Original post is [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/BPD/comments/49pbuq/xp_rrelationships_me_33m_with_my_bpd_sister_22f/). I got some great support and solid advice. Thank you so much to anyone who read/responded.

Our folks arrived before Danielle and we discussed how we wanted to handle the "intervention". On the positive side, we were all in agreement in terms of how we'd be handling the situation. We agreed on what language to use, how to couch our concerns, the positive elements we wanted to emphasize, and even how to handle a meltdown if/when that happened.

Unfortunately things started going south before Danielle even arrived. I mentioned that she was scheduled for her first session with a DBT specialist beforehand. Well, she messaged me after that appointment to tell me that she had just walked out on this new therapist (her third new therapist in a row that she's walked out on) because after the hour session, the therapist suggested that she would benefit from an intense out-patient DBT program. This was not what Danielle wanted to hear, so cue the usual "what a waste of time" and "idiotic shrink is only in it for the money." In addition to the anger and frustration directed toward the therapist, she texted something along the lines of "I don't deserve to be happy and I should just kill myself." I showed these messages to our folks and our resolve hardened even as we knew she was now even less likely to be receptive toward our talk.

I knew that Danielle would not enter the house if she saw that our folks were there, so they hung out in a different room while she got settled. After a few minutes of small talk and snugs with my cat, I told Danielle that I was worried about her: between her cryptic messages, behavior at work, and some information that had come to light, I was concerned that she was really struggling and that I wanted to surround her with the people who love and support her the most so we could figure out how to tackle the situation as a family. I brought out our folks and she flipped.

We knew this was a possibility, but the bad therapy session beforehand sealed our fate. She accused me of ambushing her (fair) and lying to her. She told me I was a horrible person and that I had just betrayed her and made the whole situation worse. She started screaming and hyperventilating. We all did our best to give space, but also calm her down and repeat things like "We love you and we want to help you." Obviously, none of this went over well and she tried to leave. Our dad moved to get in between Danielle the door and her vitriol and screaming escalated again, now saying things like "Stop screaming at me!" and "Get your hands off me!" Of course, nobody was screaming, let alone touching her, but we realize this is simply an emotional reaction to the stress of the situation.

It was bad, but then she reared back and drove her head into the doorframe at full force. She must have been surprised by the force of impact because she staggered for a second, but then reared back to do it again. Our step-mom, who largely raised us, is a tough lady and managed to tackle her before she could smash her head again. My dad yelled for me to call emergency services so I did. As I was talking to the dispatcher she was evidently pulling her hair out, scratching at her face, and trying to slam her head into the floor. All the while she is saying things like, "I wouldn't be smashing my head if you hadn't betrayed me. This is your fault. I hate you. You are killing me."

Police arrived and she calmed a bit, but since they had been called to a psychiatric emergency, they had to let the EMTs question and examine her. During this, Danielle admitted that she had sent me a suicidal ideation text that night and that she has wanted to kill herself for a decade now. This was all they needed to hear in order to take her in. She spent the night in the hospital.

We never even got to tell her that her roommates were kicking her out, which was the whole point of the evening.

Today we went down to the hospital first thing and met with the attending psychiatrists. We gave them all the info we could and were then told that Danielle had been asking for us. She has a huge welt on her forehead and the beginnings of a black eye. The doctors suggested that the best time to fill her in on the roommate situation would be while she was still at the hospital, so we did. Cue the biggest meltdown I have ever seen from her. The volume of her shrieks and intensity of her pain is still ringing in my ears, twelve hours later. Every kind of awful thing came out of her mouth, directed at her roommates, her family, the present doctors and nurses, and even some random patient who had given her "a look" earlier in the day. She was restrained and sedated, but the attending psychiatrists had seen all they needed to commit he for a three-day observation period.

Most telling during this was her asking, "Why didn't my roommates talk to me about this?!" To which I answered, "Because look at how you are reacting to this news: they are terrified of you." This at least got her to pause and reflect for a moment, but it was short lived.

Honestly, there is too much to even post. The extreme vitriol I've been receiving all day is taking its toll on all of us, but myself in particular. I keep alternating between bewilderment at how surreal the last 24-hours have been and extreme sadness and guilt. I've cried more today than the last ten years combined and we're not out of the woods yet, as a longer-term situation has not yet been worked out. We visited her four times today (hospital has a strange visiting hours schedule of 45-minutes every three hours) and have run through every emotion under the sun. One minute she is detached and emotionless (disassociation), the next she is deeply depressed, only to fly into a rage at the slightest thing, and then apologize profusely and talk about how worthless she is, and then laugh at some cat puns I was making. I'm trying to remain strong for my parents and stay positive for my sister, which is fine, but now I'm home drinking some whiskey and crying with my cat.

Logically I know that she is in crisis and that we have done the right thing by getting her into the hospital. That said, hearing her say such awful shit to myself and our folks is just brutal. Seeing her in so much pain is heartbreaking. Hearing from the doctors that there isn't much they can do for her in the short term is damn-near defeating. I feel guilty, sad, angry, frustrated, and overwhelmed.

What the fuck? How do I do what I need to do for my family while taking care of my own mental health? How can I help my little sister?

tl;dr: "Intervention" barely happened; sister self-harmed and has been hospitalized. Next steps unknown.