Question: As someone diagnosed with bpd this question kinda tugged at my heart, for a few reasons. From my understanding, the core of the disorder is an unstable sense of self and an inherent shame or worthlessness. Before I was treated I thought I just needed someone else, the right person to come along to love me in just the right way, being mindful of trauma and never triggering my symptoms. I was living in a fantasy world. You cannot expect another person, a whole person with a sound mind and stable to sense of self to subject themselves to the circus act of our lives. We can't even manage it ourselves!! I have been in two long-term relationships, and dozens of short ones six months or less. One of the two began when I was very low and lasted a very toxic 3 years. I entered treatment during that relationship, which resulted in it's demise. I was much happier afterward. The second relationship began after I completed treatment. We have seperated twice during the past 2 and a half years, and our relationship is currently rocky as well. But who I am in the relationship has changed. I am no longer the girl who needs extra reassurance daily that he's coming home from work. I can breathe when he goes to hang out with his friends. I am not threatened by every waking thought of his not being about me. Instead I am the woman that validates him and myself in arguments, and I put respect over everything. Of course I lose my temper. Self improvement is a constant process. But, to avoid hurting anyone you love, you should definitely talk to a counselor if you are looking for another person to help you :) For family members/lovers/caregivers, it's stressful and often results in a lot of resentment in the relationship! Be safe! Question: The author probably believes that: === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Her boyfriend also has BPD
- Her boyfriend loves her
- Her boyfriend is having an affair
Answer: Her boyfriend loves her

input with options: "You either change of life or you change of man" When I was married, my wife had a very complicated life to handle outside. She was always stressed from her studies, pressure and job, so she would go out, most oftenly with me, to places and times we shouldn't have been. She would just decide, in the middle of the night, even as early as 2 in the morning that we should just race the city, see places She always had those cravings to do stuff at strange times, getting to sport events with me at the other bit of the country This crazy kind of life got us in a big lot of troubles. People trying rape her, attack us and much many more. it was happening too often and I often had to be quite violent to these people so she stays in one piece. I had to fix a lot of crap in order for her to live fully her fantasy. But I was more worried for her than me and I wanted us settle down, calm and have children we could raise peacefully. There was that one night where, we both came back very late from a sport competition, we had to travel dangerous roads very late at night sometimes by bus, foot and other times subway. At one point that night, two drug addicts tried to rape her, so I did what I had to do, but still I didn't kill them. Then I shoved her and I really mean shove, inside a taxi, got in there too and asked it back home. When I arrived, she was denying the danger, denying anything wrong with her way to behave. So I really snapped, I just pulled my ring and chains away, threw them on the table in front of her and I told her the sentence I mentionned up there. I was harsh on her that night in my words and symbol but I just couldn't take that way anymore Question: Who is the wife? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- A woman whose husband fears for
- A woman thriving on nightly risks
- A woman with strange cravings
- not enough information
output: not enough information

Q: I have waited tables, but before that, our friend group were regulars at several local "open all night" establishments. Our favorite was the Denny's about ten miles outside of downtown Savannah, and we had a regular waitress that was AWESOME. As a side note, I met her several years later and found out we were a major help putting her daughter through school. We had one kid in our group who was a perpetual problem, a wannabe at everything. He just tried too freaking hard to be the center of attention. Well, he joined us ONCE in a trip to Denny's. I mean we pulled up in six cars, all packed to the gills at 3a.m. and took up almost half of the restaurant. We get done, our favorite waitress drops the check, and this goofball says something about "dine and dash." We all just looked at him like he had grown a penis in the middle of his forehead and was trying to screw anyone within spitting distance with it. This kid wasn't driving, it would be a ten mile walk through neighborhoods that were questionable during the daytime, and he is talking about not just stiffing our favorite waitress on a tip, but walking out without paying? Are you kidding me? "Ryan. If you do that, you will be left beaten and bloody in the parking lot and EVERY ONE of us will participate." He hanged his head and coughed up his share of the bill, but he still didn't leave a tip. She made over five bucks a head in tips every time we walked in the door. Several of us were servers, bartenders, bouncers, and a couple strippers. Tips were how a lot of us put food on the table, and chemicals in our system. We shared when we had a good night. Needless to say, Ryan never joined us on a run to Denny's again. Question: What is probably true of the waitress's daughter? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- She works at Denny's.
- She became a stripper.
- She finished college.
- not enough information

A: She finished college.

Q: "Please remember me to myself!" When sliding toward mania in 2016, I begged this of my therapist. He cocked his head. "What do you mean?" I had no ideaon a conscious levelwhat I was asking for, just that I felt in a desperate sense that the self I knew was slipping away. An inability to recognize myself either in my writing or in reflecting upon my own actions was taking over. And then? I didn't care. I wanted to kiss girls. Which is finejust not something I ordinarily do. I wanted to drink, smoke. Again, finebut not something I ordinarily do. "Do I seemokay?" I asked a colleague at work. A woman I barely knew. Insanely, I thought that since she worked with disabled students, many of whom struggled with mental illness, she would know mania when she saw it. This was a rather foolish assumptionespecially since she's an educator, not a psychiatrist, especially with how skilled I am at wearing the mask of calm, the face of sanity. "You seem great, Julie. Cheery. Professional as always." I let her reassurance placate me. Wanted to be placated. Yet, within months I lost my job. And not only that, but a chance at a scholarship, two really important long term friendshipsrelationships I'd enjoyed since high school. I was hospitalized three times between September and February. I lost my ability to trust myself, lost my mind. It is now a little over two years since I first felt that sliding. Twenty-six months since I knew that somewhere in the deepest parts of who I am, I was slipping. Nine seasons since I begged Dr. Poe, "Remember me to myself!" I'm still recuperating. Yes. I have felt like I wasn't me. Question: What kind of disorder does Julie suffer from? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- Bipolar disorder
- not enough information
- Diabetes.
- Cervical cancer.

A:
Bipolar disorder