So, I wrote a post a couple days ago. I was about to seriously injure myself (or worse) due to my father's abusive and inconstant behaviour. Instead I cried. I had a crisis. I broke a couple things and I did something I think hurt him deeply: I tore apart one of my most treasured pictures of me and him, back in the days when I still was a child. It was a great picture, I loved it, I had it hanged upon my bed. I slipped the two pieces inside his office. 
He's avoiding me, my mom and my sister since then. He locks the door and spends his days either in his office or outside. He even sleeps there, full time watching Netflix. 
I cooked dinner and brought it upstairs, only to find myself in front of a locked door and him ignoring me knocking or refusing my phone calls. 
My little sister doesn't care. Says it's better this way, we won't get hurt anymore. But... I do care. I love him. I love him deeply. I have wonderful memories with him. But I have to understand his behaviour is TOXIC to me, especially when BPD is hitting so hard. I don't know what to do. I don't know if it's better to cut him off or just accept reality. He won't change. 
I'm so desperate because I think I tore my family apart with my illness. Then I remember my parents fighting and yelling since I was a baby. But maybe I made it worse. I'm a mess. I should have never been born.