**So, I just want to start by saying that this is my first post on Reddit and I know this is a long post, but I need to get this out. I've been a lurker for a long time, and I don't know if my post makes sense or if anyone can relate. If there's anything that is confusing, I'll try to clarify it as best as I can. Moving on...**

**I was diagnosed with BPD over a decade ago. I am on medication and it's been a long road with trying to find a combination that works with my body chemistry. I did go to therapy for two years and I have several books on DBT and BPD, including the DBT Handbook and Workbook, The DBT Journal, Loving Someone with Borderline Personality Disorder, and a few others I can't name. I have stopped therapy, it's been over a year due to financial issues and (I feel resentment for this) after asking my husband to be a part of my treatment and therapy, he spoke with my therapist once. He told me he didn't find the session helpful. I quit going soon after my husband expressed his opinion.**

**With that said...I want to relay the events of this past weekend.** 

**I work overnights. I had Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night off this past weekend. So, during my days off, I was drinking, played a card game with my husband and neighbors. (My husband and I have been having marital troubles to the point of discussing legal separation and/or divorce.) My husband was inebriated enough to let his guard down and we ended up in bed together. (We haven't been intimate with each other for quite a few months.)  Some time later this weekend, my husband reminded me that there is a good chance that we aren't going to be together later on this year. We fought because of an entirely different reason, and I ended up drinking again. I felt that the fight was my fault and being reminded that he didn't have hope of salvaging our marriage had contributed to the hopelessness that made my chest tight with every breath I took. I ended up by myself, listening to songs that fed into my despair, and then I started slicing at my leg and arm. It wasn't deep, just barely enough to draw blood, but there were more cuts in my leg than my arm. I felt the momentary relief. I made my way to my friend's house and ended up passing out on the bathroom floor after throwing up.** 

**Monday, I didn't return home until late afternoon. I ended up sleeping at my friend's place for most of the day to recover from the partial hangover and migraine. When I arrived home, I showered and was airing out the cuts, putting on Vitamin E oil. My husband saw the cuts. Needless to say, he was very hurt and angry because I promised I wouldn't do that anymore (after the last incident that was well over a year ago) and that I promised I didn't hurt myself last night before I left. (When he asked, I hadn't cut myself yet. I was in my vehicle parked somewhere in town when I cut myself.) We sat in silence...and then, I left for work without clearing the air...and feeling that he wasn't there for me, regardless of how angry and hurt he felt. I felt like a burden because I need constant reassurance, and worse, a horrible person for making a promise I broke on top of not talking to him when I felt overwhelmed.**

**As the night progressed, everything started to eat at me. The way I left without him knowing how much I loved him, how hurt I was, how alone I felt...along with him feeling angry and hurt because of what I did to myself, it all just kept spurring on more negative emotions and feeding my paranoia. I called my husband multiple times on my lunch break. He didn't answer. Later, on my 15 minute break, I called my husband repeatedly until he answered. It's 1, almost 2 in the morning right now and he is asleep because he has work early in the morning. However, the spiral of despair and desperation worsened. I started to think about how pitiful I was for panicking because he didn't pick up the phone the other times I tried to call.** 

**When he finally answered, the only thing I asked was for him to tell me that everything is going to be okay. I was crying. I told him I was scared. I felt relief when he told me that everything is going to work out. He told me that he was going into the office to knock a few things out in a couple of hours and that he was going to head home afterwards to do some more training online. I told him I was coming home as soon as I got off work.** 

**I confess that during the downward spiral, (before my husband answered the phone) I thought that on my way home, I should just drive my vehicle into a brick wall, just to escape this overwhelming emotional turmoil. I am almost in tears again just thinking about where I just was mentally. How horrible the pit in my stomach feels...this sinking, sickening feeling of disgust at myself and my brain. I always ask myself what did I do to deserve this? Why is my brain constantly doing this?** 

**I want to be easy with myself. I want to treat myself with more respect and be accountable for the things I do that aren't right...but my moral compass is compromised by my broken brain. The only things that help the threat of uncontrollable emotions bubbling over is verbal reassurance from my husband. On the one hand, I realize that arguing with my husband elicits a negative reaction in me. It hurts so much that I feel cornered and can't defend my point of view rationally. So, I give up and shut down. When he reassures me that everything will be okay, it lifts me up and I have this false sense of security that makes me want to try again...until I'm reminded that he thinks we won't be together by the end of this year.** 

**Then, there is the cutting. Cutting and bleeding is something physical that my brain can rationalize the emotional pain I'm feeling. That's why I do it. I have a physical wound that I can see and understand that there is supposed to be pain and I can lump the emotional pain with the physical wound. I don't want to die. I just want to be able to see what's hurting me and feel like it can heal...regardless of how fleeting this temporary relief may be. It is overwhelming. It is deep. It hijacks rational thinking. It is perceived, yet so real. I have no anger...just sadness and resignation. The paranoia kicks in after a while. My brain starts to over analyze my husband's intentions. It starts to skew my perception of him, making him the bad guy. Subconsciously, I become defiant...I oppose the stance he takes and do the opposite of what he wants, no matter what it is. I see myself doing it, but I feel like a hostage in my mind.** 

**When I am overwhelmed like this...I realized that no one should have to struggle so hard just to exist. Every day I wake up, I fight myself and everyone else silently...in my head. This is the price I pay for waking up every single day. I feel as if I was made to suffer...though the reason is never clear. I believe in euthanasia because I know what it's like to wake up...and wade through so much emotional turmoil...that at the end of the day...I wonder if living such a life is really worth the few fleeting moments of joy I feel...** 

**The frustrating part is how can you communicate this to someone who doesn't understand the whirlwind of emotions and the constant extremes one goes through? How can you get them to understand how deeply this disorder is rooted in oneself?**

**This is me and I know that this isn't the end, but why do I keep hoping for absolution that isn't guaranteed? The bottom line is that I don't want a divorce, but with everything that has happened, is it better to end my marriage so my husband doesn't have to be burdened with my disorder?**