The narrative I play in my head and worry about constantly is that I am a burden to those I love. When I hear that I’m too much for them, it feeds that narrative in my head. 
“You are making me exhausted”
“look at so and so living their best life, why can’t you get out of bed and out of being sad and be like them”
“I can’t deal with you anymore”
“I’m tired of you being sad all the time”

Well, you and me both. I’m exhausted. I can’t deal with me either. And I’m tired of being sad. I have good days and bad days. Lately more bad than good. I’m going through a lot personally and it’s feeding my bpd. I wish others could be more gentile and understanding about mental illnesses. If I could, I literally would not feel this way or go through this. I wouldn’t wish a mental illness on my worst enemy. I’m trying. I got to an IOP 4 days a week, individual, 12 step meetings, and am on medication. I wish they could understand that I am giving it my all. Even if all they see is me being in bed or slumped on the couch. Every day is just a struggle to stay alive. That takes up all my energy. But I keep going. Going through the motions.