Hi. Relatively new Reddit guy here. Not looking for a diagnosis or support for my presumptions. Just sharing. 

I wish I had known about BPD earlier in life. Having been through a dozen therapists over the past ten years (with some wide gaps in between starts/stops), I've become so disillusioned with the process. It has become clear that it's very easy for them to check the BiPolar Depressive box, offer meds, and send me on my way. And, when that doesn't work, up the dosage until I end up hospitalized from serotonin syndrome (twice). That's what made me give up hope last time, and it took almost seven years and suicidal thoughts to really seek out help in earnest yet again. 

I'm perplexed by the lack of knowledge of BPD in the behavioral health community. After many years of sexual and emotional abuse as a child I started a roller coaster ride of emotions. Every day I'm up, down, up, down, as infinitum. My reactions are grossly inappropriate. Wife's friend kills himself? No reaction. Nothing. See a cute rescued dog on Reddit? Crying like a baby. My life has been a constant struggle for control for almost 30 years. And that life is chock full of fairly big emotional trauma. But, heck, why not just check the BP box because that's so much easier than helping me piece my brain back together. 

Last week was my latest attempt at getting help. Found a local care provider that has experience with BPD (supposedly) and waited two months to get an intake appt. In one hour she asked me answer "as fast as you can" 22 times. Yes, I counted (I use math as a coping mechanism). Most of the way through my visit she gave me that look. You know - the one that means "you're full of shit."  I was describing an average day. Wake up -
Depressed and can't get out of bed. Eat breakfast and an hour later I'm driving 95 MPH down the freeway. Later at work I'm so down I can't type and lock myself in my office. An hour later I'm walking through the halls whistling a happy tune and being loudly sarcastic to anyone who'll listen. On the way home I hear a sad song and have to pull over I'm crying so uncontrollably. That's my life. And she scoffed at me. "I just have no idea what you're describing."  Then she refuses to escalate me or schedule a follow up because I'm a medical marijuana user. Weed is the one thing that has made me feel normal and allowed me to relax without horrible side effects. Clearly she doesn't like that answer. Sent me to a chemical dependency center for eval for addiction. 

So - fine - I'll stop the weed and trade it for Seroquel so you'll let me in the door. 

And now I'm in a three week wait for another intake appt. 

What. The. Ever loving. Fuck. 

OK. Done venting. On with my life. Thanks for the ear. 

To be continued.