It's lasted four days. I had to put my dog down two weeks ago so that's the only cause I can think of. But besides that, nothing brought it on. I smashed so many things in my house and my husband would clean it up, or my parents would (they came another day). My mom was out of town and spent hundreds of dollars to come home early for me. I didn't know this until after she was home.

My husband spent two nights at his mom's because I was so destructive and mean and he thought he was making it worse. Him leaving made it worse but I can't blame him for leaving.

No alcohol or drug use was involved in this, but tonight I'm doing cocaine and drinking. By myself. I feel better today.

I feel broken, and I don't know why people keep loving me despite me doing everything in my power to push them away.

I've wrecked hundreds of dollars worth of stuff and I've said things to my husband that you'd never say to your worst enemy. This disorder is cruel to us, it's hard on us, and it's so painful and isolating. But my husband and my loved ones have it worse, I fear. They can't fix me. I hurt them when they don't deserve it.

My husband won't leave me and for that I'm thankful beyond words, but I don't know why. I've manipulated him so much to the point he thinks he deserves this.

When I'm great I'm amazing. And usually I'm great. But when I'm broken like this, I am the worst human on earth.

I'm on a waiting list for an intensive BPD therapy group. It's four and a half months, 40 hours/week, and has been called the best program in the country. But when I'm good, I don't think I need it. I feel when I'm finally in, I'll be fine, and I'll get nothing from it. I'm also afraid I won't be honest.

I haven't self-harmed this time but that's because I hate having to cover up with long sleeves all the time.

I want people to care. I want everyone there for me all the time. And when they aren't, I fall apart. I feel unloved. My brain goes to this place where I can't control what I'm doing. I break things and I know what I'm doing, but I truly don't care. And I convince myself the people in my life don't matter, but of course they do.

This disease. I've seen it compared to narcissistic personality disorder. All I ever see is that these two disorders are the worst because the people who have them are mean, bad, cruel people. I don't want to be that person, but I am.

I told my family I'm not doing Christmas. But they all guilted me into it. So I will, but I don't want to. And I've cancelled all my work shifts. I didn't even call in today so I may be fired.

A friend came over today with food. He told me that this time last year I had a similar episode and that's when he recommended me to the therapist I currently see. Maybe it's Christmas. Maybe it's my dog. Maybe it's everything, or maybe it's nothing.

Please, whatever you do, stick with your treatment plans. I didn't, and now I feel my life is in shambles.