partially blame themselves for the way I am even if they don't say it. I confided in my sister about it, who has general anxiety disorder, and she's been so supportive, but I recently learned her panic attacks recently have resurfaced BECAUSE she's so worried about me. I told my fiance about it, about how it's made me doubt who I am and where I fit into our relationship, and she ran out for a few hours and came back to tell me she almost fled the State because she felt like she just needed to run away. Our relationship was the one source of stability for her, and my diagnosis has compromised that and shook her entire world apart. We're still together, but for the time being, she does not look or smile at me the same way she used to. And that hurts, but I can't blame her.

All this has had me beating myself up (literally and figuratively) for days. This all feels like it confirmed my lifelong paranoia that letting out my inner and irrational thoughts, fears, wants, and needs would frighten, damage, and drive away the people around me; that sharing my sickness would infect the people I love with it. I felt like I was my disease and that the only way forward was to quarantine all my crazy deep inside myself again, because as much as that royally sucked, it couldn't feel worse than bringing this kind of hurt on my loved ones ever again.

But I see now that's a lie. These relationships I feel like I only just damaged have always been strained, flawed, and less-than-they-could-be because of my BPD, even when I was keeping it buried deep where I thought it couldn't hurt anyone but me. It made me lie, it made me want to withdraw, and it made me damage my relationships in ways that were inevitably going to be felt sooner or later. I guess that time has just finally come. 

So if this resonates with you and you're feeling like a monster lately too, I just want to tell you that, as awful as it is to finally confront that hurt you've caused yourself and others, the fact that the hurt is there means that these people care about you and are connected intimately with you. It means you still care about yourself. We're not monsters. We're trying our best to survive in a world that doesn't make it easy, especially for people like us. We don't just hurt; we can heal too. We can work on and heal ourselves day by day, and we can do the same for the people we love. 

Sorry for the long post and thanks for reading. I hope it helps someone else out there.