(I just read this back, and I'm not sure if this is the right forum actually, so mods please feel free to move as appropriate) Argh, even just reading about what's wrong with me triggers me. I'm an information person, I like to know everything, read everything, gather as much information as is entirely possible. But reading about borderline personality disorder just seems.... bleak. Reading through any information pack about signs and symptoms triggers me because it describes me so perfectly, and then in the next sentence discribes how difficult borderlines are to treat, and how awfully they treat others. May as well pack it in and go live in a country house where I can write books about how depressing my life is and not have to speak to another living soul so therefore can't hurt them. I ended up the other night, through my incessant knowledge gathering, on a site that was for relatives/friends of borderlines. It made me feel hopeless. I recognise that my actions hurt, and I recognise the actions of the people these relatives knew as painful. And yet these reactions are so hard to control. My stomach feels it before my brain has even processed what's happening. So when meeting new people, when is it appropriate to say hey PS I have depression and borderline personality disorder? If they know anything about it, they're likely to run for the hills. If they don't, they're going to ask, and then run for the hills. And if you don't tell them, build up a friendship with them, you end up hating them at some point for absolutely nothing, and then they run for the hills. This country house in the middle of nowhere is sounding more and more appealing. At least then I can have sporadic contact with my parents and eventually all the people that know me will forget me. I wouldn't feel guilty for killing myself since technically I'd be alive. People could come stay with me for a week or two on their travels - I haven't, as yet, ruined any friendships in such a short amount of time, so a couple of weeks would be short enough to hide my insanity. Now if only I won the lottery so that I could purchase this house and never work again, I would go, in a heartbeat. And in the meantime... I guess I continue to idealise the people that don't hate me yet, and continue to hate the people that I feel have let me down and pray that the New Year comes soon and with it my new therapy regime - another largely pointless exercise given that I'll probably end up devaluing them too. Ack what's the point.