Adventures in Mental Illness

I didn't consider that I was ill until two years ago. Looking back on my life, I see many symptoms, cycles and behaviors of a mentally ill person. I've always known I had anxiety, so that was nothing new. Two years ago, late fall, I started feeling more weighed down than I ever had before. I had difficulties getting out of bed, showering, doing dishes, leaving the house. My muscles ached, I felt sick and lethargic. It didn't take long to realize I had depression.
December 2009 was the darkest, lowest month I had ever experienced. Unfortunately that wasn't the last time, nor would it be the worst I'd ever feel. By the end of that month, me and the man I was already in love with jumped into a whirlwind relationship. This immediately "cured" me of my depression. It was so perfect and magical for months, and I thought depression had just been a temporary phase in my life.
After a few months in a perfect relationship, I started showing extreme signs of borderline personality disorder. I was desperate not to lose him and the fear of abandonment consumed me, even though I had nothing to worry about. In my mind, he'd be a hero one moment, and a villain the next. My mind would make up scenarios and I'd become needlessly angry and suspicious. I didn't want him out of my sight. I needed constant contact with him to feel okay. I was painfully insecure and had no self worth. I couldn't let go of the past. I fought with him incessantly. My perception was totally off. I went through periods of extreme depression. He tried to stay and make me happy, but he could no longer handle the pressure. It was like he died on me. One minute he was in my life, the next he was gone forever.
You cannot imagine what this did to me emotionally. I had a complete mental breakdown and was hospitalized. I was out of my mind. There are weeks, possibly months that I don't even remember.
It wasn't until April of this year that I wondered if maybe  my ongoing grief, hatred and resentment, relentless depression and anxiety went deeper than what should have been a simple breakup. A healthy person would have gone through the normal stages of grief and reached acceptance already. I was trapped in the worst and longest depression of my life. I was suicidal again so I decided to start the long process of getting mental help.
I've made progress since then. I've been able to research and get some understanding of bpd and what skills are taught in therapy. I'm better able to control my actions, anger, and the things I say. I give people more trust, freedom and understanding. I put myself in their shoes to gain better perspective. However, no matter how much I change about myself, the past isn't going to change with it. I leave him alone now. He doesn't need a mentally ill person in his life.
So, now I live with an illness I didn't know I had two years ago. I guess it just took me 29 years to lose control of it. Luckily the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.