TL;DR: I know I have borderline, but I just found out. What advice do you have from here? (I am doing IPO five times a week currently.)

I've been under an assumption for a long time that I'm depressed. Sometimes I wondered if I was manic or not. I grew up in a small rural area where mental health is either against religious beliefs or is thought to be entirely ineffective.

I've changed environments several times and realized a constant pattern of behaviors and relationships that are almost transferable from one spot to the next. In fact, I often question if I even care about anyone--including my family. When I've been in down moods I've been convinced that I'm destined to be one of the people who snaps and takes all their anger out in public displays of violence or pain.

I expressed ideations of wanting to be dead to my therapist two weeks ago. I talked to my exgf soon after and expressed deeply saddened emotions to her as well. She was concerned with the [em]treatment[/em] of my psyche, and left a voicemail on my therapists' voicemail. (Since we all know HIPAA prevents therapists from direct contact with our support systems without written consent.)

My therapist was in his car on the way to a session and heard pieces of the voicemail as he drove through a tunnel. (This was learned after the following story.) My therapist caught words of harm, hurting himself, yada-yada.. but he didn't get the context of the message. He called 911 and had the police sent to my house.

[Disclaimer: I had been having a miserable day because all I wanted to do was be alone and sit in my room by myself for a day or two without my phone going off and the world asking things of me. I didn't want to be around anyone or to have to do anything--naturally.]

The police call me as I'm listening to sad Pandora (I prefer CHVRCHES--not at all religious). I'm of course startled and my anxiety goes through the roof. I tell them not to come, that it's the last thing I want, and that they'd only be hurting me by coming. All very articulate emotions I must say for someone at their wit's end. Needless to say, they ignored me and showed up.

I'm already on the verge of tears when they pull up to the house. It's an obvious cop car in our new neighborhood and the two officers stand at the foot of our steps just stand there. They tell me I have to be seen by an EMT and then I can go back to my room. (Just like I could go back after I talked to the police--good one.)

The EMTs come and tell me I have to go with them to the hospital. I've been calm. I'd been talking meds (not the right ones, but the ones I'd been prescribed at the time) so I wasn't inconsolable yet. I was more of the terrified animal cowering in the cage, deciding whether to beg, attack, or play dead. My exgf had arrived at this time and she understands I have some mental ailment and is in her second year of her doctorate in psychology. It was helpful, but I wasn't nice to her and I didn't let her know I was happy to see her.

I stopped having eye contact with people and became defiant. I tried to use logic and rational thinking to explain to them how harmful their requests were to me. They literally rolled their eyes. I felt really scared now that they were going to force me to go to the hospital. Physical force isn't okay for me, especially by grown men.

I was emotionally leveraged into the ambulance, but I sat in the back, without a seat belt, staring through my soggy eyes at the case of medical supplies opposite me while the attendee with me looked as if I might stab him with a syringe any moment. I'm not a violent person physically. I've never hit anyone or been in a fist fight. However, I had been thinking about maybe possibly stabbing him with a syringe.

We get to the hospital and of course it's the effing ER room. We walk in and I am on display. "Who are they bringing in? Why did they use the ambulance? He looks fine. There goes the baker with his tray like always..." Whatever they were all judging me on--clearly by they I mean myself. #PerceptionProblems

I do the eval, I beg and plead for freedom, I tried to walk out, I was grabbed and held against a wall by four or five sets of hands as two dozen nurses, doctors, receptionists, and maintenance workers stood in a half moon around me. Now we;ve created one of my worst recurring nightmares. Being forced into a mental institution even though I'm not "insane" and being forced to do what others say because no one will listen to my brain. I've already taught everyone in my life the blinking code in case I ever become a vegetable. We. Need. To. Be. Understood. Amirite?

Well, they brought out restraints, had a needle, had me at a level I didn't know was possible, and it was as close as I ever want to come to embodying a wild animal. I think the only thing that kept me from freaking out was the belief that they wanted me to lose it. I felt like they wanted me to "break." I didn't want them taming this wild beast. They locked me in a room, put a guard at my door, and fed me the world's worst pancakes while ignoring any chance of hearing my story, believing what I said, getting a second opinion, calling my relatives, etc. Jerk wads.

I of course end up being released after the most traumatic experience of my adult life (for once, not an exaggeration). I went to my scheduled therapist appointment, told him he was wrong, told him I didn't trust him, told him I was done with him...and then felt so much guilt and humiliation for the stereotypical basket case I always am proceeded to sink into a rock bottom that even the fish with the sharp teeth and weird eyeballs deep in the ocean "wouldn't matter." &lt;&lt; That's a depression joke.

I went to my psychiatrist the next day and relayed the story to him in what had to be the slowest vocal fry-story he ever endured. On the spot he called a clinic and had me signed up for in-patience out-patient treatment. I started the following day (Wednesday, October 5th) and have since gone through the ringer emotionally.

I go back to sessions in a few hours and decided to look up borderline personality. After 4 hours of researching it on Google, YouTube, the deep web, and reddit trying to find any article or suggestion that didn't blatantly tell me I have BPD.

I have Borderline Personality Disorder.

I'm on good meds and feel stable at the moment. Probably a little manic since it's 4:30am as I type this. It's been going on for 3 days, so I hope I can ride this into mid-week and regroup before the weekend, but I digress.

I'm going to talk to my clinician, psychiatrist, and PCP about this later today. Which brings me to my unnecessarily long, but hopefully entertaining and only slightly relate-able point of my story:

What now?