I haven’t hidden the fact that since the wedding, I’ve been struggling to keep myself together. Along with that, and some unpleasantness to do with a group online I have long been affiliated with – a very long and weird story – yesterday, I broke. I had the first BPD-related breakdown I have had since January this year, since we lost our Shandy pup. Sure, I’ve had wobbly moments and near-episodes, but this was full-on and frightening.

Today, thanks to the care of the Husband, I am doing much better. And I’m well enough to write this post. I want to tell you all what exactly it’s like to get lost in an episode as a part of my borderline personality disorder. This may make uncomfortable and possibly upsetting reading, so proceed with caution.

We had been driving when the first sign of a meltdown came. I had been sent something particularly spiteful online and it made me feel small. Scared. Sick. We were hurling down a motorway at 80mph and I heard the voice burning in the back of my mind – throw yourself out of the car. Just unclip your seatbelt, open the door and throw yourself into the path of everything driving behind you. Go on. Do it. Just throw yourself. I began to cry, I felt sick and I looked to my husband beside me. I didn’t want to leave him. I fell asleep in the car to put the noise to rest. And it worked – for a little while.

After the long drive, we got home. I was tired, ready to call it a night, but along with more online drama and a message from a supposed friend upsetting me greatly, that was all it took to push me over the edge I had been teetering on all weekend.

The rage is always the first thing that comes out. Rage is the emotion that has driven me for most of my life, along with misery. I threw my mobile across my living room as my best friend Chris cringed in fear. The Husband came in and sat beside me as I began to breathe heavier and heavier, the hot white feeling of fury and horror spreading from the top of my spine down my body. It was no use. I was already gone.

There’s razor blades in the bathroom. Slit your wrists. Cut your thighs. You are nothing. I left the living room with two options, lock myself in the bathroom where I could really hurt myself, or go into the bedroom where my Lady was lying and where I would be safe. Husband followed in swift pursuit and I turned into the bedroom where I lay with my dog. I was only vaguely aware of the Husband and Chris rushing around and hiding everything in our home that I could use to hurt myself. I hated them at that moment, how dare they take away my escapes from this agony? That’s all I felt, agony. In my head, there was only pain and anger, overwhelming all of my senses as I sobbed and growled under my breath.

All I felt was utter hatred. Contempt. I wanted to throw up from the painful feeling in my head – I hate everything, I hate everyone, I hate everything around me and I want to die. I want to die. I lay beside my dog and my chest heaved in despair and anger. Why are people so cruel? Why do I try to help anyone? They can all rot, I wish them nothing but pain and misery for the rest of their lives. I want to die… but I can’t leave him. I don’t want to leave him. He is my world and the best thing about me, how could I ever leave him? You pitiful cow. You’ve been married a week and you’re thinking about topping yourself? He deserves better than this. Better than you.

Over and over these thoughts were going over in my head as I continued to cry and punch myself in the head, digging my nails into my palm – not hard enough to break the skin, I never grow them that long, so I punched myself harder. I felt like I was losing myself and I didn’t know how to come back from it. I didn’t even notice him sitting by me as I twitched and held my head in my hands (cliche, I know…) with tears and snot all over my face. “Drink,” I remember him saying, handing me a can of pop along with the venlafaxine dose I’d missed that morning and a diazepam. I lay on him, sobbed, ranted, howled – until I finally felt like I could breathe and that bitchy voice in my

head finally shut up.

And just like that, the erratic manic feeling of anger and sorrow melted away as I lay in my husband’s arms. The dose of diazepam kicked in pretty quickly and I finally felt calm. It was only my voice and my husband’s heartbeat that I could hear – bliss.

Chris let me paint his nails while the three of us watched Gogglebox. I took the steps I needed to get away from this online drama that’s been following me over the weekend. I spent today being looked after by my husband, we had dinner together and I’ve rested up. BPD episodes always wear me out, it’s exhausting fighting yourself and trying not to cause any harm or even kill yourself. And then it passes like it was never there.

I hope this gives everyone a little insight into this side of my illness. And now, to bed.