My illness awoke 5 months ago after being bullied by my boss at work. I had been stable for over 8 years after nearly 4 years of hell. I foolishly thought I had beaten it. But my BPD and Bipolar has erupted with a vengeance and I don't know what to do. It started with the bullying that manifested in extreme anxiety and then was triggered into full effect after being involved in a minor car accident that resulted in a severe panic attack. I have since left my job after a period of leave of absence as I was unable to return to work. The anxiety then threw me into a frenzy of mania which lasted a couple months. But now I'm in the throws of rapid cycling and splitting. I am in a severe depression with spikes of fits of rage. I am unbearable to live with and just want to disappear from the world. This all consuming bleakness has left me empty inside and completely broken. I keep trying to fill the hole in my soul with things that should bring me joy. But like water through a sieve, nothing sticks. It all is wasted on me. The joy, contentment, and appreciation I once felt for life for those 8 years is completely gone.
I have a wonderful husband that is doing his absolute best to support, love, and care for me, but my illness is pushing him away. Between my intense sense of doom and frantic fear of abandonment, I am unconsciously (and sometimes consciously) pushing him and all those that love me away. I have lost all hope. I feel as if I am in quicksand trying desperately to keep my head out, but the harder I try to escape, the deeper I sink. I am in so much pain all the time, every day. I try to grasp onto moments of levity, but they are fleeting, and as soon as they end I feel more empty than before. So I have pretty much just given up. The fight is too much for me to take anymore.
This fear abandonment and dread of hurting those around me came to an explosive head a couple nights ago. My husband took me away for a break to a city I have been wanting to visit. It should have been wonderful and would have been if weren't for how ill I am right now. I couldn't find any pleasure in the sights and sounds of the magical place we were at. I let the alcohol flow and drag me into what culminated into a hateful fit of rage directed at my husband. I verbally pushed him and pushed him until he couldn't take it anymore and said something hateful back. That was all I needed to unleash my pent up physical rage on him. I punched him in the face. In reaction he hit me back. I turned into a flurry of fists flying at him wanting to make him hurt and feel my pain. I wanted him to experience and understand where my illness has taken me. I wanted to scare him away. I wanted him give up on me so I could let go and walk away.
He feverishly grabbed at my flailing hands, trying to get me under control. I tried desperately to get away and when I finally broke free, I ran. I ran and I ran, trying to find somewhere where I could jump into the icy waters of the city river. I wanted the cold water to extinguish the burning pain that was eating me alive. My husband managed to chase me down and drag me away from the edge of the dock and drag me back to our hotel. He had to hold me down to keep me from escaping and I eventually drained my energy and fell asleep.
When we awoke the next morning, I felt an overwhelming sense of deflation. I wanted so much for him to let me go. Let me escape the world that is killing me. He said he will never let me go and never give up on me. I know that should be comforting. It's not. I feel horrible. I am a cancer devouring his beautiful soul. I hate myself for this. I hate what I am.
When will my nightmare end?
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