I've been diagnosed as Bipolar II, but I'm pretty sure I'm misdiagnosed. I'm absolutely certain, to the core of my being, that I have BPD. The point of this post isn't to find a diagnosis, but to talk about how BPD affects those closest to us and our relationships with them.

I've been best friends with my now boyfriend for over 12 years. We've been officially dating for 3 of them. He understands me more than anyone I've ever dated, mostly because he has debilitating anxiety and depression issues too, but also because he's gone out of his way to do research and actually study BPD (alongside my other issues, such as PTSD and OCPD) to really "get" what's going on with me, as to why I 'pick fights' over menial issues, get overly stressed when I'm about to take any sort of trip, etc.

The problem I'm having right now is that I'm absolutely fucking terrified that eventually, one day, my bf will have enough of my shit and get to packing. Knowing deep down in my heart that he's in it for the long haul, I don't *realistically* think it will happen, but it drives me absolutely insane, to the point of keeping me up at night, that he may eventually get tired of my shit and leave me for someone "not as crazy." I'm not a natural "crier" by nature, but in my episodes, I get super clingy and sob uncontrollably, and lash out when he gets even the slightest bit frustrated with me. Then I get frustrated with myself because I hate that I'm acting the way I am, and it makes me want to resort to old destructive coping mechanisms like cutting. 

I fucking hate this... I hate constantly feeling like I'm in a whirlwind in my own brain. I hate not speaking to my mother because she doesn't understand mental illness whatsoever, so I don't let her into my life any deeper than talking about the weather. I hate not talking to my father because, even though he's the second closest person to me, I don't want to worry him with the storm constantly brewing within me. I hate keeping *me* to myself because I want friends so badly that I don't want to scare anyone off. I hate that every single fucking day I come home from work and watch youtube and drink because even the thought of associating with other people is mentally exhausting. I hate that I spend all my free time on a couch watching infomercials until 4 in the morning because I'm terrified to go to my bedroom, knowing the nightmares that await me when I do. I feel like a god damn zombie, utilizing all my spoons just to go to work and be a functional fucking adult, then be pacified all night just to distract me from myself. 

How does anyone find their way out of this? Where do I go from here? What do I do? I've tried counseling but I can never stick with it... I'm stuck. I feel like a mouse in a glue trap... so desperate to live that I'm willing to chew my own limbs off for a chance at freedom...