I almost drove my FP to commit suicide.

We've been together for almost two years. He's the center of my life, my identity, my reason to try to better myself. He's stuck with me through so much emotional abuse. He stayed when I was admitted to a psych ward and through the two PHPs and two residential treatment centers. I thought I'd been doing better. I was more stable and had less borderline episodes. I could work my way through more situations without blowing up. 

A few days ago we connected deeper than we ever have. We had amazingly intimate conversations, we had mind-blowing sex, we brought our kink dynamic to an entire new level. The next day - for some reason - I decided to see if he was still on the hookup site I caught him using a few months back. He was.

The next day we argued and argued and argued.  He told me that his ipad logged onto the site automatically, which updated its location. He said that the picture his 'friend' tweeted showing them being intimate was from before he met me, even though it was posted recently. I harassed him so much that he decided to take whatever pills he had. It luckily wasn't enough to do harm.

He's the kindest, sweetest, most loving partner someone could ever hope for. He deserved and deserves so so so much better than me. I hate myself so much. I hate this fucking disease. I'm glad that we're separating, I can't stop causing pain over and over and over... this isn't the first relationship I've done this to. I think I'm going to go back to just hookups from now on.