This is long, and I'm sorry, but here it is:

I \[22f\] had a heart-to-heart with a really close friend of mine today. I haven't been feeling very well about myself or anything really for the past few months, more than I usually do because I am in the process of graduating college on top of various other things, and he started to notice. He picked me up this morning because he called me to check in, and I burst into tears just talking to him. And that scared him to death. So he came and got me because he just really wants me to be okay. I have a horrible time saying what I want to say, so I keep it bottled up until I physically cannot carry the weight of it anymore. And I think he was afraid I was getting bad again. I keep all my dark stuff hidden because I have it in my head that no one needs to hear any of that, so I bury it and it doesn't come out until it's gotten too far.

We got to talking and he sat there and listened to me cry for hours, and he didn't really have to do that...and while I realize he cares about me a TON, I don't want to bring him down with anything I want to say or how I feel. But he still goes out of his way to take care of me and I can't even begin to explain how grateful I am to have him around. I would do the exact same thing for him in a heartbeat. We love each other deeply, but not in a romantic way. He is aware of things that have happened to me in the past (I'm an emotional/mental/physical/sexual abuse survivor, I was bullied relentlessly as a child, and I have a history of self harm, suicidal tendencies, and eating disorders), and he tells me all the time how he wishes he could take all that away from me because I deserve respect and happiness, and he would do whatever he could to make the hurt just disappear, and how he would try to be that person for me. As I we were talking, I noticed that he was crying a little bit hearing me speak, and that made me feel bad too. I didn't want to make him cry. But he hugged me tight and didn't let go and let me say what I needed to, and he listened and tried to help me as much as he possibly could. 

Back in August, I spent a week in the hospital because I was having the worst mental breakdown I have ever had in my entire life. Everything happened so fast that I didn't have time to tell anyone where I was going and how long I would be gone. I told him how scary of a place the psych ward was, especially with a pandemic going around, and I mentioned that I felt like my problems weren't really being addressed but instead they just kept giving me pills. I was clinically diagnosed with BPD while I was in there, and I had always had a feeling that I might have that, and my PCP agreed with the diagnosis. I couldn't sleep in the facility because it was too loud, so they gave me sleeping pills. I mentioned once that I have nightmares every once in a while, so they gave me a pill for that too. And I was already on two other medications for my anxiety and depression, but they upped them to what felt like a lot, and I just felt completely numb to everything around me and I hated that feeling. My friend admitted that he missed me greatly and was afraid the worst had happened, but he's happy that I'm still here.

So my friend made me realize something: the nurses in the hospital were just doing their job and sometimes they feel like the only thing they can do is pump me full of drugs and see how I feel on them, when really I don't want to be medicated...I just want to feel better. He said that how I was talking about being in the hospital made him think that I just want to be heard and taken seriously, so he told me to always tell him when I have something on my mind because he wants to be there for me as much as he possibly can, but he also said that continuing my therapist is also a good idea, and that he would go with me for support if I needed him to. I don't know how or why I didn't see it that way, but I guess I thought the only place I could go was to the hospital because I genuinely thought I was going insane. I guess I needed to hear that I'm not crazy, I just have a lot going on in my head, and all the added stress of college was just adding to it. 

So I guess the point of this post is this: People who have BPD and similar afflictions are not crazy. We just want to be loved and understood just like everyone else, and it shouldn't be so much to ask.