I just want to talk. And i'm tired of comparisons

(Sorry this is going to be long. I have never posted or told my story on reddit before. First time posting here.)

For backstory, I had struggled with loss of reality, switching, auditory and visual hallucinations, suicidal tendencies, and substance abuse for years. Whenever I went to family or friends about how I was feeling I was deemed uncontrollable and parred off with: "well, go to the doctors if you think you're sick." I did. Countless times. Hospitals, GPs, psychotherapists, group therapy, you name it. SSRI meds made me worse. (NHS in manchester when it comes to getting diagnosis and actual help is horrifically failing women.) lt was like I had no one who would listen to me. There was never any support that I needed, even when I was taken to the hospital after self harm after my emotions were at 100. Ive self-harmed in more than one way and suffer with anorexia (eating problems since I was a kid.) At the hospital, I sat there after being threatened with the police dragging me back to the waiting room if I left.

6 hours I waited. My mum didn't care to leave work when I messaged her. She just wanted updates. It was my Aunt on my dad's side who came to help me. But after those hours of waiting, I was sent home with samiritans number, a pat on the back, and told, "there are no beds available. if you feel this way again, come back."

People self-diagnosed me with bipolar because that's in the family. I was told, "I know what it's like for you, I have mood swings and anger problems." I was abused by a few ex's. Mentally, physically, verbally. But I know I finally snapped after my last relationship when my ex turning to drink instead of helping me mentally during depression.

After a year and a half of spiralling, drinking myself silly, substance abuse, I rang my friend [John - fake name] in London and he gave me the idea of moving there. 28 days later, I moved and found a room with someone I had never met before. Stupid, I know. But I needed to get out of Manchester. Everyone up North treated me and called me "crazy." Don't call me crazy.

For a while whilst in London, John who advised me to move would always be by my side. He would be there as someone to rely on to never leave me alone. We would hang out at parties a lot. It was completely platonic (this is relevant for later.)

I wasn't in London long, and June 2023, a friend I made whilst raving and modelling rped me. It broke me. This caused me to relapse BAD and I just wanted to die. Despite the rpe, I kept it to myself and never told anyone because this person was "well known" and "extremely liked" in the scene I was in and I didn't think anyone would believe me.

My rapist went abroad not too long later, and though I was still relapsing, t was John who would check up on me. He would text me every night to see if I was safe. He encouraged me to stop drowning myself in drink and drugs. He saved me from my relapse.

As I was still recovering, he helped me in another way. His ex (who has BPD - relevent for later) broke up with him. He knew it was coming. He said he had felt for a few months that the relationship was over but he wasn't going to end it. His friends knew it was coming, too. I had never met her so I could never pass judgment; hearing stories was all I had to go off. He would always tell me she was at home because she didn't want to come out and he didn't want to stay in. Okay, where was I? The way he saved me was he was posting subtle hints on insta about suicide and giving up, so I rushed round to where he was staying and sat with him in the room as he broke down about his ex.

For a man with ASPD, you wouldn't expect him to be so broken. I had never seen a man so cold, distant, and empty. He was a shell. Nothing behind the eyes. The first night I was there, he told me he hadn't slept for 5 days due to substance abuse - I forced him to take his medication. For 6 hours I sat with him as I watched him sleep. (He has horrific night terrors and I knew how to calm him down. I always have been able to whenever I saw him struggling day or night.)

Now, the reason I mentioned his ex's BPD, is once me and John started a more intimate relationship, herself and a family member would stalk our socials. She had a perception of me that John was cheating on her with me - we never did anything besides hang out at the same parties. Cheating was never in our friendship, but maybe she was struggling and needed someone to blame or pass hate onto.

I'm okay with her hating me. If it helped her heal or try and make sense of it, then thats her reality. But if she ever sees this, I hope she will know that I was never a threat to her. I never stepped out of line. Rumours were always bound to spread. She broke up with him and then a few weeks later me and John got closer. If John cheated with me, I'd say so. I don't hide my faults.

A few months later, my friend who was also R*ped by the same friend came forward and I felt comfortable enough to tell her it happened to me, too. I was the only one to go to the police - at first. For a year I was deemed a liar, crazy, and unstable due to reporting. I had people against me, I still had no professional help for my mental health and the voices and visual hallucinations grew worse. Switching was an every day occursncr if someone said one thing or changed their tone slightly. I couldn't cope. I completely lost myself.

Finally, a week after my 30th birthday, I was diagnosed with BPD.

Now the comparisons started.

I lost friends due to a spiral I had 2 weeks before my diagnosis: they compared my to John's ex. They said they "knew what I was like and how to handle me" because of his ex. They grew distant due to comparing me and thinking I was just like her. I'm nothing like her. How can i be? I don't know her and I only saw how John's demeanor and spirit was drained. John once said "I knew you had BPD but I didn't want to scare you in case you compared yourself to [ex.] Of course I would compare because people would not tell me nice things about her. I Didn't know whether to feel sympathy for her or hate. The thing is, I don't hate her. Even after telling everyone John cheated on her with me. I can't hate her.

After my diagnosis and learning about it, I now have a feeling and a sense of her hatred towards me. If I was in her shoes and her ex suddenly got into a relationship a few weeks later, I would second guess his loyalty, too. But it didn't happen. I want to give her some clarity if she read this.

It's been 6 months since my diagnosis and I wish I never told anyone I had BPD. Not even close friends. One person learnt the ins and outs of it. She weaponised my MH to benefit her. She would force me to listen to a topic of conversation so "John had a safe space to talk." The topic was MY past! My buggest trigger. When she attempted to talk, I would warn her not to because I knew I would split. Did she stop? No. She would convince me and John that its in "the best interest of our relationship to talk about this together."

Low and behold, after many times saying stop talking about it, I would split, and then "im the problem." She would say "don't worry, my cousin has BPD so I know how to handle you and your splits." Btch, WHAT?!

We have now fallen out because of another argument and her belittling and degrading my best friend. But thats a whole nother story of it's own.

I just wanted to post because I feel like ive been weaponised to be something in others eyes that i'm not. I guess I just needed to vent about comparisons and my story. I don't even know what I want from this. To just be heard, not just listened to, yano?

Has anyone else been weaponised? How did you cope? I'm still raging. John helps me a lot during rages, but since this big blow out with my "friend" who degrading my bestie, I just feel like I've been gaslit so much by her that my reality is shifting. Reminding myself it did happen and I know im not making this up helps - my close friends help confirm everything as they were witnesses.